CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leonardo seemed to sense the inspectors misery and had lowered himself to the gritty base of the jar, safe in the warm folds of the inspectors coat pocket.
Meanwhile the detective was wandering, deliberately lost in the large manor. He had navigated his way through through many corridors, up two flights of stair and through the servants passage to a large parlor.
It was obvious that this room was different from the others, the whole house was a wash with cold blues, greens and purples while this room had a theme of bold red.
Increasing the strangeness of the room, was its age. The room looked old.
Frozen in a time maybe ten or fifteen years ago from the dust coated curtains which depressingly drooped to the floor.
The books on the walls seemed two dimensional with no shine or color. The furniture looked tight and straight as it they had never been sat on.
In the centre of the room the there was a small tea table laid with a red painted china set empty apart from one single cup half filled with grey stale tea, next to it sat a small velvet box.
In the midst of this historic flat scene only one thing stood out, below the table on the rich ruby red carpet was a dark brown stain.
The inspectors heart dropped as he approached the new pool of blood.
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Inspector and Fish
HumorInspector Robert Cassidy, one of the greatest detectives of a generation, only coming second to a certain Sherlock. Unlucky, not popular or successful, after the humiliation of his unspoken last case, The inspector is called to an unsolv...
