Mistletoe and Murder
TW: Captivity, psychopathic MMC, physical threat with a knife.
DETECTIVE brOWN
He’s the killer.
My gut instinct says that Dorian Boudreaux is the killer and that instinct has never let me down before. The only issue is that nobody believes me, no matter how often or loud I say it.
The case files are laid out all over my desk as I try to make sense of the evidence I’ve gathered. Two years. It’s been two years since I was assigned this case and I’ve achieved precisely nothing in terms of getting closer to this serial killer.
No, I need to rephrase that—I’ve achieved more than plenty, it’s just that I don’t have a solid, hard evidence to nail that pompous fuck down for good.
“Laura?” Sandra calls my name, then knocks on the open door. “Chief wants to see you, Boudreaux called again.”
I groan and roll my eyes before I gather the evidence, shove it into the file and place it back into my desk drawer.
“We’re having drinks after work, you in?” Sandra asks, and for a split second, I’m tempted.
But, as always, I flash her an apologetic smile and shake my head. “Sorry, can’t. I wish I could, but if the chief sends me to talk to Boudreaux again, it’ll take hours. You know what that weirdo is like.”
“Yeah,” she groans. “I swear, you have the patience of a saint. I could never.”
I don’t comment on her observation simply because I know she’s right and don’t want to come across as too full of myself. Dealing with someone like Dorian Boudreaux, I need all the patience a human can possibly have.
Before Sandra heads back to her desk, she mouths a quick “good luck” to me and slaps her hand on my shoulder.
I love my job. I need to remind myself that I love my job, live for it, breathe for it, or else I’ll lose my mind.
Stepping into the chief’s office, I clear my throat to catch his attention. “Hey, chief, you wanted to see me?”
“Sit down, Laura,” he grumbles without looking up from the piles of paperwork in front of him.
The moment my ass hits the chair, he speaks again. “Boudreaux called again, said there’s something he found and wants checked out.” He finally looks up from the paperwork to meet my eyes, “He requested you personally.”
God help me, not again.
“Can’t Martinez go instead of me? I’m sure it’s another false alarm and I have so many reports to write that I’m losing my mind.” I whine.
I can’t help the reaction I have. That guy is the bane of my existence and while I’ve never hidden my dislike of him, it’s like he can’t catch the hint.
I don’t know how many times I have to scream in someone’s face that I don’t like them, for this someone to finally understand it.
Boudreaux is one of the most well-known men in the city. He has money, truckloads of it, he owns multiple art galleries and high-end stores in the city, and yet, he’s acting like an absolute child whenever I’m near.
And don’t get me wrong—he knows how to be an adult. He’s a successful entrepreneur, for fuck’s sake, it’s just that as soon as he smells me near, his mind regresses into that of a child.
“Laura,” the chief sighs. “You have to understand that he’s our only witness.
He’s been helping the investigation since it started.
We need to tread carefully, one day he might find something that leads us straight to the killer, and right now, we need all the help we can get.
The Mayor is breathing down my neck, he’s threatening to pull the funding if we don’t get that crazed killer behind bars by the end of the year. ”
“What?” I exclaim and shoot up from the seat, slamming my hand against his desk. “That’s nonsense! It’s the middle of December, we’ve been chasing the killer for two years and the Mayor wants him to be caught within two weeks? That’s outrageous!”
“I know, Laura, calm down,” the chief growls and glares at me. “You’re a Detective, not a child. Control your temper!”
I slump back into the seat without a word. I won’t apologize for losing my shit—anyone in my position would.
This is my case, my responsibility, and if I don’t find the person behind those killings soon, I’m most likely losing my job.
“Fine,” I grumble and cross my arms. Ha, all that thinking about Boudreaux acting like a child, and now I’m the one who’s doing the same. “When do I have to go and where am I heading?” I add, just to get the chief off my back.
A smile lights up his face. “There she is, the Detective I fought tooth and nail to get on my team. You’re leaving now, Boudreaux said he’ll wait for you in the downtown gallery.”
I swear, the only thought that runs through my mind is how I could strangle Boudreaux without being caught doing it. It can’t happen today since everyone will know I’m heading there, but maybe, if I stage everything like he died after I left…
“Don’t even think about it, Laura,” the chief growls, pulling me out of the blissful fantasies. “If anything happens to that man, I know where to look. Get your ass out of my office and do what the city pays you to do.”
I huff, stand up, and stomp out of the office like a proper toddler. The city doesn’t pay me to babysit the most eccentric billionaire the world has seen, but okay, fine, what the fuck ever!
The rest of the Detectives on the floor instantly lower their gaze as they notice me stomping. If nothing else, at least they understand that this is not the moment to mess with me.
I do hear a couple of “what crawled up her ass and died there?”, paired with “ooof, Brown is in a bad mood, could it be that she’s sent to meet Boudreaux again?
