Paint the town red

Chapter XVI

A detective's job implies a willingness to take on a case any day of the week and at any time of the day. So it's 5:40 a.m on Thursday, me and my partner Max are at the pier examining another crime scene with forensics and officers.

"Young man, apparently Spaniard, killed with one precise blow to the abdominal cavity. Judging by the degree of rigor mortis, death occurred about 4-6 hours ago. Preliminary cause of death: heavy blood loss. I'll be able to say more only after the autopsy."

Esteban gave us a brief information, while squatting by the body covered with a dark cloth. He bent back a piece of cloth and pointed to the hand - the ribbon. Again. Damn it, now we're definitely dealing with a serial killer.

Max and I exchanged glances, and I asked him to go to the officer to find out under what circumstances and who discovered the body, while I stayed with Esteban.

"What do you think his motives are?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

Ocon shrugged and got to his feet, then walked over to the table with the list of evidence found, and I followed him. He picked up the sheet and handed it to me.

"And again, It's not a robbery. The victim's a young guy and there's a ribbon on his wrist. You seem to be dealing with a serial killer."

"I get it now."

I took a look at the evidence list, and I wasn't even surprised to see that the list was basically the same as the previous two crime scenes. I gave the list to Esteban and, putting on latex gloves, decided to examine the evidence on the table and packed in bags. A mobile phone, documents, car keys - standard set.

When we first arrived at the scene, I somehow felt an unpleasant feeling of anxiety, similar to what I felt when Pierre's body was discovered. I didn't know how to explain it, so I just wrote off a sudden premonition of despondency and moral fatigue, because we've got another victim, but no evidence indicating the identity of the perpetrator. And it was only when I started going through the victim's documents that I realized where this feeling came from – the guy was connected to me. "Carlos Sains Vázquez de Castro". Damn it, the third victim and again all paths lead to me. But why? Who could I cross the road so that someone decided to kill my friends and acquaintances? Maybe I really should step away from the case. Maybe then the killing will stop.

Esteban noticed my reaction and raised his eyebrow questionably, and I sighed wearily.

"I knew the victim."

"What do you mean? Is that your friend?"

He looked at me in surprise, and I just nodded and put the documents of my "ex-friend" back in the evidence bag.

"Yeah, something like that."

"You know, it's dangerous to be around you."

Esteban smiled kindly, but I didn't find his phrase amusing, on the contrary - it was disturbing. But he's right. This is the second person close to me to die at the hands of the same criminal. I don't consider Oscar to be close to me, because we hardly knew each other. But Pierre and Carlos - this is a different matter. Pierre was my best friend, and Carlos... He was my ex-boyfriend. We were both young, and in those years, everyone was experimenting with everything - someone experimenting with looks, someone with substances at parties, and someone with sexual orientation.

I had just turned 18 at the time, and he was 21. We met at a nightclub where I was having fun with my classmates, and he worked there as a bartender. It was like a snap of a fingers: the first encounter and we had a spark. He's hot, somewhere arrogant and witty Spaniard, and I'm modest, but attractive Monegasque: we are completely different in character, but as you know, opposites attract. So we were attracted to each other for 2 whole years. It was my longest relationship, because I rarely dated anyone for more than a year due to various reasons, and after my break up with Carlos, I decided to throw myself into my studies and completely forgot about my personal life.