The flashing red and blue lights splashed across the face of the building entrance with an annoying repetition. Police, EMS, paramedics, all busily executing their duties, had the tenants occupying several balconies overlooking the drive, puzzling over what was happening. On the seventh floor, detectives, uniformed police and the medical examiner, combed through the apartment examining and collecting evidence from around the scene of the dead man.

He sat in a large chair, appearing to be dozing, except for the blotch of red around his collar.

"Start knocking on doors and check to see if there is any CCTV here or on the street." The Detective directed the uniformed officer, who responded with a brief nod and left  .

"What can you tell me, Doc?" The detective sighed, staring down at the body.

"Nothing you'd like to hear. Death occurred within the last one to two hours. Cause was a puncture wound to the neck, piercing the carotid artery. Some kind of tapered weapon, but there's no sign of it, and I have no suggestions for what it might have been. The rest will have to wait until I get him on the table."

"No signs of struggle?"

"Only with getting you to understand what on the table means."

"Ouch, wrong side of bed?"

"No bed. Now can I remove our friend?"

Nodding the doctor out, the detective turned his attention to the man who discovered the body.

"Mr. Wales, I'm Detective Springer, this is my partner, Detective Crawford. You and Mr. Harrison lived together here?" Springer said, jotting in his little note pad.

"We shared the apartment, yes." Dark blue eyes peered at the detective with a wary intensity.

The subtle variant was noted. "And you said you were out at a meeting, arriving home at eleven when you found Mr. Harrison".

"Yes. I thought he'd been sleeping. As I told the officers that first arrived, I thought Reggie was sleeping, and when he didn't wake I gave him a shake. That's when I noticed all the blood around his collar and inside his jacket. I didn't realize he was already dead. But then I immediately called the police and I sat here, touching nothing, until they arrived."

Another scribble in the book.

Crawford stuck his hands in his pockets. "Was he expecting anyone?" He watched the effect of his words carefully.

"I have no idea what he might have been doing. I did know he planned to stay home tonight."

"Did he normally have people visit when you were out?"

"Not really, neither of us entertained much at all."

"Not really?"

"Well, he may have, I wouldn't necessarily know." The eyes averted.

"How long have you shared this apartment?" Springer asked.

Wales shrugged. "Less than a year."

"And I understand this is your place?"

"That's correct."

"And why did Mr. Harrison move in?"

"Is that really relevant, Detective?"

"Everything is relevant, Mr. Wales, until it isn't." Springer waited, pen poised.

Jonas Wales tugged briefly on his ear lobe. "Reg was going through a rough spot, I offered him a place to stay."

"He didn't have a place of his own?" Springer watched for all the little tells that bespoke evasion or guilt.

"He didn't want to be alone." The earlobe was abandoned for a stroking of the chin.

"No friends or family?"

Wales just jutted a lip and shrugged.

The SOCU leader came and tapped the detective on the arm. "We're done here, Detective Springer."

"Okay. Report ASAP?" The man laughed and waved his team out. Springer made a face and turned back to Wales. "What was the rough time you mentioned?"

"He had been let go from his work, and it hit him hard."

"Where did he work?" Crawford asked.

"He was a loan manager at Dominion Banking."

"Why was he let go?" Springer again.

The tandem effect was forcing Wales to keep redirecting his attention. "Reggie had a drinking problem . . . it got out of hand." He revealed, reluctantly.

"How did you come to know him?"

"My company did business with his bank. We spoke quite often."

"And what is your, business, Mr. Wales.?" Crawford once more.

"I'm in property development. It's my company." Wales made an exasperated hand wave. "If that's all, this has been very stressful. I'd like some time to--"

"I'm afraid you'll need to find new accommodations while this is still a crime scene,"

Wales did a half turn shrug in exasperation. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"You can check into the Family Host on Richmond, city will pick up the tab, unless you have some place else."

Springer put his notebook away. "Okay, Mr. Wales, we have your statement. We'll let you get on with it. You'll need you to come down to the station later. We'll have more questions after the final autopsy. Let us know where you will be staying." The detective left his business card on the end table. "If you think of anything, please call."

"Certainly." The look was bleak.

                                                              ❄❄❄❄❄

The speaker sounded nervous, listening to the caller.

"They questioned me about Reg and why he was here. I had to tell them the truth. They seemed satisfied, so if they get around to you--"

"If?"

"I never told them about you."

"They're detectives, Jonas."

"Okay, when. Just stick to what we planned. I've got to go."

The call ended.

❄❄❄❄❄

"All I can tell you is it was something tapered –and that's not a definite. I could have been something turned as it was thrust in . . . although nothing was cut like a knife would do. Just punctured." The medical doctor leaned back against one of the tables and lit a stub of a cigar. "The killer was right-handed though, pretty sure of that."

"So, no signs of struggle?"

"I doubt he would have managed to lift a finger in defence."

"Why? Something in the blood . . . stomach?"

"He had some sweet potato fries and a red wine not too long before he was killed. A lot of red wine. He was .28 BAC, and that was close to two hours after. So it could have been a bit higher."

"So he was unconscious from the booze?"

"If he wasn't you should be calling Guinness."

"Amazes me how you figure all that stuff out." Crawford said.

"There were two empty wine bottles, and in the kitchen a dirty plate with a few fries on it." A coughing puff from the cigar accompanied the ME's laugh.

The detective slumped and stared at the medical officer. "Doc, lookin' around here, I can see why you love a live audience."

"Don't get riled, son. Keeps us sane working in here, 'specially this time of year."

"Halloween." Crawford sighed. "Yeah, that time of year alright. Forensics find any prints?"

"That's not my department. I've got nothing else until the final tox results come in."

The detective turned to go as the door swung open.

"Gotta see this, Gary, the woman poked her head in the door. We found something on CCTV." Her eyebrows signalled a break.