Page 14 of Forensics of a Fable

“There’s no trace evidence on the body,” Thum said, moving to Alana’s left arm. “Nothing under her nails. No defensive wounds. No dirt or fibers. It appears she was cleaned before she was dressed in that nightgown, which, along with this, makes me believe this is a homicide.” She motioned the women to move closer.

“That fits the theory that the killer cared for her or felt intense guilt,” Gold said, glancing at Bel for confirmation. “He cleansed her body before placing her in the cabin.”

“Lividity confirmed she sat in that chair alive and never moved,” Lina said. “And I believe this is how he managed that.” She pointed to a small injection point on Alana’s left elbow. “I know you’re testing the porridge from the scene, and there were traces of food between her teeth, but this might be how our killer cleansed and changed her without her fighting back.”

“You think he sedated her before moving her to the cabin?” Gold asked.

“I’ll have to run a tox screen, but that’s my theory,” Lina answered. “She doesn’t have any broken bones. There are no lacerations on her skin or blunt force trauma. She was bathed. Her hair was brushed. I’m willing to bet the lack of violence points to poison as the cause of death, which often is a woman’s murder weapon of choice, but that the killer moved her unconscious body suggests someone stronger.”

Bel left the comment alone, knowing firsthand how strong a woman could be, especially if magic pulsed through her veins. “Do you have a time of death?”

“You saw her alive Sunday night, correct?” Lina asked, and Bel nodded. “Since rigor mortis was still in full effect, she was killed within twenty-four hours of you finding her early Tuesday morning. Best estimate is sometime between Monday afternoon and evening.”

“Cleaning her and moving all the supplies would have taken time,” Bel said. “We’ll interview her friends and her job to confirm, but as far as we know, the fundraiser on Sunday was the last time she was seen alive. I think she was taken after that event.”

“That seems the most logical timeline, but I’ll call you if something helps narrow it down further.”

“That would be great,” Bel said. “With a timeframe, we might find someone who was on the trails with the killer.

“Hopefully,” Lina said. “I’m going to start the autopsy now since I have nothing else for you. Would you like to stay for the exam, or do you want me to call with the results?”

“Can you call me?” Bel asked, stepping away from the table. “We’re headed out to her apartment.”

“Sounds good.” Lina nodded. “Talk soon.”

The building managerlet Bel and Olivia into Alana’s apartment. It took them ten minutes to realize they wouldn’t find anything, and thirty minutes to abandon the search. Alana lived alone in a small, one-bedroom. There were no signs of a pet. Based on her décor choices, she was a minimalist, and while the detectives could tell her tastes were expensive, they were sparse, making their search easier. There were no overstuffed closets or piles of junk to dig through. Her kitchenware was functional but minimal, and her fridge was empty. One look in the garbage told the women she preferred eating takeout, the food containers all from pricy restaurants. Alana Drie seemed to be exactly the woman her parents said she was. Simple and uncluttered, gravitating toward the fine yet basic pleasures.

“No signs of a boyfriend,” Gold said as she studied the photographs hanging on either side of a large and ornate vintage mirror. “No men in these photos, no male clothes or toiletries in the bedroom or bathroom.” Bel walked from the kitchen and stood beside her partner. “She seemed to have a few girlfriends, though." Gold pointed to the array of group shots capturing everything from ski trips to brunches to beach days. “Lina mentioned that poisoning often is a woman’s M.O. What if wearen’t looking for a secret boyfriend? What if one of her friends killed her?”

“It would explain the level of care,” Bel said, pulling out her notes to compare the names the Dries gave her with the photos, and the same three women appeared in every photo, their timelines ranging from high school to adulthood.

“These girls all seem so happy, though,” Olivia sighed. “It’s sad to think one of them might have done this.”

Since it wasthe middle of the workday, the detectives opted to visit Alana’s job before tracking down her friends, but it proved just as fruitless as her apartment. She was a model employee, fast on her way to a corner office, but while her coworkers liked her, no one knew her well. She didn’t share personal information with the other employees or spend time with them after hours. All her coworkers could tell them was Alana excelled at her work.

They stopped for lunch before tracking down Alana’s three friends, and with each interview, Bel’s frustration grew. Humans were capable of great evil and lies, but she had seen enough pain in her life to recognize when it was real, and Alana’s friends were distraught. Gold’s theory that one of them was the murderer flew out the window as each woman stumbled over themselves to help. They allowed the detectives to search their homes, gave them everything they had of Alana’s, and showed them the photos from the last time they were all together. The four had a standing brunch date at the same restaurant since college, and their social medias had plenty of posts documenting their Sunday brunches, including the Sunday before Alana went missing. Bel made a mental note to check Drie’s phone records to confirm the text threads, but her friends were more thanwilling to unlock their cell phones and reveal their conversations that ranged from funny memes to food and television shows, to men and work rants. It seemed the only thing this group was guilty of was how much money they spent on shoes and wine for their girl’s nights.

“That was an aggravating waste of a day,” Gold said as the women collapsed in Bel’s car after interviewing Alana’s last inconsolable friend. “We have less now than we started with.”

“Unfortunately, days like this occur often,” Bel said, craving a latte from the Espresso Shot. “And then there’s the paperwork.”

“I’m going to need coffee for that,” Olivia laughed. “A large one.”

“You read my mind.” Bel gave her partner a weak smile as she pulled onto the road.

They drove in exhausted silence the rest of the way to Bajka, and as Bel walked into the coffee shop, her heart twinged painfully. This was the first time she had ventured into The Espresso Shot besides the fundraiser, and she hated Emily wouldn’t be there to convince her to buy unneeded pastries or tease her about Garrett.

“Detective!” David Kaffe grinned as the women moved for the counter. “I haven’t seen you in here in a while. I’m so glad you decided to visit. Vanilla latte, if I remember correctly?”

“You do.” Bel smiled. “I’m sorry I’ve been absent, but I’ll try to stop by more. How has it been since you reopened?”

“Hectic and unsettling.” David’s eyes avoided the floor before the register, and Bel understood his reaction all too well. It was partially why she hadn’t come in. She didn’t want to face where Emily’s body had sat in a life-sized coffee mug. “But everyone has been so kind and supportive, which reminds me why I’m fighting to keep this shop open. This was Emily’s dream, and I’ll be damned if I lose it on her.” His voice faltered, and Bel reached across the counter to hug the widower.

“Well, you can count on my business, especially since this new case will undoubtedly have me working overtime,” she said. “You’ll probably need to cut me off.”

“I heard about Alana.” David’s voice fell. “She used to work here, you know.”

“I do.”

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