by Bryan Belrad

Created on: January 18, 2011

It was the perfect crime. The scene was immaculate. Not a single smudged fingerprint marred any of the gleaming brass doorknobs that adorned the great room's three stained oak doors. Nor was one present on the crystalline surface of the large rectangular glass table that refracted light from the big bay window, casting a thousand little rainbows all around the room. Not one smudge could be found on the white stucco walls, not a single fiber of the lush blue carpeting was out of place. No mark or stain of any kind could be found on the designer furniture ensemble that so brilliantly matched that beautiful carpet. For all intents and purposes, the room was flawless. And sterile.

The only sign that something was amiss, a tiny detail, was something that even a veteran investigator would miss.

"Do you see it, Clauson?" Inspector Asper asked.

Peter Clauson, a young cop, had only been with the force for three years. He'd just been promoted to Investigator, and was learning the ropes. That's why he'd been paired with Asper for orientation; Asper was the best the city of Lowville had ever seen.

Pete squinted, as if to see more clearly by minimizing the amount of distracting light reaching his pupils. He turned his head from left to right, taking in the whole width and breadth of the room. When he was done, he gave up with a shrug.

Asper pointed up, toward the high vaulted ceiling, where a gigantic upside-down tree made of brass, crystal, and tiny electric lights dangled ten feet over the center of the room. "Do you see?"

Pete shook his head. He hadn't given the chandelier a second glance since he'd come in. It wasn't relevant, so he'd completely forgotten it was there.

"There's dust," Asper said.

Pete hesitated, his expression showed his growing confusion. He did his best to hide it, not wanting to look dumb in front of the great Inspector Asper, but at last he gave in.

"I don't follow. So there's dust. So what?" he said.

"The other rooms in this house are very clean, but there's signs that people live here. This room, however, is positively spotless."

"Ok," Pete said, "But the body is in the dining room. What does it matter that this room is so well kept?"

Asper shook his head. "If you learn anything from me, learn this: people don't hide things unless there is something to hide. Our victim was killed in this room."

"How can you possibly figure that?"

"Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Sonomar wanted this room ultra-tidy, for whatever reason. I've known people who go so far as to cordon off their

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