Coming out fruitless

1.

Another one.
Another crippled, contorted life laying at our feet. Many people had known this woman; she was quite infamous within our bland town. She had brought weariness and a lingering sense of violence with her when she became apart of our black and white lives. Of course, her death hasn't brought any colour to the grey town of  Remminster, regardless of the Crimson-turning-maroon blood lay just as peacefully as her dead body was, seemingly untouched and already dry.

Poor woman, didn't know her right from left or her lover from her murderer. I had known her since she had joined our monotone town. I was the first man she greeted, granted, as I was the only one home when she arrived. She was quite an odd woman, standing at a height of six foot (towering over my small build of 5'6 might I add) with a 1950's styled blue dress on and her ginger hair ('strawberry blond' as she would always correct me) pulled up in a rather messy ponytail.

Her appearance greatly clashed with mine. I am a man of 5'6, 46 years old, brown, balding hair and not too attractive, but I make do. My name is Wayne Lopez and I have lived in this town for 'round about 25 years now. I moved in to the building I now call home at the ripe, young age of 21. I can't quite remember as to why I came to this town but I do know that I was quite drawn to how on the 'down low' it was and how it seemed very uneventful; perfect for me. I have always been quite a secretive and routine-based man, even as a young boy, I had always enjoyed the feeling of routine and order.

Enough about me for now though. All you need to know is that I'm quite an ordinary man with quite the ordinary job of a detective. What our attention should be directed on currently is the rotting corpse of our victim. Aimee Pearson. The name this body currently holds. She had died from a loss of blood after being impaled around four or five times in the arm, hip and shoulder. The knife used was here with us: average, seven inches in length, one and a half in width. Basically just your standard, everyday kitchen knife. It isn't of much use right now though, the damn analysts can't find a single fingerprint, so that means we're no closer to finding the murderer as we were before it had been discovered. We had been informed of this case a few hours ago and we've only recently uncovered the weapon. We have police out questioning the people she had ties with and then there's me and a few others at the scene, foraging for clues and the tiniest, details. We had been unsuccessful up until we had found the knife and even now that isn't much help. Our search is a fruitless attempt and we are getting nowhere...