Page 3 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“We’ve found no traces of blood,” Garrett said as Thum resumed her careful disassembly. “We’ll keep looking, but someone cleaned the room well… too well.”

“Or he wasn’t killed here,” Lina added.

“You said anyone friendly with Brett would know the showroom was closed on Sundays?” Bel asked, sidestepping a deputy as he peeled back a curve of wood. “This chandelier was tailored to fit his body, which leads me to believe his killer had been studying him. Knowing he would be alone here aligns with that theory.”

“My sister came to visit last year, and her husband had read an article about Lumen’s Customs,” Lina said. “He wanted a tour, but it was a Sunday, so he never got the chance. Lumen was a relatively quiet guy. In all the years I’ve lived here, I rarely saw him, but from what I understand, he didn’t break his routine.”

Bel exchanged a look with Garrett. “I don’t think he was killed somewhere else. The showroom’s size offered the perfect workspace, and the attached workshop is stocked with tools. Even if he brought his own, which I believe he did based on the premeditation this required, he would have had access to tools he might not have foreseen needing.”

“He?” Garrett asked. “Are you using the term in a general sense, or do you think the killer is male?”

“My guess is he is male,” Bel answered. “I’m having a hard time visualizing a woman possessing the strength to pull this off. Honestly, I am having a hard time picturing anyone doing this, but Lumen wasn’t small, and this piece is extensive. I could be wrong, of course, and I’m hesitant to profile our killer until we learn more, but I think we’re looking for a man. A powerful one at that.”

As if to reinforce her point, Lina stumbled, trying to remove one of the bigger carvings from the body, but a deputy caught her before she fell hard on her tailbone. Bel quirked her eyebrows at Garrett, and he nodded as he stared at his partner. Bel was fit, her job and her love of hiking with Cerberus strengthening her muscles, but he still couldn’t picture her pulling this off. He wasn’t even sure he could handle a task of this enormity alone.

“We could be looking at more than one killer,” Garrett said as Lina and three deputies wrestled the body into a black back. “This took extraordinary skill and strength. Something or someone had to hold him in place as they constructed the surrounding chandelier.”

“It’s entirely possible.” Bel watched them wheel Lumen out of the showroom, hoping something in this chaos would speak to her. Experience told her to never deal in absolutes without evidence, but the way this homicide settled in her bones warned her that nothing about this case would resolve as expected. That, for all their speculation, it would defy their logical explanations.

Garrett nodded, and the crime scene, finally vacant the body, flurried to life. Cameras flashed. Voices murmured, and every inch of the floor was searched in a grid pattern. The sun rose higher as the morning blurred to afternoon. Stomachs rumbled in spite of death’s stench, and by the time they had scoured the showroom, Bel’s stomach had tied itself into an uncomfortable knot. Her eyes burned, bloodshot and dry, and she desperately needed another cup of coffee to face the last half of this cruelly bizarre day. They had found nothing. No abnormalities stood out of place. No blood hid in any crevasses. Fingerprints didn’t stain any surfaces, despite Brett having touched them on a daily basis. Lumen’s Customs was spotless, cleaner than the day it was built.

“There are no signs of forced entry,” Garrett said as he settled beside Bel in the rear workshop. It too had been scrubbed, not even a speck of sawdust waiting to be unearthed. It was clean, too clean, and Bel’s stomach twisted from uneasy to painful as if a phantom hand had coiled her organs into a loop and yanked them tight. Lumen’s Customs was the type of establishment that survived in a constant pristine state due to the owner’s habits, but this absence of all but sunshine and air? The abnormal sterileness set her teeth on edge. She felt like she had walked onto a stage, a freshly designed workshop meant to mimic reality without ever experiencing the filth of the living. The perfection was as unnatural as the body’s pose. It nagged at Bel’s gut, taunting her with a meaning that hovered beyond her grasp. How had someone killed and positioned Brett Lumen and cleaned all traces of human life from the building? In her experience, there was always something that led to the guilty party’s downfall. No one could achieve this level of sterilization, yet there she stood without so much as a pile of dust tarnishing the floors.

“No signs of robbery from what we can see,” Garrett continued. “Brett either knew his killer and let them in, or they had a key. There is a safe upstairs in his apartment, but it appears untouched, as are his other pieces of furniture, which are all worth thousands.”

“You don’t kill someone like that to steal from them,” Bel said, not meeting her partner’s eyes as she stared at the back of the workshop. “Was the apartment cleaned too?”

“No,” Garrett followed her line of sight. “It is organized. Brett seemed to enjoy structure and cleanliness, but there are signs of life upstairs. Fingerprints on handles, garbage in the cans, hairs on the pillow. My guess is Lumen let his killer in and never made it back upstairs… Bel, what are you staring at?”

