Appalled by the accusation, Michael stood staring at his brother in shock. "What in Dad's name are you talking about? Who is Carys Hughes?" He shook his head as he sat down, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Come on, Lucifer...you know angels aren't allowed to harm humans, let alone kill one of them…"

"Not being 'allowed to' do something doesn't mean it can't be done, Mickey. Laws get broken all the time...which is precisely why law enforcement agents, such as the Detective, are necessary.," Lucifer snarled. "Carys Hughes was the wardrobe mistress for the musical Alan was working on…although I feel certain you actually do know that..."

Hesitating for a few seconds, Michael thought over Lucifer's statement. "Oh, I remember that name now...she was that sour old biddy who made everybody miserable while they worked on the show. Alan said she was never happy with anything...but I've never met her."

"Are you sure?" Giving Michael a haughty glare, Lucifer continued his questions as he lit a cigarette and took a drag. "Because I heard a very interesting eye witness statement while I was at the precinct today. The description of Ms. Hughes' supposed killer was of a man who closely resembles you, dear Brother...right down to your feather pendant. So tell me the truth now...you murdered her, didn't you? Maybe you thought she'd hurt Alan in some way, and you sought vengeance…perhaps you thought she was the one who'd killed him. Turnabout's fair play, eh..."

"NO! No, of course not! I never met that woman! I certainly had no reason to kill her, or any other human, for that matter." Michael leapt from his seat and began to pace the room. "When did this murder occur, anyway?"

"Yesterday morning…"

"Hah!," Michael crowed triumphantly. "I wasn't even in LA yesterday. I was in the Silver City…"

"Wonderful." Smiling sarcastically, Lucifer sat down and took another sip of his scotch. "I'm sure Dad will be glad to offer you some sort of concrete alibi…we both know how good He is at providing simple explanations for what He does..."

"Oh." Sighing, Michael poured himself some whisky and sat down opposite his brother. "I see...that does present a bit of a problem, doesn't it?"

"Besides which...you said you've never met her, and yet you've accurately described her as a sour old biddy. So which is it? Have you met her or not?"

"I was just going by what Alan said. He complained about her a lot.," Michael began. "I've never laid eyes on her."

"And again, I know you're not telling the truth, Brother...and, more importantly, so will the Detective. She'll use every little mistake you make to prove your guilt, Mickey, so you need to have your story straight."

Realizing he'd been found out, Michael nodded glumly as he sipped his scotch. "Very well. You're right...I've met her casually a few times."

"And?"

"And the last time I talked to her, we argued loudly...probably loud enough for everyone in the theater's backstage area to hear us. It was after Alan had died. I asked her to return something that belonged to him...part of one of his costumes...but she refused to even look for it. It has sentimental value, so I was incensed by her callous disregard for my feelings, but I didn't kill her…"

Lucifer eyed Michael suspiciously. "And just what was this most valuable item?"

Grinning slightly in spite of himself, the Prince of Angels sighed softly. "It was an AC/DC Highway to Hell band tee shirt. I got it for him before we were married...as sort of a private joke, you know? He always thought it was funny that a demon hunter would have a shirt that said that on the front…"

"Bloody Hell! Of course it was that shirt!" The Devil slammed his glass down on a side table. "I know exactly where that shirt is, Mickey...it's in the evidence room at the precinct, drenched in blood from the crime scene. Someone tore it to shreds. We found it in the room where Ms. Hughes had been murdered…"

"Oh my Father! So the police think I killed her because she tore up his shirt? That's ridiculous…"

Lucifer's eyes blazed in anger. "Tell me everything that happened, Mickey...don't leave anything out!"

"Well…" Twisting his fingers nervously, Michael tried to avoid his brother's angry glare. "I had an appointment to talk to her a couple of days ago to ask her about the shirt. She was dismissive of my request, saying she couldn't be bothered with it because she was so busy getting things ready for the show. Then she said she thought my request was silly! Her lousy attitude made me furious, so I picked up a pair of tailor shears and shook them at her…"

Lucifer threw up his hands in frustration. "You threatened her with a sharp object? Seriously, Michael?"

