All the Signs

Detective Arthur Winson crouched over the dead body with a weary sigh. As a Capricorn, he could go days without sleep, but he didn’t feel good doing it. A short, round, dead man lay before him with no visible wounds. The only signs of distress were the black veins that ran up the man’s neck and onto his right cheek, a textbook Scorpio poisoning.

The air in the apartment was hot and stale. Under his suit coat, Arthur’s broad back was wet with sweat. His temporary partner, a Gemini named Derek Tomasso, stood in the corner of the room. With a shake that always reminded Arthur of a wet dog, Derek split himself into two people. The two Dereks began walking around the crime scene in opposite directions.

Behind him, a lab tech took samples of blood spatter on the wall. It was likely the killer’s blood, as Scorpio poisoning was bloodless. One of the Dereks inspected a gun on the floor next to the dead man’s hand.

“It looks like he got a piece of the killer,” Derek said. “It’s hard to surprise an Aquarius.”

“The victim probably saw the killer coming and thought he could stop him,” Arthur agreed. “But seeing something and doing it are two different things.”

“This is the third Aquarius murder in two weeks,” the other Derek said from across the room. “They should make a public announcement.”

“We won’t get authorization,” Arthur said. “People are murdered every day, and these murders have no connection. What do a love psychic, a homeless guy, and a financial advisor have in common?”

“What was the homeless guy’s specialty?” Derek asked.

“He didn’t have one. He was mentally ill and an addict,” Arthur shrugged. “That happens sometimes with powerful Aquarius psychics.” It was why most parents were careful not to give birth to an Aquarius, despite the apparent advantages of a child who could predict the future.

“So, the killer makes it past the security downstairs,” Derek said. “He enters the apartment where the victim is waiting with a gun. The victim shoots but only grazes the attacker, who knocks the gun out of his hand, poisons him, and flees before security arrives.”

“The killer is a Scorpio, so they may have the power of invisibility,” Arthur agreed. “I’m surprised the victim didn’t have more security.”

“Some people want to live simply,” Derek shrugged. Derek’s family had a house on Boxer Island. He’d invited Arthur, but Arthur declined, not wanting to force his overgrown orphan self on his partner’s family.

“The chief wants to talk to us,” the other Derek said, holding his cell phone. So that was the original. Gemini couldn’t duplicate technology.

“I’m sure he does,” Arthur stood. “These murders have a connection, and the killer is working their way up the social ladder.” He glanced away as Derek merged with himself. They left, dodging the uniformed officers and the lab techs in the hallway. Down in the car, Arthur buckled his seatbelt as his partner started the engine.

“So, what do a love guru, a financial advisor, and a homeless guy have in common?” Derek asked as he drove. “That sounds like the start of a dirty joke. But seriously, it’s nothing.”

“They probably share a killer,” Arthur pointed out as he closed his eyes. “Though there are plenty of Scorpio assassins, so maybe not.”

“The victims are also all psychic,” Derek agreed.

“Which means they all probably knew something they shouldn’t,” Arthur agreed. “But is it the same something or different somethings?”

“What do you have so far?” the Chief asked, leaning a thick fist on his desk. As an Aries, he was leadership material, but his style was aggressive on a good day. Arthur sat beside Derek in the chairs on the other side of the desk. The Chief’s office was old and worn, much like the man himself. It was painted in shades of brown, most of which had faded to tan.

“The financial advisor was managing seventy-three accounts,” Arthur reported. “Including the investment portfolio of a restaurant group, endowments for two universities, and a hospital expansion fund.”

“Restaurants?” the Chief perked up. “Any mafia ties?”

“It’s likely,” Derek agreed. “I don’t know a restaurant in this city that isn’t tied to the mafia.”

“And the homeless man?”

“He was admitted to the hospital the day before his death,” Arthur reported. “The attending physician said he was brought in for an overdose, but when they got him conscious, he made a commotion and took off. He was murdered in an alley a day later.”

“Who was his dealer?” the chief asked. “Any connections to the restaurant group?”

“He lives on the East Side,” Derek said. “That’s Lazlo Family territory. I’m not sure if they’re connected to the restaurant group.”

“Forensic accounting will check,” the Chief said.

“What about the love psychic?”

“Nothing so far,” Arthur admitted. “But we were only halfway through the interviews when we caught this case.”

“Split up and get them done. Use that new Virgo woman,” the Chief ordered.

“Interrogator Messi. She can come with me,” Arthur said to his partner, who nodded good-naturedly. The Chief dismissed them, and they returned to their desks, where they reviewed the financial planner’s documents and emails.

By eight, Derek had left, but Arthur kept working. He was never sure if it was because he was a Capricorn or if he loved his job. Several hours later, the sun had risen, and Arthur was no closer to a solution. He rubbed his tired eyes and then jumped. Standing next to his desk was Interrogator Messi. She wore a brown striped suit and a surprised expression.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she tucked thick brown curls behind dainty ears. “I’m a bit early.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” Arthur stood and grabbed his coat. “There are a couple of people I’d like to get to before they go to work.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have time to change your shirt,” Messi said, glancing down at a stain on Arthur’s chest. He blushed and went to the locker room, where he showered and brushed his teeth. He was back in less than ten minutes. Messi was sitting on his desk next to two coffees. She was paging through the love psychic’s pink planner.

