They retreated to Chloe's cabin to confer and try the number Kathy had given them.
"You saw the look on his face when his mom announced where he'd be spending his weekends from now on?" Chloe asked the two men.
Joe nodded. "Looked thrilled, didn't he?"
"And much as I'd love to have him arrested for patricide, as he is clearly an asshole of the first water, that's quite the anti-motive," Lucifer observed. "Knock off dad, get landed with all dad's responsibilities."
"Unless he's planning on killing her too," Chloe suggested.
"Except he's got an alibi," Joe reminded them.
"Well, we haven't checked it yet," Chloe pointed out. "He's jumpy about something, though. And what's going on with Laura? It seems so . . . incongruous, what he told us about drugs and booze and barely finishing high school."
"Well, every family has to have its black sheep, Detective," Lucifer observed, gesturing to himself. "Exhibit A."
"Nothing like asking," Joe commented as he pulled out his phone and dialed the number in his notepad. When it started ringing, he switched the phone to speaker and set it down on the table.
After three rings, someone picked up. "Hello?" asked a woman's voice.
"Laura Schulze?" Chloe asked, after getting a signal from Joe that she should do the talking.
"Yes."
"My name is Chloe Decker; I'm calling on behalf of the Schoolcraft County Sheriff's Department about the death of your father."
There was a moment of tense silence before Laura spoke. "I haven't been back to Minnesota for years. There's no way I could have killed him. I can give you my boss's number; he can confirm I was at work every day this week." She rattled off a name and number, as well as the name of the company.
"Thank you, Ms. Schulze. We appreciate your cooperation. Do you know of any reason why someone might have wanted to hurt your father?"
"I gave you my alibi," said Laura brusquely. "That's all I want to say."
The call ended.
Lucifer's eyebrows rose. "Well. That wasn't suspicious at all, was it?"
"Why would she be so evasive if she was five hundred miles away with a solid alibi?" Chloe demanded of the universe in general.
"I might have to reach out to the police down there," Joe mused. "See if they can get an actual statement out of her."
"Hold off on that for a bit, would you, Joe? Something doesn't add up, but I can't put my finger on what it is. If we only get one more shot to talk to her, I want to be sure we're asking the right questions."
Joe acquiesced. "And we should get all these alibis checked before we go any farther, know for sure we can cross all these people off the suspect list." He stood up and grabbed his coat. "I'm gonna head back to the office to get started on that."
"Thank you so much, Joe. You planning on working through the weekend on this?"
"It's a murder. What else am I gonna do, clean the gutters?"
Chloe laughed at herself and nodded. "Fair point. I keep forgetting I'm not in LA anymore."
"I don't," Lucifer grumbled. "Bloody freezing."
Joe let himself out. Chloe started looking for a pen to scribble down some sloppy, left-handed case notes, but Lucifer pulled the pen out of her reach as soon as he figured out what she was looking for. "Tell me, Detective Decker of the LAPD . . . how long has it been since you came out of surgery?"
Chloe raised her eyebrows and waited for him to make his point.
"The Lortab has clearly worn off, because you're not moving any more than you can help, and you can't quite open your eyes all the way. You are healing. You need rest. Go to bed."
Chloe snorted. "I'm not taking a nap at one in the afternoon."
"Yes, you are. You obviously need one. Would you like to go under your own power, or shall I carry you? I would be exceptionally pleased to carry you."
"Oh, so because you're the devil, and you're stronger than me, you get to decide where I go and what I do?" There was an edge of steely ferocity under her teasing tone as they ventured close to the reason she'd run in the first place.
Lucifer heard it and physically sat back in his chair, giving her space. "Certainly not, Detective. I'm deciding because I know that you tend to work through injury and illness to prove to yourself that you're not vulnerable and the world can't hurt you. I will not touch you against your will; it was a joke, and it was in poor taste, and I apologize for it. But I will bother, whine, complain, and disapprove if you try to keep working without getting some rest first, because whatever else I am, I am your friend."
Chloe waited a long moment, as though daring him to lose his patience and try to carry her anyway. Then she sighed and stood up, heading for the kitchen. "I'll lie down for a little while. Just until Trixie gets home." She reached into the cupboard for a glass, wincing as the movement jostled her bad arm.
"Detective, let me—"
"No." Even to Chloe's ears, the word was startling in its harshness and volume. Lucifer froze.
Chloe got her own glass, filled it with water, swallowed a Lortab, put the empty glass in the sink, and retreated to her bedroom.
"Detective. Wakey wakey."
Chloe eased out of a deeper sleep than she'd expected herself to settle into. Lucifer was crouched on his heels at the side of her bed, putting his head lower than hers since she was sleeping propped up on pillows to keep herself from rolling over and hurting her arm. Her handgun was lying on the nightstand; she saw Lucifer glance at it, then pointedly ignore it.
"The bus is arrived, and your offspring is home." His voice was low and quiet, so as not to startle her out of sleep too quickly. "You told me to wake you."
Chloe sat up slowly; the painkillers seemed to be working. "I did need to sleep," she admitted carefully.
"Then I'm glad you did."
Chloe glared at him. "Oh, just say it."
The controlled gentle neutrality of his expression cracked, and the devil's own grin split across his face. "I told you so!"
The front door of the cabin opened, and after a second, Chloe felt the gust of cold air that blew in with her daughter. "Lucifer! Are you still here?"
