Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own any characters pertaining to the 2007-2008 TV series 'Moonlight'. All recognisable characters and texts belong to Ron Koslow and Trevor Munson.
Author's Note:
Reviews will be given red and silver confetti from the opening night return to London of Jim Steinman's Bat out of Hell the musical, because I had front row seats, was sat in the 'splash zone' and somehow managed to collect plenty of the aforementioned items in my clothing. This show has my heart. (I have absolutely not seen it three times now).
I am genuinely apologetic for how long this took, and immensely grateful for the reviews and the follows and favourites. I tried to make Robin appear British in her language, and the characters American, but I'm sure I muddled a few words up somewhere. I'll post the next chapter very soon, I promise.
Stepping back in to the morgue was an utterly terrifying experience. As much as I heavily desired to turn and run in the opposite direction, I knew I had to be here. In the past two days since Mick had delivered me to 'my' apartment, gingerly handing me a flimsy sealed plastic bag containing a damp purse, a necklace and a set of keys dutifully attached to a very sorry looking Lego keyring, I had managed a trip to the college, completed a day's work, very nearly crashed headlong into Daniel – spluttering a plethora of apologies and barely managing to look him in the eye whilst doing so before I scuttled frantically off in the wrong direction and had to sheepishly backtrack round – and had subsequently discovered the date of the funeral, which was to be held early afternoon tomorrow. So, despite my grievances that Mick would barely have the time to consider my whereabouts or my empty promises, I had to find out what had happened to me. That meant coming here.
My heart was solidly placed in my throat, and I had to remind myself with each step to breathe in a comfortable rhythm. That of course was easier said than done; having to navigate the clinical halls, keeping my head down as I passed sickly-looking men wearing mucky scrubs made my stomach churn too. I could not even push my hands in to the depths of my coat pocket, for I was certain it made me look smaller – indeed, smaller than I was, for I was incredibly petite for my age – and most definitely more suspicious, even though I had declared my intentions at the reception desk – tentatively tasting the name on my lips as I blabbered out that I needed to see Guillermo and where would he possibly be please it was a family emergency. Cringing, knowing full well what a terrible liar I was, I persevered down the dimly-lit corridor in search of the poorly labelled 'morgue 2'. At least, the ratty looking teenager who was most definitely playing Minesweeper on the age-old desktop sounded like that was the right one.
Once I found the correct door, I counted to three before opening the door and stepping inside. There was not a lot of time to think – Guillermo turned around the very moment I took four paces inside, and there was a pregnant pause whereby the tension circulated indisputably; I swallowed nervously as I recalled that this vampire had most definitely seen me without any clothes on and had been privy to my adventures to the PI's apartment. The two spoke – he had to have been.
"Hello," he filled the silence eventually, covering the body he had been leaning next to. His staple clipboard was held in one hand, the other leaning against the table.
"I, uhm – " Truthfully, I had prepared numerous speeches, numerous excuses and numerous explanations. None of them felt it pertinent enough to make themselves known now and I bulked at even the simplest of words. "I just needed to clear up what happened. And say sorry."
Guillermo nodded. "You don't have to clear up anything. Mick and I took care of the technical side." He paused, and I felt an immediate rush of gratitude towards this stranger yet was equally as perplexed as to why he would have gone out of his way to hide this information. Was I not something to be scrutinised, or did his clients regularly wake up and run out? "Why are you sorry?"
I was not entirely certain myself, but it had at the time felt incredibly important that I should apologise for something. "For scaring you. I can assure you I had no intention of drowning, or indeed waking up here. I'm just not entirely certain what happened."
He nodded, went over to a locked filing cabinet and after opening it with a key proceeded to pull out a thin file. "You can give this a read. It's everything I gathered and the information that came when you were brought in." Being mindful not to touch his hands out of some twisted paranoia he would immediately be able to read my mind, I gratefully took the file.
"How will they not be looking for me? A body they pulled out of the river?" Even saying the words sent shivers down my spine. I had to find out what had happened to me, even if it meant treading a very fine line alongside cast members that could very easily snap my neck like a toothpick.
There was, or had I imagined it, the very smallest hint of a smile. Even amusement. "Mick is very clever at what he does, and I like to think I am too. I swapped some details around and fortunately everyone is far more focused on the recent killing at the fountain to worry about someone they considered to be suicide."
I felt that unease creep back again and was overwhelmed by an uncomfortable warmth. Warmth? In a morgue? Carefully I pried the file open and scanned the first page with displaced urgency before I was interrupted. "You can take it home."
"I – thank you. For this." I swiftly pressed it in to my bag.
