Chapter Text
“Espinoza, Decker!” Lieutenant Monroe called them sharply and with authority. She was not the type to shout having learned long ago that being overly aggressive would gain her no friends and would give her the moniker of being a harpy instead of the no nonsense-type of lieutenant she actually was. “My office!”
The homicide detectives immediately complied with an apologetic smile to Ella, their new forensic scientist, a true gem and breath of fresh air in their difficult line of work.
Chloe and Dan entered their lieutenant’s office where the first thing they noticed were the suits, followed by the presence of Detectives Carl Martin and Simon McEnroe. They looked none too happy; but then, being close friends of Malcolm Graham, that was their default expression around Chloe.
“Detective Espinoza, Detective Decker. These are Special Agents Michael Simmons and Raphael Bianchi from the FBI. Apparently, the case that Martin and McEnroe were called to this morning is no longer in our hands,” she looked none too happy about that. “We are the fifth city and the third state affected by a similar MO, but I will let Special Agent Simmons brief you.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, and believe me I do not enjoy nor do I wish to take this investigation away from the LAPD, but if it is anything like what we have seen in New York, San Francisco, Chicago and Washington D.C. then this morning’s murder is just the beginning. About ten months ago, the NYPD has noticed increased incidences of violent attacks against the LGBT community, always outside of clubs and bars known to be supportive of LGBT rights but not technically counting as gay establishments. Assuming this to be a local matter, the NYPD investigated but found no culprits. Independently, similar crimes were reported in San Francisco and Chicago. Usual MO are attacks on single persons, generally more men than women of variable ethnicity, by a group of three to five people. Attackes involved severe beatings, occasionally using sticks but no other weaponry was involved. There were no racial or homophobic slurs uttered while the assault was ongoing. A few weeks in, the MO changed and people were insulted with homophobic slurs, primarily using the word ‘fag’ or ‘faggot’. The NYPD noticed the pattern and started investigating, and that was when the first murder was reported.” As he spoke he handed out pathology reports that made Dan’s skin crawl when he read the details of what was done to the victims. He had seen many things, but this easily made the top of the list of ‘Horrifying things people are capable of doing to each other’.
“Wait,” interrupted Chloe. “How come the media hasn’t picked up on these crimes yet? They are usually all over such hate crimes. The LGBT community needs to be warned.”
“It was an executive decision to keep these murders under wraps to avoid panic and to keep the culprits from knowing that we are onto them. The only ones with knowledge of these crimes outside of the FBI and the local PDs are the owners of the clubs who fear that this kind of news would scare off their clientele.”
A surge of distaste coursed through Dan. This kind of selfish behavior was so typical. It immediately made him think of Mr. Morningstar, and he grimaced as a response, Chloe’s thoughtful expression told him that she was thinking along the same lines (though, for some inexplicable reason, with less disdain). Either not noticing or ignoring their reactions, the special agent continued.
“As soon as the murders started in New York, they also happened in all the cities I just mentioned. LA is simply next in line, indicating once and for all that we deal with an organization that can reach across the entire country. We still have no idea what’s behind this. One thing was curious about LA, however, and this is why we’re here. You see, so far we’ve had every reason to believe that the unknown suspects use a website called Friends of Dorothy, an online tool that helps finding LGBTQ-friendly establishments in all major cities. Major and first target has so far been the club that made the top of that list. Not in LA, however. Here, they went for club number 3, which is several blocks way from the top establishment, which is where we would like to start our investigation while Detectives McEnroe and Martin continue theirs with two of our colleagues who are currently on the way.”
Dan’s heart skipped a beat. He knew why the lieutenant called them specifically. He still asked to confirm his awful suspicion, “What’s the top?”
“A nightclub called Lux.”
Not one hour later, they stood in front of Lucifer Morningstar’s high-end nightclub. They flashed their IDs to gain entry and stepped into the carefully lit club.
