Sirens echoed along the wooded forest path. This is such a serene place, the detective thought. He gazed at the gigantic trees, making a pathway to the scene of the crime. A seemingly innocent cottage, with vibrant flowers of many different colors sprouting out of it came into view.

Brakes screeching, the police car halted. The detective, stomping his feet onto the ground, got out of the car. He was wearing the usual get up of an overworked man of law enforcement. This included slick brown dress shoes, not-so-fancy black pants, and the always-intimidating police force jacket.

Zooming in, his face comes into view. He has an olive complexion, bright blue eyes, and soft, curly brown hair. He was every woman’s dream until he opened his mouth.

Walking up the stairs into the cottage, he noticed that the door was wide open. The house was filled with people. Police officers, crime scene investigators, photographers, and seven miniature men, all standing over the blindingly beautiful woman lying on the bedroom floor. The detective caught his breath. He had never seen such a beautiful disaster. Usually, in his line of work, the corpses were gruesome and made him turn his head to gag. But this time it was very different. He could not stop staring at her face. Her pure, white face. It was radiant with compassion and sweetness. With her eyes closed, it looked like she was only sleeping.

“Detective. Detective Prince?” His head snapped to the sound of the officer standing next to him.
“You alright man?” The detective nodded sluggishly.
“Yeah I’m fine. Thanks officer. So, what happened here?” The officer adjusted his belt, and then began to speak.
“Well, the victims name is Samantha White, she is twenty-two years old, and CSI is pretty sure she was killed with carving knife to the stomach. They also believe that she was murdered while sleeping because she looks untouched.
We have a lot of interviewing on our hands; the victim lived with seven dwarf men. Apparently there were her employees. They all did work around the house and stuff, you know like gardening, cleaning, plumbing, hunting and such. So, you wanna do the first couple, and then I’ll do the rest?”
Detective Prince nodded and walked towards the first of the miniature fellows.
“Hello Sir, my name is Detective Prince and I would like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?” The dwarf looked up at the detective and sniffed.
“Yeah sure. Ask away.”
“Alright, well first off. What’s your name?”
“The name’s Hank Adams.” The small man suddenly sneezed violently. “I’m sorry, excuse me. Most people call me Sneezy though.” I wonder why, thought Detective Prince.
“What was your connection to Ms. White?” The tiny man, who was blowing his nose, quickly looked up. “Do you think we could skip that question for now?”
“No, I don’t think so.” The dwarf wrung his petite hands, and then spoke nervously.
“To tell you the truth, Saman- I mean, Ms. White and I were kind of an item, if you know what I mean.” The minute figure stared at the detective with his eyebrows moving up and down in a vulgar fashion.
The detective looked at the little man and then exhaled. A love affair between a beautiful woman and a dwarf. I did not see that coming, he thought.
“So, you and Samantha, is it?” “Well, we like to call her ‘Snow’ because she was so fair and beautiful. But, yes; Snow and I were in an intimate relationship. None of the other workers knew, so I would appreciate it if this was kept on the quieter side.”
“I can’t promise you that Mr. Adams…Sneezy I mean. I am going to have to speak with some other workers, don’t leave town alright?” The small man shrugged and shuffled away towards the kitchen. Keep moving down the line, Detective Prince thought as he forced himself to focus on the case at hand. Scanning around the room, Prince searched for his next interviewee. One of the workers was sitting in the corner of the room, closed up in a little ball. Bulls eye.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions Sir,” Detective Prince debated whether the tiny man in the corner had a pulse. He resorted to drastic measures. “Hey!” His yell reverberated throughout the entire cottage. The small employee finally snapped into attention. The dwarf’s eyes came into view, and Prince was stunned. His eyes were massive pools of innocence, filled with shame. He looked at the detective like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. Detective Prince looked around, trying to get some answers for this mute man crawling in the corner. The police officer from before was roaming around, so Prince asked him about this odd situation.
“Yeah, that’s Earl Adams, he can’t talk apparently. All the other workers call him Dopey. Probably ‘cause he’s stupid.” Thank you for the intelligent input officer, Prince thought. He approached this “Dopey” for the second time.
“Mr. Adams.. Dopey?” The worker looked up from his head in his hands with an expression full of malice. I’m guessing he doesn’t like the nickname, Prince reflected.
The detective decided to solve the communication problem, and pulled out his standard detective notepad for the mute employee to write down his answers.
“So, Mr. Adams, what was your connection to the deceased?” The tiny man began to scribble violently on the notepad. It seemed like the writing would never end, but it came to a close when the dwarf looked up from the paper and showed Prince.
She was my friend. I worked for her too. I cleaned her bedroom.
“Just a friend?” The dwarf shook his head passionately. “Alright, alright, just making sure. Some other workers I have been talking to have had more intense relationships with Ms. White.” Upon hearing this, the man on the ground scrunched his eyebrows and plunged his head into his hands. Interesting reaction, the detective contemplated.
“Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Adams,” the dwarf waved his hand, shooing Prince away.
Detective Prince turned away, walking towards the deceased woman’s bedroom. Everything looked normal; sheets clean and made, lamp in pristine condition on the bedside table, and the carpet had no strange stains or spills. Everything looked perfect until Prince curiously opened the first drawer of the bedside table. It was filled with letters, all scribbled down in a very intense version of chicken scratch. The detective began to read some of the letters:
I have been watching you around the house. I think I am in love with you. Do you feel the same way? I really hope you do because then we can run away together and have a family. You have the most beautiful white skin, and pure blue eyes. I want to touch your skin, and stare into your eyes until the day I die. I will wait for your love forever.
That is intense, Prince pondered to himself. Whoever wrote this letter could be a possible suspect. Prince thought about how the murder could have gone down. Maybe this letter writer somehow found out about the affair between “Sneezy” and Ms. White and went psycho with a carving knife. The only question was, who wrote these letters?
Back at the station, Prince had subjected all the workers to a written statement, in order to discover who was the letter writer. After getting the results, everyone was sent home. Everyone but Dopey. Prince knew, all the way in the back of his mind he knew all along. He had seemed too guilty, sulking in the corner of the room with his head in his hands, at the scene of the crime. Now it was time to take him into questioning, Prince thought proudly.
The questioning room was filled with darkness. Prince never turned on the lights full blast, in order to make the suspect feel tense. The walls were off white, all but the one mirrored wall. There was a table in the middle of the room, matched with an uncomfortable chair. As Prince entered the room, Dopey was already seated in the wooden chair. Again, he had his head in his hands on the front of the table. Hearing his footsteps, and then the slam of the door closing, Dopey looked up.
“How’s it going Dopey?” The dwarf stared straight into his eyes and began to write with the notepad that was given to him.
Not to well detective. Why am I in here? Did I do something wrong?
Prince read and then spoke. “I don’t know Dopey, do you think you did something wrong?” The small man looked nervously around and then scribbled on his paper.

