"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"  -Edgar Allan Poe-

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Sirens disturbed the downtown area of Central City.  Bright lights and loud mechanical screams filled the air, as many members of the police force filled the streets below.  Residents looked down at the chaos filling their peaceful segment of town.  Such a heinous event has disturbed their slumber, but if they truly knew the horrors which have taken place, then a little lost rest would be understandable.  Law enforcement closed off the area, cutting off The Imperial Estates residential area from the rest of the world.

A single room remained opened during the events unfolding, being the source of all this malice.  The single red door was ajar, allowing passage into the small living space.  Only a few officers were allowed in at the moment, each carrying tape and flags in which to mark the crime scene.  Tonight, this segment of city would not get any sleep.  Tonight, the people in uniform would have plenty of work.  Tonight, the life of an innocent has been lost.

"It's the darkest thing I've ever seen, Sargent.  Collins fainted at the sight of it in there.  I just want you to know it isn't pretty."

Two individuals spoke just outside the doorway, one still blind to what was inside.

"This isn't new to me, Smith.  I've been working in this town for about 10 years.  I think I'll be able to handle it.  You just go check up on Collins; see if he is okay."

"Of course sir."

'Smith' left the superior officer to himself.  The Sargent now turned to the crime scene and made his way in.

Indeed, it wasn't pleasant to look at, it never is, but it wasn't something he hasn't already seen.  The officer looked around to see a room stained with crimson.  First, he noticed the floor and walls which were covered in a thick red tint of blood.  Second, he saw the room in a mess, a broken lamp, and a hole in the wall.  Third, he looked at the poor woman who laid on the ground.  Two knives were dug quite deeply into her face.  The fresh wounds only added more red to the area around the victim.

Before anything could be done, a new officer approached The Sargent.

"Victoria Morris, musician, wife, and now corpse.  Died of brain death induced by impalement.  Secondary cause of death was blood loss.  A few bruises covering her body.   Not a pretty way to die

Sir, we arrested a man who we believe might be our culprit.  Our computers have identified him a Richard Morris, husband of the deceased.  Eyewitnesses saw him enter the crime scene and then leave it in a hurry, covered in blood.  He's on his way to headquarters as we speak."

"Thank you, Simmons...and, as for the investigation?"

Simmons wiped his brow.

"Our boys have already check all we can, but we've contacted Faraway for..."

"Hayden?!  What can he provide?  I believe this case is quite clear.  Call him back, tell him to leave it to us.  There's no need to waste his time with such an obvious scenario."

A new man now walked in, holding a case.

"I wouldn't claim it to be so obvious yet, Mr. Grimes.  In fact, such a scene could contain quite a few contradictions to your presumption."

The new face caught the Sargent off guard.

"Well you got here faster than usual..."

He watched as the detective set down his briefcase and open it.

"I heard it over the police broadcasts.  Thank Collins for giving me the frequency."

"Mr. Faraway, there isn't a need to..."

The detective interrupted him with the application of a pair of latex gloves.  Their snapping forced the officer into silence.

"Grimes, there is always a need.  The truth can always lie hidden in another lie.  A simple close examination can't do any harm."

"Alright Hayden...go ahead, but if you don't find anything, don't say I didn't warn you."

Sargent Grimes now walked out of the room, and let the man get to work.  Every case.  Every murder to theft, this man could always find something the police had overlooked.  It didn't make the department look any better, but it did at least get the right person behind bars.  He's a good man, but curse his damn presence.  The officer was getting to old for this.

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It was about another hour before a new face made it to Imperial Estates.   The young man carried a camera on his side.  Officer Simmons was quick to stop him.

"Hey, no photographers.  We aren't allowing any papers or new groups in for pictures.  This is a private crime scene, please move along."

The man simply grinned and pulled out a badge.

"Flash McClellan, I'm here with some documents for Mr Faraway.  He told me to bring them here for him."

Simmons sighed.

"Okay, tell you what.  You can go in, but you can't take the camera with you."

"No dice.  Family heirloom, won't part with it."

The officer buried his face in his hands.

"Okay.  Just go in, but if you take any pictures, I will slap a pair of cuffs on you."

Flash walked on in.

"Don't worry...I'm a professional..."

He now ran on in, leaving the officer to his regrets.  Sargent Grimes is never going to let him hear the end of this.

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Another half hour rolled around before the detective called the Sargent back in for a lay out of the crime.  Reluctantly, the officer answered the call.

"I presume you found something, yes?"

The detective now disposed of his bloodied gloves, and now walked grimes over to the victim's body.

"You could say that.  With the information my associate over there has delivered, I believe i understand what happened."

Flash sat in a chair in the corner of the room, fiddling with his camera.  the detective now pointed at the bloodied walls.

