Fae Noir- the Murderer in Blue

by Katelynn Alexandrea

"There's no way you should be able to stand, let alone shoot straight after that." Frank added, helpfully.

  "Nah, it's fine." Bailey said, dismissively.

  Her hands didn't shake.

  I was absolutely certain this was a biological impossibility.

  In fact, I began wondering if Bailey was secretly a golem, of some kind, that functioned purely on C8H10N4O2.

  The bus came, and I felt unexpectedly relieved when Bailey frowned, and closed up her bag of caffeine.

  The three of us got onboard, and the bus rattled down Fraser Highway, towards the skytrain system again.

  "Do you think we'll find another body?" Bailey asked.

  "I think we'll find that this killer has had a full day's head start on us. Even if that car bomb didn't derail our lives, it sure offset our investigation." I pointed out.

  "And, lest either of you forget." Frank added. "By now, the suspect knows you two are alive."

  "What's the game plan?" Bailey asked.

  "We go over the crime scene evidence with the crime scene technicians, and talk to the coroner's team, to try and figure out more details about the victims." Frank stated.

  "That's not a bad plan, at all." Bailey admitted.

  I stayed silent. There was something off. Wrong. Something ill was growing, as we stepped on to the train.

  "What is it?" Bailey asked, gently squeezing my hand.

  "We're going the right way with Frank's plan." I winced, turning on my phone.

  "How do you know?" Bailey asked.

  "She feels dread." Frank guessed.

  My phone buzzed with several new notifications. The Captain updating us on various surveillance tapes being ready. A notice that the autopsy reports were done. Something from one of those terrible apps that only sold knock-off clothes.

  A news article was forwarded to me by the Captain.

  "Shots fired at Maple Ridge ranch house." I said, quietly. "Look at this. Bailey!"

  Bailey frowned. "That's my dad's house."

  "They're fine. Bailey! Look!" I reiterated.

  "According to reports, while the occupants of the house remain unharmed, the suspect was apparently shot, according to reports." Bailey blinked. "Dad winged the son of a bitch."

  "Score one for daddy LeBlanc." I laughed.

  "Bailey!" Frank shook his spectral head. "You're not getting the important part."

  "What's the important part?" Bailey asked.

  "We're walking in to the department, looking for anyone with an inexplicable gunshot wound." I pointed out.

  "What if they're hiding it?" Bailey asked.

  "I'll be able to see it." Frank shrugged. "I can-"

  "We both can see." I nodded.

  "See what?" Bailey asked.

  "Everything that happens to you leaves traces. Physical, and spiritual. If someone was shot, recently, I'll be able to more or less magically taste their brush with death." I nodded.

  "And, you'd think, their maliciously homicidal intent." Bailey added.

  "Harder to pick out." I winced.

  "Why?" Bailey asked.

  "Let me guess. The department arrests thousands of people a week. The average cop has maliciously homicidal intent towards a lot of the people who we're hunting. Particularly in major crimes." Frank said in a tone of voice suggesting he wasn't guessing.

  "That's exactly it." I nodded. "Malicious intent is easier to read in transient places, like the car park. People don't stay there. They don't INTEND there. In the station, we have people who intended to do crimes, cops who intended to hurt them, people intending to sue cops for arresting them when they're innocent, other workers who want to throttle cops for being behind on paperwork, and it sort of… washes together." I snapped my fingers. "Like how the dishwater looks, after you do the dishes!"

  "Bits of egg, bits of bacon, bits of chicken, indeterminate food residue, and somehow, always brown?" Frank tilted his head. "Wow. I've never heard the department summed up so accurately."

  "So, even with your immaculate super fairy godmother powers, as long as the officer is in the actual department, you're surrounded by such a white noise machine, that your belief radar doesn't work?" Bailey asked.

  I shot her a sudden look.

  "What did I say?" Bailey blinked.

  "You said something right." Frank raised his eyebrows.

  "To dream. Perchance to wish." I nodded. "If I focus on one person intently enough, trying to deduce what they need, as if I were a fairy godmother, I'd be able to eliminate them as a suspect."

