Paint the town red

Chapter XXXII

I woke up earlier than the alarm clock in the morning, probably because of the excitement before returning to work. So I didn't lie in bed for a long time, but began to get ready for work: first a shower, then breakfast, and after that I can go to work. When I was getting ready, my neighbor was still sleeping in his room, and I didn't want to wake him up.

After taking a shower and getting dressed for work, I went to the kitchen to drink coffee and have a small breakfast. While I was waiting for the life-giving drink to brew, I made a couple of sandwiches and listened with one ear to what was being told on the morning news. As always, the world is in complete chaos, and the only good news is that they promise warm weather. But I doubt very much that meteorologists can be trusted.

After drinking coffee and having breakfast, I cleaned up after myself and went to the station, where I hadn't been for a long time. Nevertheless, it is much more pleasant to come there as an employee, rather than as a person who is suspected of murdering one of his close friends. Well, that's if they wanted to pin only George's case on me, and not all four, including him.

Upon entering the station, some officers greeted me, and some pretended not to notice me at all. Mick greeted me, but he was modest and laconic, as always. Javi stubbornly avoided any contact with me, even eye contact. Logan and Esteban, as usual, are sitting in their offices or laboratories. They rarely come out at all, except to clarify something about the case or to find out some news, so I wasn't surprised that I didn't meet them.

I arrived just in time for the start of working hours, and wasn't at all surprised to see Max at his desk. He always comes a little earlier than me, that's his habit.

I went up to him and kissed him briefly on the corner of his lips, to which he smiled and nodded towards my desk.

"I brought you some coffee."

"How thoughtful you are."

"Get use to it, hun."

I smiled, sat down at my desk and ran my hands over its surface. It's nice to be back in my office, which I've been thoroughly used to since my internship.

Max looked at me with a smile, then asked me how I was doing without a bracelet on my leg. Of course, I told him about my general impressions of the whole "house arrest", and he laughed.

"But you've only been with it just for a week."

""Just for a week"? For me, it seemed forever."

"You like to be dramatic."

"That's why you like me, isn't it?"

"Fact."

I smiled, then took a small sip of the still hot coffee. Then I asked Max to tell me in great detail about everything that was discovered in George's case. He told me about the examinations, about the results of the search of the victim's place of residence, about the interrogation of the woman who accused me of murder because she confused me with the real killer. I listened attentively to his story and noticed that he didn't say a word about the ribbon on George's wrist. Nothing: no size, no colors, no material, no edges, which in the previous three cases were uneven. Isn't there anything about this in the reports? I'll check it out in person later.

After listening to Max, I thanked him for the information, and then turned on my computer to personally read the expert opinions and check the data I was interested in. I found the reports on Pierre's case and decided to see what they said about the ribbon. After opening the report and the expert's conclusion, I was surprised that there was almost nothing about the ribbon, but only a short note: "A ribbon was found on the wrist of the corpse." That's it. No characteristics, no properties, nothing, just the fact that there is some kind of ribbon on the wrist.