Red.

Blood painted the marble floor in large pools.

Glass.

The chandelier had fallen and shattered.

I surveyed my surroundings. A man, not of great importance most likely, judging by his clothes, killed in the centre of the ballroom, covered in tiny shards of glass.

Young. Unsuspecting.

His eyes were open in a frozen frame of shock and pain. The food set out on long dining tables was still warm, meant to be eaten before the ball was cancelled. This was no accident.

His throat, slit, glass sticking out from his flesh.

I stood from my crouched position, taking my gloves off and wrapping them in a handkerchief. A murder, that much was obvious. But who did, and for what reason, I was unsure. I continued inspecting my surroundings, hoping for a clue that would give me some sort of answer. But killers aren’t that sloppy. The murderer wanted this job done quickly and thoroughly.

Sighing, I walked to the other side of the room, where the band would have been playing if the murder hadn’t happened to begin with. Nothing strange was there. Everything cleaned to shine like the stars, and everything placed neatly.

I turned.

A low note from the piano suddenly resonated across the walls. I spun on my heal to find the person playing the keys.

Nobody was there.

I didn’t gasp, my hands didn’t clench, both bad habits for someone being threatened.

I remained calm.

A voice echoed from above me, cooing with delight, “Care to dance?”