“These three people were supposed to meet with Ms. Rollings the day of her death, and these three had meetings booked for the next day,” she held up a slip of paper with names on it.

“We’re still working through the last people she saw,” Arthur said as he took a coffee.

“But why murder someone for something already said,” Messi protested. “The cat’s out of the bag.”

“You have a point.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise. “I mean, it’s just a thought.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

“It’s a good thought,” Arthur said. “Let’s do it.”

The first address was a swanky building in the Synastry neighborhood. Arthur and Messi beat rush hour traffic and arrived quickly at the fancy address. The woman was a well-manicured mother of two who had wanted to ask the psychic about her teenage daughter’s first boyfriend. When Messi apologized for interrupting their morning routine, the woman shrugged a cashmere-clad shoulder. 

“The nanny has it covered,” she said. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wanted to consult Rollings about Jessica’s new boyfriend. I want to make sure it’s a healthy relationship for her first love.” Arthur thought letting her daughter live her life would be healthier but said nothing. He showed the woman the pictures of the homeless man and the financial advisor, but she didn’t recognize them.

“How did you hear about Ms. Rollings?” Messi asked.

“I heard about her from Tracy Rochester,” the woman answered. “She just got engaged and was supposed to consult with the psychic about her fiancé. I don’t know why, though. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh yes! She’s on our list of people to chat with,” Messi said. Arthur frowned at the breach in protocol.

“If you go now, you’ll catch her leaving yoga. It’s right around the corner,” the woman said, giving them the studio's name. She then drifted off to check on her children. The detectives let themselves out.

“She’s telling the truth,” Messi told him in the elevator. “She has no idea who did it.”

Arthur and Messi walked to the address and waited at a cafe next door as sweaty white women filed out of the studio.

“There she is,” Messi pointed to a tall, thin woman in a green sports bra. Arthur wasn’t sure how she could tell them apart.

“Tracy Rochester?” Messi asked with a friendly smile.

“That’s me!” the woman smiled. Her smile faded as she glanced up at Arthur’s lurking form. Messi introduced them and ushered the woman to a table at the café before Arthur could speak. He was beginning to see the benefits of having an interrogator on the team.

“We’re just chatting with everyone about their appointments with Ms. Rollings,” Messi said.

“Yeah, of course,” Tracy said, sipping from an expensive water bottle. “It’s no secret. I just got engaged, and I wanted to do a consult. Everyone does it.” By everyone, she meant the wealthy elite who could afford the five-figure fee. Arthur tried to keep a neutral face.

“Congratulations!” Messi said. “So, you were going to consult Ms. Rollings about your fiancé?”

“Yeah, he’s a resident at Saint Anne’s,” Tracy smiled. “Dr. Mike Maddix. He’s in the ER. He literally saves people’s lives.”

“Saint Anne’s?” Arthur spoke up. “How long has he been working there?”

“Like four years,” Tracy replied. “He’s on the fundraising committee. It’s how we met. Last year, we raised over 3 million dollars.”

“That’s impressive,” Arthur pulled out the financial advisor’s picture. “Do you know this man?”

“Sure, that’s Edward Bouchard,” Tracy said. “He just started managing the hospital expansion fund.”

“Are you aware that Edward Bouchard was murdered last night?” Arthur asked. The woman’s eyes widened.

“You’re kidding?” Tracy gasped. “Does Mike know? He just started working with him.”

“We haven’t spoken to Mike,” Messi said. “Do you know when he started working with Edward Bouchard?”

“It was only a couple of weeks ago,” Tracy frowned. “I know because he complained that they brought in a new guy. I don’t know why because the old guy was like a million years old and absolutely useless.”

“We have Dr. Rachel Ableton as the contact for the account,” Arthur said, looking at his phone.

“Oh yeah, Dr. Ableton’s name is on it, but she doesn’t do anything. She puts her name on stuff while everyone else does the work.”

“Before we head out, we noticed that you made an appointment the week before Ms. Rollings died. It was canceled last minute, and then you rescheduled for the day she died,” Messi said.

“Yeah, I had to cancel because Mike had an accident that day!” Tracy said. “It was so weird because he never drives. He crashed his car into a lamppost in a parking lot. Some kid ran out in front of him.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Arthur said. “We should probably chat with your finance. He’ll be at the hospital this time of day?”

“Oh, always,” Tracy smiled. “Let me know if I can help in any way. I’m sure Mike will want to help, too.”

Arthur and Messi said goodbye to the woman and hurried to their car.

“She’ll be texting him now,” Messi said as Arthur started the car. “She was telling the truth.”

“He won’t run,” Arthur said. “Smart guy like that will think he can fool us.”

“Once he realizes I’m a Virgo, he’ll know he can’t,” Messi grabbed a handle as they turned a corner. Her small shoulder bumped against Arthur’s large elbow. He blushed and moved away. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Arthur took out the phone and handed it to Messi.