"I suppose you could call it a threat, although I got the worst of it. She tried to grab the scissors from me and in the process I got poked with the blades. My hand bled like crazy, which is weird because Alan wasn't there...he was the one who made me bleed, but anyway...maybe his shirt has the same effect on me...or maybe the shears were some sort of demonic weapon.," he mused." He looked up at Lucifer. "Is that even possible? Tailor shears forged in Hell?"

Seeing his brother's horrified expression, the Archangel winced. "Anyway, no matter how it happened, I guess that's not good, is it? My blood and fingerprints and all that DNA nonsense will put me at the scene of the crime, right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it will. I feel fairly sure the Detective doesn't know about your silly tee shirt fetish, Brother...at least I hope not. However, the eyewitness account of your presence in the workroom was most damning, so along with any physical evidence you may have left behind when you visited Carys, things aren't looking particularly good for you at the moment. It's going to be a difficult problem to prove your innocence, and even more so because the current theory is that whoever killed Ms. Hughes also killed Alan and Ms. McCabe. Since they have video of you arguing with Alan right before his death in addition to any evidence you might've left in the wardrobe workshop, that will most likely make you the Detective's prime suspect in all three murders." Lucifer sneered angrily at his brother. "So what happened? You killed Alan in a fit of passion and then had to kill the other two to cover your tracks?"

Michael was shocked at his brother's accusation. "No, of course not! Why would I kill Alan? In addition to being an angel and being bound by Dad's rules regarding humans, I was also his husband. I loved him!"

Getting up to pour himself another drink, Lucifer shook his head. "The Detective doesn't know you're an angel, Mickey, but even if she could ever be convinced that you were, she'd still think it was possible that you'd commit Alan's murder." He pursed his lips slightly as he turned to his brother. "It seems Dad forgot to fix a slight flaw in His favorite little creations before he turned them loose on the Earth. Humans are quite prone to having violent fights with each other...and they often kill one another while they're arguing over some trivial problem that might easily be solved in a nonviolent manner. After all, that's what occupies most of the Detective's time...finding out which human murdered which."

"But I loved Alan! I would never hurt him.," Michael raged. "Why would they even consider me? Your Detective knows we were married…"

"Humans often kill those most dear to them, out of anger or jealousy. Remember Cain and Abel? Cain slew his brother over a basket of fruit. History is full of those references, Brother."

"Yes, I know." Staring glumly into his empty glass, Michael shook his head. "So let's say that you're right, and I'm a suspect. What are we going to do?"

"I'm not going to do anything, Brother. I've already received a right sound dressing down from Detective Decker for my intervention on your behalf." Lucifer pinched his lips together in pain, still upset by the scolding he'd received from her the afternoon before. "You, however, are going to report to the precinct tomorrow morning, and allow yourself to be arrested and then incarcerated."

Michael snorted in disdain. "As if a human jail could hold the Prince of Angels! You remember how I released Peter the Fisherman from his prison cell, right? It's in the New Testament! I just walked right in and opened the door to let him go. No jail can possibly hold me!"

Rolling his eyes at Michael's boasting, Lucifer glowered at him. "That may be true, Brother, but in this case you're going to allow yourself to be held in their jail until I can post your bond and have you released into my custody. You're going to cooperate in every possible way, Mickey. I know you didn't commit these murders, but in order to regain my standing with the Detective…"

"I should've known that's all you really care about.," Michael interrupted sarcastically. "Who cares about whether or not I'm innocent as long as your pretty human friend likes you again…"

"Enough, Michael!," Lucifer roared. He stood up, towering over his brother as he unfurled his snowy wings. "You're going to need my help if you ever want to show your face on Earth again, because the Detective won't rest until she finds out the truth about these crimes! Yes, I want to be in her good graces once again, but I'm also thinking of your sorry arse! You came to me for help, remember? You sought me out because I have more experience with humans! You wanted me to help you find out who killed Alan! So stop jabbering aimlessly and listen to me for once!"

