"Found it," he said.
"Where was it?" she wondered.
"Right here, under the night table."
"Let me see?" she murmured. "Ah, yes, right there. It's full of blood. Put it inside the bag."
Sheila was the best detective in town, even though there wasn't much to investigate, either then or there. Such a small town in the UK wasn't worth the trouble. However, this was no issue for her. Sheila took her job very seriously, and Karl was? just there. He wasn't a great detective but had learned a lot from her. Karl admired Sheila a lot, so much that he would always take notes on everything she said, even when they drank tea at her home.
"This is not at all tasty," she would say. "Make it delightful next time, Karl," she would comment while frowning at the tea. Karl followed every instruction from her and tried to always help her, even though he never had the most brilliant mind of them all. This was their biggest case yet: a murder.
"Wait!" Sheila cried. "Put on the gloves, detective. Do not touch the evidence without them!"
"Oh, you're right, madame."
"Those are such basic rules, detective," Sheila complained.
"So sorry, Miss Carter."
Karl put on his gloves and placed the murder weapon inside the tamper-proof bag. Meanwhile, Sheila was examining the room closely.
"Blood stains all over the floor, but no body? Look over there, at the window."
"Oh, it's open. The perp must have gotten out of the window after the murder," Karl exclaimed.
"Exactly, detective."
They both looked at the white, blood-stained window with tiny flower details. It was very rusty and full of dirt.
"The blood's fresh," Karl uttered.
"Yes, that means the events must have taken place in the last two hours."
Suddenly, Mr. Carter entered.
"Detective," he spoke.
"Forensic," Sheila responded.
They would always talk to each other in that manner, even though they were husband and wife. He and Karl had met a few years prior to their marriage. They'd always been close.
"But? there's no body, Mr. Carter," Karl said.
"Oh, I know," he exclaimed. "I'm just here to take the detective to dinner."
"Sure thing, spouse," Sheila responded. "We'll continue later, detective."
They both walked out of the room and went outside the house. Karl stayed a bit longer to keep the investigation going. That's when he noticed something. Maybe it was his lack of brightness, but he could swear that such a thing was a hint. There was a watch on the floor, and it was Mr. Carter's. He hesitated: Sheila's life and career were in the hands of that watch; he didn't want to ruin it. Still, he grabbed the bag and placed the evidence inside of it.