The jangling bell of a door swinging open to a cafe stirred through the chatter of customers. Harrison peered over the rim of the newspaper he was reading, for once off duty from his detective work, however still in his mode of investigation. A cute couple had appeared in the doorway to Charlotte Weldon's Cafe — also known as Charlotte's Cafe for short.

            The two were bubbling over a sort of story, engrossed in the topic as they walked to the counter where foods and drinks were displayed. While conversing, the girl pointed eagerly at a picture of a latte. The boy nodded and sifted through a wallet he had whipped out from his pocket, and exchanged a few words with the cashier. After a few nod and an exchange of words, the boy passed over what seemed to be fifteen dollars, and the cashier vanished into the back room. Only moments later, the cashier came back with two lattes firmly held in both hands. He merrily handed the two drinks to the couple and wished them on their way.

            Harrison sipped at his own drink, a simple chocolate milkshake. His mind was still jarred by his most recent case, Raymond's disappearance. All evidence Harrison and his team had gathered by far pointed to the solution that the thirty-five year old man had been kidnapped, with the possibility of even being murdered. However the only evidence had been gathered by far was the scattered materials of the man's home, which could've been caused from some completely different reason.

            Currently, Harrison's team was searching for evidence as to Raymond's whereabouts. He would suggest that Raymond wanted to leave, but leaving a home in an utter mess didn't quite sit right with him. Harrison and his team had also been informed by Raymond's cousin, Diana, that they had organized a meet-up and she found him missing. That was where the case had originated, to be exact. She could be a suspect, but to what crime? They needed to find out before throwing around accusations.

            "Hey, Harrison! How's it going?" A woman sat down in the empty seat in front of Harrison, and dutifully he closed his newspaper and placed it to the side, yanked free of his thoughts. The woman's hair was a light dirty blonde, neither blond nor brown yet with a natural shine to it. Her eyes were a glittering golden brown, and she had orangish-brown freckles speckling her face.

            "Charlotte, hey." Harrison greeted with a bob of his head. The young woman flashed him a smile full of dazzling white teeth, and she blinked fondly at him.

            "Any new cases?" She asked curiously, pinning her hair behind her ear with a brush of her fingers. "Or are you on a break after tracking down Will?"

            Harrison huffed a sigh, pressing his lips together with a furrow of his brow. "Another case. It's a bad one this time."

            Charlotte wrinkled her nose, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. "What of?" She inquired.

            Harrison felt discomfort creeping up his spine, and he fiddled with his thumb.

            "I can't say, Charlotte. I'm really sorry." He admitted at last, his eyes fixed on his chocolate milkshake. Distractedly, he sipped at it, taking his time as to not meet Charlotte's disappointed gaze.

            "That's a bummer." She said at last to break the awkward silence that had snuck between them. There was an uncomfortable glitter to her golden-brown eyes that vaguely unsettled Harrison. "Could you at least tell me how bad it is?" She pressed.

            "I've already informed you that I cannot give away any information of the case." Harrison said firmly, his voice firm. Charlotte's eyes flashed defiantly and she opened her mouth to object, but Harrison's cold stare quieted her, and silently she clamped her mouth shut.

            "I'm sorry." Charlotte murmured, getting up and excusing herself with a curt nod. "I'll be back with a cupcake, okay?"

            Harrison felt a hot burst of shame surge against his chest, and with a huff he gave a nod. "Thanks." He said quietly.

            Charlotte walked quickly away and disappeared behind the cafe's counter, off to gather a cupcake or two.

***

            Slamming the door of his police cruiser shut, Harrison looked around at the evergreen forest around him. It was a lovely neighborhood where Raymond's one story house resided, the key place to the police investigation. It was unfortunate that a crime had been committed against such a wonderful person, and the police have yet to discover the right amount of evidence to Raymond's potential murder.

            Harrison prepared his badge and checked the time and date, preparing a mental note as he padded towards the scene of the crime. He held out his police badge to his co-worker, Daisy, who was on duty to make sure nobody trespassed on the scene. She gave a brief nod of her head, holding out a clipboard with paper fastened tightly onto it, a pen hooked between her thumb and the wood. Harrison grabbed the clipboard and pen, and signed in with us full name and number identification, marking down the time and date.

            "Thanks." He muttered quickly to Daisy as he handed the two items back to her. He removed his shoes and replaced them with his detective boots, he needed to wear them as to not collect potential evidence on he bottom on his feet. He then over some caution tape and walked into Raymond's yard, watching his feet for anything that stood out. He and his coworkers were still early in their investigations, and there was still much more to find.

            One of his coworkers, Jason, was on the scene. He was carefully maneuvering around some bushes, while inspecting them from a safe distance. For the time being, the detectives were restricted from touching unauthorized items, and had been commanded to mark them down. Jerry stood to the side with a blank paper and pencil, while another worker, Basil, stood inside with the same tools. The two were sketching out the scenes, and waiting for a detective to point out little details.

            "Hey Jason, find anything yet?" Harrison called over to his coworker, jumping over a line of flower pots.

