A week later, more stories about Delilah McCord emerged. Stories painted her as a troubled kid. A wild child. A girl who likes to fun. Too much fun. Some are fabricated, Chloe checked. And some, just heartbreakingly true. Stories that reinforced—maybe justified—Delilah's overdose.
She pushes those thoughts away. She's not going to set a judgement on Delilah's character. Chloe Decker is here to catch a killer.
Chloe consults her 'to do' checklist. First agenda, retracing Delilah's last moments. She already had some clues, thanks to her dad's notepad. Yes, she knows those notepads are off-limits. Delilah's death isn't an ongoing investigation, and Chloe hasn't break any rules per say. Besides what her father doesn't know, won't hurt him.
She runs a finger down the suspect list. Not many names. About two. Her boyfriend, Kevin Gonzalez. He's cleared, having a tight alibi—not being in town for the weekends. Next, her step-dad. He's cleared too, watching a movie that night.
No witnesses. So, no one had seen if Delilah was high the entire time. Time of death is a little unclear.
After going through those notes, she keeps circling back to LUX. Where Delilah was found. She spent most of her time in LUX, never on the dance floor but that tiny broom closet they dubbed the office. Balancing the club's expenditures, if Kevin's words is to be believed. This makes Delilah well-acquainted with the inner workings of LUX Club.
Just because Chloe didn't find any drugs the first time, it doesn't mean there isn't any. Maybe Delilah found something in LUX worth killing for.
Her dad never listed Lucifer Morningstar as a suspect. Chloe isn't going to make that mistake.
The gymnasium looked a whole lot different in the morning. The coppery rust from the roof bleeds into the faded white paint on the walls. Hedges around the gym's compound are withering yellow and overgrown. The windows are cracked, and stained with bird poop.
It's almost unassuming, really. Chloe would never guess that it's a den of immoral activities for minors by night fall. Surprisingly fortified for a run-down gym building.
With Delilah's death, the LUX Club postponed all of their meetings until further notice. So, there goes her chance to snoop around the office. But Chloe has one last trick to pull. Hope to God, her father never finds out.
She tried to break into LUX twice. Failed both times that Chloe resorted to stalking from the dense hedges. It's been roughly four hours and she hasn't seen anyone yet in LUX. No suspicious activity. Or any kind of activity to be frank.
She squeezes herself in between the hedges, in the name of blending in the background. It's bad enough the hedges are wildly untrimmed, poking her ass. She hasn't eat since she started her stakeout. She pokes her head above the hedges, scanning her surroundings.
Keys rattling. Footsteps grow louder. Someone's here. At gym. Finally, she's getting somewhere. Chloe ducks down, presses herself against the ground. Tells herself to lose the heavy breathing. Or risk getting caught.
"You could have just knock the door, Mazikeen would invite you in for a cup of tea," says a deep voice, smooth like lava sliding off molten rocks that renders Chloe mute. For five seconds. Maybe, fifteen. Okay, twenty seconds.
Still crouching on all four, she twists her neck, to gain a better look at the speaker. Shiny black Giorgio Armani shoes greet her first. Then, crisp dark navy blue pants that clings to a pair of long legs. Next, freshly pressed blazer that hangs on a wiry body.
It's her suspect. Lucifer Morningstar. His lips twisting into an eloquent smirk. Sunlight bouncing off his golden-red hair, giving it a crown of glowing halo effect around his head.
Chloe draws to her full height—which isn't much in light of Lucifer's taller frame. Gathering what's left of her dignity, she clears her throat. Ignores a twig or two sticking in her hair. Stares into his intelligent blue eyes. Not the kind of blue that reminds her of the skies or the ocean. The intensity of his gaze and his blue eyes—strikes Chloe as the fiery flames blazing electric blue.
Chloe has to admit that up close, he's beautiful. There's an angelic quality to his looks. Almost blindly distracting. Chloe shakes her head, trying to regain her fleeting self-respect and say something. Something authority-like. Something that would make Lucifer take her seriously. Something like—
"You got nice shiny shoes," is all she manages. The next few words come out as a string on incoherent mumbling. Chloe clams her mouth shut. Wishing the ground to swallow her up.
"They are, I had them shined this morning."
"Chloe Decker, Journalism Club," she tries again, projecting confidence and professionalism.
He arches a dark brow, with poise and elegance of a gentleman. "Journalism Club? Sounds more like you'd be fitting for a homicide detective with that tone," Lucifer scoffs, in his clipped British accent.
