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Detective Michael Castillo felt really awkward as he trudged up the steps to the beautiful house on the corner of the beautiful street. A beautiful woman watered the beautiful and colourful flowers in her beautiful garden. This was wrong – everything was too fine-looking. The sun was shining brilliantly and the detective pushed back what little grey hair he had. This was the worst part – the most horrific part – of the job. Telling someone his or her son had died was bad, but revealing to the mother that her son had killed himself was even worse.

    Mrs Crow gave the plain-clothed policeman a slightly bemused smile as he trundled up the garden pathway to meet her. She stopped smiling suddenly as she saw the frown lines in Michael Castillo’s face. As he introduced himself, her red lips began to droop into a sad expression and the sparkle in her eyes dithered like a light flickering.

    As he explained all of the facts to her in the comfortable living room his mother stared intently into his eyes, as if searching for some sort of answer from them.

     “You’re telling me… ”She finally said hesitantly, pulling at the strands of blonde hair that hung loosely down her shoulders, “… That you believe my son killed himself because he thought the boy he was about to kill was dead?” She paused for a moment, recognizing what she had said for herself. “That’s absurd! My son would never…He wouldn’t…” She said, finally, her words trailing out in a spontaneous order. The detective didn’t waste much time in laying out the evidence about the knife before asking if there was anything he could do.

      She glanced at him coldly and said simply: “Let yourself out” Michael stood up at once, wanting to leave the woman alone to grieve but also wanting to comfort her. As he said the last thing he would say before he left, he grimaced at the unhelpfulness of his comment.

                                                “I’m sorry for your loss”