Paint the town red

Chapter XII

I spent last night and later the night with a work colleague. Of course, I informed Yuki about this so that he wouldn't think of anything bad and not get nervous – he had already gone through a lot after Pierre's death. So I had to let him know that I was fine and that I was spending the night with Max, who, by the way, had already become good friends with Yuki.

Of course, it was quite strange and very unusual to wake up not in my own house or in my bed, but on the couch in Max's house. I lay there for a while, and I thought about what to do next, because if the Dutchman is still asleep, I don't want to wake him up - it's Saturday, and we both deserve a long nap. So I tried to be as quiet as a mouse, so I wouldn't make a noise and give my partner a rest. It's an unusual feeling, but I don't feel tired at all, although things have been pretty tense lately, and there were so few good moments that I could count them on the fingers of one hand. And last night was one of those moments.

When I went to see Max, we first sat down in the living room to have a cup of coffee and to discuss all the information we had gathered that day. After that, the evening went on, and our conversations about work stuff smoothly moved on to more detached from our case - family, relationships, friends. We shared a couple of childhood stories and a few secrets we'd never shared with anyone before. Somehow, I thought I could trust Max 100%, and I wanted to show him that he also could trust me completely.

While we were talking, we didn't even notice how quickly time flew by. Max offered to have dinner, and then to spend the night at his place, to which I initially tried to object, because it was kinda awkward, but eventually I agreed, and while he was busy in the kitchen, I quickly informed Yuki about an unplanned overnight stay. I am glad that he's taking my relationship with Max positively, even though he initially treated it with suspicion and caution.

The dinner atmosphere wasn't friendly, it was more... romantic? Probably it was all because of the dimmed light, it created an atmosphere of romance and, I would even say, a certain intimacy. If there were more candles, then I would definitely say that it was a date, and not just a meeting between two colleagues. It was a little weird to sit at the table with my partner, chatting about stuff and listening to his stories – I don't know why, but I enjoy listening to different stories from his life. I generally like to listen to him. To listen and to hear him. I'm sure he noticed that, that's why he keeps telling me, and doesn't stop in mid-sentence.

After dinner, I helped him clean up, even though he was against it at first, but he's not the only one who has persuasion skills. After finishing our chores in the kitchen, we went to the living room, where we settled down on the couch in front of the TV, which was showing some kind of reality show about relationships. Although initially it is clear as a day that all this show is scripted and there is nothing from a real life in shows like this, but sometimes even such nonsense is addictive. And we were no exception: we were fascinated by the series, so we sat and animatedly commented on what was happening on the screen, diluting the comments with silly jokes.

By the time the show ended, it was well past midnight, so I asked my partner to go to bed, so I suggested that we go to bed, to which he willingly agreed to. He showed me where the bathroom was and offered me his spare pajamas, but I still refused, deciding that I would sleep in my own clothes. Why did I decide that? God knows. Maybe I was just embarrassed to take his clothes? Anyway, we said good night to each other and went to our sleeping places: he went to his bedroom and I went to the couch in the living room. So, to sum up last night, it was pretty good.

I rubbed my eyes, then picked up my phone and looked at the time–7:30 a.m. It's too early for a day off, even for me. In order not to make too much noise, I decided to go through my phone, because I keep quite a lot of things in it for work. So I opened the records from yesterday's interviews and copies of the crime scene reports, and decided to re-read them again. "The attack was carried out from the back, the victim was stabbed with a single precise blow, which resulted in death from blood loss. On the victim's left hand, was found a ribbon with a blur/pattern that cannot be restored. There were no traces of the killer at the crime scene, no murder weapon, no evidence indicating his identity. Toxicological analysis didn't reveal the presence of psychotropic substances or alcohol in a system. Talcum powder particles were found on the hand, mouth area and ribbon on the wrist." For some reason, I immediately remembered films in which one of the police officers or, as strange as it may sound, doctors is behind such "perfect murders" - both know perfectly well what and how to do certain things in order to leave the crime scene without leaving any evidence behind. But even such careful killers sooner or later get caught and get punished for all of their crimes. Is that what we're dealing with this time?