When a detective and his assistant work on a case just like any other, they don't expect to discover a whole new world!
I stepped through the turquoise door into the crime scene. A woman, Lindsey Smith, had been stabbed in the back - literally. My eyes scanned the hallway and I mentally took notes. Dawn was right at my heels, as always. Everything seemed to be a shade of blue; deep blue sofa, duck egg blue wall paint, turquoise cushions.
There was a wallet on the coffee table that seemed out-of-place, being jet black. I picked it up and flicked through. There was little money for someone who had such a nice house, and a well-paid job. Even more suspicious, the photo inside was of a man and a child around 4. But, from Smith's medical records, she had never had kids. The man was too young to be her father and too old to be her son. That only left a brother.
We moved swiftly upstairs to the bedroom where she was stabbed. I slowly moved around the room, my eyes dotting about like darts, calculating. There was muddy footprints vaguely visibly on the pale blue carpet, leading all the way to the dressing table on the opposite wall. The footprints started at the window - the obvious entrance - and led me to believe that the killer wasn't being stealthy as they went straight across the middle of the room.
We made our way to the victim, and examined her in our own way. We never often talked at this stage in the process, but made our own way about it. Lindsey had a pained expression on her face, which was unsurprising, but there was no element of surprise in there. That struck me as odd. Another thing that was undoubtedly noticeable was the colour choice. Now I'm not one for fashion, but I know that blue and bright pink don't mix. Why would a sophisticated, colour-coordinated woman, such as Lindsey, be wearing all pink in a blue house?
I did my last once-over of the room before glancing at Dawn. She looked up and nodded to me then, synchronized, we left. Back to the apartment for another case!