Carosella at the Crime Scene

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Detective Kentaro Carosella surveyed the room. He was surprised to say the least. From his position at the entrance to the room, all he could see was a bloody mess. He’d seen a lot of nasty sights in his career but this was one of the worst.

“I thought closet psychopaths where meant to be neat?” Kentaro’s partner Detective Irving O’Hara’s voice was shaky. Despite his irreverent manner, he too recognised the room for what it was.

A bloody mess.

“How are we ever going to find a clue to the wee girls whereabouts in here?” O’Hara moaned.

“We start looking,” Kentaro sighed and moved into the ramshackle extension.

“You think he got these windows on ebay?” O’Hara asked tapping the hazmat security sticker on the window pane closest to him. “Looks like the walls are painted plyboard, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Kentaro surveyed the room from his new vantage point. On second glance, the room wasn’t so much a bloody mess as cluttered. It was such a large area, ranging from one end of the house to the other and it seemed like Pearson had tried to divide it into sections with the furniture. Pool table and chairs up one end, desk and computer equipment up the other end. And a bar and sofa couches in the middle. Only thing was, there were too many chairs, too many desks and too many couches.

“I kinda like this effect though,” O’Hara said referring to the way Pearson had used the pine framework of the extension as bookshelves instead of covering them up with plaster.”There’s more order to this place then we think me thinks.”

Kentarro walked past the first sofa couch, the one facing the floor to ceiling windows. It was a dark green with a purple throw rug, strangely enough. thrown haphazardly across it’s length. There were two fluffy white cushions in either corner. It looked like the kind of thing Kentarro’s mother might put together in an effort to appear “hippy” (she had never been a hippy).

“It’s like a jumble sale of opshop furniture,” O’Hara scoffed as he picked his way past a glass table covered in coloured papers.

Kentarro shook his head.

“Not a jumble, a maze,” he said, his eyes following the track of an old kitchen bench serving as a bar by the look of the empty wine glasses. “A path.”

Kentarro couldn’t help himself. He gave a half smile. His unfathomable eyes glinting in the darkening room. With a stride laiden with purpose he crossed the “lounge area” to the “recreation area”. A blue cotton oversize table cloth was draped over a pooltable. With one careful hand, he lifted the edge.

And there she was.

Old Man Pearson’s prize pomeranian. Missing Puppy no longer.

“Mission accomplished Pet Detectives!”Kentarro heard O’Hara say from behind him. “Mission. A-ccomplished.”

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