“Answer it,” he ordered.

“It’s Derek,” Messi said. She pressed the speaker button.

“Arthur!” Derek said. “We got the killer. We contacted the Lazlo family, and they gave up the assassin. They didn’t want the heat. We interviewed him, and sure enough, he killed all three victims.”

“Who hired the assassin?” Arthur asked.

“We don’t know,” Derek admitted. “It was set up through the dark web.”

“We have a lead. We’re heading to Saint Anne’s,” Arthur said. “We’re looking for Dr. Mike Maddix. Send backup.”

“On it,” Derek said. “I’ll head over now.”

“Have them wait in the parking lot,” Arthur said. “We don’t want to spook him.” The car pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Arthur parked in the loading zone.

At the front desk, Arthur and Messi asked for Dr. Maddix and were directed to the break room. They walked through the ER, a bustling place full of hospital beds and patients, nurses and doctors rushing between.

In the breakroom, they found two female nurses and a man in a white lab coat.

“Dr. Maddix?” Arthur approached the man.

“That’s me,” the doctor said. “I hear you’re asking some questions about Edward Bouchard.” Arthur shook the man’s hand. Messi smiled and nodded. The nurses glanced at them, packed up their lunches, and left.

“We just met your fiancé, Tracy,” Messi said. “She’s fantastic!”

“Tracy’s great,” Maddix agreed. “She mentioned you stopped by.”

“She was supposed to have an appointment with Ms. Rollings,” Arthur said. “Were you aware of it?”

“Yes, I knew,” Maddix frowned. “I’m sure she mentioned that I think it’s weird, but she insisted.”

“I understand why you’d be annoyed,” Arthur agreed. “It’s not very trusting.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Maddix said. “Just confused. The people I grew up with don’t do things like that.”

“It must be hard to keep up with Tracy’s crowd,” Messi said. “It’s a different world. All of those galas and fundraisers. How long have you been managing the expansion fund?”

“I don’t manage that. I just help out from time to time,” the doctor crossed his arms. “Dr. Abelson manages the account.” Arthur glanced at Messi, who subtly shook her head.

“Dr. Maddix, did you hire someone to kill Edward Bouchard?” Arthur asked.

“Why would I have to hire a killer?” Maddix laughed. “I’m a Cancer. I could block an artery with my power and make it look like a heart attack.”

“But you wouldn’t have an alibi,” Arthur pointed out. “Cancers have to be in the same room as their targets. Most have to touch them.”

“I don’t have to touch anyone,” Maddix said. “I’m a top-level Cancer.”

“Dr. Maddix, why aren’t you answering the question?” Arthur asked.

“You’re a Virgo, aren’t you?” Maddix turned to Messi. “I don’t have to answer any questions without my lawyer present.”

“You aren’t being arrested,” Arthur said. “We are just having a conversation. Don’t you want to help?”

“Of course,” Maddix said. Messi looked at Arthur and shook her head.

“Look, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Maddix stood. “I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.”

“Then you’ll have to come to the station with us. You have the right to remain silent,” Arthur said and stood. He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket. “You have the right to legal counsel…” Arthur stopped = as pain ripped through his left shoulder. He fell to his knees. The doctor extended his arms. Messi also fell, grabbing her arm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Maddix cried. “I’m a good person. I save lives. I deserve a decent life.” The Doctor pinched his fingers, and the pain in Arthur’s chest worsened. He fell to his side. Messi struggled up and raised her right hand. A blinding white light emanated from her palm. Arthur closed his eyes, and it was the last thing he saw.

He awakened in a hospital bed to the worried face of a nurse checking his pulse. Derek stood in the corner of the room.

“Messi?” Arthur asked Derek.

“She’s fine,” Derek said. “She got your guy. Blinded him. They’re down the hall.” Arthur gently pushed the nurse away and stood. They went down the hall, where the other Derek stood beside a uniformed officer in front of a door. Arthur opened the door and went in.

Messi sat in a chair, looking tired. The doctor lay in the bed, hands cuffed to the rails, steel mittens over his hands. White bandages covered his eyes, and his face was burned like he had spent a week on a beach without sunscreen. He was unconscious, but Arthur gave him a wide berth.

“I got the recording,” Messi whispered. She led him out the door, and the uniformed officer took her place.

“Are you ok?” Arthur asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. Before they could say anything else, the Chief appeared from around a corner, three subordinates following.

“There you are!” the Chief called. “Excellent job. The district attorney is confident this will be a slam dunk!” He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, and Arthur winced.

“It was all Messi,” Arthur told his boss.

“Oh, I know,” the Chief smiled at her. “You’re looking at a promotion for this young lady.” This time, Messi winced.

“It’s always been my goal to make detective,” she admitted.

“We’d be proud to have you!” the Chief said. “I think I know a man who could use a partner.” He smiled at Arthur as a nurse came around the corner.

“Both of you should be in bed!” the nurse said, pointing at the detectives. The Chief shooed them away, and they followed the woman to their rooms.