Clouded Rainbow by Jonathan Sturak

lights brightly burned as Det. Cleveland sneaked up on the two men. One was a skinny, twenty-eight-year-old patrolman whose uniform seemed two sizes too big. He had jet-black hair and a small mustache that looked unnatural on his boyish face. The other patrolman was thirty and had a round belly like Santa Clause. Opposite of St. Nick’s white hair, his head was shaved with a few days’ stubble poking through his scalp, which revealed his receding hairline. Both were inspecting Roger’s liquor cabinet. The sight of the detective widened their eyes, as if they were kids with their hands in a cookie jar.
    “Oh. Sorry, sir,” said the husky patrolman as he and his accomplice set down their respective bottles.
    “Detective Ray Cleveland,” the detective replied as he flashed his badge. “At ease gentlemen. What do you got?”
    “He has a nice collection of rums,” the skinny patrolman blurted.
    “No, you ass, he means the house,” rasped the burly man.
    Det. Cleveland remained emotionless on the outside, but he was rolling his eyes in his mind.
    “Oh. Well, we searched it. It looks like he was either in the house and left, or he was never here in the first place. We gave everything a once-over,” the skinny patrolman explained.
    “Any sign of struggle or other anomalies?”
    “No, sir. We are about done here anyway. They’re going to send a car by for a stake-out,” the scrawny patrolman continued.
    Det. Cleveland realized these first responders were worthless to him. He did give them credit for checking the immediacy of the situation and for taking care of returning the stolen car to its owner, but they lacked the killer instinct that only a well-bred detective could offer.
    “I see. Thanks, guys. I’m going to give the place a walk through. I’ll lock up,” Det. Cleveland responded.
    The two patrolmen removed their gaze from the prominent detective and walked past him with their heads held low. They resembled mischievous schoolboys leaving the principal’s office after being drilled with questions. Det. Cleveland heard the door shut behind him, which quickly brought silence into the spacious house. He walked over to the liquor cabinet, the structure that intrigued the two immature patrolmen. Several bottles of rum and brandy lined the top, but the large jug of wine that dominated the other inferior bottles caught his attention. Det. Cleveland picked up the jug and winced from its hefty weight. The label revealed it as Lambrusco. While the detective did not have much knowledge of wine, he figured this must have been a delicacy for the residents of the home.
    Det. Cleveland set the bottle down and turned to take in the kitchen. He walked slowly toward the window above the sink. It was as if he tried to mask the echo of his footsteps, but the hardwood floors provided no cushion to his posh dress shoes. Det. Cleveland peered through the window and noticed the swaying clothes hanging on the neighbor’s line. The fabric’s movement was soft and slow from the night breeze and it took some strength to remove his eyes from the hypnotic motion. After a minute, the detective turned and moved toward a floral arrangement. The daisies, tulips, and lilacs were still glowing and vibrant, which suggested to him that they had received a drink not more than thirty-six hours ago. Det. Cleveland walked toward the exit of the kitchen, and then flipped the light switch. He paused for a moment as his mind suddenly went blank. It was as if he couldn’t think or move. Little did the detective know, he was standing in the precise spot as the man he was trying to locate with the same radiating glow silhouetting his body from the entryway light. The only difference, however, was that he faced the opposite way that Roger had faced earlier in the evening.
    The sound of Det. Cleveland’s footsteps changed tone as he moved onto the older hardwood floors. Roger had remodeled the kitchen last year with new flooring and the entryway still