"I would drop the charges against that man you arrested, the only thing he's guilty of is arriving at the wrong time.  You could call it self-defense, but I'll leave it to the courts to decide."

Grimes looked at him with a serious face.

"Self-defense?  Care to explain how a woman with knives in her eyes gets murdered, and you can claim it was self-defense?"

"Gladly, it's very simple, look around, there are signs of a struggle.  Blood doesn't often cover walls in such quantities, Mr. Grimes.  What we are looking at her is a fight between a killer and a defenseless person.  what you and your men fail to see however is who was who in this situation."

The detective now pointed to a collection of white dust on the handles of each of the blades in the victims's face.

"I was able to get some prints on this.  Can you perhaps guess whose they are?"

"Richard Morris, yes?  I assume your going to tell me the victim's are also present so it had to be her, right?"

Hayden smiled.

"Half right, dear Grimes, we are missing one set of prints...I believe you know who i'm inferring to."

"So wait...only Miss Victoria's are on the weapon, but why?"

Faraway now handed him a few papers he had set on his briefcase.

"According to city records, Mr. Morris worked as office worker in town for most his life.  While his pay wasn't the finest, his life insurance was quite lofty.  I believe this might be a nice motivation for murder, but not the singular cause."

He pointed to the victim.

"Miss Victoria has been seeing a city appointed psychiatrist to help her with a a minor focusing problem.  From my own personal diagnosis, I believe it was actual the signs of schizophrenia.  These two factors together, and we got a motive..."

"I still find this rather confusing...how do you get all this...from all of..."

Hayden was quick to interrupt.

"After identifying culprits, city records, medical history, and hidden elements of a crime scene, one can often discover multiple layers in a single incident.  It never is just a murder, it is like a story, and like every story, there is a background and reason for every character."

Grimes now took a seat and rubbed his head.  This was just like every other time.  Big talk and science stuff.  Good old Faraway, hate him, but he sure does know his way around a crime scene.

"Okay, finish up.  We got a set up, but your still forgetting the fatal blow.  How is it self defense?"

"Well, with my examination of the body, I've found out a main focus for the bruising in the mid torso, one would often find from a push..."

He pointed to the lamp and hole in the wall.

"Now doesn't that look like a path for said push?"

"Get on with it!"

The detective grinned.

"Sure thing...think of it like this........"

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Mr. Morris walked into his condo about 10 tonight, tired and stressed from a long day of work.  His boss has just gotten done roasting him over his performance, his buddies gave him a hard time, or maybe it was just a soul-crushing day.  Needless to say, it left a toll on him.  The only thing he was probably looking forward to now was a warm meal and a nice rest.  Shame that on the other side of his doorway, his wife was waiting for him cutlery at hand.

Victoria Morris, a loving wife for most her life, was a local musician.  Her job was an ambitious one, but it wasn't a big paying one.  What little money she had went to sessions to help with a little issue she's been facing, and, because of that, she feels she is wasting time and cash.  That's when a little voice tells her that there is an easy answer to her problems.  Her lovely husband, how hasn't helped much with his employment, had upon him a large monetary amount on his head.  A perfect amount to kill for.

When the poor man walked into his home, the determined housewife let him get close, and then tried to stab him, knife in each hand.  Terrified, he now begins to escape her, making a mess of the room.  Unfortunately, it is in vain, and his once lover now traps him in a corner.  Desperate, he decides to push her away and make a break for it, instead forcing her into the nearby wall.  Knife in hand, she takes the blow, accidentally letting her arms be too loose.  Upon hitting the wall, her arms fly upwards, stabbing the killer instead of the target.

Bleeding and blind, the poor girl stumbled about, touching wall and leaking her vitals on the floor until she final gets a hold of her dear.  She tried to remove her weapons from her body, but instead fall to the ground dead.  The mortified man, covered in his wife's blood, now decides to leave quickly, still afraid of the events that had taken place...little did he know he would have to take the blame for this incident.....

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"...At least, that's my observation of this case."

The Sargent now thought it through in his head.

"Quite a lot to think about......Thank you detective, I'll have my boys review your findings.  Hopefully it should be enough to clear major charges.  I'll call you to let you here any news...until we meet again."

He held out a hand for the man to shake, but Hayden walked past him.

"Yes, indeed, Grimes.  See you soon."

Faraway now left, suitcase clamped tightly in his hand, leaving the police officer and his associate behind.  Flash now quickly got up.

"I need to go too...don't want to get left behind.  Hayden!  Wait up!"

The boy dashed after him, now leaving Sargent Grimes alone.  He simply looked down at the body.  An innocent in the guilty chair and a guilty person lying dead.  It was quite a case.  He now sat down and lit a smoke.  He was just getting too old for all of this...

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Three individuals work nearby

They do their tasks in secret, don't ask why...

Guns loaded in their coats...

holding knives up to throats...

The detective is going die...