Lucifer rolled his eyes and stood up. "Yes, for the twelfth time, I am in fact still here."
Trixie scrambled into the bedroom, shedding outerwear as she came. "Mom, Mrs. Anderson sent home a note for you."
Chloe put on a carefully controlled 'Oh that's interesting' face. Chloe fished the note from her backpack and handed it over.
"Dear Mrs. Becker," Chloe read, "Like to make you aware of an incident . . . found Bee folding her hands . . . explained 'I'm praying to Lucifer; he's the devil.'" She looked up from the paper. "Sweetie, you're gonna get us committed."
"And getting through the day with that monologue going in my head was no picnic either," Lucifer complained.
Chloe spared a smile for how spectacularly insane her life was. "Monkey, I know you're excited that Lucifer's here, and you want to talk to him, but . . . um . . . prayers are for emergencies only. Okay?"
"Okay," Trixie agreed cheerfully.
"Okay. Well, since I'm clearly not going to work today, we need to get some laundry done."
"Finally," said Lucifer, looking down at his ever-more-disheveled shirt and slacks.
"Do you have anything to change into?" Chloe asked.
"Not a stitch."
Fortunately for everyone concerned, the gas station where Chloe and Trixie took their laundry also served as a bait shop, souvenir shop, and small deli. Lucifer, with Trixie's help, picked out a pair of jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt that had "LONGVILLE est. 1892" emblazoned across it, as well as some fresh socks and underwear. He drew the line at a baseball cap with a walleye embroidered on it, despite Trixie's giggling insistence and jumping attempts to get it on his head.
Chloe bought a couple of sandwiches for herself and Lucifer to serve as a late lunch, which they ate while the machine ran. Since no one else was using the little back room laundromat, Chloe also killed time by bringing Trixie up to speed on the progress of the case.
"So who do you think did it?" Lucifer asked, between bites of sandwich. "Bestow upon us your insight."
"I think it was that Sam guy," said Trixie, after a moment's thought. "He sounds mean."
"My money's still on the pastor," said Lucifer.
"Pastor Terri is not even a suspect!" Chloe protested.
"Why not?"
"Well, she's got no motive, for one thing."
"Are you sure? Sheriff Joe mentioned a couple of smaller bequests in the will; was one of them for St. Stephen's? Or perhaps the pastor and the wife were having an affair."
Trixie giggled and made kissie noises.
Chloe considered. "I hate to admit it, but those bequests are worth looking into. They're probably not very big, but people have been killed for a lot less. We can ask around tomorrow morning; there's quilting circle every Saturday."
"It's like I've landed in a Laura Ingalls Wilder novel," Lucifer muttered.
"They have scotcheroos," Trixie informed Lucifer.
"I don't know what that is but it sounds awful."
"They're actually pretty good," Chloe insisted. "It's a chocolate peanut butter . . . cookie thing. Trixie loves them."
"Although speaking of which," Lucifer offered, after he'd popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth and wiped his fingers on his new not-quite-long-enough jeans, "What's the plan for dinner? Have they got DoorDash up here, or shall we go out?"
"There's a McDonald's in Green Rapids!" Chloe suggested.
"Hard pass. What else?"
"Here in town, you get your choice of a diner and a pizza place," said Chloe. "There is also, for some weird reason, a Thai place, but it's only open in the summer."
"Well, that's unfortunate. Pho would have been just the thing on a day like today. Well, pizza it shall be."
Pizza it was, after the clothes were washed and Chloe had coached Trixie and Lucifer through the folding thereof. Chloe, one-armed, matched socks to make some contribution to the process. Lucifer apparently had never folded laundry before; it was one of those things he paid other people to do.
The three of them did indeed have pizza—hamburger pizza, at Trixie's insistence. It wasn't particularly delicious, but Lucifer was fascinated and Trixie elated, so Chloe just smiled and ate. Trixie kept the conversation going by telling Lucifer everything about Minnesota that was different from California, with Lucifer vehemently defending the California way of doing everything. Chloe let them entertain one another, enjoying the respite and entertaining herself with the game her brain was playing: attaching the words with the devil to everything she did. Folding laundry with the devil. Eating hamburger pizza with the devil. Arguing the rules of Duck Duck Goose with the devil. Solving a murder with the devil. Solving dozens of murders with the devil.
Lucifer eventually noticed the half-eaten square of pizza on her plate and smiled apologetically. "Still not quite that dinner I promised you, is it?"
"You made good on that promise. We had cheeseburgers at the penthouse, remember?" Cheeseburgers with the devil.
"Every moment, Detective. I'm just still berating myself for throwing away the chance to dress you up and show you off, and get a square meal into you to boot."
Chloe smiled and pulled self-consciously at the messy, mostly-brown braid hanging over her shoulder. "Not much to show off and nothing to dress up in right now."
"I will at least agree that this climate doesn't lend itself to evening wear. When they throw red carpet events up here, do people show up in mukluks?"
"And they could wear jewelry, but bigger," Trixie offered. "Like, instead of just a ring, a ring that goes around your whole mitten!" She drew an imaginary jewel around her hand to demonstrate.
"I love it. We'll call my jeweler's directly we get back. You clearly got your mother's brains."
Chloe glanced outside, where complete darkness had fallen except for the area just in front of the restaurant. By its light, she could see eddies and swirls of snow that meant the wind was picking up. It was going to be another spectacularly, bitterly cold night. California seemed a lifetime away.