LemonTarts

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"Emerald"

Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67

As the hours passed by with no sign of a foaming at the mouth murderer, Emerald found her fear dissipating and her curiosity swelling. There she sat smack in the middle of an apartment owned by one of the police department’s finest detectives, and she’d wasted so much of the time she could have used for sleuthing.

It wasn’t every day she had a direct tap to free information about an easily manipulated man in an authoritative position— but even as she rummaged about his apartment she found her heart wasn’t truly in it. She was no saint by any means, but the idea of using the man who had been nothing but understanding of her situation left a bad and bitter taste on her tongue. And if she was being completely honest, she had never felt more alone than she felt right now. Was isolating herself by turning her only real connection left into a tool really in her best interest?

It made her sad. A genuine cop was hard to come by these days, and she could tell just by looking at him that the city was eating him alive for it, albeit slowly.

She shook the thoughts out, pulling the blanket she had strewn about her shoulders tighter. A stupid line of thinking. His motivations were purely self serving, that’s all anyone’s were. She had vigilantly taught herself this and cursed herself for forgetting. If it weren’t for her doe eyes and soft skin he would have left her there in the gore. He would have become pathetically blind to her plight, for what even is plight if not belonging to a lovely woman? What was her deformed mother’s plight to the detective who wrote off her assault as an occupational hazard? Emerald clung to her beauty like a child to its mother for it was all she had in this world to keep her head above water and keep air in her lungs. It was all she had to keep herself from disappearing in the muck she surrounded herself with.

She would use him like he no doubt thought of using her. It’s what he deserved. It’s what all men deserved.

She paused, slowly turning with a flick of her hair to examine a reflective glint in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. She gently slid the old thing open, hungry eyes and nosy fingers locking in on the picture frame she found within. A woman’s face smiled back at her, eyes wrinkling at the corners. As she ran her thumb down the woman’s pictured cheek, she looked about the apartment again.

“Detective Gallagher you are my favorite riddle yet.” She declared to the empty space, clutching the picture to her breast thoughtfully.

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Ashley Gallagher

Outside the Home of a Star

"They signed me up with you so that you could keep an eye on my behavior...but I think it's you that needs the babysitting. The fuck's gotten into you?”

“If you have to ask that question you’re more of a shit detective than I thought.” Ashley quipped, having retained his thin veneer of stony composure. He mouthed anxiously at the butt of his cigarette like a testy horse on its bit. “What a waste of my time,” He scoffed. “This case is leading us in circles and all the while people are dying. God forbid I expect some decency from the city’s people to try and stop this reign of evil. Who knew such a beautiful woman could be so ugly.”

He yanked the car door open and stopped, taking a breath to compose himself once more. He seated himself calmly. “I’ve already questioned the girl she spoke of, Emerald. I don’t see the value in doing so again. I’d hate to bring any undue attention to her that might catch the killer’s interest. What do you suggest we do next?” For the first time since the man had joined him outside he looked at Cal, taking his hat off and resting it gently in his lap so that the suns warmth could wash away the pounding between his ears.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it a day, pick it up where we left off tomorrow.” He was lying. Even if he did go home he knew his hours would be spent pouring over case files hoping an inebriated mind could catch something his sober one didn’t. Regardless, he doubted he could be much use to the investigation given the state he was in, and wanted to avoid throttling the next person they questioned. Most of all, he just needed mindless sleep.

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Ashley Gallagher

The Home of a Star

“What are you thinking, partner?”

Ashley had had enough of the wretched starlet and her palace. So much so it was interfering with his ability to investigate the woman fully. He was aware of this, and ashamed, but he reckoned he’d done all he could. No star would risk her career for a few brutal murders, and no frail, angelic woman could have overpowered Smith the way he clearly had been.

A sharp pounding had taken up between his ears and the only cure was tucked away in a flask sitting lonely on his nightstand. Cal clearly had no intent on being useful either, be it due to Danielle’s beauty or whatever it was that had had the man on edge since the club.

With a significant effort to keep the frustration from his tone, Ashley spoke. “Thank you for the lead, Danielle. I wish you great success in the future, may it not be marred by an untimely and murderous end— or worse, a toxic disposition.” He grimaced and spun on a heel, out of the door before he had to hear whatever reptilian response she had.

He didn’t bother to wait for Cal, let the man gawk a little longer or, god forbid, do some detective work.

When he hit the sidewalk, the fight left him. He swore. He had acted downright unprofessional the entire interview. Of course she hasn’t given them anything, he gave her the opposite of a reason to trust him.

Collapsing his weight against the wall, he fumbled for a cigarette with a shaking hand. What the hell was he supposed to act like? His best friend and partner died not even twenty-four hours prior.

He took a long, slow drag, the burn of the smoke against the back of his throat welcoming like the embrace of an old friend. This case had the upper-hand, it had a vice like grip around his throat and was slowly forcing the air from his windpipe, leaving him suffocated and light headed. If he were not a man of immense pride and ego, he’d ask to be taken off of it, but the mere idea filled him with enough anger to snap back to reality. He collected himself and walked to the car, waiting for his new partner with the impatient tap of a wing-tipped toe.

