I'm trying to get back into writing fiction. I'm taking a stab at writing a mystery and wanted to get some feedback on the first couple of pages. Tell me what you think!

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The clock was started in to get on his nerves. It was an especially ornate one, complete with long dangling weighted chains and a pendulum shaped like a man on horseback. The overdone decoration he could handle; it was the tick that was starting to grate on his nerves.
“So you’re the investigator from D.C.” said the other occupant of the room.
“That’s right. I’m Dr. B. E. Dooriya. I was up for the conference and they asked me to come to this scene.” Dr. Dooriya sighed, looking around at the glassy stares of the multitude of porcelain dolls clogging every nook and cranny of the sitting room. “Though I’m surprised a town of this size didn’t have more than one CSI of their own.”
“Oh, we do. But Josh won’t come to this house. I’m Madison Coran, by the way.”
“Koran? Like the Muslim holy book?” Dr. Dooriya gave Madison an appraising look. If she had a drop of Middle Eastern blood in her it would have been a miracle. She was short, curvy, and had a head of wild curly hair that was somewhere in between red and blonde and seemed to jump back and forth depending on the light. Currently she was sitting on a chintz sofa in this giant dollhouse. She appeared to be knitting a sock.
“Coran with a C. It’s Irish.” There was a thump from the ceiling. Dr. Dooriya and Madison looked up immediately.
“They had better not be contaminating the scene,” the good doctor growled impatiently.
“Relax; he ain’t gettin’ any deader.” Madison drawled. “What does B. E. stand for?”
“That’s a very cavalier attitude.”
“Yeah,” the woman agreed in a casual tone. “I read somewhere the B stands for ’Brick’.” Dr. Dooriya felt a blush cross his cheeks. He had worked very hard to establish his reputation as a top forensic scientist and had just gotten to the point where he could get by on just initials if he so chose. Dr. Brick E. Dooriya had devoted his life to science, particularly to forensic science. He was of medium build, with dark hair just starting to go gray and features that were, while not exactly handsome, at least attractively interesting.
“It’s an old family name,” he said, “A variation of the name ’Brice’.”
“Cheer up,” Madison said. “You can always go by your middle name. What does the E stand for?”
“Edythe.” Brick growled, waiting for the prerequisite cry of ’That’s a girl’s name!’ It didn’t come.
“Damn. Did your parents actually like you?”
“So why won’t the other CSI come to this house?” Brick asked, desperate for a change of subject.
“’Cause it’s haunted,” Madison said, starting a new row.
“There are no such things as ghosts,” Brick snapped.
“You hold on to that thought,” the woman said without looking up. “I guess ’haunted’ isn’t really the right word. It’s more like super-mega haunted. One might even say ’cursed’.”
“That. Is. Ridiculous.” Brick snapped. “You people are scientists. And you believe in ghosts?!”
“Oh, so you’re one of those.” Madison said, folding up her knitting and stashing it in her bag.
“One of what?”
“Someone who has the entire universe figured out.” Madison said, standing up and arranging her bag on her shoulder. “Arthur Conan Doyle wrote: ’When you rule out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ Well, the first part’s trickier than it seems.”
“Ruling out the impossible?”
“Yeah. In this town, Doctor, there ain’t no such thing.”