The dead bodies seemed out of place. The bedroom had obviously been the setting for earlier events. But something was amiss. Blood wasn’t the only thing spilled. A wine glass had been broken. Shards splattered around. Wine spilled on the countertop. Two glasses, one with lip stick. Why break a glass and then run to the bedroom? Why aren’t the bodies in the kitchen? Was the mail upsetting and they felt the need to run from it?

Bills, catalogues, and charity mail sat on the countertop next to an open laptop computer. The screen reads ticket information. Tonight to Maui. Who was planning of getting out of town? Who is missing in action? The door was left wide open. A bag sits next to it. Did someone bring it over or did they forget it when they left? Rifling through the bag, its contents consistent with a vacation. Clothes, condoms, and a few other necessities rested hastily packed. Someone planned on leaving, but never got the chance.

I stand back to survey the scene. Someone comes home, weary and wanting only to relax. Seeing the ticket information and wine glasses sitting on the counter. Someone runs out of the bedroom, obviously not fully dressed. Not who the intruder expected to see perhaps.

“Detective?” Silence follows. “Sir?”

“What officer?”

“Did you see the open drawer in the kitchen?” The detective shook his head and walked over to the drawer.

“This must have been where the gun was.” Why would he kill his girlfriend in his house? What did she do wrong? The occupants of the bedroom were obviously having a good afternoon, so why the murder?

“Detective, have you seen the other bedroom?”

“No. Did you find something?” Nodding, I follow him there. Music posters line the walls, an unorganized desk, and another unmade bed. Clothes are strewn across the floor here as well. What happened in here? “I’ll check it over, you can go.” The sheets were tousled, the room unkempt. However, a slight linger of a scent wafted through the room. On the disheveled desk sits: a perfume bottle.