“Why do people do it?” Dee asked as he looked around the apartment, its pristine furnishings and décor now covered in spatters of congealing blood.

The murder victim, a middle-aged woman, was a lawyer with a local firm, single and child-free, polite to her neighbours but had mostly kept to herself since moving in a few months ago.

“Why do they do what?” Ryo asked from where he was studying the body. Whoever had murdered her must have really hated her; she’d been bludgeoned to death with a tire iron the killer had left at the scene. “Kill each other, or do it in such a brutal way?”

“Neither.” Dee stepped closer, walking carefully across the deep pile carpet despite the bootees covering his shoes. “Why do some people decorate their homes in cream and beige? Or white, that’s even worse. This…” He shook his head. The walls and ceiling were painted in a subtle cream color, probably with some ridiculous name like Sea Foam, or Pale Oyster. The carpet was a slightly deeper cream, and the plush living room suite a very light shade of beige. “It’s drab, depressin’ as fuck, and it shows every little mark.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“At this point, I think she’s past worrying about stains,” Ryo said, lips quirking into a wry half-smile.

Dee grimaced. “Just as well, ‘cause no one’s gettin’ this much blood outta the carpet, and as for the walls…” He trailed off; the place looked like a slaughterhouse, which was hardly surprising.

“On the plus side, the crime scene techs won’t have any trouble documenting all the blood drops. They’re impossible to miss.”

“I guess that’s good, for us at least. I just wouldn’t wanna live somewhere so colorless.”

Ryo shrugged. “Maybe the killer felt the same.”


The End