            Jason, who although was a coworker, was also a pretty close friend to Harrison outside of their job, looked up from his business. "Not yet." He called back, his disappointment clear in his voice. "But the house is a wreck! Our assumption to a kidnapping is pretty strong."

            Harrison nodded, catching a glimpse of the home's inside, which was scattered with dirty laundry, papers, dirt, and anything you could imagine. A lot of investigation would be put into that, Harrison was sure of it.

            "I'm going to go on ahead and check out the inside." He said briskly. Jason, who had resumed his studying, nodded absently.

            Harrison walked up the house's front deck, the wood thumping beneath his shoes and small particles bouncing at every step. Opening the door with an ominous creak, the detective walked inside. Most of the house had hardwood floors, glossy and well-polished, while a few corners and rooms were laden with palely colored carpets. Paper crunched beneath Harrison's boots, and he winced as a fellow detective looked at Harrison's shoes, and with a shake of their head, they left the home.

            They're marking up my mistake. Harrison thought in frustration with himself, balling his hands into tight, irritated fists as carefully he backed away. The paper he had squished had a small pin beside it, a pink cylinder protecting one side of the sharp object. A now nearly indistinguishable number had been printed in dark ink across the bright yellow paper, labeling the pin beside it with the number of 16.

            "Sixteen already?" Harrison commented. He looked around the room he was in, and noticed many other tiny yellow slips placed beside a lot of the wreckage. Basil was now crouched beside another yellow slip, measuring tape in hand as he studied how far away it was from the nearest landmark, which happened to be a window near the front door.

            Being ever more careful, Harrison maneuvered around the house and made his way into the living room, which was surprisingly untouched by the other detectives, and covered with another pale carpet. Breathing a small sigh, he began to investigate. Glancing behind an oddly placed couch, he stifled a gasp, clutching his yellow paper firmly between his fingers.

            "Basil!" Harrison barked, turning his head as his coworker darted into the room, clipboard held tightly in hand. "Mark this down." He said firmly, dropping the yellow paper labeled with 19 above the splatter of blood.

            Basil hesitated, eyes round, before giving a brisk nod and jotting down the position of the blood splatter and changing where the couch was drawn down. Harrison furrowed his brow, a sickly feeling churning in his stomach as it always did when he and his coworkers discovered violence in a crime scene. The blood was splattered in a sharp angle forward, giving him the approximate position from where the person had been attacked and how violent it had been. The blood was also smudged down into the carpet; the suspect having clearly tried to rub it away with a cloth of some sort, and turning out unsuccessful.

            And that's probably why the couch was in such an odd placement. Harrison concluded with a small bob of his head, clutching his forehead between his forefinger and thumb as his gut wrenched at the thought.

            A few other detectives had hurried in behind Basil, having heard Harrison's summons and allowing their curiosity to get the best of them. Jason was amongst them, walking over to Harrison with curiosity glittering in his light eyes. Dirt covered his gloved hands, and clearly he'd been digging something up, either through permission or rejecting protocol.

            "What's up?" He asked quietly, trying not to break professionalism in front of other detectives.

            Harrison waved a hand at the couch, and Jason looked over inquisitively. "Behind it." Harrison quickly said, and Jason walked forward to take a peek.

            Visibly, the younger detective winced. A few peered over Jason's shoulders, their faces scrunching up and giving small shakes of their heads, while others began scanning the room for anymore signs of violence. That, or they dispersed back to their previous activities. Harrison proceeded in marking a few suspicious items, and scribbled them down under his name, including his number ID, the date and time. He signed out with the same information, and left the scene feeling weary and exhausted.

            A few days went by with further investigations. Mable, who was of course another detective, had found a crowbar shoved carelessly into a cabinet. The metal was nearly scrubbed clean, but a few crusty dark red stains were left unnoticed. Another bloody mess could be found leading to the back door of the house, smeared against rugs and carpets but nearly completely vanishing against hardwood floors. It looked like something — or somebody — had been dragged across the floor, and yet again the futile attempts of the suspect cleaning it up had gone unsuccessful.

            A few samples had been collected of the blood, and DNA tests were being run at the lab to see if the two blood samples were linked. Some tufts of brownish-blonde hair had been found lying in strands on the ground. Most of it was knotted and stomped together from footprints, while a few strands were loosely dangling to the crowbar. Dirty and unkempt footsteps littered with pink fabric had also led from the crime scene out the door, following to the slight side of the blood trail. The tufts of dirty blonde hair were also having a few DNA tests, but a gut-wrenching feeling had Harrison certain he knew who the criminal was.

            Standing outside of Charlotte's Cafe, Harrison fretted nervously at the collar of his police vest. Jason stood aside him, perfectly calm with a straight face. He quirked a brow at Harrison.

            "What's wrong?" He questioned, noticing Harrison's anxious state.

            A"My friend works here. I'm afraid she may be the one who did it."

            Jason slapped Harrison's back, taking the detective by surprise. "Don't worry, Harrison." He said in a calm reassurance. "If it is her, at least you won't have to worry about your best friend being a potential murderer, eh?"

            Sighing, Harrison nodded his agreement. "I suppose. Let's get this over with."

            Jason smiled kindly, and nodded. "Agreed."

