By Oliver Davis

He knew who the murderer was. All the evidence pointed in her direction; it was unmistakably, irrefutably, and resolutely her. However that was not the question at hand that the solemn detective pondered. He sat in the café, draped in a plaid button down shirt, dark blue vest, and khaki pants, sipping a warm cup of Costa Rican coffee. No…the question…the question was not who, that had been solved, but rather “Where?” and more importantly “How?” How had the killer escaped the police’s attention in the first place? How had she covered her tracks up until now? And where is she now? The detective put down his piping beverage and slumped slightly in his chair. He had missed something. He HAD to have missed something. The detective released a small sigh and then furrowed his brows in concentration. He needed to review the facts, start all over, and analyze the incident from the beginning.

The case report cited a body found dead and brutally dismembered in apartment 24 of the Lazy Days Inn Motel. The time of discovery was 5 pm, but analysis of the body concluded that he had most likely been killed around 14 hours ago, 3 am the same day. Evidence gathered revealed that the victim had been killed with a knife. His name was Walder Hugo, 29 years old, he had been out driving the previous night, he spent the entire day out with his friends, but left the group before it got too late. Along the way he picked up a woman, the killer. DNA analysis shows that her name was Lilith Fortnight. Tall, lanky, red head, with a smile that can kill. This rose has some pretty serious thorns; she has an extensive case records consisting of multiple assault charges, twenty previous cases of murder, illegal arms smuggling, and a number of other law incursions. And, most distressing of all, she has never been caught. She is the leader of a 50 year old Irish mobster gang, the latest generation and the last of her family line as well. 50 years ago, they began dealing in all kinds of illegal activity. Over time, they built a criminal empire here in the little city of Bliregard and now, it spans beyond national borders to who knows where. Her ancestors had always taken a hands-off approach to their wet-work, preferring to let their hit-men and thugs do all the nitty-gritty. In contrast, Lilith likes to take things into her own hands; whenever someone strikes out against her family, she puts them down, personally. She’s hot-headed and very proud of her lineage and because of that, we know that she never kills without a reason. The boy Walder, has a past of his own. Born in an impoverished, abusive household, he ran away at the age of 13 and has been building his own band of misfits on the streets ever since. Turns out, he and his gang wanted to go big, so they overtook the local drug-dealing establishment, which happened to be a large supplier of Lilith’s empire. When Lilith got wind of it, she posed as a prostitute at a bar he was well known to go to. The moment they got in the apartment, she pulled the knife from her boot and carved out his throat.

Or so the evidence says. Funny thing about this case though, is that Lilith herself wasn’t identified as the killer until a number of other suspects had been pursued first; in fact it wasn’t until forensics released the murder weapon, that they realized out it was her. A process which strangely took an abnormally long time. Another funny thing: all cases involving Lilith have always been a little weird…As he thought, the brows of the detective furrowed, as if his brain was trying to excavate the recesses of his mind in its relentless pursuit of the truth. All the cases involving Lilith had been sketchy. Every time he had arrived there, the genetic material was inconclusive. It wasn’t until later that the forensics finally came to a conclusion and their testing came back positive as Lilith. The forensics team had tirelessly gone back and forth testing over and over again, all the hair, nails, and fingerprints they came across but they always came back negative. However, suddenly one day it came back positive, just like that. It was very odd, how the data seemed to constantly contradict itself all of a sudden.

The detective took another long sip of his coffee. The heat of the drink and the soft steam it puffed stimulated his mind, and helped him think. His friend Marty always liked to visit the forensics team. He joked with them often, always wanted to help alleviate their stress from their long hours. He even stayed after hours investigating crime scenes and helping the forensics team with their research. Especially, whenever Lilith was involved. Marty did always enjoy a challenge… In fact he was always worked up whenever Lilith was involved, come to think of it. He questioned all the witnesses personally, stayed especially late at the station, and even put forth some of his own earnings to help out with the search, kind of comical that he puts so much in and the search only seems to get worse. An idea flashed across the detective’s mind and he shot straight up; it couldn’t be, could it?

The detective entered the station with bestial determination. He walked up the stairs, leading to Marty’s floor, each step resounding with resolute menace. When he reached his desk, his friend turned in his chair and smiled at him. “Hey man! Good to se-“ The detective slammed his fist onto his desk and spoke in with a controlled ferocity, Marty leapt at the sound. “Why?” the detective whispered. Marty replied in a shaken tone “What are you talking about?” “You’ve been covering up the evidence from all of Lilith’s crime scenes” Marty’s struck disposition quickly dissipated. “You’ve been bribing the forensics team for as long as you possibly could. Enough for her to get a good week start on the police. You’ve been helping her get away. Why?” His friend, Marty relaxed slightly in his seat “You’re accusing me of helping a gangster and a killer?” “Yes.” “You better have some good evidence for this that isn’t a gut instinct.” Marty smirked. “You’d be surprised where your gut can take you.” The detective looked Marty straight in the eye. I’ve been smelling a rat, and I should probably find out where I’m picking up that odor. The smell led me to your bank records; twenty thousand, pulled out, every case. Two thousand, split five ways, one per forensics team member, deposited all in the same day as your withdrawal.” Marty’s expression drooped slightly, the detective continued “Turns out your buddies aren’t as tightlipped as you are, push a couple buttons and they’re squeaking like mice.” Marty’s eyes went towards the ground. “You’re helping Lilith. I just want to know…why?” At the question, Marty’s face became very solemn, a far cry from his usual jovial self. The detective continued: “Why have you been doing this? We’ve been trying to catch her for years. She’s killed dozens. WHY?” Marty’s reply was slow and pained… like a snake was slipping out of his mouth and its scales were scratching his lips on the way out.
“Haven’t you ever been in love?”

A tale of babes, coffee, and detectives, brought to you by the immaculate Oliver Davis
Inspired by: Javier Marias, who’s works continually fuels my father’s tireless storytelling tongue