Hey there, readers! Well, that was a much longer turnaround than I expected. My apologies for the delay. Many thanks to my beta, idelthoughts, who helped me push through some serious blockage.
"Welcome to Empire Pharmaceuticals. How may I help you?" The receptionist was a young woman with maple brown skin that practically glowed with health. Jo suspected that near-retirees with wrinkles and sciatica never held this job. She lifted her badge for the woman to see.
"I'm Detective Martinez, and this is my partner, Dr. Morgan. We have a few questions about Mike Lovitz."
"Mr. Lovitz's assistant handles all of his scheduling." The woman efficiently tapped a few buttons and said a few words into her headset before giving Jo and Henry a dismissive smile. "Keith will be right down." A ringing phone captured her attention, and she turned away.
Jo shot a questioning look to her partner. They paced away from the desk to stand near a set of modern waiting room furniture that could only look that simple if it were very expensive.
"Apparently Mr. Lovitz's absence has not been widely noted," Henry observed.
"Either that, or they have something to hide."
"They certainly have an image to uphold." Henry took in their surroundings. "Note the neutral colors and well-cultivated plants, meant to assure visitors that Empire and its products are natural and life-giving."
"Didn't do our victim any good," Jo commented dryly.
A door on the interior side of the reception room opened, and a young man of medium height appeared and approached them. He looked no older than twenty-five, with carefully styled blonde hair and skin that didn't have acne, but somehow seemed like it should.
"Detective Martinez? I'm Keith, Mr. Lovitz's assistant." He shook her hand, then Henry's. "Nice to meet you." His voice and eye contact were steady, but his palms were slightly sweaty. "I'm afraid that if you're here about the investigation, no Empire employees are at liberty to discuss it. The D.A. will receive the subpoenaed documents well before—"
"Keith," Jo interrupted, "we're not with the D.A. I'm homicide, and Dr. Morgan is a medical examiner."
Keith looked nonplussed. "You're not here about the lawsuit?"
"No," Henry confirmed, "although it does sound fascinating. It also explains why you're wearing that garish 'power tie' in an attempt to exhibit more dominance than your bearing naturally supports. Trying to hold your own against the prosecutor's team?"
"What is he talking about?" Keith directed the question to Jo. He managed to keep his voice casual, but one hand drifted up defensively to cover his red silk tie. She fought hard to keep her eyes from rolling.
"We're here because Mike Lovitz was murdered last night. When was the last time you saw your boss?" Jo watched the assistant closely for his reaction to this news—if indeed it was news to him.
"Wait. What? Mike is dead?" Keith lost his carefully-applied company face and simply looked stunned. "God. It finally caught up with him."
"What caught up with him?" Henry pressed.
Keith shrugged. "Karma." He seemed vaguely saddened, but not upset or even very surprised. "I mean, I assume you watch the news." He glanced across the otherwise empty room at the receptionist, who was now watching them with interest but was too far away to hear their hushed conversation.
"You mean the malaria drug?" Jo asked.
Keith nodded. "You wouldn't believe the shitstorm that made landfall when the Times broke that story about how much Mike increased our profit margin on Malatone."
"Actually, I can well believe it," Henry said. "Malaria kills a million people every year. Empire Pharmaceuticals is making billions in blood money."
Keith threw up his hands in defense. "Look, I'm only a lackey around here—and I'm the one who had to open all that hate mail." He shuddered at the memory.
"Can you think of anyone in particular who wanted Mr. Lovitz dead?" Jo asked, coaxing the man back from his flashback. "Any letters or personal confrontations that stand out?"
Keith shook his head slowly. "Not that I can think of. It was all equally angry."
"When did you see him last?"
"It was yesterday—around two, maybe? He left to meet with a client off-site."
"Who was the client?"
"That's the weird thing." Keith frowned. "He didn't tell me. I arrange most of his schedule, but he set this one up himself. When I asked who he was meeting, he just changed the subject." Keith got a stricken look on his face. "Oh, God. He never wrote me a letter of rec. Six months of my life as an evil minion and I don't even get a career bump."
He glanced around, more agitated about his lack of references than the news of his employer's untimely demise. "If you don't have any more questions, can I go? I have a lot of meetings to cancel if he's dead."
Jo exchanged a glance with Henry, but that was all the information she expected to get out of Keith for now.
"We'll let you know if we have further questions."
"Yeah, sure, of course." His parting assurances were mumbled into the air as he turned and walked with quick steps back towards the door.
"One more question," Henry called after him. Keith stopped and reluctantly turned.
"Yeah?"
"Was Mr. Lovitz a fan of Star Wars?"
