These fucking uniformed asshats. They couldn’t investigate their way out of a sandwich. Let alone a murder.
This man clearly didn’t die in the kitchen. No, he died here. In the bathroom. Even sadder than I imagined. And it must have been gruesome.
Past the kitchen was the door to the bathroom, a floor covered in blood. I immediately caught it. This was bad, and clearly, it was much worse at some point. Those bloodied rags covering the kitchen counter a result of a weak attempt to clean up a vile situation.
This was not a domestic escalation. This was cold and calculated, done by someone who knew what they were doing. Murders in the bathroom are the easiest to clean...and require forethought (how do you get them in there?).
So, who killed Thomas Chester? And what the hell was with all the pink blankets?
I have an idea...