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Ashley Gallagher

The Home of a Star

Gallagher did not bother responding to the woman’s jabs. He knew where his respect laid, and it was not with the likes of her. Rather, he let Cal take the reigns. At the mention of Emerald, however, his eyes flickered up to her with a newfound interest. He masked his investment to the best of his ability. “Belle of the ball, you say? What do you know about her?” Better yet, what did this mysterious man know about her that had him so transfixed? If he was the killer, Ashley had been right to remove Emerald from her usual haunts— but again… if he was the killer and had had his eyes on her both nights, why was she not dead yet?

And the fact that Emerald was looking at him too… He thought deeply, scratching his scruffed chin for good measure. Questioning her would be his next move if he disregarded all bias— but he’d questioned her before. Was she keeping something from him? He waited for Danielle’s response, but was on edge. He had had enough of this place and wanted nothing more than to go home and burn a pot of coffee. Perhaps also pry a little more information out of his beautiful stowaway.

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Ashley Gallagher

The Home of a Star

Ashley stared down the starlet, watching as she melted from one personality to the next effortlessly. Successful indeed. He was almost thankful for the cold, haughty demeanor she now wore— as a sudden contempt rose in him. He had little patience for those who thought they were above others simply because of money or fame. One particular statement made his blood boil beneath his skin. It surprised him, this emotion he didn’t often feel, defensiveness. He felt as though she was baiting him, though how could she know?

Regardless, he took the bait. “You speak of the showgirls as if your profession isn’t one and the same, Miss.” He uttered coldly. “I see no difference between what you do and taking your clothes off for people with power and money. Showgirls, at least, don’t pretend it is glamorous.” He raised his brows, “Feel free to correct me.” He had the information he needed from her, or all that he figured she’d give him. He was sure she’d just continue to play with him like a cat and its mutilated mouse. He stood, abruptly, brushing the the wrinkles out of his trousers. “Your alibi was unnecessary, you don’t seem to be the type to rip eyes out or shove flowers into fresh, warm corpses like some gruesome florist.” He eyed her over. “You haven’t the spine. I will ask you one more question.”

He dropped his cigarette onto the floor and stamped it out with the tip of his shoe, molesting the expensive carpet with the ash and heat of the still smoking butt. She’d just pay someone to clean it up. He leveled her with a piercing gaze, but kept his tone casual and almost friendly. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary, or suspicious?”

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Ashley Gallagher

The Home of a Star

Ashley wondered if Lovegrove was trying to imply something or if he really harbored the thought that Ashley was a shit detective. He knew Cal was lying to him about something, but to his frustration he simply couldn’t deduce what. The other detective was barely keeping his cool composure that Ashley was used to. It had begun directly after the club. He eyed Cal with a sidelong glance, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants casually as the man spoke to the desk clerk. Perhaps Lovegrove was sweet on a dancer there. Tragic. Ashley just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with the investigation.

A small tendril curled out of his mind like black ink spreading through water, the thought of Smith slowly forcing its way into his consciousness. He pushed it out, slamming the metaphorical door in its face. He had to put that away for now, he needed to be in his best mind.

Ashley sifted through the case in his mind as Cal rapped on the door, and was in no way prepared for the gentle face that answered. She was an angel, fallen from heaven and trapped in the thick gunk that was New York. Her face was that of a renaissance painting, the ones just trying to capture the sublimation of such a beautiful human woman. He fancied he could even see her wings, draped over her lovely shoulders in a delicate fall of ivory feathers. She was beautiful. Ashley was speechless. He shook his head out as the angel invited them into her home, and attempted to regain his focus. Focus, Ashley, damn it!

He scrubbed a weary hand across his forehead as he took a seat, politely declining the scotch, temptress though it was. The woman was clearly distressed, but Ashley made a point to remind himself she was an actress, and a successful one at that.

In a sudden unwanted wave, her face took over his mind, but it wasn’t her beauty that he saw. The woman he saw before him was suddenly a horror, her beautiful lips hanging open as blood dripped from them. In place of her lovely gems for eyes were two roses, shoved in unceremoniously, organic sludge framing them and escaping from the sockets. Her locks of strawberry blonde hair were matted with blood and bone shards, her delicate hands now claws as they curled and contorted helplessly in death.

It was the slip of reality he needed, and his mind was cleared. “Let’s start with some basic questions uh…” He paused to look at his pad, momentarily forgetting her name. “… Miss Raymond. What was your business at the Carousel Club?”

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Ashley Gallagher

The Home of a Star

Ashley listened wordlessly. Cal seemed on edge, teetering more than Gallagher was used to the cool and collected cop doing. He said nothing about it, best way to blow your power through knowledge was to let others on that you had it in the first place.

"I don't have any dirt on her. From what I understand, she's a mysterious character, but as far as the NYPD can tell, she's clean as a whistle,"

"She'd be the first then, not many in the spotlight stay clean in the shadows. Not when its so easy to get away with whatever you want." Again his mind shifted to Emerald. He shook his head abruptly, he had to be on alert in this questioning and thinking about her would only stray him from the path to the truth. She was a problem for another day.

