Tango in D

He sat at the piano, his fingers moving lightly; almost automatically. He stared strait ahead not even glancing at the instrument which produced such a melodious sound. He was playing Tango in D, too cheerful a song to be fitting in this particular situation.
He had just killed a man; the blood still on his hands, staining the keys a deep red with each jovial note he struck. His mind was semi-absent, though he thought vaguely of the feat he had just accomplished. He had been planning this for nearly a year. He said later the thought had entered his head after watching an episode of CSI, though such morbid thoughts can hardly be blamed on a TV show.
He glanced covertly to his left. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his victim on the floor. He did not know the man, but to make the experience more personal he had given him the name Evan. He had never met a man named Evan he liked.
His fingers moved continuously over the piano keys, the white and black now soiled red over the middle and upper registers. The knife lay on the floor next to the piano, but he did not look down; he could not bring himself to ever see it again. He thought that if he must hold it again he would gouge his own eyes out. He felt no guilt, no remorse; except for maybe that it had ended so quickly. He felt proud. After all, how many people have the gumption to commit such a heinous offense? Nobody he knew, and nobody they knew either. So why couldn’t he look at the knife?
He could hear sirens approaching in the distance, but he did not run; this is what he had expected. This is how it happened on CSI. The bad guys never get away. The song had ended, and he started it for the 3rd time without hesitation.