"Fine!" The Archangel puffed out an annoyed sigh. "I guess I have no choice, do I?"

"No, you don't." Draining his whisky, Lucifer tucked his wings in back where they belonged. "I'll have one of my attorneys meet you at the police precinct tomorrow to represent you, and you'll submit to being arrested. Then I'll arrive later to bail you out, and we'll be able to focus on finding out who really killed Alan and those two women. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Rising from his chair, Michael nodded reluctantly. "I hope you know what you're doing, Lucifer."

"I do, Brother. You just need to trust me."

"Trust the Devil? It'll be a cold day in Hell before that happens." Laughing at Lucifer's scowl, Michael opened his golden wings. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." With a soft whoosh, he was gone.

"A cold day in Hell? That can be arranged.," Lucifer muttered in annoyance. "And maybe you'll get to see it sooner than you think, Mickey…"

%%%%%%%%%%

Walking into the precinct the next morning, Chloe had made a conscious choice to focus on the day's agenda instead of worrying about what Lucifer was up to at the moment. "I've got to find Michael Prince and bring him in...I need to talk to Chad Helton...I need to go over the evidence for the Dixon murder and the McCabe murder and compare them to the Hughes murder…"

Sitting at her desk, she sighed softly as a reminder came up on her computer's calendar. The Devil Calls the Tune would be premiering next week, and Lucifer had made a point of asking her to come to the show. As his friend and former colleague, she knew she should attend, but since the show's success might determine whether or not he'd leave for New York, she wasn't sure she could handle seeing him on stage, knowing that it would signal the end of their partnership...and, most likely, their relationship.

Lost in thought, she was startled when Dan showed up at her desk. "Hey Chloe...there's someone here to see you…"

"Great. Just what I need. I'm too busy to waste my time with random visitors, Dan…"

"Trust me. You'll wanna to see him. It's Michael Prince…"

"Really?" Surprised that Lucifer had followed through with her request, she glanced around the office, looking for Detective Monaghan. "Of course Sean's not here when I need him. Oh well...so much for him being the lead. Let's put Mr. Prince in room 1."

"You got it. Do you need me to sit in?"

"Nah...I'll be okay, but thanks."

Picking up the case file, she pushed open the door to the interrogation room. "Thank you for coming to the station this morning, Mr. Prince."

"Don't say a word." The petite blonde sitting next to him gave the Archangel a stern look before turning to Chloe. "I'm Belinda Pratt, representing Mr. Prince. Let me be succinct, Detective. You have no reason to hold my client."

Chloe cleared her throat. "We have an eyewitness who saw him fleeing the scene of a murder."

"An unsubstantiated report. I don't suppose there were security videos to back up this witness's assertions?" Seeing Chloe's uncertain expression, Ms Pratt continued. "As I suspected. Mr. Prince was out of town yesterday…"

"I don't suppose he has any evidence to back up his claims, either, does he?," the Detective countered. "Receipts? Anything?"

"He was visiting his father…"

Their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Here, Chloe." Dan handed her another folder. "Ella's report about the crime scene…."

"Hmm…" Reading over the papers, the Detective glanced at the people sitting across from her. "Unidentified fingerprints, and DNA from an unidentified male. Will you consent to give us some samples, Mr. Prince?"

"He won't consent to anything…not without a warrant." Ms Pratt stood up and nodded at Michael. "Let's go."

"Actually, we have enough probable cause to hold your client for 48 hours, which will give me enough time to get that warrant for the DNA sample. He's not going anywhere…"

Sighing softly, Michael nodded, standing up and holding out his wrists. "Fine. Let's go. Show me to your finest jail cell."