            The two officers walked across the stone sidewalk. Large rocks divided the pathway, blades of grass blooming between every crevice. Warm scents of delicious pastries filled the air, and Harrison couldn't help but feel content overwhelm him. Walking into the cafe, the bell jangled in alert to their arrival.

            One of Charlotte's workers was busy at the counter, and immediately his head shot up from his business.

            "Hello, how can I help you?" The young man asked as Harrison and Jason walked across the pink and red carpets, which were dotted with small specks of dust here and there, along with a few coffee stains. The worker seemed to be a high-school student, and he was awkward and fidgety, his brown eyes darting to Harrison's police vest and back to meet his eyes with an uncertain smile.

            "I'd like to speak to Charlotte, please." Harrison said. Immediately, the boy's face flushed red, and his eyes grew round.

            "O-Of course, sir." He spluttered, before taking off into the backroom where only employees were allowed. If Charlotte was in the kitchen, it might be awhile before she was available. Only she was allowed in the baking quarters, as she had once told Harrison. It was to prevent any potential food-based incidents.

            Only a few moments later, a baffled Charlotte shoved her way from the back room, the young man trailing shamefully behind her with his head down.

            "Now who sent Ryan to the back to come and get me?" She asked grouchily, slipping some strands of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Her face was covered in a few ashes, and she smelt of freshly baked cookies.

            When her gaze found Harrison, it lit up in surprise and she perked up with a smile. "Harrison!" She exclaimed, her frustration forgotten in an instant and replaced with cheeriness. "It's a pleasure to see you. Aren't you suppose ted to be working right about now?"

            Harrison bit his lip. "Charlotte, I am working."

            Charlotte froze for a moment, her golden-brown eyes flashing with an indecipherable emotion, and her brow knitting together in a frown.

            "Here? At my cafe?" Her light tone pitched slightly lower, and her discomfort began to expand across her features. She shifted a little bit, and gave a small nod. "Of course, I shouldn't be questioning you. If you're here, you're here to question me, correct?"

            Harrison nodded stiffly, and felt Jason shift beside him.

            Charlotte gave a small shake of her head. "Ryan, give everybody what they ordered and leave the premises." She ordered, and obediently the worker nodded and grabbed a few trays, running off towards a few customers and instructing them to leave.

            Charlotte, for the first time seemed to notice Jason, and her face grew a little pale. "I suppose I'll be having a ride in a police cruiser, won't I?"

            Jason bobbed his head in response. "Yes. Feel free to lock the doors behind you and bring the keys. If necessary, we will search the building." He noted, and this made Charlotte ever more uncomfortable.

            His friend's discomfort made Harrison uneasy. He watched as he and his coworker guided her to his vehicle, and with a rumble of the engine they rode onto the road, driving directly to the police station.

            Charlotte had grown ever more anxious the closer they grew to the police station. Her golden-brown eyes flickered to and fro, while she self-consciously swept her hair past her ear. Harrison couldn't help but remember the dirty-blonde hair he'd found at Raymond's house.

            Hair that looked just like Charlotte's.

            As they rolled up to the station, Charlotte shifted in her seat in the back.

            "Alright, let's get this over with as soon as possible." She said briskly, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal.

            Harrison hopped out of the cruiser, slamming the door shut behind him. He retrieved Charlotte from the back, and with Jason flanking her other side, the two guided her into the station.

            A few officers were striding across the room, while others were at desks. One, whose name was Erwin, looked up from his paperwork. "Harrison." He greeted, before flicking his gaze over to Charlotte. He gave no comment, except for a small, apologetic shrug at Harrison.

            Erwin was good at reading people, and that for sure wasn't a good sign.

            Walking to the interrogation room, Harrison allowed Charlotte in. He and Jason weren't going to be doing the interrogation, but rather an officer of a higher rank.

            Watching through the darkened window, Harrison waited for what was to come.

***

            Charlotte had not cooperated well.

            Harrison was back at her cafe, caution tape wrapped around the building's yard to keep out unwanted visitors. DNA tests on the dirty blonde hair had been run, and they had studied Charlotte's hair in comparison. The relation between the two were undeniable, it was obvious she had something to do with the crime.

            Along with the fact that the shoe prints in Raymond's house were the shape of Charlotte's favorite shoes, and pieces of her pink and red carpet were found in the victim's house made her the very likely suspect. Harrison didn't want to believe it, but the facts pointed that he had to.

            As he crossed over the caution tape, having already signed in, he felt nausea stir in his stomach. There was only one place Charlotte could keep things hidden, and that was the kitchen.

            Walking to the back, he swung open the kitchen door and a rank smell rose through the air. The aroma was revolting, it smelt of decay and the vague scent of old pastries. Looking around, he found something he could absolutely not deny.

            Raymond lay deceased on the floor of Charlotte's Cafe, flies swarming over him and dried blood swallowing the ground around him.

            Harrison's friend was a murderer, and there was absolutely no way she could go by unpunished for her crimes. Even Charlotte herself had known she was guilty, providing even further evidence through her struggles to flee from the police station.

            And there was absolutely no way to prove her innocent.