100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 113: The Artist

A month later. East Ham, London

It’s been almost a month since Sam returned, she was now living in a new house in Camden Town.

Not only that, but she was also reinstated as Director of Forensics and was happy to have things back to normal. As normal as it can be, that is considering the Press was still up to get her, though she had refused to comment on anything; never really liking the Media attention.

It was 2:32 in the morning when her phone vibrated on the bedside table to her left, which she happily ignored. Whoever it was could wait. She was busy at the moment, her brain releasing oxytocin, accompanied by endorphins. These hormones surging through her synapses, filling her with pleasure.

But her mobile phone vibrated yet again, this time she knew it was from Levi, based on the personalized ringtone of his voice shouting ’GOBSHITE!’, something she recorded weeks before when she was staying at 7 Eastbourne Rd. The man could really cuss when he was cross, and he was often cross at the simplest things.

Sam paused, panting. Sweat dripping down her bare body, hair in disarray and she grabbed the phone on the bedside table, and read the messages;

The first message was from Marco, it read:

Hey, Sam. We may need some help on a case, Sussex Road.

Thank you.

And the second message was from the slicked blond.

In need of assistance at Sussex Road. Now.

Sam raised a curious brow, it’s been a while since she worked with Levi on a case. They had been both busy with their own work. Her reviewing past cases, and him with his sleuthing business.

"Mr. Jackson?" A masculine voice spoke from beneath her, his tone filled with disappointment.

Sam looked down at the man, lying on the rich white sheets. His hair disheveled, his face flushed, and his skin glistened with sweat. "Sorry," she apologized, as she crawled off of him, stopping their little session instantly.

After getting off the bed, she collected all her belongings on the floor and proceeded to the toilet.

Danny watched her as she did so, her short wavy hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Will I see you next week?" he asked, clear dismay on his face, as he attempted to appear decent by covering himself with his lower half with the blanket. He knew they both didn’t finish, and if he was honest he wanted her to keep doing what she was doing moments before. He took a peek under the covers, and saw his little problem, he’d need to deal with it in the bathroom later.

Sam emerged from the toilet fully dressed, "I don’t know yet, but I’ll call you," she said bending over to pick up her Doc Martens.

She then sat on the edge of the bed, to put her boots on. And she looked at him with a tinge of regret, as she appreciated his exposed sculpted torso, he really was a gorgeous man. After tying her shoelaces twice, she leaned in and kissed him, he kissed back. His firm hand enveloped her small wrist for a moment. He wanted to say, ’Stay.’ But he knew she wouldn’t, she always did leave after. She never stayed over and ’slept’.

They ’wrestled’ and after they were both finished, she left soon after, he somewhat felt like he was being used. Yet, he knew he was using her too. The only difference was, he wanted her to stay longer. Maybe have breakfast with him, have a conversation. But to her, the thought never occurred.

Grabbing her jacket that was draped on the chair, she put it on and walked out of his flat after muttering a short goodbye.

Sam headed to the building parking, stopping in front of her newly bought motorcycle. She grabbed the black helmet to put it on, and she hopped on.

....

2:45 AM, Sussex Road

It was 10 minutes later when she arrived at the address.

"She’s here," Marco told Levi, the second he saw the redhead park her motorbike outside the building.

Sam went into the building, receiving greetings and smiles from a small group of forensic techs just outside the main entrance. She simply smiled in return and waved back at them, greeting them good morning.

At least it was nice to see that they were happy she was alive.

Sam took note of the building, it was an old hotel that was renovated into an apartment. She scanned everything she passed by with her eyes. Call it a habit, but she does it every time she goes to a crime scene. Her brain recorded all the little information that would seem insignificant.

In the lobby, she took note of the wide set of stairs leading to the floor upstairs. At the base of the stairs was a vase of freshly picked daffodils in different colors. yellow, white with contrasting cups of orange. As she climbed the stairs she could see the walls were adorned with different kinds of oil paintings. All of which had the same initials M.S in the corner, a clear sign that it was all from the same artist.

Sam followed behind one of the techs, leading her to the crime scene. She expected yellow tapes circulating the premises, but there was nothing of the sort.

Sam turned to the familiar men as she entered the flat, "Morning, Marco, Davies, Jones, and Levi." She greeted, eyes automatically resting on Levi. But his eyes were locked on an unfinished oil painting in the victim’s painting studio. He finally shifted to address her, reading her the second he laid eyes on her. His eyes narrowed, he could smell the light scent of masculine cologne clinging on her. And he could see the forming bruise along her collar bone.

As he had previously concluded, they meet up on Fridays.

The slicked blond did not comment, he was aware of her little ’hobby’ and that she got back to it soon after she moved out of his flat.

Levi gestured to the painting, "Look at this," he told her.

The redhead moved closer to take a better look and her eyes narrowed and widened visibly, Levi knew he was right at his suspicions.

Sam shot Levi a shocked look, "It can’t be." She muttered in disbelief. Her eyes bouncing back and forth to his face and the painting.

"You tell me," Levi replied, leaving everyone lost like usual.

Marco cleared his throat, "Ah... Normal people here." he said, gesturing to himself, Jones and Davies standing behind them.

The two geniuses turned, "Please explain." Marco added, for everyone inside the room’s benefit. They hated how the two spoke so vaguely that only their genius minds can fathom.

Levi snickered in dismay, he was surrounded by eejits, then he sighed exasperatedly that they needed to dumb down yet again to the groups of nimrods standing before them.

"This painting was done hours ago, you can still smell the acrylic. But that’s not the awesome part--this is the perfect imitation of the vase of daffodils in the Lobby." Sam explained,

Jones furrowed his brows, paintings were everywhere in the flat, it was nothing unusual. Especially since the victim was an artist.

"The victim is an artist. Nothing unusual with him painting a vase of daffodils." Jones retorted.

Levi visibly rolled his eyes, "You’re an eejit, Jones. You’re not listening. Like she said, perfect imitation." the slicked blond emphasized, but the group still looked confused.

"Most artists would be able to grasp the idea of the daffodils in a vase, but not copy it perfectly. To every crevice of each petal." Levi elaborated.

Sam continued to look at the painting, gobsmacked.

"I can’t believe it, just like me," Sam muttered to herself in disbelief. Someone out there has the same ability as her...photographic memory.

Sam turned to the group of men, "Who? Where?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her tone something that surprised Marco, Davies, and Jones.

"The man who painted that was Michael Scott, an underrated artist, and the landlord of this building. He was found unconscious yesterday in this very room. He died just a few hours ago. But Lab result shows it’s from lead poisoning." Levi informed her, and he saw hurt flash in Sam’s eyes.

She clenched her jaw in disappointment, she truly wanted to meet him. Meet someone that was like her. But their paths crossed too late, and she felt a sense of loss even though he had never met him.

She and so many questions she wanted to ask, questions she didn’t even realize she had just moments ago.

’Do you pause your dreams?’

’Replay memories in your mind like a recording?’

’Do you have trouble with audio memories too?’

’Does genius run in your family too?’

’Did memories hunt you too in your dreams?’

And now, it will remain unanswered.

"I see" Sam muttered in disappointment, looking at the painting. She knew this was his last work, and it was mesmerizing.

She tore her eyes off the painting and gazed at Levi.

"So, why did you ask me to come here?" She asked. "I need your expertise to determine whether this was an accidental death, suicide, or homicide. My gut tells me, you’ll see things that I would miss." the slicked blond said.

Sam nodded in understanding, but she knew based on the way he looked at her there was something more to what he was willing to tell.