Oooooooooo

Michael Prince had been fingerprinted, his paperwork was being processed, and at the moment, he was cooling his heels in a holding cell. Chloe had applied for the warrant to get his DNA, and now all she could do was wait to get official approval for the testing. She was about to leave for hier appointment with Chad Helton when Detective Monaghan came sauntering through the precinct, stopping at the Detective's desk with a cheeky grin.

"Hey, Chloe. What's up?"

"Nice of you to come to work this morning, Sean." Shaking her head, she handed him a folder. "We've got Michael Prince in holding until we can get his DNA. He has a weak alibi, but he lawyered up quickly, so we don't have much to go on."

"I see. Well, that's okay." Obviously bored, Sean glanced at the file briefly before tossing it aside. "So we just wait, right? Great. Well, nothing for me to do around here. I guess I'll see you later."

Annoyed at her 'partner's' lack of interest, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I thought you were the lead on this case. Aren't you going with me to see Helton?"

"Nope. I've got another appointment. Anyway, I think you can handle it by yourself, right? I mean, you're just going to rattle his cage for your buddy Greg, right?"

"No, there's a lot more to my visit than that. I'm going to ask him questions about the play's finances. Greg was really worried about the play losing lots of money…"

"Whatever. That's a dead end. I'm gonna go over to the theater and check it out." Shrugging, Sean smiled. "I think I'll go interview Fiona while I'm there...see what she knows about the money…"

"Yeah, that makes lots of sense." The Detective groaned in frustration. "Seriously, Sean? Asking her about the money and the show's finances? I'm not even sure she can count to ten..." Grabbing her phone and keys, Chloe scowled at him as he laughed. "Fine. You do that...go see her. Spend the entire day there if you want. No problem. I'll see you later." She pushed past him angrily before turning around. "You're a loser, Sean. I don't know why you even bother to come to work…"

"Yeah, well, it is what it is. Maybe someday I won't have to worry about work, okay?" He wiggled his fingers, waving goodbye. "Have fun…"

Puffing out an exaggerated sigh, the Detective stomped away, once again wishing she had her old partner back. "I miss Lucifer…so much..."

Oooooooooo

The home office for Chad Helton's company was situated in Weho. Charon Industries was housed in an expensive looking glass and steel structure that faced a busy street in the business district. As she parked her cruiser, Chloe nodded to herself. Definitely the high rent district…

Stepping out of the midafternoon's white hot glare, she walked up to the building's reception desk and flashed her badge. "Chloe Decker, LAPD. I have an appointment with Mr. Helton."

Eying the visitor with cool disdain, the receptionist pointed to a door. "Through there and all the way to the end of the hall. He's expecting you."

"Thanks."

She moved quietly down the dimly lit hall, passing several closed doors, until she came to some glass double doors that opened into a huge room, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a greenbelt. "Mr. Helton?"

"Ah, Detective Decker, I presume?" A slightly built man smoothed his jet black hair before he stood up to greet her with an extended hand. "Yes, I'm Chad Helton. Welcome to Charon Industries. Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Perching on the edge of a chair, Chloe quickly glanced around the room, taking in the gaudy black and bright red decor. Interesting...this place looks like Lucifer's penthouse...except the designer of this place was obviously on crack…

She cleared her throat softly. "I know you're busy, Mr. Helton, so I'll get right to the point. Your name has come up in one of our murder investigations. What do you know about the financing for The Devil Calls the Tune?"

"Not much." Sitting back in his oversized black leather chair, Helton shrugged in a vague manner. "Why?"

"Well, the show's director, Greg Lawson says you've threatened to sue him over the financial arrangements."

He shook his head. "It's not a threat...it's a promise. My lawyers are working on that case as we speak…"

"But I don't understand." She leveled a pointed gaze at the man sitting across from her. "Greg said that he asked you if you were interested in the show, but at the time, you didn't have the cash to back the production. Did you suddenly come into some money? Why sue over this thing now? What do you get out of it?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Lawson misunderstood, which is unfortunate for him." Helton's lips pulled back into a feral grin, exposing a set of pointed yellow teeth. "It wasn't that I couldn't afford to back the show...I just didn't want to at the time. However, things have changed, and now I want back in."

