Auto-translated
Joseph was already sitting in his office, with one of his favorite books about Sherlock Holmes lying on the table, open somewhere near the end. He was flipping through the pages, either to remember what the book was about or simply out of boredom. From time to time, he would bring the pipe to his mouth, take a couple of puffs, exhale the smoke in the shape of rings, and continue flipping through the pages. Perhaps the book would offer a clue, something that would lead him to the right path. -"Father Glen... Yes, the killer knew how to cause trouble for the city. And he's not afraid of justice, the scoundrel!"
The tobacco in the pipe was already gone, and the book hadn't offered anything interesting. - "Not a single clue," Joseph thought to himself and leaned back in his chair. - "I need to take a nap."