<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/8a/TimRoth.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Detective-Liutenant Michael Holiday<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>237 Pacific Way - In Kitchen<br/><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Monday, May 4th, around 7:30<br/><br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Digging into the scene<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Wearing a charcoal suit over a black sweater</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i1289.photobucket.com/albums/b502/ehlamjanx/Mobile%20Uploads/Tim-Roth-_9-1024x760_zpsa4vq5jl0.jpg)</div></div><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>OPEN - Speaks directly to Li<br/><hr/>Holiday tightened his jaw. He found himself making involuntary shake of his head that turned into a shaking of his head back and forth, like saying 'no'.  It was the revulsion at the sight of the body making him want to turn away, but the professional self fighting at human instincts.  The result was a shaking of the head that happened at the first sight of scenes like this.  He shook it off after taking in the horror of a dead man laying there before him.<br/><br/><em>"Hello there..."</em>he said to the man on the floor.  He looked for a visible wound, an obvious cause of death, perhaps.  Given the pool of blood and the footprint in it, he didn't want to disturb any evidence.  He looked as closely as possible at the man without stepping in too close to contaminate the scene.  As he scanned the man up and down, he felt himself imagining how he had gotten into a position head down towards the back door.  He deduced that he had to have come from the interior of the house and perhaps had an altercation here.<br/><br/>Rather than move the body, he stood tall and still and surveyed the small room.  He nodded and Hmmm'd and Mmmmm Hmmmm'd to himself as he tried to make a cinematic replay of events that may have happened not that long ago in this very space.<br/><br/>Notably, his cinematic replay started at the door to the rear.  His mind's eye saw a non-descript individual making a sharp wrap onto the door's window pane.  The glass fell in slow motion in his mind and bounced about and came to rest in the various places that they were in now before him.  His mind formed two channel sets; a split screen of cinematic formulation.  In one of the screens, the non-descript figure reached through the window, found the key inserted in a deadbolt lock, turned it and made entry.  In the other screen, a filler.  He needed a place for a man in a black tee and purple shorts to be whilst the window pane broke.  He placed the man in bed, reasoning this was his version of sleepwear.  From there he had a big gap to fill in, the state of the front room.<br/><br/>He imagined the intruder slipping into the front room.  While his cinematic imagination was processing, he could hear Li sifting through things in the mess that was left behind.<br/><strong>"Andy, who's our friend?"</strong>he asked out loud to the detective in the other room.  He reasoned he had found many items by now that would bear the name of the resident of the home, and he had assumed that the man laying before him owned the place.  He wanted a name for the man.  It would be step one in making the body take on life in the story in his head.  He needed a name to "feel" him, to start to get to know him.<br/><br/>The house phone rang.<strong>"Someone take that!"</strong>he said casually at the ringing phone as he focused keenly on the body, the door, the blood and the footprint.