Mr. Farris' Collection

Inspector Grady scanned the room. The shelves were lined with all manner of knickknacks. Souvenirs the victim had collected over the years. One item caught his eye - a giant pink shell. Carefully, he lifted the shell off its stand to examine it. A streak of red lined the lip of the shell. Blood. This is the murder weapon, he thought, no doubt. Instead of disposing it, the killer had decided to put it back, in hopes no one would notice. It made sense, since Dale Farris was killed from blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. But something told him the shell wasn't the only thing used. He stared at the other items on the shelf. Flicking on his UV torch, he found another clue. Four fingerprints glowed bright blue on the basketball. They didn't match any of Mr. Farris' prints.

"After careful examination of the scene," Inspector Grady told the suspects in the living room. "I believe I know who the killer is." "Yes?" The three cried in unison. Grady nodded. "I suspect that Mr. Farris was in deep conversation with the killer. The moment he dropped his guard, he was struck with the basketball. Then the killer used the seashell to finish the job." Georgia Davies grimaced, covering her mouth in disgust. That ruled her out. "Mrs. Farris," he turned to Harley, "what did you think of his collection?" "A frivolous waste of money," she folded her arms, "but it was his pride and joy. I would never take that from him, and I'd never kill him over it." Grady turned to the last suspect, Benny Westward. "Do you play basketball, Benny?" "I used to. But then I dislocated my ankle five years ago, haven't played since." "You were famous. Mr. Farris had his basketball signed by you." "If Dale hadn't screamed at me from the bleachers that day, I'd be in the NBA by now. But I'd never kill him." Inspector Grady raised an eyebrow, "you were last seen at the laundromat an hour after his death," he flicked on his UV torch, shining it on the hem of Benny's shorts. The stain glowed blue, stretching beyond the hem and towards the pockets. "Blood is hard to wash out, Mr. Westward. You're under arrest." "I want a lawyer," Benny glared as the police officers placed him in cuffs. Grady, Georgia Davies and Harley Farris watched as he was led to the cop car. Grady smirked softly, shaking his head. "I don't think he'll bounce back from this one." He could hear the wind whistle, as though a man was laughing from the heavens above.