  "So, our plan is to take the least suspicious route through the department, allowing Azura enough time to fae-check everybody's truest wish, and then we correlate those with the right injury, secret needs or desires, and any evidence, and we hunt them down." Frank summarized.

  "Fucking hell, that sounds so badass." Bailey laughed.

  "Say it in a more serious Dwayne Johnson voice." I nodded.

  "Our plan is to take the least suspicious route through the department, expertly evading notice or suspicion, while Azura uses her secret magical super powers to rule out suspects, rule in dirt bags, and then." Frank gave us his best serious face. "We. Hunt. Them. Down."

  "Heck yeah, we do!" Bailey grinned.

  Frank looked delighted.

  The magically clean mister eraser

  When we walked in to the department, there were several relieved looks, as I sat down at my desk.

  The Captain looked forlorn, as he brought a stack of papers.

  "Hiya Cap." Frank waved.

  The Captain saw right through him, and walked away.

  I looked through the files he had given me.

  9. Autopsy reports.

  The newest bodies confirmed a worst fear; Tracy Lincoln was among the deceased. They found her body along the train tracks this morning.

  They also found the body of Tracy and Eva's boss.

  "No big loss there." Frank said, dryly.

  "Agreed." I nodded.

  "The Captain can't see me, can he?" Frank asked.

  "It's a veil thing, right?" Bailey asked.

  "Belief." I shook my head. "He's no more capable of believing I can do magic than that ghosts exist. It trains your brain to mute anything extra-normal. Human perception is remarkably fascinating in it's ability to mute things that the subject's mind either doesn't care about, or does not want to see, because it conflicts with their beliefs."

  "Hey… Azura?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

  "Hmm?" I looked up from the report on Tracy.

  "You're extra-normal." Frank pointed out.

  "Everybody sees me. They don't see-" I paused. "Except. The killer saw me. The real me."

  "Do you think you could track them by how they see you?" Bailey asked.

  "Yes, but no, but yes." I nodded. "Look at these reports. No useful forensics. Anywhere."

  "Ten bucks says the crime scene technicians come up blank, too." Bailey added.

  "No bet." Frank and I said at the same time.

  "We should check, though. Right? Not assume?" Bailey pointed out.

  "Yeah, we should." I nodded.

  "Are you alright?" Bailey asked.

  "We're missing something." I frowned, looking through my notes. "Something personal. Something that can tie someone into this."

  "Hey, what about Tracy's boyfriend?" Bailey asked.

  "What about them?" Frank asked.

  "Eva said he was controlling." I tilted my head. "I'm not sure what to make of it, though. We've been running on the assumption that this has to do with her father."

  "We should check her apartment for information about them." Frank said, quietly.

  "Not a bad idea. We're running out of other ones." Bailey got up. "Come on. To the forensic oompa loompas."

  "Don't call Aabirah that." Frank chuckled. He looked at the clock. "And give her another 5 minutes. It's morning prayer. I try and respect that. Other cops, less so."

  "Time for coffee!" Bailey exclaimed, walking to the coffee make
r.

  "How is it that I'm the dead one?" Frank asked, watching her pour her 1500th mg of caffeine since getting up.

  "If I had to guess, I'd say chemical stasis." I said, bemused. "Frank, where did we go wrong?"

  Frank gave me a strange look. "What do you mean, wrong?"

  "I mean, there are 9 bodies, and we're frustratingly lost." I looked down. "This case is coming at a steep cost."

  "Every case has the chance to come at a steep cost." Frank shrugged. "Death said you spooked the killer, though. That there was only supposed to be one body."

  "Lincoln." I nodded. "Let's focus on that, then. The Lincolns. Tracy and Fred."

  "Good call. The rest are just collateral." Frank agreed. "Though evidence from any case would be helpful."

  "Speaking of." Bailey said, placing a mug in my hand. "Let's go meet this… Aabirah?"

  "Aabirah Amir." Frank nodded. "Doctor Aabirah Amir. Actually. She's a psychologist, and has advanced degrees in forensics."

  "She sounds pretty nerdy." Bailey pointed out.

  "She's pretty." Frank shrugged. "She's earned her nerdiness."

  "That's why she has a doctorate degree." I nodded.

  We stepped into the elevator, and Frank grumbled while 6 separate people walked straight through him.

