I surveyed the crime scene. The blood had spread wider across the thick carpet than I would have expected, now drying into an old hearthrug. Lines of string stretched from the blood splatters on the wall, showing where the victim had been standing when he had been brutally bludgeoned. His corpse, cold and rigid, lay where it had fallen on the floor. He was a big man, maybe 250 pounds, and at least 6 foot.
I approached the scene, addressing my question to the suited man bending over him.
"No." He replied, "nothing yet."
With that, he reached across and started to undo the corpse's belt.
"What are you looking for detective?" I asked tentatively. It was my first murder investigation, and I had no idea what to look for.
"Detective?" He replied, "Oh no... I'm just a necrophiliac. Sorry 'bout the confusion there."
"No trouble..." I replied. Policing is a strange world, it appears.