The Port and the Fleece Part II

PART I HERE 

Part II

Jim had never seen so much blood in his life. 

The blood, it was literally everywhere. On the desk, the bookshelf, the cabinet in the corner, the globe on the coffee table, the blinds and especially the ceiling. 

Dark splashes across the stucco, as if some Pollock obsessed art school dropout had been experimenting with abstracts of rouge and burgundy, devouring bottles of cheap gin, whipping random patterns, sweeping and spattering across the faded white, curling and exploding in areas. 

Rivulets ran down the walls, ending at the dark baseboard and, in some spots, pooling on the dusty hardwood.

It momentarily hypnotized him, he barely took notice of the body splayed across the floor.

It was no surprise the secretary had made such a racket earlier when she had burst into the printing office where Jim worked, screaming and babbling, in complete hysterics. 

But there he was..Olander was dead, there was no doubt about that. There did not seem to be much left intact of him. It appeared as though an animal had gotten a hold of him; a bear, maybe? 

But, no, apart from the scattered items that seemed to have been swept off his desk and the fresh coat of blood paint and gore, the office was otherwise untouched. That ruled out the wild savagery of a feral beast, roaming the streets of St. John, seeking elderly businessmen to mutilate. 

Jim never thought for a second that whoever was responsible for this chaos may have still been nearby, or.. still in the building!