The Man Who Killed Time

In the shabby, dusty office, just overlooking one of the least busy streets in town, sat the Detective owner of the establishment.
You wouldn’t think it by looking at his head, as usual lowered as to almost touch his desk while perusing some paper or other, that this man, yes, actually this man, had killed Time.

Or will kill Time.

Or is killing Time, this very moment (the ordering is always the trickiest bit).

Notes:
- English is not my first language.
- While I was writing it, I realised its nature is more that of a non-branching story, but I wanted to have an entry at IFComp and I could use the feedback anyway, so here it is.