” Ignoring the whispered comments is hard as is, but when I close the door behind me and laughter echoes behind it, it takes all my willpower not to turn around and remind those assholes why I shouldn’t be messed with.
No, I’m a Detective, a bloody good one at that, and if nothing else, I know how to control my temper. So, I pull up my imaginary big girl pants, head to my car and drive downtown where Boudreaux’s gallery is located.
With every passing minute, I get more annoyed, so imagine my fucking surprise when I enter the gallery and it’s completely dark. No soul in sight.
“Mister Boudreaux?” I call out as I slowly walk further into the massive building, careful not to bump into any of the artworks I couldn’t afford even if I started and OF.
I snort out an unexpected laugh. Who am I kidding? The only person who’d subscribe to such nonsense is the very annoying and stupidly rich asshole who’s hiding somewhere inside the dark gallery. I bet he’s creepy enough to buy foot pics or some shit.
“Mister Boudreaux?” I call out again, louder. “It’s Detective Brown, the chief sent me here to look at something you found?”
The further into the gallery I step, the creepier the vibe it gives off. Cold shivers run down my spine as I try to listen in and hear anything, even the slightest hint of movement, yet there’s nothing.
“Laura!” Someone screams suddenly, and it almost sounds like Boudreaux’s voice. I spin on my heel just the moment when something hard hits the back of my head, and the darkness in the gallery isn’t the only darkness I have an issue with.
I wake with a loud groan and a splitting headache. As I blink my eyes open, a hiss leaves my lips since I’m surrounded by nothing but blinding light.
“Oh, goodie, you’re awake. Just on time, darling, dinner is almost ready.” Boudreaux’s cheerful voice rings in the room.
I groan and force my eyes to adjust to the light, then look around.
I’m still in the gallery, surrounded by artwork worth millions, sitting at a beautifully set table.
There are candles, expensive wine and every imaginable utensil set on the table, which looks like a setting in the expensive restaurants people go on dates to.
“What?” I whisper and try to stand up, but soon realize it’s impossible. I’m tied to the bloody chair. “What the actual fuck is going on here?” I say louder, catching Boudreaux’s attention.
The creep grins at me and rushes closer to the table. I almost assume he’s going to untie me, but that’s nothing but wishful thinking. Instead, he sits down across from me and beams like this is some dream-come-true scenario.
“We’re on a date, darling. Isn’t this exciting?
I figured if you don’t agree to go out, I can make you.
And yes,” he waves his hand dismissively, “this is kind of a little illegal. Forced captivity, I think, but who cares? I won’t hurt you, we’ll just have a nice dinner, talk, get to know each other better and maybe, by the end of our intimate date, I’ll get lucky. ” He winks at me.
Don’t get me wrong, Boudreaux is a very good-looking man. He’s almost model-level handsome, insanely tall, muscular and loaded as shit. But… HE’S A CREEP, GOD DAMN IT.
“Did you seriously knock me out for a date?” I snarl at him and try to pull at the ropes that are holding me tied to the chair.
“Well…” Boudreaux mutters and flashes me a sheepish smile. “I think I did.”
“Boudreaux,” I growl. “I swear, if you don’t untie me right this moment, I-”
He cuts me off before I can finish my threat. “No need to be formal, call me Dorian.”
My jaw drops. How am I supposed to react to this type of insanity? Can anyone, I don’t know, start worrying about me being away for too long and come check on me? Perhaps give me a call or something? There’s no way anybody is getting worried about my absence at all.
“You’re so pretty,” Boudreaux suddenly purrs and hovers over the table to get closer to me.
“And so much prettier when I can get this close to you. I hope you like seafood,” he says and pulls away, then gets more comfortable in his seat, only to wink at me.
“I’ve been preparing for this date, darling.
I ate so much pineapple, I might get sick if I see more of it. ”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I snap.
“Crazy about you,” Boudreaux purrs.
“Did you seriously lie to the chief about having evidence, just to lure me here, knock me out and tell me about your pineapple-eating obsession? Can you even hear how crazy it sounds? False report, obstruction of justice, assault on a law enforcement officer, unlawful restraint and I could add more charges if you keep going. I should sue you for emotional damage at this point!”
Boudreaux’s eyes widen as he raises his hands and shakes his head. “I didn’t lie!”
“Yes, you did!” I insist. “You lied to lure me here! I don’t see evidence, only a date set-up!”
Boudreaux grumbles something, stands up and walks around the table.
I instantly freeze up as he moves to stand behind me, places his hands on my shoulders and leans down to whisper in my ear.
“I got the evidence, darling. It was me all along. Ta-daa, surprise! Now, we’re going to have a lovely dinner date and you’ll enjoy it.
” His lips graze the shell of my ear as he speaks, and then, I feel something cold and sharp press against my neck.
“Or, do you prefer we move on to the next fun thing and find out how long we can kiss under the mistletoe before you bleed to death, hmm?”