Page 19 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Do you…?” He paused and then looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze. “Do you think we have a serial killer on our hands?”

“To be categorized as a serial, he would need a third kill.” Bel clenched her fists. “We can’t let him do this again… Wait, stop. Go back.” She stepped closer to Garret’s seated form, and he rewound the footage at her outburst. “Okay, play it.”

All three angles restarted simultaneously, but nothing out of the ordinary popped up on the screen.

“What are—?” he started

“There,” Bel cut him off, pointing at the camera aimed at the rear of the shop.

“I don’t see anything?”

“Play it again, and can you go slow?”

Garrett nodded as he rewound, replaying the footage of the back alley as an employee walked inside for their shift. Garrett paused the video and then stepped through the frames, one by one. Right before their view of the alley was cut off, a blonde entered the frame. Her hair obscured her face, but as she tried to walk past the still-closing door, a broad hand captured her elbow and jerked her to a halt. The woman whirled on whoever restrained her, and Garrett pressed pause, leaning closer to the monitor.

“I don’t recognize her,” he said, looking up at Bel. “But she never turns toward the camera, so I can’t be sure.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged, and her partner sighed, stepping through the footage until the door shut. He opened his mouth to question Bel, confused about why this particular moment was relevant, but then he froze. He wasn’t sure how she had noticed it playing at regular speed. He barely appeared on the screen, but for that fraction of a second before the door obscured the alley, the person restraining the woman shifted into view.

Eamon Stone.

“What time was that?”Bel asked, pointing at the footage, Eamon’s flawless jawline etched perfectly even in the grainy quality.

“Yesterday at… 3:24 p.m.,” Garrett answered, and the partners shared a look that spoke volumes.

“And you don’t recognize the woman?”

“No.” He shrugged. “She never fully shows her face, but her visible features aren’t familiar.”

“Emerson? Cassidy?” Sheriff Griffin interrupted, and they both turned toward his voice. “David Kaffe would like to speak to you. He wants to help in any way he can.”

The detectives nodded, wordlessly following their boss outside and shedding their protective wear. David stood small and defeated among the swarming throng, and Bel’s heart ached. She often interacted with people on the worst days of their lives, and no matter how many moments like this she faced, they never got easier.

“Mr. Kaffe?” Bel said softly as she stepped closer with a comforting smile, extending her hand with a gentle invitation. The man took it, gripping her fingers weakly before shaking Garrett’s. “I’m Detective Isobel Emerson, and this is my partner, Garrett Cassidy. I am sorry for your loss. Emily was a treasure to this town.”

“She was…” David wiped a tear from his eye before continuing, “I don’t understand how anyone could have done this. Emily was kind. Well loved. She didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. Why would someone do this to her?”

“We are going to do everything in our power to figure that out,” Bel soothed, knowing the comment was a Band-Aid when stitches were needed. “I take it your wife didn’t have any enemies that you were aware of?”

“No. Everyone liked her,” David said. “It’s hard to be mad at a woman who provides chocolate and caffeine.”

“I certainly loved her for it.” Bel smiled. “Aside from her customers, could she have been having problems with anyone else? Perhaps a supplier or someone she owed money?”

“Not that I know of. She would have told me if someone was giving her trouble. We talked about everything.”

“Was she dealing with financial hardships? Debts?”

“No, the business does well.” David gestured to the shop. “My father owned this building. He originally planned to sell it years ago, but one Christmas, I brought home this beautiful girl from college to meet my parents. I told my dad I was going to marry her, and when Emily made the dessert for Christmas dinner, my entire family fell in love with her baking. We married right after graduation, and when she moved to Bajka, my father gave us this shop as a wedding gift, so we own the Espresso Shot outright.” David paused, the memory overwhelming his emotions. “My dad believed in his new daughter-in-law’s talent, and he helped her renovate the storefront, transforming it into a bakery. Emily then added the coffee aspect. Said if she had to be up at dawn to bake, she needed liquid magic to fuel her.”

“That’s a beautiful story.” Bel squeezed David’s hand comfortingly, knowing no amount of sympathy would ever heal his pain but needing to offer hers, anyway.

“Does the shop have anything designed by Lumen’s Customs?” Garrett asked after a long silence passed between them.

“No. At the start, we had no savings, so we bought furniture from garage sales or second-hand shops. The eclectic decor became our trademark, so we continued the tradition.”

“Did you or Emily interact with Brett Lumen? Were you friends, or did you travel in the same circles?” Bel asked, hoping for a connection between the two victims.

“Barely knew the guy,” David said. “I’ve seen his work, but I’ve only crossed paths with him maybe a handful of times over the years…. Wait, his assistant? Viola?”

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