"I still don't understand." Chloe shook her head in confusion. "What changed?"

"Oh, my dear...don't be so obtuse." Helton pretended to laugh. "You see, when Mr. Lawson first presented that opportunity to me, Alan Dixon was going to be the lead. Now, while Alan was quite talented, he was also very bland...kind of like vanilla ice cream if you will. Enjoyable, but soon forgotten." Pressing his fingertips together, Helton winked at her. "However, now that Mr. Morningstar has taken the leading role, the show's chances of success are greatly improved."

"I take it you've seen him perform at Lux?," Chloe asked. "Is that how you know about him?"

"Yes, I've seen him...and I have many other sources as well. He's a very talented individual, and as handsome as he is, his stage presence is electric." Licking his lips, Helton sighed happily. "It's like this, if you will: if Alan Dixon was vanilla ice cream, Lucifer Morningstar is a banana split with all the trimmings...and made with an extra long banana, if you know what I mean…"

"Mr. Helton, if we could stay on point…"

Seeing the Detective's faint blush, a wicked grin spread over Helton's face. "Oh, come now, Ms. Decker...surely you've noticed that he's an attractive man. People would pay for tickets just to come and look at him, no matter what show he was in. That's why I'm interested in the show again. It'll surely be successful, making lots of money at the box office, and I want in on the deal. And that's why my contract to back the musical was written in such a way that if there was a major change in the production, I was to have first right of refusal for financing. It's not my fault that Mr. Lawson ignored that clause."

"I see." Somewhat disconcerted by Helton's assertion that she'd noticed what an attractive man her partner was, Chloe exhaled loudly. "Let's get back to my reason for being here today. Given what you've told me about your interest in the musical, it appears that you might have motive for murdering Alan Dixon and Erica McCabe…"

"Perhaps a motive, but not the opportunity. I've been in Barbados for the past few weeks, so I couldn't have done it."

Of course he has an alibi. Very convenient, isn't it? Nodding, Chloe stood up to leave. "We'll need some information...receipts and such...to prove where you were. And don't leave town, Mr. Helton. We may need to talk to you again. Oh, and by the way...don't harass Mr. Lawson any more, either."

"My apologies. Sometimes I get a little too...involved...in my business interests. From now on, I'll let my attorneys handle the matter. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes. We'll be in touch. Thank you. Goodbye."

After watching her leave, Helton made a quick call. "It's me. I have another project for you…"

Oooooooooo

Later that afternoon, an angry Devil stood in front of Chloe's desk, gesturing wildly as he explained his latest frustration. "No bail for Michael? That's ridiculous…"

"I'm not sure what you want me to do about that, Lucifer." Avoiding eye contact with him, the Detective focused on her computer. "The DA claimed he was a flight risk. He has no obvious place of employment...and no permanent address. His fingerprints were found at the Hughes crime scene, and he was caught on video arguing violently with our first victim. Add to that Ms. Morgenstern's eyewitness account...well, it looks like he's a killer, even if he is your brother. Sorry, but that's the way it is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm busy."

"Morgenstern?," Lucifer muttered to himself. "Morgenstern…" He coughed softly when he realized Chloe was watching him, grimacing as he turned to leave. "Never mind, Detective. I'll handle things on my own from now on. So much for our being friends, eh? That's over now, isn't it? Well, I suppose that's the way it must be, so I'll just stay out of your way...on a permanent basis. Goodbye."

Sighing softly as she watched him leave, Chloe bit her lip as she turned back to her monitor. "I am so ready for this case from Hell to be over…" She shook her head with regret. "I want the old 'normal' back."

She nodded to herself as she stared at her computer. "I want Lucifer."