There were shards of glass everywhere, the sunlight streaming through the tattered curtains broken into myriads of reflections, some tainted in the red of the blood that spattered on the pristine white carpet.
As soon as Seth had entered, a bird that was roosting on the carpet took sudden flight, its wings shedding a few white feathers that got lost in the carpet.
“Where was the body found?” Seth asked his companion.
“In the kitchen,” answered Abe. “Apparently, the victim came from the balcony, drunk as hell. He ran through the glass sliding door and fell on the carpeted living room. It looked like the broken glass inflicted a lot of damage and the victim started bleeding, and continued to bleed as he walked into the kitchen, where he fell down and bled to death.”
“Is there any reason to think there was foul play involved?” Seth surveyed the scene.
“Well,” Abe paused, “you tell me.”
Seth stared at Abe, the younger of the two. Twenty or so years separated their ages, and Abe stood at least three inches taller, but Abe still looked with respect and fondness at Seth, his first and best boss at the NBI, the man who taught him everything and guided him through his early career. Seth was already in his sixties, a couple of years into his retirement, while Abe was at the prime of his career, and the stress of the job was evident in Abe’s otherwise handsome face.
“When will we get the results from the lab?” Seth asked.
“Where do you think we are, Seth, in the US?” Abe laughed without humor.
Seth smiled. He looked at Abe again, now the person in charge of the investigation. He still looked like he did when he was his rookie partner when Seth was still active in the force.
How time flies, Seth thought and sighed.
“Why did you call me in, Abe?” Seth asked seriously. He has been retired for several years already. He was now writing as his career—crime fiction, obviously, putting into good use his experience.
“Because I have a feeling you can help us catch who did this,” Abe answered.
That was what Seth was afraid of, but he didn’t let Abe read his impassive face.
Abe looked like he was going to say something further, and then he did.
“Seth, this is the third this year,” Abe whispered softly. The curtains started flapping in the wind that brought a chill into the room.
“Third? Are you saying we have a serial killer?”
“No,” Abe said, looking at Seth intently. “I’m saying we have a vigilante.”