Author note: So we're back I guess! (Hell yeah!) and the mystery continues. Who done it?
Disclaimer: {insert here}
Three Days Before
"For the last fucking time" Madison hissed "I don't know what any of this has to do with me, So get the hell out!"
" please-" Cordelia began.
"No, shut up- don't 'please' me, okay? now get out!"
"You knew Quentin."
"I knew the fucking mailman too- Doesn't mean I would want to kill him."
Cordelia arched a brow "We never said you wanted to kill anyone."
"Because I don't!"
Misty crossed her arms over her chest "Well technically its 'didn't' now."
"Are you mocking me you Cajun bitch? are you!?"
Cordelia sighed "Madison if she wanted to insult you she would have done a much better job of it and I would be laughing- am I laughing?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you see me laughing?"
"No but she-"
"Then don't worry about it and shut up."
The small girl growled "Get out!"
"I'm afraid we cant do that until we've finished asking the questions that need to be asked and sadly those questions -for now- are directed at you . Believe me" The detective groaned miserably "This is as difficult for me as it is for you."
"doubt it." she spat under her breath
"Can you tell us what your opinion was of Quentin."
"Quentin was Quentin" she shrugged with a wide eyed glare "Why are you so interested in a little old man like him- he died big whoop. Lets all take a fucking picture and go home"
"He's just been murdered."
She shrugged dramatically "Am I supposed to care?"
"No" Misty said, annoyed "But a little decency wouldn't do you much harm either."
"Are you here to patronise me or ask me questions?"
Cordelia tapped the end of her pencil on her notepad "How did you know Quentin?"
"He was around."
"Can you specify?"
"Do I have to?"
Misty scowled and leaned forward, invading Madison's personal space "Look we can make this painless and quick or long and grueling, I'd rather you just tell us what we need to know."
Madison scoffed a laugh "Are you for real?"
"I don't know Madison am I? lets see." Misty pinched Madison under the arm, the young girl gasped and reeled back.
"Ow!" she screeched "You fucking pinched me"
"And we have now established that my dear friend Misty Day is indeed 'For real'" The detective smiled.
"You're just going to let her assault me?"
"I wouldn't really call it assault" she gave a trenchant incline of her head.
"She injured me!"
"She was testing your brain's nerve responses, she did you a favor. you could have felt nothing -in which case would be more than slightly concerning to you."
"It hurt! It hurt me!"
"Your voice hurts my ears- so please lets finish this as swiftly as we can."
She sneered and crossed her arms tighter.
"Good! Now- My question, how did you know Mr. Fleming?"
Two Months Ago
"I said no."
"You cant tell me no!"
"Funny- because that's exactly what I'm telling you."
"Do you know who I am!" he hissed.
"Do you know who I am?" Madison growled "I'm soon to be the greatest actress Hollywood and Broadway has ever seen. You are a smelly little old man" she said knocking his hat from his head.
"How dare you!" he writhed.
"I dare- now fuck off."
He hesitated " please."
"No- You're late on numerous payments, The man upstairs isn't happy And if I don't get what I need from you-" she dragged her finger slowly across her throat "They'll be coming for you."
His bottom lip quivered "Please!"
"Five hundred dollars by tomorrow- then we'll talk."
"Five hundred!" he gave a wide eyed stare.
"Don't like it? don't take the offer. You owe me a lot more than that Quentin Fleming. Am I not a generous person? I think I am. I mean I suppose it was my fault in some respect- letting you have it and all that. But yes- Six Hundred. tomorrow."
"Two hundred" he said glancing down at his feet, His voice cracking.
Madison's brows furrowed as she leaned closer to him, her stare threatening to melt his face into mush if he said the wrong thing "Six" she hissed.
"Four."
"Seven."
"Four and a half."
"Nine."
"Nine hundred!?"
She arched a brow in agreement. Her eyes flashing with unsettling joy. She could watch this man wither and scream under the heat of her magnifying glass like the wretched little ant he was all day.
"I'm not going to find the proper amount in time- at least not by tomorrow."
She gave a cold shrug "That's not my problem."
Madison stepped back from her doorway and began to close the door. She disliked Quentin, more than that she despised the man. She was waiting for the day he would walk out onto a busy highway and get hit by a bus. Hopefully someone would have a camera on hand. The money she would pay for that tape- Oh how she would laugh.
"Wait!" He yelled slamming his foot in the door. Madison was ready to claw his eyes out with her nails. Her fists bundled and her shoulders stiffened as she turned around.
"Go away, Quentin I have no time for your petty fucking-"
"Six- I can get Six" he blurted, shame and guilt molding his face into something that looked rather like a sad bulldog.
She paused and contemplated this fact- he was a loyal customer to her, very in fact, he never went to anyone else- she'd kill him if he tried. On the flip side, his payments were always late. Always. He was in deep deep debt… If he could gather six hundred dollars by tomorrow night. she would talk. yes- she was happy with this.
"Alright," she said "Six hundred by twelve noon tomorrow."
"Yes, thank you!"
"And if you're late" she grinned venomously.
"I'm going to tell him and he's going to have your head stuck on a splint."
Two Months And Three Days After
"Ughch" Misty sneered "God- That fuckin' reeks."
"Well shes been dead quite a while."
"Yeah, no shit."
Cordelia squatted down, glancing over the body for a few moments before taking out the notepad in her back pocket and reaching for the pencil balanced behind her ear. She scribbled away like a madman writing a will before his oncoming doom. Misty glanced around the room and left Cordelia to do- whatever it is she did. She couldn't help when Cordelia was enveloped in her notes.