I haven’t hurt anybody. You think I killed Ms. White don’t you?

“Why would you think that?” Dopey closed his eyes and rubbed them violently. He picked up the pen and started again.

Because I feel bad.

“Why do you feel bad? Did you hurt Ms. White?” He waited for Dopey’s reaction.

Dopey slammed the table with his fists and grunted.

I would never hurt her! I loved her!

“You loved her? You didn’t mention that when I questioned you at the scene today.”

I know. Snow didn’t want anyone to know about us. We were very private.

“Private huh? You must have been a regular James Bond, because none of the other workers even knew you two were together, and Sneezy even admitted to having an affair with her.

Typical. Sneezy is a two timing player. He didn’t love Snow the way I loved her. He didn’t care about her. I cared. We were going to run away and have a family together.

“You know, that sounds a lot like the love letters that Ms. White had in her bedside drawer. You wrote those didn’t you?”

Yes I did. She kept them because she loved me. Look, Sneezy’s your guy. He killed her because he was jealous of Snow and I. Go arrest him!

“I’m not arresting Sneezy. Even if he is a slimy little fellow. You see, I think this story is the other way around. I think you killed Ms. White because you were jealous of Sneezy having the affair with her. You wanted Snow all to yourself didn’t you?”

That’s not true! I loved her! Why would I kill the woman I loved?

“You would kill her because she didn’t love you back. She didn’t even know you existed. She never heard you speak. She didn’t bat an eye when you walked into the room. You killed her because she gave Sneezy all the attention you wished she gave you.”

Okay, okay! YES! I killed Snow! That b**** never loved me! I loved her with everything I had and what do I get back? Nothing that’s what. She goes and falls in love with Sneezy? Are you kidding me? She had to learn her lesson. She had to know how much I loved her.

“So you killed her in her sleep with a carving knife? Tell me something Dopey, how did that make it better?”

Now she realizes how much I love her. Now we can live happily ever after.