  Walking in to the forensics lab, I froze in place, bewildered.

  "What is it?" Frank asked.

  "There is magic here." I said, quietly. "I don't know why."

  "What kind of magic?" Bailey asked.

  "Innate. It's sort of swirling around someone." I frowned.

  Tracking down Dr. Amir wasn't hard. She walked towards us, holding up a cup of tea.

  She looked at Frank, and choked on her tea.

  The woman was elegant. She wore a smart looking beige pant suit, eloquently polished shoes with an inch heel. Her hijab was matched to her suit, and it had intricate flowers embroidered into it.

  She made my own suit look quite dull in contrast. Even Bailey had an eyebrow raised, looking at the woman.

  "You can see him?" I asked, placing a hand on Frank's shoulder.

  "Yes." Aabirah said, staring at me with a strange look. "You can, too?"

  "Well, yes." I nodded.

  "HOW?" Aabirah asked.

  "That's an improbably long story." Frank shrugged. "What have you got for us, Doc?"

  "Are you investigating your own murder?" Aabirah blinked. "That's a new one by me."

  "By me, too." I nodded. "Azura Noir. Lead detective on the case. I'm new."

  Aabirah frowned, looking me over again.

  Bailey smirked. It was readily apparent that Aabirah was fully aware that Azura was not a typical human being.

  "How do you see him?" Aabirah reiterated.

  I looked around, and once I was certain nobody else was watching, for just a second, I stretched my wings.

  Aabirah took a step back, eyes wide. "That's… Impossible."

  "How do you know that?" I asked.

  "You're not real." Aabirah scrunched up her face. "Fairies. I mean."

  "Says the woman who sees ghosts." Frank laughed.

  "How do YOU see ghosts?" Bailey asked.

  "I just do." Aabirah shrugged.

  "Her magical radiation is Chernobyl grade." I retorted.

  Aabirah shrugged. "Not my business."

  "So you just… What? Chat with the dead?" Bailey asked.

  "Listen, can we focus on actual work? I need to finish processing fairy godmothers." Aabirah said, looking away.

  "Have it your way." I shrugged.

  "The bullets from the three car salespeople match the bullet striations from the attack on the ranch." Aabirah said, walking towards her desk, collecting a pile of reports. "Unfortunately, the surveillance footage noted the assailant was wearing a bodysuit, and even if they weren't, they were both fairly public places, meaning it would be difficult to narrow down any stray hairs or fingerprints to any specific person of interest." She pointed at Frank. "You live like a pig. Let's start there. Processing your flat was the single most disgusting thing I have ever done. I'd ask if you washed your sheets, but based on the rate of semen decay, I can conclusively say no. We did find evidence of forced entry, but the television was blaring, when we got there. I'm presuming you didn't hear the attacker over your loud porn. Unfortunately, we didn't find any stray fingerprints, or hairs. You should, however, have been using anti-dandruff shampoo." Aabirah looked unimpressed.

  "Do you have to bring all that up?" Frank asked. "No respect for the dead?"

  "Quite frankly, sergeant, you did not particularly live with respect for yourself." Aabirah retorted. "Focusing on Frederick Thomas Lincoln, we have a decaying body that was probably moved. He was asphyxiated. The Maple Ridge forensics department did find evidence that Lincoln was dating one of the dead women from the dealership, but the house was otherwise clean. Kevin Leforge, the college kid, managed to record a bit of the assailant's face, before being stabbed. We now know the assailant has blue eyes, and brownish eyebrows. Unfortunately, facial recognition came up with too many suspects."

  Aabirah shuffled through the files. "The new bodies. Tracy Lincoln was also asphyxiated. Same way. Gloved hands. She was dumped. No evidence at the dump site, and about 50 vehicles in the area on the traffic cameras could have transported a body discreetly."

  "What about that tool? Eva's boss? The Sharkbucks guy." I asked.

  "Timothy Maxwell." Aabirah nodded. "Fought back, ineffectively. Mild defensive wounds. Had a bit of nylon under his fingernails, but it could be any 7 major name brand jackets."

  "So, other than blue eyes and eyebrow color, you've got-?" Frank asked.

