Detective Sergeant Gregory Lestrade pulled out his personal recorder and began to talk. "Deceased is a white male between the ages of ..I'd say...twenty and twenty five. Found in bathtub of his flat. Three parallel incisions on each wrist made with what appears to be a scalpel. No sign of a struggle. No roommate." He lowered the recorder and yelled, "Johnson, I want pictures of the body and this entire room!"

"Looks like a pretty clear suicide," Johnson said raising his camera to snap a picture.

"Let's not make assumptions. We shouldn't discount any options this early in the investigation. Watch where you're stepping! There might be evidence on that bath mat. And while you're at it, get me a sample of that bath water will you."

He walked into the living room. "A wine bottle and one wine glass. Seems to have had a drink before his bath. Clothes neatly folded. This guy was a bit too neat for my taste. It's unreal. Wilson! Don't just stand there. Dust the glass and the bottle for prints! I shouldn't have to tell you this. I want everything documented, and keep an eye out for a suicide note."

Wilson rushed over to the table with the sample bag meeting Johnson who was just exiting the bathroom with the water sample. The two of them huddled together. "He's a bit 'gung ho' isn't he?" Johnson said.

"Well, that's to be expected. This is his first solo case. They always go a bit crazy when they're new at it. Best to just keep your head down and take the samples."

"For a suicide? It's pointless," Johnson replied.

"Johnson!" Lestrade called, "I want pictures of this entire flat!"

"Yes sir," Johnson said catching Wilson's eye before walking into the bedroom.

Lestrade walked slowly around the room, looking closely at everything and reporting it to his recorder. "He seemed to have an extensive comic book collection. Some of these are in...It appears to be Japanese. Videos too. Lots of science books. Biology, chemistry, biochemistry, nuclear physics. Brainy one this. Where's the person who found him?"

"Downstairs sir, room fifty five."

Lestrade exited through the door and rushed down the stairs. The door to room fifty five was open and a man sat on the couch. A uniformed officer stood by the door.

"This the man who found the body?" he asked her.

"Yes sir, his name is Joseph Sung."

Lestrade looked down at the young man. He was Asian, in his early twenties. He wore a t-shirt which said "May the mass x acceleration be with you". He was frowning. Lestrade sat down across from him. "Hello. I'm Detective Sergeant Lestrade the principal investigator of this case. You were the one who found him, correct?"

"Yes," the man said shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is your relationship to the deceased?"

"The deceased, Blimy! I guess he is that now. Strange thing that. I'm just a neighbor."

"A neighbor, so how did you get into his apartment."

"I have a key. You see, Robert was always paranoid about getting locked out of his apartment, so he gave me a spare key for emergencies."

"Did you ever need to use this key before?"

"Yes, once or twice, but most of the time. I didn't see much of him. He kept to himself. He was a pretty quiet guy really."

"So why did you use the key today? What was different?"

"I got a call from his work," Joseph said. "You see, he gave my number to his work in case something was wrong with his phone. He was pretty paranoid. Always planning contingencies. Well, his boss called because he was late for work. Asked me to check on him, so I went up and I found that. It was a surprise, that's for sure."

"Where did he Robert work?"

"He worked at the University Library. He's a student, biochem I believe. Really smart bloke."

"Did he have visitors? friends?"

"No, not that I've seen, but then again, I'm usually out."

"And when you did see him, did he seem particularly depressed or upset?"

The man shook his head, "Not any more than normal. He was pretty regular. Went to classes, went to work. Ate out at the corner Chinese on Sundays. Watched videos on weekends always alone. He seemed to me to be a pretty lonely guy, but then he's lived here for two years, I don't know why he would suddenly kill himself now? I mean, he was so close to graduating, and it's not like his grades were bad. From what I heard, he was one of the smartest blokes in the entire University. He was brilliant. I mean, really bright. But then again, I guess we don't really know people."

Lestrade nodded and stood, "Thank you Mr. Sung. I'll be sending someone in to get your statement in a moment, and then you can be on your way.

"Thanks, because my trivia team meets at eleven and we're going to Oxford on Wednesday."

Lestrade walked outside of the building to find Constable Ann Gray standing next to the police car. He was Anne's superior, but she was older and much more experienced. She had adopted him on his first day at Scotland Yard, and he had her assigned to his team whenever he could. She stood by neat as ever, her blond hair pulled into a bun beneath her black hat. She clipped the radio receiver to her vest.

"I'd kill for a coffee," he said.

Anne smiled, "There's a really good coffee shop around the corner. If you want, I can run down and get you one. That's the least I can do for the new Detective Sergeant. How's the case going by the way?"


"Suicide isn't it?"

"Looks that way, but there's something not quite right about it. I mean, slit wrists? It's a pretty girly way to die don't you think?"

Anne laughed, "A bit sexist of you isn't it? It's a dead body. What matters how he did it?"

"Well, it's unusual. Usually blokes prefer a more direct route: Hanging, or shooting. Tossed in front of a train. Slit wrists in the bathroom? That's your classic beauty queen death. It just doesn't feel right to me."

She laughed again, "Well you're the detective not me."

"You could be one Anne if you wanted to."

Just then, Wilson stuck his head outside, "Do you want a sample of the wine in the glass? or maybe the bottle."

"Good thought, Wilson. Get a sample of both, and make sure that Johnson gets pictures of that dissection kit on the kitchen table. The scalpel most certainly came from there."

Anne patted Lestrade on the back. "You go back in there and finish your case, and I'll get you that coffee. We don't want another crime here."

"Another crime?"

"That murder you were going to do if you didn't get any coffee."

"Oh, yeah. I can't believe that you actually listen to my babbling."

"Well, you are the boss. Good luck on the case!"

"Thanks Anne," he said, and he walked back into the building bounding up the stairs two at a time with a smile on his face.