"Be careful." He said as I walked back towards the door. He was back to lifting the sheet off the body before him. I turned cautiously and could not help my brazen lack of filter.
"Because apparently there are vampires running around now?" I knew he understood it as a joke, and ordinarily it was precisely the kind of comment I would make, but I had meant it selfishly, my nature forbidding me from leaving anything alone as it should be. The look that passed over his face would be miss-able to anyone who did not know what they were looking for, but I did, and although I imagined that it would give me a blind sense of satisfaction it in fact did the complete opposite; I was caught in the crosshairs and I felt almost unbearably guilty.
Much like my closing comment the day before, I did not have to be at the funeral. Not one individual, colleague or otherwise, would have batted an eyelid; in fact, I was fairly certain that Christian Ellis was the only teacher from the college who had made the effort to show. I kept my head down throughout the service, sticking to the middle; sitting at either the front or the back would have drawn further attention to myself, and if I opened my mouth I most definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.
Chloe sat apart from Christian, Daniel and the 'study group' in the church, but she was unfortunately sandwiched beside them as the coffin was lowered in to the ground. I immediately saw Beth, indisputable with her blonde trademark waves and her large black sunglasses. My own hair blended well with the rest of the guests, but I still felt my heart in my throat as I caught Mick out of my peripheral vision. I was better leaving them to it; interfering would be detrimental to the plot, and I was nothing if not a loyal shipper, as it was once called, of them both.
I knew immediately that it was a mistake being here; I had no idea who Kelly was, or if I had ever met her, and I sought to keep my distance from the pair I presumed to be her parents lest they began making rounds and thanking individuals for coming. I could make up some excuse – yes, she was an excellent pupil, a key hard worker, a pleasure to teach – but it seemed easier just to point them in the direction of Christian, who no doubt knew her on a far more intimate level than the rest. I shuddered, keeping my eyes focused on the priest and swallowing the lump of bile that rose uncomfortably afterwards; despite my efforts, and having every best intention available, I had been unable to keep food down all day.
"Kelly was a bright and promising student, and we all mourn her loss."
A few girls began to weep as the priest spoke, and I distinctly saw Beth raise her phone to take a picture. Christian, out of the corner of my eye, was keeping his head down and his hands clasped before him. Daniel looked eerily disinterested, like he was trying too hard to appear sorrowful – though I did not wish to credit him in any way, he did not look the slightest bit suspicious, which was something I no doubt believed he considered an achievement, as he was the one who killed the girl about to be lowered six feet under.
Of course, I considered that time could be saved – and indeed Chloe could be, if I strolled up to Mick's car and revealed that Daniel was the one he was after and that Christian, as slimy and arrogant as he was, was no killer.
As the crowd dispersed, I lodged myself safely behind Christian and his disciples. I suppose I could have stopped Chloe, but quite frankly Ellis deserved it. Despite knowing that it would happen in a matter of seconds, the moment Chloe lashed out I jumped backwards and crashed in to a young girl. She was dressed entirely in black, which for a funeral would not be inadmissible, but her makeup – right down to the lipstick she emitted a scowl from – was black too. It was unnerving to look at, if only because she was one of them, and that meant she no less than breathed for him.
"Sorry, sorry…" I blurted, swiftly turning back around and stumbling forwards towards the scene; as Daniel grabbed her, something fell from her pocket, and amongst all the commotion she had not noticed. As she hastily threw a "shut up!" in Daniel's direction, I made a beeline for where they had been stood. The girl I had crashed in to had barely acknowledged my discrepancy and had instead hurried to the side of the newly injured teacher, as his harem looked immediately concerned as to his well-being. It was incredibly cringy.
In a small footprint of mud was a set of tarnished keys, perhaps three at most, and a bat keyring not unlike the one found at Kelly's apartment – though without the distinguishing vile of blood. I swiped them and began brushing the dirt off. In the distance, Mick was busy talking to Beth, and Chloe had wondered off in the opposite direction – and it was in this one with which I set my sights on.
What on Earth are you doing, Robin?
I should have just stayed at home. I had no business here, short of vainly attempting to assert myself as a member of the community that cared; that was normal back home, though as I began to power walk past the PI's car I began to acknowledge that customs were entirely different here.
"Chloe?" I called out, once I was a comfortably safe distance from where the prominent characters stood. Thankfully, for now at least, Christian and Daniel had made off in the opposite direction. She did not stop, instead waving me off offensively without even looking behind her. I sighed, took a deep breath, and began to jog to catch up. "You – I think you dropped your keys."
