100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 61: Der Tod III

A year ago, the day Levi met Mo.

Sam was in the middle of her run, legs burning, heart pumping fast at 10 in the evening. When the phone strapped around her arm started ringing, she slowed down her pace, she looked down at the caller.

"Mrs. Whitehall?" She greeted, in between pants. The older woman sounded panicked explaining the situation. Asking her to come as the neighbors were threatening to call the cops.

Sam hailed a cab in a hurry, Mo, her Bullmastiff still in hand.

"I can’t--Miss." The cabbie started to complain about the dog. She handed him 30, shutting him up immediately.

"I’ll pay you twice if you could get me to 7 Eastbourne Rd in 5 minutes."

7 Eastbourne Rd.

Sam stepped out of the cab minutes after, from the street,t she could hear Black veil brides by Knives and Pen blasting from Levi’s flat. No wonder the neighbors were complaining.

Sam walked in the front door with Mo in tow, Mrs. Whitehall greeting her in her pajamas, looking frustrated. "He won’t stop, sweetie." The flabby old woman explained frustrated. She had been trying to tell Levi to lower down the volume but he won’t listen to her, instead he increased it further to muffle her complaints.

Sam walked up the stairs, she walked in without knocking. Levi sat in the center of the living room, facing the window. He dressed in his silk blue pajamas; his hair in disarray resembling a mad man.

Sam eyed the large speakers in the middle of his living room, making her wonder how he got his hands on such heavy-duty speakers. And other than to annoy his neighbors, what use was it for?

Sam fiddled with his laptop, disconnecting the Bluetooth to the speakers and the room turned quiet, the sudden silence caught Levi’s attention in his seat.

"How about getting Beats instead? I’ll pay for it." Sam said plainly, earning a dissatisfied look from Levi.

He narrowed his eyes at the redhead then to the older woman standing by the door, visibly relieved that the wretched satanic music had stopped.

"I see, Mrs. Whitehall thinks you are my Handler now. " Levi commented dryly, giving the older woman the stink eye.

Levi stomped towards the sofa then flopped, he was bored out of his mind and needed an immediate distraction. The business had been slow and crimes were too petty for his own liking. Where’s homicide when he needed entertainment?

"DUBH DÓITE!" he shouted as a child would in Irish.

"Try running," Sam suggests, earning a head to toe look from Levi who only then noticed her sports attire.

"Pffft, dull." He says, not noticing Mrs. Whitehall’s retreating back. She could now finally watch her show in peace.

"Of course..." Sam says while typing on his laptop, programming it so that his loud music could not be played in the wee hours of the night. Levi didn’t utter a complaint, watching her with curious eyes. Other than her obvious genius, he found her penchant to breaking the rules refreshing.

"You were running." He says scanning her.

"Bang on!" Sam says, using his usual line.

Levi shifted to his still open door, and his eyes widened for a second at the sight of the massive brown dog.

"And where did this beast come from?" He asks, staring at the dog, who sat silently watching his Master and the strange man in pajamas. Sam gestures to the dog to come in. And she introduced the two like they were both humans.

"Levi, this is Mozart, Mo for short. Mo, this is Levi; he’s a friend," she says, signaling the dog. Mo raised its paw at Levi, and the psychologist eyed it curiously, "What is it doing?" he asks.

"He wants to shake your hand," she says, Levi looked at her like she was crazy. Sam rolled her eyes at Levi and said, "Just do it, Jackson."

Levi indignantly took the dog’s paw and shook it once, then released it immediately, wiping his hand against his pajama pants seconds after.

Sam goes to the kitchen and takes a glass of water, taking a peek at the refrigerator door, where a chart is hanging with test results by every hour. She reckoned he was experimenting.

Mo sat watching Levi, observing if the man was to be trusted.

Levi noticed its watchful eyes, and he stared back at it. "He is awfully fond of you, he’s looking at me as if I’m his new chew toy."

Sam stares at Mo, who remained unfazed by the psychologist, as if taunting the human, warning him even.

"Well, he just met you. what do you expect?" Sam asked.

"I feel quite the same. But if you haven’t noticed, I am not the animal here." Levi said, not taking his eyes off the dog.

"Could have fooled me." She quipped, he then tore his gaze away from the dog and glared at Sam.

"Oh, sorry, right, you’re far more dangerous" she quipped, taking a sip of water.

Half an hour later.

"Will he ever stop that?" Levi asked walking in from the kitchen, annoyed at the dog still watching his every move. Sam looked at Mo, who was still sizing Levi up, he must have found the human strange.

"He’s just curious." Sam shrugged.

Then she takes something from her pocket, "Here." She offered, handing Levi a dog treat. "Give it to him," Sam instructed. Levi takes it, smells it, and offers it to the dog, who watchfully, approaches him, sniffs his hand, and takes it from his palm. Its fat rough tongue brushing against his slender fingers.

Levi smiled, as the dog started wagging its tail.

He turned to Sam, "Can he do tricks?" he asked.

..........................

PRESENT

2 hours later, Levi’s Flat

It was 2 hours later when Marco dropped by Levi’s flat to check how he was doing, only to find it empty. He explained the situation to Mrs. Whitehall and the old woman sobbed in his arms for a few minutes.

He waited till 5 in the morning, but Levi didn’t come home that night.

Defeated, Marco drove back home and cried with Lisa in bed.

Next day, 2 PM

"Levi?" Marco called again, he had just broken the news to the boys downstairs. Alex sobbed unashamed, while Joe and Mike both fisted their hands in fury

In his flat, Levi sat on his chair as per usual, bouncing the green tennis ball against the wall. Dressed in a crisp black Armani suit and grey metallic tie, his hair slicked back as usual. Face devoid of emotion.

