It was 6:56pm on the evening of August 15 when the flamboyant detective understood this was no ordinary murder scene.
At the same time across town the afflicted war veteran was having realizations of his own…
While his friend, the turbulent mob associate, was in the middle of a very important business deal.
The details from that transaction made no difference to the occupant of the residence one house to the south. The distressed burglar was hard at work, reaping what he could as his window was closing fast…
But not as fast as the clever spy’s.
“What’s the hurry”, said the brilliant psychopath to himself in the mirror of an apartment he had entered only once before.
The following day was spent analyzing images and materials taken from the gruesome display by the flamboyant detective.
And breakfast was ruined for two nameless thugs by an unannounced visit from the turbulent mob associate.
But the thugs had it easy compared to the clever spy, who withstood a night of interrogation and still maintained his cover.
Another day, another “…fuck it”, said the afflicted war veteran.
“50/50.” No matter how prepared, the distressed burglar knows there’s a fifty-fifty chance things could go wrong during any break in.
“Are you certain get the fuck out of here are the last words you’d ever like to say?” asked the brilliant psychopath.
A broken vase. A sideways chair. That was the extent of the mess made when the clever spy broke free and overtook his captors.
The minutes felt like hours as the flamboyant detective tried to comprehend what had taken place in the crimson apartment. “Could a human have done this?”
Some have no conscience.
Others remember all too well.
Some like to talk.
Others prefer the quiet.