“Alright, so his security is tight,” mentioned Simmons to Bianchi who just nodded. For the first time, Dan noticed them. The security guards wore tasteful suits and were extremely good at disappearing into the background, but there were at least four in the room as far as Dan could see, possibly five if he counted the lady standing near the elevators. Feeling eyes on him, he turned only to look at one Mazikeen Smith who was not tending the bar, but lounging on one of the couches with a very happy guy – or male-looking lady – sitting very close by.
“Detective!” an already all to familiar British voice sounded from behind. “To what do I the pleasure of your visit?” Then he glanced at Dan before looking over Simmons and Bianchi.
“Official business, I see,” his smile never wavered. “What does the FBI and the LAPD want from yours truly?” he asked, his grin and eyes wide.
“How did you…?” began Dan.
“You are both not dressed for a night out and these gents’ suits are not made for partying while their very aura screams ‘investigator but not LAPD’ , which leaves federal which leaves US Marshals but they usually wear shinier uniforms and the DEA is usually better at blending in. I think Charlotte Hayes and her partner Trevor Anderson are even mingling tonight, if I’m correct. Ah, yes, over there.” With a strange mixture of horror and awe, Dan looked in the direction where Morningstar was pointing, only to see a highly trained DEA agent with one of the biggest conviction rate in her department (and yes, he had known about the DEA investigating Lux, because he did not trust the guy and he wanted to uncover all the dirty little secrets the man had) down a drink with a smile on her face. “Now that leaves the ATF, lovely people I assure you, and the FBI. Welcome to LA, gentlemen, and welcome to Lux where you are welcome to live out your innermost desires.” Something about the way he said it, was hypnotic. Dan wanted to tell him, no insisted on telling him that all he wanted was being a good father to Trixie and that he was hoping to make things right with Chloe this time around. It was on the tip of his tongue, because Morningstar – no, Lucifer – he really needed to know. Dan could feel it. There was nothing the nightclub owner wanted more than his absolute honesty and…
Morningstar turned his head just slightly, so that Dan could not longer see his eyes and what the hell was he thinking, for God’s sake?
“What is your name, darling?” said the supposed devil, addressing Bianchi, who seemed slightly dazed when he answered.
“Raphael Bianchi and this is my partner,” he halted for a second before clarifying, “my work partner, Michael Simmons.”
Just like that, the magic was broken when Lucifer scoffed, “Michael and Raphael, really? Are you kidding me? Please, don’t tell me that your colleagues called Raguel, Remiel, Uriel, Azrael and Gabriel will soon arrive."
Okay, he was by no means very religious (very much to his mother’s and abuela’s consternation), and he believed Lucifer Morningstar to be a delusional and dangerous indivdual (who would name themselves after the great Adversary?), but it was slightly impressive to have the man drop the name of the seven archangels on the top of his head without faltering, when all Dan could remember – after years and years in church as a kid and later an adult – were four on a good day.
“We do have a Gabriel in our department,” laughed Simmons good-naturedly. “But that’s about how many colleagues are named after the archangels from the bible.”
To their surprise, Lucifer cocked his head, and his expression intensified for a second before he sighed in obvious relief. “Not him. Good.” Then, he turned to face Bianchi, looking strangely sad.
“What can I do for you, my dear FBI agents?”
“Do you have an office where we could discuss this matter?”
Morningstar nodded, clasped his hands together and said, “Follow me, Special Agents and Detectives.” Without another word, as if expecting them to just follow, he led them through the club. On his way past the bar, a man wordlessly passed him a glass containing an amber-colored liquid that Dan identified as whiskey. Taking a sip, the man’s gentle voice thanked ‘Patrick’ then made an offhanded comment that he would offer them a drink, but since they were working he knew they would decline before they left the room. Just before Dan stepped outside into a small sidechamber, he noticed from the corner of his eyes that Mazikeen Smith had left her companion and was now wandering through the club, her eyes no longer gleaming with lust and delight, instead, they seemed to be made of ice and steel. It sent a shiver down Dan’s spine.
Why did he have the feeling that there was a cat out on the prowl and he was the meal?