As Cal parked, Ashley worked to hide his astonishment at the grandeur of the apartment complex. It was larger than life and beautiful to boot. Ashley had long since gotten over his resentment for the rich, he had no envy for their lives. When you had so much, it meant that much more you could lose. "Are you kidding?" He quipped, "I didn't know a starlet lived in my apartment complex. I'm surprised I haven't seen her around the erm... spa." He chuckled. "Lead the way, Lovey. You seem to know more about her than I do. Try using that sweet talk of yours and loosen her lips a little, would ya'?"

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Ashley Gallagher

Club Carousel

“You know the way, Cal?” Ashley ducked into the passenger seat, admiring the beautiful machine with a quick glance-over.

As they made the drive, Ashley went over what they knew. 10:20 PM, Danielle Raymond, both nights. The first murder took place later, sometime between 2-3 AM, the second one took place closer to 10:30-11 PM, Emerald found the body when she got off work, which was 11:30.

Emerald. Ashley had to put his lingering suspicions of her to bed for the moment, they would only distract him now.

“So she’s a… what’d you call her? Starlet, Hollywood Leading Lady? I’m not big on films. Tell me about the broad. I want to get as much information as possible. What do the uh…. eh… tabloids say? She got a good public presence? Any dirty laundry slip?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And what would a woman, a rich woman anyway, be doing at the Carousel Club? If you’re not there for the girls you’re there for the crime.” He paused, “She like girls?”

It was mostly just a stream of incoherent conscience, but he supposed he had to cover all of the bases.

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Ashley Gallagher

Club Carousel

"Sounds like we're going to have to question this 'Danielle Raymonde', Detective Gallagher. I know, I know...Popping your Hollywood-leading-lady-chat cherry isn't so attractive when it's done in police procedure. But take what you can get."

"Shall we take my car?”

Ashley grumbled, gazing over the names in the ledger one last time before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Never heard of her, but if you insist.”

He thought on Cal’s car, and the idea of taking a spin in it was somewhat unappealing. He couldn’t hide the green under his collar at the thought of it— she was beautiful, and expensive, far more expensive than anything Ashley could afford. Nonetheless it beat taking Cal for a ride in his clunker.

Ashley agreed mutely and headed for the door, only to be interrupted by a pair of eyes from across the club. Behind one of the large curtains curiously peered two hazel hues that met his briefly before disappearing into the depths of what he assumed was backstage. “Go on ahead, wait in the car.” He called over to Cal before taking long strides to where he’d seen the woman disappear.

He ducked behind the wings of the stage, revealing a set of rooms filled with costumes, mirrors, lights, and makeup. There was no one present, save for one lone figure seated at a vanity.

Trying not to spook the young woman, Ashley cleared his throat as he approached. Even still, a small, surprised shudder ran through her. “You’re not allowed to be back here.” She whispered softly.

“Gonna’ have to speak up dear, can hardly hear you.”

She said nothing, simply leaned forward as a shaky hand applied ruby red to her lips. He figured she was a dancer there, she was pretty. Dark, exotic features with long caramel hair. Her figure was draped and concealed by a robe, but it hinted at the easily desirable curves that would win her plenty of dough in this line of work.

“Going to be straight with you here,” He began roughly, “I’m here to investigate the murder, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, there somethin’ you can tell me?”

She snapped her lipstick shut with a sudden and sharp pop before turning to look at him. She offered a soft hand. “You may call me Pizazz.”

These names. Ashley nodded nonetheless.

“Now I didn’t see anything suspicious that night, but I will tell you that my… colleague, Emerald, disappeared promptly afterwards. She didn’t show up for work today and that is incredibly uncharacteristic.”

Great. Useless.

“I will look into that, ma’am. But I wouldn’t worry too much, it seems everyones a little turned off from the club at this time.”

She made a face. “Yeah, but I know Emerald. If there’s trouble abound, she’s waist-deep in it. She acts ignorant, but nothin’ goes on in this club without her being in the know. If you’re looking for leads, she’s where you want to look.”

Ashley nodded slowly, digesting the information. “Right, thank you… Pizazz.”

He turned, steadily jogging to the entrance.

Was Emerald hiding something?

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"Emerald"

Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67

Emerald perused the Detective’s apartment as if it were a museum. Museum Ashley. It spoke lengths about his habits, dishes stacked high in the sink, bedsheets strewn about, dust collecting in a thin sheen atop lots of general clutter. Every so often she would check the locks. Check the door, check the window. She would undo all of them just to peer out into the hallway, then do them all up once more.

She wished she was working. Her mind was quiet when she was dancing. Hell, she might even be safer in front of a crowd of people, all eyes on her. She had half a mind to march right down to the Carousel with that thought, but she stopped realizing business at this time of day and in these circumstances would be deader than the chopped up girl in her apartment.

So she sat, neatly setting herself amidst the mess of bedsheets with an ominous creak of the frame, and waited.