Keith blinked. That was not the question he had expected. "Um, not that I know of? I mean, no more than anyone else. Isn't everyone a fan lately?"
The assistant took Henry and Jo's silent exchange as permission to leave, and he was soon through the door and out of sight.
"Keith the Lackey wasn't kidding about all the hate mail. I'm surprised this stuff didn't spontaneously combust in storage." Hanson tossed another printout on the growing "done" pile that rested between him and Jo on the conference room table.
The assistant had responded quickly to their request and sent a box to the precinct by messenger within an hour of Jo and Henry's visit. The box was filled with the more notable communications Lovitz had received from the public over the past year, both via email and US Mail. There was even one letter painstakingly constructed, ransom-note style, out of cut-out letters from magazines, but Jo and Hanson both agreed that its contents were no more threatening than the rest of the letters. The sender merely had a flair for the dramatic.
"There's certainly a lot of heat here, but nothing in the way of obvious intent." Jo threw her latest finished pile in the center and sighed. "We've been at this for two hours and nothing."
"I was kinda hoping someone would quote Yoda and make our jobs easier."
"The Star Wars angle might still be a coincidence," Jo pointed out. "A conveniently-timed coincidence with the new movie just out, but you never know."
Henry appeared in the doorway. He took in the mixture of boredom and frustration on their faces. "I take it Mr. Lovitz's mailbag is proving fruitless?"
"We've learned he was a 'racist asshole vampire feeding on African children,' " Jo read from the next letter in front of her, "but we already knew that. None of this righteous anger looks like death threats." She looked up at Henry. "Please tell me you're here because you have a lead."
"I have half of a lead," he offered. "Based on my analysis of the liver cells, as well as a second blood type I found on the sword, our unknown victim was a white male, approximately 45 to 55 years old, with a moderate drinking habit."
"So if we can find a matching missing person, we might be in luck." Hanson was already standing up, happy for a more promising lead to follow.
"Start with Lovitz's known associates," Jo said, "but something tells me this killer won't be as predictable as that."
"Got it." Hanson nodded on his way out the door.
Based on Henry's information, it didn't take long for Hanson to find a possible victim.
"Carl Snyder: corporate lawyer reported missing by his wife two days ago."
"Which means he's been missing at least three." Jo looked at the DMV photo Hanson had printed out. Snyder's careful haircut and expensive suit matched the self-assured smile on his face, even in his driver's license photo. "Any connection to our other vic?"
Hanson shook his head. "Not that I've found yet, but who knows. Even after I told his office he was probably dead, I got transferred three times and had to recite my badge number twice before anyone would talk to me. Damn lawyers."
"Did they give you anything useful?"
"One of his partners finally admitted that no one had seen him since Tuesday afternoon."
Jo's eyebrows arched up. "That was three days ago. That didn't concern anyone?"
"Apparently the guy took a lot of off-site meetings, made his own hours. Must be nice," Hanson deadpanned. "His current case is defending the Firebreaker Equipment Company against a class-action lawsuit. A dozen families of firefighters claim their loved ones died because of Firebreaker's faulty equipment. Sorry, "allegedly" faulty." Hanson's air quotes dripped with sarcasm. "According to Snyder's secretary, his last meeting on Tuesday was at the Firebreaker office, but I talked to the car service, and after that meeting the driver dropped him off at a completely different address across town."
"Okay, you take Firebreaker, and I'll try the mystery address."
"Swing by the morgue and grab Henry, would you? That's a sketchy block to visit alone." Hanson sighed at Jo's look of mock surprise. "Yes, I do think the Doc is slightly better than no backup at all."
"Don't let Henry hear you gush like that." Jo stifled a grin. "Check in when you can."
Jo ended up taking both Henry and Lucas to visit the sketchy address, after much pleading on Lucas's part. She suspected the younger man was hoping for more chances to impress his boss, her, and anyone else within earshot with his suddenly valuable Star Wars superfan knowledge.
As it turned out, he got his wish.
The smell of stale smoke struck them the moment they got out of the car in front of the old warehouse. Its windows were mostly shattered, and wide blackened streaks ran up the walls from every door and window. Parts of the roof had collapsed, and twisted beams jutted out like broken ribs.
"I'm guessing our guy died in a fire?" Lucas mused.
"Not in this one," Jo answered. She pointed to the bright yellow sign tacked to the front door. "The site is under investigation by the fire marshall. This fire happened nearly six months ago."
"Long enough for a class-action lawsuit to be filed?" Henry offered. He followed the edge of the building to one corner and peered around. "Judging by the condition of the structure, this fire burned hotter than an average building fire. Equipment that wasn't up to snuff may well have failed here."
