Chapter Eight
"How're you feeling?" Chloe asked, casting Lucifer a sidelong glance.
They'd been working for about an hour, just getting to know the basics of the case. The whiteboard already had numerous notes scribbled on it, as well as several photographs taped up with Band-Aids. Chloe had written names and captions under each picture. Lucifer, of course, had added his own embellishments.
Rose Alvarez – Victim, 27 (horrible taste in men!)
Martin Collins – Boyfriend, 29, Blacked Out at Time of Killing—No Memory, Convicted of the Murder (probably because he DID IT!)
Keith Ferguson – Having an Affair with the Vic (why didn't the boyfriend kill THIS miscreant instead?), Has an Alibi for Night of Murder
Next up on the agenda was the forensic report. Seventy-eight pages of intricate scientific data and gruesome crime scene pictures that neither one of them was fully qualified to analyze. Chloe needed her partner at the top of his game.
"I'm fine," Lucifer said, then immediately turned his head to cover a cough.
Chloe narrowed her eyes.
"Just a little tickle," he assured her.
She fixed him with a very serious look. "You have to tell me if you start feeling really sick, okay?"
He nodded.
They turned back to the computer to face all the gory details of how Rose had been bludgeoned to death with a collectible beer stein from Brimstone, the pub where she tended bar. Looking back and forth between the vibrant, model-gorgeous Latina smiling on the whiteboard and the plastic-wrapped corpse on the screen, Chloe felt a little sick herself.
Rose's once-sparkling brown eyes were now cloudy and lightless, wide open but seeing nothing. Her sleek black hair was a mess, dried blood gluing it to her face in some places, the plastic in others. The left side of her head was a sunken crater. She'd been found in the trunk of her boyfriend's car, along with the murder weapon, both wrapped in a clear tarp.
The boyfriend, Martin, had been discovered passed out in the driver's seat, Rose's blood on his hands. His fingerprints were the only ones on the beer stein, which was also plastered with Rose's blood and even some bits of her skull. Rose's apartment, which she had shared with Martin, looked like someone had played paintball in the living room using red ammo.
Chloe clicked through multiple close-ups of Rose's injuries, the crime scene, and the beer stein, forcing herself to study each one. She sagged in relief when the next image in the file was just a scanned report. Black words on a white page, no scarlet splatters in sight.
She leaned forward, reading. "God, Martin's DNA was all over her…"
"Probably because he's guilty!" Lucifer half-shouted the last word, flashing a defiant look at the ceiling.
"Maybe, but even strangulation vics don't usually have this much of the killer's DNA on them, and there's way more skin-to-skin contact with that COD than there is with bludgeoning."
"Well, they were boyfriend and girlfriend," Lucifer pointed out. "Lots of skin-to-skin contact there. Now that I think about it, my DNA's probably all over yo—"
"Lucifer!" Chloe hissed, her cheeks burning. The kidnapper was no doubt listening to everything they said.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, Detective. I'm sure yours is on me, too."
Chloe buried her face in her palm. Later. She would kill him later. After she saved his life.
"Yes, Rose and Martin were boyfriend and girlfriend," Chloe conceded, "but by all accounts they hadn't been intimate in several days." She re-read the report, frowning at the bits she didn't quite follow. Where was Ella when you needed her? Right now, Chloe would kill for one of her friend's rambling, nerdy, strangely illuminating explanations.
"This just feels…off. It's like someone took a salt shaker filled with Martin's skin and hair and fingernails and sprinkled it all over her."
"Are you saying there's too much evidence of Martin's guilt?" Lucifer asked, eyebrows raised.
Chloe huffed a little laugh, surprised at how it sounded. "Yeah, I guess I am."
She stood up and walked to the whiteboard. Earlier, she'd drawn a large green rectangle in the upper right corner. A place to note down anything about the original case that didn't quite add up. Until now, it had remained empty. Chloe picked up the green marker and squeaked out the words, "Too much DNA?"
She quickly capped the marker, stifling its horrible fake lime scent, and stepped back to look at what she'd written. Not much, but it was a start. Chloe sat down beside Lucifer again, his hip a reassuring warmth pressing against hers.
They got back to work.