The crime scene was surrounded by yellow “Caution” tape. At the center was the indisputable evidence of the heinous act. Sticky red, half dried liquid splashed in all directions, lending itself to a Rorschach ink blot when viewed from the second story master bedroom balcony. The weapon, an empty metal can, lay at the outer edges of the liquid goo. The construction scaffolding also dripped with the criminal evidence.
Tiffany Rodriguez, her first case as a detective, surveyed the area. She shook her head a let out a long audible sigh. This is really not what I wanted to deal with today, she thought. As she looked down upon the evidence from the balcony, she spied the set of footprints leaving the scene. They were very erratic, but they could lead to the victim.
She stepped back inside the residence and searched out her partner, Michael. He was still searching the house for the culprit along with any additional evidence. She found him in the kitchen examining the sink.
“I see tracks leading to the backyard. I’m going to check it out,” Tiffany stated.
“Great,” he answered. “Looks like our perp tried to wash his hands here in the sink. Didn’t bother to clean up what was left behind. Very sloppy.”
“Well, let me know when you find him.”
Tiffany strode to the front of the house and out the front door. She followed the trail to the backyard where she noticed it lead to a structure near the far wall. A red smeared handprint stained the door. She jogged over and opened the door, making sure she did not disturb the evidence. A whimpering noise came from inside. Tiffany stepped inside.
“Caroline?” she called out softly. “Where are you?”
“Mommy?” came the reply Tiffany anxiously wanted to hear.
A paint soaked little girl burst from a dark corner and wrapped herself around her mother’s legs. Red paint that was still wet smeared all over Tiffany’s jeans.
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t know there was paint up there. I just wanted to touch the scaffolding. Don’t be mad!” little Caroline blurted out as she desperately hugged her mother.
Tiffany knelt down and cupped Caroline’s chin in her hand. “I’m not mad, at least not at you. Are you hurt?”
Caroline shook her head. Red paint flung from the child’s hair and spattered on the playhouse walls.
As Tiffany picked up her daughter she heard her husband call from the house. “I found our culprit!” Outside, she saw Michael on the patio by the bar-b-cue grill. Their son, Robert, was hiding under the cover, paint still on his hands.
Tears began to well up in his eyes, not from shame, but from getting caught.
“Robbie, you know you’re not suppose to be in the construction zone. You have quite the mess to clean up, mister, and your grounded for pouring paint on your sister,” Tiffany stated sternly. “Dry your tears, there’s no use crying over spilled paint.”
Michael turned his head up and let out his best Roger Daltry. “YEAAAAAAAH!!!”
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This is my first attempt at participating with Inspiration Monday. I hope you all enjoy. If you would like to participate . . .
There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.
No really; I need rules!
Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.
CONFINED TO QUARTERS
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