"Meow~"

Gerard turned around at the sound of his beloved Ragdoll, Eleanor's voice and was greeted by pangs of pain sweeping through his body, its source point being his stomach. He looked down in shock, mouth gaping silently in wonder at the sight of the rapid flush of red on his Armani silk shirt. Looking up, all he could see were Eleanor's saucer eyes staring back knowingly. 

"W-why...", was the only word he could sputter before his last breath left him as he crumpled onto the floor.

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Inspector Paul has had enough. A cat being accused of murder and potentially facing a life-imprisonment threat was not what he signed up for when he first joined the police force. What the hell was Eric thinking? Who let that imbecile onto the crime scene before everyone else, anyway? This is a protocol breach and he is not planning to let go of this one as easily as the John Dobson case. To say that one was a nightmare would be an understatement.

Whatever the case, by the time he got to Harvey's Law and Practitioners, fingerprints were all over the scene and he knew that all of them belonged to his incompetent colleague. He'll have to speak to Derek about this the moment five minutes of his unbelievably cramp schedule clears up. Eric is a cinch in the well-oiled armour of the police force and everyone but said person knows it. 

Paul sighed and rubbed his face as he looked around the room. There was no way dusting the room for fingerprints would be of any use now, considering how some idiots had the decency to step into the bloodied white carpet and smudged pretty much everything on their way out. Eric stomped over when Paul crossed the marked threshold.

"Took you long enough.", he had the nerve to say. "It's okay. I knew that you would take care of everything.. Like how you took care of the victim and the blood, judging by the footprints all over the room." Paul smartly retorted. "W-what? I- What? Those footprints aren't mine!" Eric started stammering. "Oh yeah? So who else in the force, or even this room wears sized 10 loafers that happened to have that mark on the underfoot when you tripped in the John Dobson case, leading to the failure of capturing his murderer? Hmm?" Paul shot back. "Good God. Do you have to bring up that case every single time? You don't have to be such a douche, considering how I finished all of the preliminary work for you." Eric said, whimpering slightly as he handed over a clipboard. Paul would have felt a slight twinge of sympathy if not for the fact that the sympathy boat left the same time Eric single-handedly brought a 10-month case to a halt because all he had to do was wear those god-damned loafers that were no good for running in. Hey, it's okay to let a serial murderer get away. Fashion over functionality, right?

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