the one who got away

II

Beatrice stood outside of Chris Green's house, that was now surrounded by police cars and yellow caution tape. It had been two days since his murder, and this was the first anyone had noticed something was wrong. Apparently, Chris's friend had come over after not hearing anything from him and soon discovered his body. Only an hour had passed before Beatrice received the call to return to the scene of his death.

Inhaling a deep breath, Beatrice straightened her back and walked through the front door of the house she had become too familiar with. Inside were officers crowding around the living room and kitchen in search of details or any evidence left behind. Towards the back of the house, one female officer was scratching Doug, the German Shepherd, under his chin. She made her way towards the kitchen where two men were standing over Chris's body and mumbling to one another.

One of the men turned his head towards Beatrice and gestured for her to come closer. The other man was in a blue officer's uniform with a gold badge. He had a stubble of a beard and squinted brown eyes. He was bald, to the point where the ceiling lights reflected off of his head. His uniform was too tight around his gut that Beatrice assumed were from one too many pink donuts.

"Chief Frank Daniels," The cop introduced himself, extending a hand to Beatrice. "You are?"

"Detective Beatrice Adams." Beatrice replied with a smile and shook Frank's hand. She turned towards the other man standing in front of her. "What do we have here, Connor?"

"His name is Chris Green," Connor explained, nodding his head towards the corpse that filled the entire house with a pungent odor. "Blunt force trauma to the temple and twelve puncture wounds to the torso."

Beatrice kneeled down and examined the body closer. She could not help but admire her handy work on Chris; he was quite an impressive feat. It was quite surprising that such a small girl as herself could take down such a muscular man such as him.

"Twelve stab wounds, you say?" Beatrice asked, glancing away from the body and towards Connor. He nodded in response. "The person who did this must have been seriously pissed off to inflict these wounds post-mortem."

"I was thinking that too, and I believe Green was feeling the same," Connor pointed to the cabinet that Chris had punched a hole through, and then pointed to Chris's hand that had dried blood and wood chunks sticking out of his skin. "Whoever did this to him had him fighting for his life."

Beatrice rose to her full height from Chris and approached the shattered glass that was labeled by a number seven card. "This looks like remnants of a beer bottle; was Chris intoxicated?"

"Yes, ma'am he was," Chief Daniels responded and opened the refrigerator to reveal the dozen beer bottles taking up the entire top shelf. "We believe the perpetrator used the bottle to strike Green."

"Interesting..." Beatrice mumbled to herself, putting on her best act to act as if this information was completely new to her. "Is there any evidence the killer left behind?"

"Nothing. No fingerprints, no shoeprints, no bodily fluids. Nothing." Connor flatly replied, irritation in his voice. That was exactly what Beatrice wanted to hear. She had spent an hour that night cleaning up after herself to hide any evidence that she had even stepped foot into Chris's house. That was an advantage of working as a detective: she knew exactly what to cover up to not get caught.

"What was the weapon that was used to stab Chris?" Beatrice asked, searching the room for the blade she had left behind.

"A steak knife," Connor used his gloved hand to pick up the knife beside Chris's foot that was drenched in dried blood. "The fingerprints were wiped but the blood is Green's."