Oh wow, that’s a wild idea! Picture me, detective with a paintbrush in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, standing in front of this huge, unfinished canvas. I’d start splashing all the obvious colors—red for blood, black for shadows, a splash of yellow for the sun on the victim’s face. Then I’d pick a bright, daring color, like electric blue, and dab it where the footprints cross the scene. Every brushstroke becomes a clue, every smudge a secret. I’d keep painting, mixing, adding details until the picture starts to tell a story. If something feels off—like a missing stroke or a color that doesn’t fit—I’d pause, step back, and imagine what that gap could mean. Then I’d jump back in, add more, adjust, keep the momentum. By the end, the canvas would be a living, breathing mystery that I could solve by tracing the colors, the brushstrokes, the rhythm of the paint itself. That’s how I’d crack the case—one wild, unfinished stroke at a time!