[ WP ] Your Own Brilliant Detective - Find the murderer

`` Forced entry?'' came the first in a long string of questions from the oak haired, skinny young man that was Arthur Weller. He had on a suit and a scarf, with gloves on his hands to battle the cold of South Chicago's winter air. 
 
 `` No signs of it,'' said the responding officer. 
 
 He was led through the apartment, which was another dull, blank tenement. With inadequate ventilation, crackling pipes and loud activity that seeped through the thin walls, it was far from the middle class standards Arthur had come to expect. Despite being in his first few weeks on the job, he had already gotten a nickname from his hardened partner: Welly. He was n't fond of it. 
 
 Welly told his partner, Michael, `` He lives in Bumville but can afford a flat screen that's nicer than mine.'' 
 
 He stared at the impressive possessions around the bloodied carcass of the victim: a couple video game consoles, a huge, state of the art sound system, and the television as the centerpiece. The young black male, who had cornrows and a chain around his neck, laid in a puddle of blood on the carpet just beneath. 
 
 `` He was a drug dealer, probably a higher up if I had to guess.'' 
 
 Welly crossed through, over the body, to the kitchen and looked at the refrigerator magnets. *Pest Control*. *Plumbing*. Photographs of him with family. A list of phone numbers, which Arthur grabbed with a gloved hand and looked over, then threw back down on the counter top. 
 
 `` So, no forced entry, no signs of struggle, and he did n't pull his gun. It was definitely a friend.'' 
 
 Michael affirmed, `` Definitely.'' 
 
 Then, Welly went over to the bedroom, and saw the hard drive. He figured out quickly what it was. 
 
 He smiled a little, and said to Michael, `` Come here.'' 
 
 When he showed Michael, he nodded, telling Welly, `` Check for a tape.'' 
 
 There was a tape in the slot, and they watched it over in awkward silence. After fast forwarding through the deed between him and his female companion, they got a bit more comfortable. 
 
 The man sat on his living room sofa, just out of sight, smoking marijuana, when someone knocked upon his door. He opened it, and the conversation began when the man walked to the couch, where the victim sat and continued smoking. 
 
 `` I heard about you and Denise. What's she like?'' 
 
 `` Bitch is fine,'' the man said, coughing a bit and talking in a low voice, `` But she got a pussy like a ho, though.'' They both laughed. 
 
 There was a brief silence. `` What about that other thing?'' 
 
 He puffed out a hit, and replied, `` What other thing?'' 
 
 `` They said you was working for the police.'' 
 
 Instinctively, the man on the couch scrambled for the gun on his table, but it was too late. The visitor shot him once in the head, then left. 
 
 Welly stated the obvious, once the rest was fast forwarded through, `` No visual.'' 
 
 **End of Part 1**