"That would explain Snyder's connection, but not why he dropped by personally. Seems way below his pay scale." Jo pulled out her phone. "I'll call the fire department and see if they can get us inside."
"Oh. Were we supposed to ask?" The unexpected echo surrounding Lucas's voice caused Jo and Henry to swivel their heads quickly in his direction. He poked his head back out of the now-gaping front door. At Jo's censuring glare, he shrugged defensively. "What? It was open."
She frowned at that. "It shouldn't have been."
"That's not the only thing that shouldn't be happening here." He looked to Henry. "You better look at this."
As expected, "Do Not Enter by Order of Fire Marshall" did not even slow Henry down; not when there was a hint of intrigue in the air. Jo sighed and followed her partner inside. She hoped Reece would be in the mood to cover for them with the FDNY later.
Once they were inside the walls, intrigue wasn't the only thing in the air. Jo sniffed once and wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Is that what I think it is?" She had only encountered this distinctive odor once or twice before, but it wasn't something she was likely to forget.
"If you think it's the scent of human flesh charred nearly to ash, then yes." Far from looking put off by the clinging, stomach-turning smell, Henry squatted close over what Jo only now recognized as blackened human remains on blackened ground: a burned skeleton arched back in what appeared to be a rictus of pain.
"Tell me what I'm looking at."
"All soft tissue has been thoroughly obliterated, most likely with the aid of an accelerant. The fire was hot and fast," Henry observed. "The lingering smell of the original fire could have masked the second, more targeted burn from casual notice, as long as no one saw the flames."
"Is this Snyder?"
"It's possible. The burn site would need at least two days to cool to its current ambient temperature, and Mr. Snyder disappeared three days ago." Henry looked thoughtful. "A positive ID will require dental records, but judging by height and build, this could well be—"
"Uncle Owen."
"I beg your pardon?" Henry blinked up at his assistant with a frown. Lucas had taken a step back to frame the crime scene between two angled thumbs and forefingers. "Who is 'Uncle Owen'?"
Jo sighed. She wished she could be irritated by Lucas's deeply geeky observation, but she couldn't. Not with this case.
"It's from Star Wars, Henry. The body is staged like Star Wars again."
"First victim, first movie." Lucas nodded sagely. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was shot first. Blasters are probably out of the question, so maybe just with a gun?"
"Lucas." Henry ground out the name between clenched teeth. "We will not make wild conjectures based on fanciful tales. Would you kindly retrieve my bag from the car? I intend to collect actual evidence."
"Sorry, Henry." Lucas tried his hardest to look contrite, but as he passed Jo he mumbled, "I'm totally right though."
Jo could see Henry pointedly ignoring the passing comment as he began examining the body more closely. She came to stand on one side of him, and she could see how stiffly he was holding his shoulders.
"You can't avoid it anymore, Henry."
"Avoid what, exactly?" He didn't look up. If she didn't know better, she'd say her partner was sulking. No, what was she saying? She did know better. He was definitely sulking.
"You can't avoid Star Wars. It will probably be around as long as you will, and like it or not, it's relevant to this case." She hesitated, but only for a moment. "You can watch it at my place if you like, after you finish the autopsy. I own the box set."
"Thank you, Detective, but that won't be necessary." At least her offer got him to look up, and he turned his searching gaze on her. "You never did explain how you came to be so knowledgeable on the subject."
"Like I said, it's a long story," Jo admitted. "But until you can pick Yoda out of a lineup, I won't tell it."
Henry allowed himself a slow grin. "Very well. After we solve this case—with scientific evidence and good detective work, mind you, not trivia—you can introduce me to this Yoda."
"It's a date." Jo tensed slightly at her own unconscious word choice, but she didn't take it back.
"So it is."
When he looked at her like that, Jo could almost forget they were standing over a charred murder victim—almost.
Lucas had reappeared with Henry's bag, and she was grateful for the distraction.
"I hate to delay your date with an observation…"
"No—it's, ah, it's not…" Jo started to explain, but Lucas pressed on.
"…but we only have two victims."
It only took Jo a moment to change gears and catch his meaning. Once she did, she sighed to herself at the logical—and very pressing—conclusion of what he was saying.
"I have yet to see the films," Henry said slowly, standing up beside the body, "but if memory serves, aren't they a trilogy?"
Jo nodded grimly. "The first two murder scenes reference the first two movies, in order. Unless we find the killer first, it's a good bet that someone else is going to die soon."
"Most unfortunate this is." Lucas shook his head slowly and spoke in a gravelly falsetto.
Henry didn't ask.