A Bloody Mess

“Come on, Henry, breathe!” Tom shouted at the top of his lungs, but knew it was no use. Henry’s lifeless body was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Still, Tom began to administer CPR as he called the 911 operator.

“What is your emergency,” the operator asked.

“My friend’s been stabbed! He needs an ambulance!”

In a cool and calm voice, the operator’s replied, “Is he responsive? Is he able to communicate?”

“He’s dead!” Tom shouted. “He’s just lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.”

“Sir, he may still be alive. An ambulance is on the way. Until it arrives, can you administer CPR?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” Tom shouted. “Picking my nose? Shit!”

Unphased by Tom’s rhetoric, the operator continued. “I understand you’re upset, but please bear with me. I want you to continue doing CPR, and for the meantime, could you tell me about your friend?”

Between the times Tom pressed down on Henry’s chest, he answered, “His name is Henry. Henry Campbell. He’s twenty-one years old, a dashing young man and all the ladies can’t get enough of him. We’re all a bit jealous of his charisma and are reluctant to invite him to join us when we go out to the club. Less competition, more ladies hanging around us.”

“That's interesting,” the operator answered. “Do you know of any health issues we need to know about?”

“Besides him being an ass when he gets drunk, I can’t think of anything.”

“Was he drunk, when you found him like this?”

Tom sighed, “When isn’t he drunk?”

The blare of a siren and a loud knock on the door told Tom the ambulance had arrived, and when he opened the door, two paramedics were there, along with two police officers.

As the paramedics sped towards Henry to tend to him, the police officers cornered Tom for questioning. The older of the two officers began. “I’m Officer Flanders and my partner is Officer Bryant.”

“I’m Tom,” Tom answered. “Tom Delaney.”

As Officer Bryant stepped away to investigate the scene of the crime, Officer Flanders continued. “It’s a bloody mess in here. Do you know what happened?”

“Well, I’m not sure, officer. I knocked on the door and no one answered. So, I went in and found Henry like this. Then I called 911 and administered CPR. Afterwards, you came here and that was it.”

Officer Flanders began writing down notes. “I see,” he replied. “Do you normally walk into someone’s house if no one answers the door? Most people would just walk away if no one answered.”

“Well, I knew he was home, so I helped myself in when he didn’t answer.”

“So, Henry was expecting you to come?”

“Yes.”

“What were you two going to do?”

“We were going to watch the Steelers and Ravens game together.”

Officer Flanders wrote down more notes. “What time did you arrive?

“About 1:15. I stopped at a 7-Eleven to get a six pack of beer and got here a little late.”

“I see,” said Officer Flanders. “The 7-Eleven just up the street?”

“Yes sir.”

“When you arrived here, did see any suspicious people or an unfamiliar car outside?”

“No cars, but there was one person walking down the sidewalk who looked out of place.”

“How so?”

“Well, there was a black man running down the street, about six feet tall and wearing a hoodie. I could see his face, but he looked out of place.”

At once, Officer Flanders got on his radio an informed headquarters to be on the lookout for this man. As soon as he was off the radio, Officer Bryant returned and talked to him. Two minutes passed by before Officer Flanders continued questioning Tom.

“So, let me see if I got this straight. You were planning to come and watch the game with Henry. About 1:00P.M. you arrived at the 7-Eleven to get six-pack of beer. You arrived here about 1:15 and knocked on the door. No one answered so you let yourself in and found this mess. Then you called 911 and administered CPR, bringing us, to now. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir, that’s pretty much it.”

“So, where’s the beer?”

“Huh?”

“You said you brought a six-pack of beer. Where is it?”

“It’s in the fridge.”

“In the fridge? You’re telling me you walked in this house, saw your friend lying on the floor in his own blood and you took the time to walk past him, into the kitchen, and put the beer in the fridge before you called 911?”

“I know it seems strange, Officer, but I was in shock and wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Right. So, with all this blood on the floor, you couldn’t help but to step in it. But when I look towards the kitchen, I don’t see any footprints leading to there. How do you explain that?”

A trickle of sweat began to form on Tom’s forehead, and he absently wiped them away. “I don’t know,” he replied. I guess I didn’t step in his blood.”

Officer Flanders nodded. “For your information, Officer Bryant has been busy while we were talking. He tells me there are only two sets of footprints here. Henry’s, and the assailant. If you went into the house after the murder, there should be three sets of footprints and I bet if I look at the footage from the security camera at the 7-Eleven, it’ll show you were there earlier than 1:00. What do you think?”

All the color drained out of Tom’s face, and his voice began to tremble. “He kept pushing me. He was drunk and kept on pushing me! Said I was queer, that I liked hanging out with him more than girls. He said I never said a word to the girls in the club, because I was always hanging around him. Then he grabbed his crouch and told me to show how much I loved him or else he was going to post on Facebook and Twitter how I was a queer and was ashamed to admit it. You know how many friends and followers he has? It was too much. So, I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and let him know how much I really loved him. Now you know as well as he does.”

Not long after, Tom was handcuffed and taken to jail.