Marco sat awkwardly across him. "Levi." He repeated, but the psychologist didn’t respond.

"You know mate, it’s okay to be sad, Sam is... was a great gal. She meant a lot to all of us..."

"What are you blabbering about Marco?" Levi asks, annoyed at the bearded man’s babble, back to his usual dick self. Not the wrecked man who lost a good friend just hours ago.

"Levi, Sam...I know she’s gone now but I... don’t know what to say, I just-- I hope you’re going to be fine. No, I know you’re gonna be fine. We’re here for you." Marco says the expression on his face told Levi he meant every word. The room turned silent.

"I know." He answered briefly, and the silence was shattered by Mrs. Whitehall’s frantic voice downstairs, footsteps echoed up the stairs. Seconds later, Levi’s front door swung open revealing Elle.

"Young lady, you can’t just walk in here--" Mrs. Whitehall started to lecture standing behind her.

Elle’s eyes rested on Levi. She was clearly grief-stricken as she had just been notified of her boss’ demise. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were still damp with tears. But it held something else other than sadness, it was anger, and it was directed on the blond.

Elle approached him, looked up at his face standing before her.

"You promised." She seethed, then she struck him. Right on the face.

Levi reached to touch his mouth, he could taste blood.

"Good to know, your boxing lessons weren’t completely useless," Levi commented, nursing his jaw.

While Marco pulled the emotional woman away from Levi. "Elle, please calm down...it wasn’t--" Marco tried to reason.

"Calm down?! CALM BLOODY DOWN!!? My boss was murdered, in her own home. And you are telling me to calm down?! " Elle spat, angrily tears streaming down her face and Marco watched in sympathy. He understands.

He truly does.

Levi watched as Elle cried in his friend’s arms, she looked up at him, in complete melancholy, and disappointment.

"You gave me your word." She said, "You gave me your word that she’ll be safe." She added, tears falling down her cheeks. "It’s all your fault." She accused, and Levi’s jaw tightened; he remembers that exchange. It was hours after the discovery of Cleo Gallagher’s body.

...........................

1 month and 1 week before

Levi watched outside the morgue door, as Sam methodically and carefully removed each item belonging to the victim. Jones, beside her, cataloging each evidence. The slicked blonde stood there waiting for Davies, they planned on visiting the family and interviewing them in a few minutes.

Elle approached the blond man by the door, "Mr. Jackson." she said, handing him a cup of coffee. He thanked her, though he was well aware it was by Sam’s instructions the coffee be given to him. She did that, always offering him coffee or tea. She did that, knowing what people needed, just when they needed them.

Like she knew that Mrs. Whitehall relished being offered tea since she was always the one bringing people tea in the office.

Caring.

Kindness was it?

Or just a unique ability to know what someone needs?

The ability to anticipate.

"The victim," Elle spoke, and Levi turned to his right surprised that she was still standing beside him. He expected that she left right after handing him the coffee as usual.

He scanned her, her eyes were focused on Sam, it held anxiety.

It held concern.

"Yes?" He asked, curious as to where the usually business-like woman was going. "It had her picture on it. It’s a threat, isn’t it?" Elle said.

"That’s the initial thought." He answered. Elle turned to him, "What’s your thought?" She asked, surprising him more. She was concerned, concerned enough to ask for his opinion.

"It may be a threat, or it could be a way to distract us from the next victim. I think the latter." He states confidently.

Elle nodded in approval, her shoulders relaxed visibly and she expelled a sigh of relief.

"Good. Then she’ll be safe then?" Elle asked, not tearing her eyes away from the view on Sam working inside the morgue. Levi shifted to her slightly, looking at the petite woman beside her.

"I swear it," he stated, and she left contented with his words.

Levi was sure her life was in no danger, it wasn’t in the Killer’s Modus operandi. She wasn’t on the list, and the list was the clue!

But he was wrong, he made a mistake and it cost her...

.................................

Levi looked at Elle, "I’m sorry for your loss." He said, and anger filled Elle and she charged to assault him again but Marco held her in place.

"It wasn’t just my loss!" She screamed.

Almost breaking down again where she stood. It wasn’t just her loss.

How would she tell her Grandmother?

What would she say to her brother?

She pushed Marco away and left the way she came in.

"She was right," Marco spoke, minutes later, after Elle walked out slamming the door behind her as she did. "What?" Levi was lost again in his own thoughts.

"Elle was right," Marco repeated.

"What? That it’s my fault?!" Levi slammed his palm on the table, "I made a mistake! Yes! CLEARLY!" He shouted, furious.

It was his fault.

It was, wasn’t it? His chest hurt, it felt like exploding, and he stood to walk the feeling off. His hands shook as he cupped his face, his palms brushed against his cheeks.

Why were his cheeks wet? He wondered.

Levi scoffed, "Fantastic. Bloody fantastic... My body is betraying me." he said, as he looked at his wet palms. He was crying and he couldn’t stop himself.

"No, Levi. Not that, that’s not what I meant. it’s not your fault! It’s not your fault, mate!" Marco says, trying to soothe him. What he initially meant was that Elle was right, it wasn’t just her loss.

Everybody knew It was his loss too.

"But it was! IT IS! If I didn’t assure them she was not a target, Davies wouldn’t have removed the officers guarding her! And she wouldn’t be...she wouldn’t be..." Levi trailed lost for words. He looked out the window, tears streaming down his cheeks.

It didn’t make sense.

Where was her security?

Why didn’t they come when she needed them most?

What really happened?

All these questions bombarded his brain.

His eyes trained on the dark sky, and he reckons it was about to rain cats and dogs.

"You should go home, Marco. A storm is coming," he said, wanting to be left alone.