With this she did halt. I stopped beside her, belittling myself for not paying more attention to my own fitness and making a non-verbal agreement to better that as soon as I found out where the nearest gym was. "Thanks," she muttered. Her eyes barely lifted to meet mine as she took them from my outstretched hand; the sharpness of her nails caught the bare skin. "I recognise you," she continued. My heart definitely skipped a few beats then, and I was suddenly increasingly aware that at any moment Mick could drive past.
School. That is all. Just school.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and stood a little more level on the pavement. "You were in one of our classes. With him." She raised her head in a motion that inclined the direction behind us. I tried not to let the horror pass over my face, but I was a truly incapable liar. Undoubtedly this made me one of the worst people to end up like this.
"I move around classes a fair amount. I'm not due back in that one, though. It was very last minute." Thank God I was overly attentive with my planner; the same Kikki.K planner I purchased annually at home had gratefully made its way here.
"You were nice." Chloe added. She seemed both eager to get away and equally as desperate to talk. It was not the kind of vibe I received when I watched the upcoming scene with her and Beth, but then the aforementioned blonde was indeed a reporter. It proved a little easier when the individual you were talking to was not doing so simply to write an article and cared little for those involved; I knew it would be fruitless to explain that Beth very much so cared about the people she wrote about, but they had not even met yet. "I know he had something to do with it. And he's going to get away with it." She scowled again, tongue playing with the piercing on her lip.
I braved a look behind me; Beth stepped away from the car and Mick seemed to steady his hands on the wheel. Hurriedly I looked back. "If he did, you know he won't get away with it. I'm pretty sure there's a PI on the case, too."
She scoffed at that. "Yeah, right. If the cops can't figure it out, then some phoney won't be able to either." Chloe rolled her eyes. "He feeds them all this bullshit about sex and vampires and dark desires, and they totally buy in to it. It's not right. He shouldn't even be teaching. Nobody should let him near kids," there was a pause, and I stood awkwardly, moving only to let a pedestrian pass. I was not entirely sure what to say, or indeed what I could do; the guilt would have been everywhere had my body not been bristling at the thought of the vampire finding out where I was. I just knew he would see me and facing the girl who would later die the following evening made me feel even worse. I was refusing to do anything to save her life, knowing that Mick's desperation would lead him to save Beth on time. If I intervened, prevented her from dying, Mick would not find the body – and he would probably be interviewing her whilst Beth was being taken…
No, I had to let it happen. It was the right thing to do, was it not?
"I can keep an eye…" No sooner had I begun talking, Chloe's demeanour seemed to change. She threw her hands in the air like a teenage tantrum and turned away from me.
"Forget it. I've got to get to work."
As she left, the distinctive convertible Mercedes slowed beside me just as I knew it would. I grimaced before turning to him and watched uneasily as he leaned over. "What are you doing here?" It could have been rude, but the tone was very soft, if not impressively curious. It was definitely challenging to be both without coming across as conceited.
"I taught her," I offered. At least that was an answer I could give without lying. "Well, half taught. I'm an assistant teacher at the college." Mick nodded, as if he knew this piece of information already, and I could not even pretend to be surprised. "As for Chloe, I picked up her keys. She dropped them when she attacked Christian."
That seemed to intrigue him. "Can I give you a lift to my office? I'd like to ask you some questions. No, don't worry –" He must have seen my expression falter, and no doubt heard my heart beat erratically for a few short moments. "Guillermo told me you stopped by. That's not why – I just want to find out if you knew anything about Kelly, and maybe why Chloe attacked him."
I could hardly say no, but I knew that I could not trust myself to be near him. As much as I desperately wanted to refuse I found myself back in the passenger seat of the car, clutching the side of the seat he could not see until my knuckles turned white.
"You don't like my driving?" He could joke easily enough. I cracked a smile.
"No, your driving is fine. I've only ever been in an almost-accident once, and it wasn't my fault. I'm sure people say that all the time, but it really wasn't – I was driving, and someone turned the wrong way down a one-way system. I had to emergency stop, and a car went in to the back of me. Only slightly." Not enough to cause any further damage other than a replacement licence plate; still, it would be a little ridiculous on my behalf if my appearance at the funeral was not all ready testament to that, for me to tell him that I simply felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest every time I saw him. "I just get car sick. Quickly."
That seemed enough to quell the conversation somewhat until he reached his apartment building. He offered the occasional small-talk and the promise to take me home again afterwards if I needed it; I was fairly sure if it was still light out, I would be more than happy to walk back; the drive had not been that long the last time.
Mick unlocked the door to his office rather than his apartment, but as he held the door for me to follow I saw that the adjoining door to his personal living space was wide open. "Stay there, for a minute." I didn't need to ask why, or wait, or stare awkwardly at the cabinet containing Beth's personal file.
The offending individual waiting for Mick came to us.