"Well, my dad's the detective. There isn't any club that remotely resembles the police force," Chloe catches herself before she went on the story of her life. Focus. "But I'm not here to talk about myself."
The door to the gymnasium parts open, revealing a waif-like girl standing. Waiting for them. The girl trains her eyes on Lucifer, barely acknowledging Chloe. "Would you like to take your affairs inside, Lucifer?" Her voice is raspy, with a slight snake's hiss coiling around her words. Several continents melded together in her accent, too foreign that Chloe can't place her anywhere in the map.
Lucifer glances at Mazikeen and his smirk softens to an amused smile. "Yes, I do, Mazikeen. Would you be kind to prepare some refreshment for our guest? I suspect that she wouldn't leave until she gets her answers."
"Yes, m-Lucifer," replies Mazikeen, disappearing into the gym.
Lucifer opens his strides—wide, casual and arrogant—entering the gym. Chloe jogs after him, the boy has long legs. Together, they end up at the stage. Lucifer takes a seat on the piano seat. Chloe's stiff as a tree stump, eyeing the baby grand piano.
"Do enlighten us the reason behind your visit?" Lucifer asks, playing some jaunty tune Chloe never heard of. Mazikeen joins them, hands Chloe a chilled soda and a glass of blue-liquid to Lucifer. Then takes her place beside him. She hardly speaks, her face bears no expression and yet her eyes are concentrated on Chloe now.
Chloe forges on, keeps the trembling out from her voice. Thinks back to Delilah and her hopeful eyes. Chloe utters, "Delilah McCord."
Nonchalance slipping into his monotonous reply, "Tragic death. What about it?" His posture is formal, like one who practiced the art of performing the piano, and at the same time slacking without tension. If there's any tension reacting to her question, it's not Lucifer. It's Mazikeen.
"Rumour has it that she did the budgeting for your club."
"Not a rumour. Delilah had proved to be an asset in managing the club's funds." He's staring at her. His eyes are disturbingly empty, yet the jovial grin remains. It sends chills down Chloe's spine, burns the flesh beneath her skin that she's sweating profusely.
"That means she spent a lot of time hanging around LUX. With bookkeeping duties, she must have seen more than she bargained for."
Lucifer pulls the shutter over the piano keys, propping one arm over the baby grand's cover. Tosses a lazy glance at Chloe. "And what would that be? What had she witnessed that necessitated her death?"
Chloe shrugs, "I don't know." She cracks her notepad open, runs her fingers over the highlighted words. "Drugs. Booze. Orgy."
He exchanges a secretive look with Mazikeen, then turns to face Chloe. His smirk grows impossibly wider, impish even. "You think that I killed her because I supplied alcoholic beverages, drugs and sex to the other students?"
"Unprotected wild sex," Chloe automatically corrects. Not the words she's supposed to say out loud. She has no qualms with sex between students—it's just better to play safe than sorry. "People have killed for less."
"What are your thoughts on the subject, Mazikeen?" he quizzes, tilting his head sideways. There's something in those eyes of his. They're not empty now. Adoration playing in his irises.
Mazikeen rolls her greyish eyes—it seems to Chloe, only the right eye moves. Each word that leaves Mazikeen's lips is tainted with a snarling lisp. "That statement holds some merit. However, LUX Club doesn't indulge in those kind of illegal substances. She attended a meeting. She should know we only served soda."
Chloe strains to catch Mazikeen's words properly. Her forehead creasing, she leans closer to Mazikeen's lips—Mazikeen takes a step backwards. Chloe shifts her sight from Mazikeen to Lucifer, arching a brow at him. "The fact that I saw the LUX in its finest, means I don't believe your club is clean as you claimed it is."
"I don't make claims. It is the truth," he says, sipping his drink. He has lovely feathered eyelashes, enhancing his androgynous look. Not that Chloe's into that, she likes traditional boys. Like her dad.
"Then you don't mind me looking through those records myself?"
"You're welcome to help yourself to LUX's expenditure records," Lucifer motions at Mazikeen to lead the way. "Maybe you'll find your elusive killer. Perhaps you won't. Either way, it'd be a delight to see your conviction challenged."
[AN] I'm aware Lucifer Morningstar and Mazikeen doesn't match up with FOX's version. I tried to write the comic versions. Because why not? At the same time, I'm not even sure if I catch the comic versions' essence correctly.
