Ebony was wrapping a collar around Dahlia's neck as Rowan padded out, Ink and Clover trailing behind him. Both of the cats let out a Rowan's eyes were cold and hard as he met Clover's eyes. "You know who the Bloody Rose is, correct?" he asked, tilting his head to the head slightly. The brown tom nodded quickly, eyes wide. "Well, that is a famous example of a serial killer gone rogue. We don't know what happened to the Bloody Rose, but it's safe to say that something in their childhood contributed to their... murderous nature."

"What does this have to do with Dahlia?" hissed Ink, her black tail lashing. Her husband's eyes flashed with surprise.

"Well, you see, we've already taken her into custody, for we don't know if she's still violent and dangerous... but we think that Dahlia needs to be put into prison for a very long time." Rowan's tone was unbreakable—he had seen many things, and a murder case like this wouldn't stump him. The family, on the other paw, seemed shocked by his insensitivity. 

"She—she's just a kit," Clover meowed, voice cracking. "Why would you put my baby in prison?"

Rowan dipped his head. "I'm sorry, but the chance of having a future Bloody Rose is just too strong." His eyes darkened. I can't allow that to happen, no matter what she says.

"Give me one last night with her." Ink's demeanor suddenly changed, her posture crumpling and a sob choking in her throat. "Please!"

Rowan paused, glancing over at Ebony. The black she-cat gave a little nod, and he sighed, turning back toward Ink. "Fine, but we're putting security around the perimeter," he answered stoically, flicking his tail. It's only one night, he thought, but still, something was off. But he wasn't going to crush this poor mother further than she already had been.

x x x

Rowan pressed the remote, eyes blank as he stared at the TV. The couch felt cold and uncomfortable beneath him, and his stomach felt empty even though he had eaten a few mice nuggets. The "Mice, Mice, Baby" music video was playing on the Hawknose's Hits channel. Heard this a thousand times, the detective thought dryly, hitting the remote again. 

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Stars. Boring. 

Mousilton, live performance. Seen that.

Harry Pawter and the StarClan Stone. Overrated. 

The Feline Files. His favorite show—and not because he liked watching cats fiddle around and make obvious mistakes. Ears twitching, the tom leaned back into the cushions, though his shoulder dug uncomfortably into the couch's arm.

Well that's clear... the ex-mate did it, Rowan thought as he watched the screen, tail lashing. These episodes are getting more and more easy to figure out. But just as he was about to go back to channel surfing, his phone began to ring.

He picked it up. "Hello, I'm Detective Rowan of the Pusa Police Department. How may I help you?" His brown tail twitched as the voice on the other end paused. Breathing was barely audible. 

"Hello Rowan," mewed Ebony from the other end. "Uh, I was waiting at the office, just... cleaning a few things, and I just got a call here... Ink is dead. And so is Dahlia."

x x x

Rowan lurched forward as he slammed on the breaks, nearly hitting his head on the wheel. "Be careful!" complained the black she-cat from the backseat.

"Put on your seatbelt first," he responded lightly, wheels screeching against the road as he swerved into a driveway. Clover was sitting on the front stoop, eyes blank and posture stiff as he stared at the crime tape that surrounded him. Rowan padded out of the car, approaching the tom warily. "Hi, Clover... I got the report?"

He nodded. "Suicide," he mewed numbly. "Ink killed herself, and she took Dahlia with her." He flicked his tail behind him. "Balcony. Gun. They're both dead." 

Ebony rushed to his side, getting the tom to his feet and muttering something about how Apple let a mentally ill tomcat be left around the crime scene. She guided him away, giving a wide-eyed glance to Rowan.

The brown-furred tom slipped underneath the yellow tape and into the house. He could hear Apple padding around, so he followed the sound, ears twitching. "What's the report?" asked the detective.

"Suicide, gun. Dahlia was shot first, thrice in the chest, and then..." Apple paused, one paw hovering over the corpse in front of him. "Then Ink turned the gun on herself. Both are dead." He shrugged, grabbing a thin vial from his pocket and drawing up some of the blood. "I'll test for narcotics or psychotics in Ink's system, but I doubt she was under any influence."

Rowan nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he stared at the corpse. "Where did she shot herself?" The bloody mess on the balcony wasn't exactly discernable. He could see her tail, long and lying in the pool of crimson. But her body was soaked in red, her black fur impossibly turning darker.

"I'd suspect in the chin, through the throat.." The forensic scientist stepped away from the body. "But that'd be my guess. Ink wasn't a coward. If she was going to kill herself, she would do it well."

Rowan swallowed. "Well, we can get the angle of the gunshot wound analyzed and determine if she was truly shot or if it was a suicide," he meowed. 

Apple just nodded. 

By Rio ⛈