had the original wood from the house’s construction some ten years ago. The detective, however, had no way of knowing this, and if he somehow found Roger hiding upstairs, the reason his footsteps sounded differently would probably be the last question he would ask.
Det. Cleveland looked up the stairway before transcending. He always looked and assessed before he did anything, even just walking up stairs. The hallway was dark, but the light from the master bedroom immediately drew his attention. He pondered whether the front-line officers had left the light illuminated or whether it had been the owner of the house before his great escape.
Det. Cleveland stood at the doorway to the master bedroom. He took in the queen-sized bed in the center with nightstands on each side. He moved into the room. Immediately, the smell of alcohol tickled his nose. Det. Cleveland looked on top of the counters, but nothing that would have emitted the smell revealed itself. Checking the next probable location, he looked at the base of the bed, moving the flowing skirt on each side. Then he found the culprit—a bottle of opened “Jack Daniel’s Old Tennessee Whiskey.” Det. Cleveland put the bottle on the nightstand and looked at the side of the bed next to him. The covers were slightly imprinted on one side and near the pillow, just enough for the detective to confirm that a body had recently rested on top of the bed. He assumed the officers did not tamper with the light and the signs therefore suggested that Mr. Belkin, the owner, had used alcohol as a downer to induce sleep. Then, he had exercised the side of the bed as his resting place closest to the bottle. Det. Cleveland conjectured that when the patrolmen had startled him awake from the front door, Roger Belkin fled through the path of least resistance, the back door. Det. Cleveland made note of this in his notepad, trying to put a timeline and sequence to the man’s actions.
The bathroom behind him begged inspection. Although Det. Cleveland was anxious to check out the backyard for clues, he knew he had to exhaust the immediate area to look for a smoking gun. He walked into the dark bathroom, flipping the light switch. He caressed the towel hanging over the shower door. Toiletries lined the back of the clean toilet and sink. The lipstick case caught the detective’s eyes as he gravitated toward the seemingly innocuous object. He wondered whether this was, in fact, the lipstick used by the unconscious Jane Doe lying in Southern General Hospital. As he looked at the woman’s make-up, his eyes shifted to the mirror in front of him. He paused, staring at his cool mug peering back at him. He looked at his dark eyebrows and green eyes. The man staring back appeared in-control and collected, but there was a slight wrinkle on his skin under his left eye. Det. Cleveland did not notice it before, but something about the concentrated lighting brought out all of the reflection’s flaws. Even though the wrinkle was subtle, it made Det. Cleveland question the man staring at him. He suddenly felt older and no longer impenetrable. The wrinkle signified a chink in his armor and made him think about death. There must have been something about this mirror, he finally concluded, something that made him see things he had never seen before. He thought about Roger Belkin standing in the same spot and wondered how many answers to his questions the all-seeing mirror had concealed.
Det. Cleveland turned and left the confines of the bathroom. He flipped the switch, leaving the small space in darkness. He moved toward the master bedroom door as his steps created a filtered “clump” on the carpet. As he turned off the light switch, he hesitated with his hand still resting on the plastic toggle. His mind thought about any other clues he may have missed. As his brain calculated, his gut told him there was something else in the room, something that he had overlooked. Det. Cleveland flipped the switch back
Det. Cleveland looked up the stairway before transcending. He always looked and assessed before he did anything, even just walking up stairs. The hallway was dark, but the light from the master bedroom immediately drew his attention. He pondered whether the front-line officers had left the light illuminated or whether it had been the owner of the house before his great escape.
Det. Cleveland stood at the doorway to the master bedroom. He took in the queen-sized bed in the center with nightstands on each side. He moved into the room. Immediately, the smell of alcohol tickled his nose. Det. Cleveland looked on top of the counters, but nothing that would have emitted the smell revealed itself. Checking the next probable location, he looked at the base of the bed, moving the flowing skirt on each side. Then he found the culprit—a bottle of opened “Jack Daniel’s Old Tennessee Whiskey.” Det. Cleveland put the bottle on the nightstand and looked at the side of the bed next to him. The covers were slightly imprinted on one side and near the pillow, just enough for the detective to confirm that a body had recently rested on top of the bed. He assumed the officers did not tamper with the light and the signs therefore suggested that Mr. Belkin, the owner, had used alcohol as a downer to induce sleep. Then, he had exercised the side of the bed as his resting place closest to the bottle. Det. Cleveland conjectured that when the patrolmen had startled him awake from the front door, Roger Belkin fled through the path of least resistance, the back door. Det. Cleveland made note of this in his notepad, trying to put a timeline and sequence to the man’s actions.
The bathroom behind him begged inspection. Although Det. Cleveland was anxious to check out the backyard for clues, he knew he had to exhaust the immediate area to look for a smoking gun. He walked into the dark bathroom, flipping the light switch. He caressed the towel hanging over the shower door. Toiletries lined the back of the clean toilet and sink. The lipstick case caught the detective’s eyes as he gravitated toward the seemingly innocuous object. He wondered whether this was, in fact, the lipstick used by the unconscious Jane Doe lying in Southern General Hospital. As he looked at the woman’s make-up, his eyes shifted to the mirror in front of him. He paused, staring at his cool mug peering back at him. He looked at his dark eyebrows and green eyes. The man staring back appeared in-control and collected, but there was a slight wrinkle on his skin under his left eye. Det. Cleveland did not notice it before, but something about the concentrated lighting brought out all of the reflection’s flaws. Even though the wrinkle was subtle, it made Det. Cleveland question the man staring at him. He suddenly felt older and no longer impenetrable. The wrinkle signified a chink in his armor and made him think about death. There must have been something about this mirror, he finally concluded, something that made him see things he had never seen before. He thought about Roger Belkin standing in the same spot and wondered how many answers to his questions the all-seeing mirror had concealed.
Det. Cleveland turned and left the confines of the bathroom. He flipped the switch, leaving the small space in darkness. He moved toward the master bedroom door as his steps created a filtered “clump” on the carpet. As he turned off the light switch, he hesitated with his hand still resting on the plastic toggle. His mind thought about any other clues he may have missed. As his brain calculated, his gut told him there was something else in the room, something that he had overlooked. Det. Cleveland flipped the switch back
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