The couple sprawled across the bed, legs locked together even in death, their faces contorted and inhuman. The room was bright with the smell of sex, blood, and incense. Detective Kimball slumped against the doorway, watching the crime photographers wearily.

“Here’s your coffee, sir. Careful, sir, it’s hot.”

Kimball swallowed it in one pass and pushed the styrofoam cup against the rookie’s chest. “Aaaaaagh,” he said.

“I did say, sir.”

“Not your fault, rookie.” The kid glanced around, eyes a little too wide. He was nervous — Kimball could smell the copper fear coming off of him. “Awful way to go.”

“I suppose… yes, sir. What happened?” Kimball raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I read the paper, but… you can’t trust the New Hadleyburg Gazette for much more than making pinatas.”

Kimball grunted. “Cause of death sexual exhaustion incited by irritant applied to the prophylactic victims reported for noise violation officer dispatched to the scene unable to contact victims upon gaining entrance to the scene victims were deceased.” His pushed his face into new, equally tired configurations with his fingers. “Fucked themselves to death.”

“We’re all done in here, Detective,” said the head photographer. “Anything special you want?”

“No, you’ve seen everything I would’ve. Good work, Casey. See you back at the lab.” The kid went to the door with them and he was left alone with the couple. “Who were you before? What did you do, and what did you think?”