Other than the smashed door and the large pool of blood surrounding a dead body, nothing seemed out of the ordinary- which was odd. Misty would have at least guessed that maybe a vase had been knocked off but there was hardly a struggle- and if there was no struggle, why did someone need to break in to kill her. Unless they weren't there to kill her- now there was a thought that just made a fairly standard serial killer case shatter like a bullet through glass and Misty was more than a little intrigued.
XXX
Cordelia had noticed a pattern- thirty one, that same number, thirty one- this was his trademark. God knows why, heck maybe it was a lucky number but each of the murders so far had one very common and distinctive fact. All victims had been stabbed thirty one times exactly. Any other injuries were due to some sort of scuffle.
Madison wasn't a nice person, But Cordelia didn't think she needed to die for it- she had enemies which was true and she lied- a lot. When they had met her three days ago- they had met her from a note found in Quentin's left coat pocket that read '$600 TOMORROW for Madison! Or DIE'
Misty had apparently found that last part slightly humorous. Something to do with it being ironic. But that was how they found her, and she obviously had a much bigger part to play. Madison didn't mention anything to do with Quentin owing her money, Simply stated that she knew him from him from an old 'off the books' job- She guaranteed that it was nothing felonious or sinister but Cordelia knew she was lying and Misty did too. But they played along, they let her run out her course and the result was the inevitable- death. Not that Cordelia saw that coming, but she had a feeling- something in her gut that didn't quite sit right- But maybe it was the four day old leftovers she ate for lunch that one night, it was growing its own small eco dome of mold and quite frankly it wouldn't have surprised the detective if some kind of radioactive bird popped out, the only reason she even considered eating it was because Misty had bet her ten bucks she wouldn't be able to keep it down for more than an hour.
Cordelia was ten dollars richer.
"So" Came a voice "Your partner- what spurred that?"
"Spontaneity" Cordelia said with a long blink, moving her glasses back up to her nose.
"Spontaneity?" Benson arched a brow and crossed her arms over her chest
"Yes, spontaneity- Do you have a problem with it?"
"Yes actually I d-"
"-Oh that's nice- moving on. Madison is linked to Quentin, he owed her money and she never got it. judging by the neighborhood and the kind of folks that live here id say Madison was a dealer"
"Drugs?"
"No Benson- She was a puppy dealer, she dealt in puppies."
"Does your hilarity know no bounds."
"It fortunately does not."
"Great" Benson cheered trenchantly, pumping a weak fist to the air "More fucking sarcasm."
"Don't be ridiculous you love my sarcasm- everyone loves my sarcasm- Apart from that one guy at the hardware store who didn't get the joke about this eggplant and- yeah, it got weird."
"It got weird?"
"It got really weird."
"How weird."
"On a scale of My mother to Myrtle, we're on about an 8."
"Shit."
Cordelia gave a quick raise of both eyebrows "We don't talk about that" she said.
Three Weeks Later
They had been walking for 15 minutes and early morning joggers were beginning their runs, Cordelia and Misty needed to duck into the shadows, their faces too bruised and bloody to flaunt down the street. Police would be out fairly soon on their regular patrols- not that it did anyone much good- the people here were nocturnal. They all liked to creep around under the cover of night. Misty didn't mind that- many of them weren't exactly the prettiest of people to look at so punching them in the face didn't really bother her that much. She liked hitting bad people, She disliked it when they hit her back. That was a general rule Cordelia seemed to share.
"What exactly did we gain from that" Misty sighed as they turned down an alley "Because all I seemed to get was a bloodied nose and a busted lip"
"Believe it or not" Cordelia said tiredly "We actually do have something."
"And what was it again? sorry I think the guy that slammed me into a table gave me amnesia"
"He slammed you into a table?"
"Yeah- so I slammed him through the window."
"I thought I heard something smash."
"Yeah that was me. so what exactly do we have."
"Papa."
"What?"
"Papa- He has something to do with it- Miss. Laveau wouldn't have had her people kick off otherwise."
"So you're saying we got thrown around like ragdolls for a name- for one stupid name that could mean anythin'."
"But it doesn't mean just anything Misty."
"Please explain how it means something, because I really aint' seein' it."
"Papa is the man behind a lot of this. We find this- Papa."
"We're closer to solving the case."
"Exactly."
"I mean, Delia it's a great plan an' all but-"
"Where would we even start to look?"
"Well, yeah."
"Laveau will find him somehow."
"But I still don't see-"
Cordelia's old mobile beeped for a moment- then more, the beeping gradually got louder and faster as they neared the end of the alley. She beamed with a smile of excitement as she turned to Misty, taking her hand with her own, locking their fingers tightly around each other's "Got your running shoes on?"
Misty gave a grin "Hell yeah."
Hanks House: Three Minutes Before His Murder
Hank had heard someone open the door but he couldn't be sure. He had made the fatal mistake of going downstairs unarmed. What a stupid thing to do. He had tried to push the figure off him, but it was strong and fast- jabbing him in the leg with something which sent him tumbling to the ground- it had him pinned before he knew it was on top of him and beating him half to death in frustration and panic. He could feel the knife being driven in and out of his chest, cutting through his flesh like butter. He'd lost count how many times after five. There was just so much blood. A tragic loss- He thought as his mind ebbed away to nothing.
The killer stood, the silhouette black against the moonlight. Hank was strong, they could see how he inflicted his damage. The shard of glass they had used to stab him in the thigh had cut their hand which also felt like it had fractured at some point during the beating.
Blood spilled out onto the floor as the killer turned and left. After all, who would wait for the cops to show up and catch you without the thrill of the chase. What a funny thought indeed.