<div style="text-align: justify;">The detective looked down, surprised at this sudden intimacy. They had met, what, a couple of hours ago at the most? Jonathan patted her slightly awkwardly on the back while closing the door. Strange hugging or not, he did not want her to go or even look in there.<br/><br/>"I believe ya," he responded flatly to her shivering question. "Coppers might not. But I think it's the best option you've got." With an arm around her shoulders, he guided her back to the chair and pushed her back down into it, maybe a little less gently than he could have. He squatted down in front of her and took her hands in his. They were just as small and significantly colder than he remembered them being when they first greeted each other.<br/><br/>"Listen, Miss Allen," he began. "I know this is a big shock for you. The bodies are pilin' up around you. But I need your help. You're the only one of us who would know if anything was missing here. So take a deep breath and relax, and then see if something's wrong - uh, wrong<span style="font-style: italic">er</span>." <span style="font-style: italic">That's not a word, you moron.</span> "If you can, move things as little as possible. I realize that's not ideal for a search, but..." He trailed off as he let go of Joanna's hands to fish out a slim notepad and a pen from the pocket of his jacket that she was still wearing. What a sad sight she was. Scared, barefoot, and wearing clothes too big for her, she reminded him of his little sister. He'd have to call her soon.<br/><br/>Jonathan did not have to flip many pages to reach a blank one; the lack of notes evidence of his sad career. But you had to start somewhere, right? A quick tour around the living room revealed nothing new - the lock had not been broken, the windows were not smashed, and nothing was obviously missing. Of course, Joanna could help him better determine that.<br/><br/>"Anyone have a key to this place besides you? Colleagues, family?" He shot a look upwards as you could plainly hear something scraping across the floor upstairs, followed by the muffled sound of footsteps. "Neighbors?"<br/><br/>While the living room was not terribly interesting, crime wise, the bedroom was another story entirely. Once you got over the initial shock of a corpse where there logically should not be one, there were a significant amount of other things worth noticing. Still wanting to spare her as much as possible, Jonathan closed the bedroom door behind him again once he had entered. He eyed the dead man suspiciously. He had definitely not been alone. Heart attacks did not look like that. Once again, Jonathan got on his knees. The murky, reddish-brown liquid that had spread from underneath the man was definitely blood. Lifting the body revealed the source - something that looked decidedly like a stab wound. Whoever had killed him must had known exactly what he was doing, because it certainly looked like it had been quick. The victim probably did not even have time to scream, Jonathan decided, based on the fact that no curious neighbors were running around. That was the thing about humans - they run to a call of distress rather than away from it. Slowly letting go of the body, careful not to get any blood on him, Jonathan continued his inspection.<br/><div class="inline-attachment">
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</div><br/>"How's it going in there?" he called through the door.</div>