  "Your terrifying hygiene standards, the shooter is right handed, they're trained enough to not leave any identifiable evidence." Aabirah held up a hand, before digging through the reports. "Ah. Here. Your car. At first, I thought there was a mess up on the suspect's part, and the explosives were poorly designed, because they didn't rupture the gas tanks. On further review, however, it seems like the explosives were strictly meant to cause soft target damage."

  "Why wouldn't they go for the bigger boom?" Bailey asked.

  "They were in the building." Frank pointed out. "How else would they be able to time the explosion?"

  "Points to Detective Casper." Aabirah nodded. "It was a timed explosive, but the timer was triggered by a text message from a burner phone."

  "Theoretically, Aabirah, would you be able to cross reference blue eyed staff here, who were close enough to see us enter the elevator, and text me the list of names?" I asked.

  "You… Suspect this is a-" Aabirah blinked, looking through the reports. "An ex-military officer, or staff member." She nodded. "This dramatically narrows down my search results. It'll take a few hours."

  "Only a few hours? We've been on this case for two days, and you think you can narrow down our suspect pool in a few hours?" Frank asked.

  "No." Aabirah shook her head. "I'm absolutely certain I can conclusively reduce your suspect pool to 20 in 15 minutes, and 1 within about 4-6 hours, depending on warrants and responses from telecom agencies."

  I looked between Frank, Bailey, then Aabirah.

  “Quick question.” I said, holding up my finger, and pointing at Frank. “Why didn’t we let her do the hard work?”

  “I don’t like being shot at, and/or murdered.” Aabirah retorted.

  “That’s fair.” Frank admitted. “Stabbing wasn’t the way I’d choose to die, if we’re being honest. I was always hoping for a car crash. Quick. Wouldn’t feel the pain.”

  “Terribly sorry about that.” Aabirah chuckled. “I can imagine that was a bit of a bad experience.”

  “Just a bit.” Frank nodded.

  Aabirah rifled through the reports. “One last thing.” Aabirah said, with a bit of a frown. “I’ve got something else odd, as well. There were unexpected traces of tarred rock in a foot print we found at the LeForge scene.”

  I tilted my head, and raised my e
yebrows. “Hang on.” I said leaning against something, and taking off a shoe.

  “What are you doing?” Frank asked.

  I placed a piece of paper under my foot, and brushed it off.

  “Try and match it against this.” I said, collecting the paper, and handing it to Aabirah. “From the roof of my building.”

  Aabirah took the particles, and placed them in to a petri dish, before placing it under a microscope. She took several seconds, before comparing it with photos from the nearby computer screen. “Without more detailed tests, I can’t really conclusively say definitely for certain, particularly given you bled on this sample, making it contaminated, but a proper cursory examination suggests it is highly probable they came from the same source.”

  “Could you have included any more provisions, and disclaimers to that?” Bailey asked, bemused.

  “I have professional codes of ethics to live by.” Aabirah retorted.

  “We all have our codes and rules.” I nodded. “I appreciate your attention to detail, doctor.”

  “Can we have a serious discussion later?” Aabirah asked, looking to me.

  “About fairy godmothers?” I asked.

  “I’ll get to that, eventually, but I’m fairly certain you have an infection on the bottom of your foot.” Aabirah retorted.

  “Oh. That.” I shrugged. "It's fine. Magical fairy godmother healing thing."

  “Aabirah nodded. “Have that looked at, anyway.”

  “Well, I did want to talk to the medical examiner about one or two things.” I added, with a nod.

  “Not-” Aabirah covered her face. “Not that doctor. An actual doctor. Please. She's… Not that kind of doctor."

  “You’re an actual Doctor.” Bailey pointed out.

  “I’m a doctor who has a phobia of infections, fungus, and infectious diseases.” Aabirah shook her head.

  “I should point out that Doc 'Nessa is an actual medical doctor.” Frank added.

  “Please tell me you do not ever address me as Doc ‘Birah.” Aabirah scowled.

  “I would never.” Frank shrugged.

  “He’s dead, after all.” Bailey added.

  “She called you an oompa loompa.” Frank retorted.

  “OUT!” Aabirah crossed her arms.

  “That went well.” I laughed, as we left.