“The security footage.” She gestured to the rear of the room, and Garrett finally noticed the dark monitors sitting on the desk against the wall. “It’s been disabled.”

A deputy returnedfrom a coffee run, and Bel guzzled the cup of lukewarm liquid in the time it took Garrett to call Lumen’s security company. She desperately needed something to eat, but the knot in her stomach twisted tighter with each passing hour, and the idea of food made her go as pale as Lumen’s bloodless body.

“They store their client’s footage, but their contracts have strict privacy clauses,” Garrett said as he snagged a cup of coffee and downed it almost as fast as she had. “If we get a warrant, they’ll gladly turn over all of Brett’s stored footage, though, which I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting. The killer may have disabled the cameras, but if he was watching Lumen, maybe he was caught on tape.”

“Hmm,” Bel grunted in agreement before nodding at a woman in her mid-twenties standing outside the perimeter. Bel had used drinking her coffee as a shield to study those congregated, hoping someone would stand out. Killers, especially those prone to theatrics, often lingered to watch the police, but it seemed half of Bajka had gathered along the road. Even Vera stood in the crowd, comforting onlookers with her warm smiles, and for a solid thirty seconds, Bel contemplated asking her neighbor if she had brought any of the baked goods she constantly was making. She really needed to eat something.

Bel’s gaze returned to the girl. Her visage was the only one that snagged the detective’s attention. The young woman had long, straight black hair with cute fringe bangs, and she wore black-rimmed glasses, a black pencil skirt ensemble, and black stilettos that Bel would have had to work for a year just to afford. “Who is that?” she asked her partner

“Violet Lennon,” Garrett answered after he followed her line of sight. “Brett’s assistant. She found the body.”

“Did you get her statement?”

“A deputy did, yes.”

“And she’s still here?” Bel’s feet were uncomfortable in her sensible shoes, and she reflexively stretched her back, her vertebra popping in protest. She couldn’t imagine how the girl still looked regal all these hours later as she towered over everyone in her designer heels.

“Wouldn’t you if it were Griffin?” Garrett asked, and Bel nodded, choosing not to point out that if the Sheriff had been murdered, it would be her job to stay. Her eyes flicked to her partner, studying his pinched eyebrows and ruffled hair. Normally so classically distinguished, he looked frazzled and uneasy, and she had to remind herself that he was not accustomed to violence the same way she was. A murder as unfathomable as this would both capture and immobilize this town. Death was a cruel and intoxicating master, enslaving not only its victims but also the living caught in its wake. It was a difficult task to resist its pull. Even fleeing hundreds of miles could not save her from its hold. Death had followed Bel, reminding her she was bound to it, a servant to it, and her neck stung at the memory of sharpened teeth. Violet Lennon had felt the grip of darkness when she discovered her boss, the scene’s gravity denying her an escape. It made sense she still hovered on the outskirts, unless… Bel shot Garrett a look. Killers often lingered to watch their masterpieces unfold.

“I want to talk to her.” Bel stalked off toward Violet, and Garrett hurried after her. As they closed in on the refined girl with her immaculately manicured purple nails, Bel doubted she had more than a superficial role in this morning’s events. Based on the lack of wrinkles in her skirt, the perfection of her straightened hair, and the impeccable blend of makeup on her face, this model of a woman clearly had spent her morning before a mirror, not cleaning up the lingering gore from ripping a man’s heart free from his chest. Bel unconsciously tucked her own brunette waves behind her ear. She was a natural beauty with big blue eyes, soft curls, and dark eyebrows defined enough without makeup, but the flawless grace in front of her would have made even the most gorgeous of women insecure.

Violet smiled nervously as the detectives approached, and the shudder of intimidation Bel had felt vanished. The girl wore kindness in her eyes. No hint of superiority graced her aura, and as they settled before her, Bel noted the woman’s size. She towered above Bel, only because of the dangerously spiked stilettos. If both women were barefoot, Bel would have been significantly taller and stronger. Violet was thin and delicate, and Bel was all toned limbs and lean muscles. Power coiled in the detective’s body, a strength of both will and muscle, but not even she could have handled mounting Lumen’s corpse like a macabre trophy. If her strength would have failed her, the chandelier would have crushed the assistant.

“Violet Lennon, I’m Detective Isobel Emerson, and this is my partner, Detective Garrett Cassidy. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?” Bel asked as the young woman stood to attention.

“Of course not.” Violet’s voice was as kind as her eyes, a sharp contrast to her black ensemble.

“You found the body, correct?” Bel asked, and Violet flinched before nodding. “I am sorry for your loss and that you had to be the one to find him,” Bel continued, sensing the girl needed an offering of comfort. Up close, she could tell Violet’s eyes were red and swollen, and her makeup was smudged where she had attempted to reapply it after her tears dried.

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