A Game of Orange Hints - A Sanders Sides AU

Sixteen

Virgil hurries away from the house, laughing to himself. He fights the urge to punch the air. "Yes, yes!"

Logan smiles kindly. "You think it's the cat. It wasn't the cat."

Virgil stills. "What? No. Yes, it is. It must be. That's how he got the Tetanus into her system! Its paws stink of disinfectant," he argues.

Logan shakes his head. "It's a lovely idea–"

But Virgil keeps going. This has to be it. It has to be. "He coated it onto the claws of her cat. It's a new pet, so it's bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch was almost inevitable. But she'd never pay much attention to it and–" He's looking between his hands, like he's juggling all of his thoughts.

Again, Logan shakes his head. "I thought of it as soon as I saw that scratch on her arm. But it's too random, and way too clever for the brother."

"No, no, he murdered his sister for her money," Virgil says.

"Did he?" Logan asks.

Virgil's face falls. "...Didn't he?"

Logan almost looks like he feels bad. "No. It was Raoul, for revenge," he says. "Kenny Price was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out. Virtually a bullying campaign. Finally, they fell out. Badly. It's all on the fan sites. She was going to disinherit Kenny. But, Raoul had grown used to a certain standard of living, so..."

"But what about the disinfectant on the cat's claws?" Virgil is grasping at straws now.

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You saw that living room floor. It was scrubbed within an inch of its life. You smell like disinfectant now."

Virgil is crestfallen.

"No, the cat doesn't come into it. Raoul's internet record does, though." Logan pulls out his phone, pulling up the keypad to dial the cab driver who had brought him here. "I hope he didn't go too far, I left my coat in that car." He marches off, leaving Virgil crushed.

---

Remy Lestrade barely manages to catch the rather hefty file that is tossed at him across the desk. There's a stamp that says Home Office on it. He fumbles for it, glaring up at Logan once he manages to get his hands on it.

"What's this?" Remy asks, opening the file. Inside looks to be internet records from an IP address just outside of London. He flips through it, noting the places where certain websites and medical blogs are highlighted in yellow. It's a full personal digital footprint. "Where did you get–?"

"Raoul DeSantos is your killer. Kendrick Price's houseboy," Logan says. "I called on a favour from a woman who works for security in Explorer. She faxed me those. I also took the liberty of conducting a second autopsy myself before I left earlier, since clearly your men are inept."

"Wait, you did what now–?"

"I input the results at the back of the file. I concluded that it wasn't Tetanus that poisoned Connie Price at all. It was Botulinum toxin." Logan says calmly, pointing to the yellow sheets at the back of the folder. "The same poison, you might recall, that was used to kill Carl Powers." Logan tuts, tugging on the sleeves of his black-felt jacket that he'd retrieved from the cab. Straightening them. "Our bomber is repeating themselves."

In the end, it had been the Botox. It was Patton Hudson who had made Logan think of it. Botox is only a diluted form of Botulinum. Among other things, Raoul DeSantos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. According to Raoul's internet purchases, he's been ordering Botox in bulk for months. Then, presumably, he bided his time before upping the strength to a fatal dose. Then, he cut her hand with a pair of garden shears and staged it all to look like an accident.

Remy is off immediately, sending for the warrants to arrest. He leaves the office, leaving Logan and Virgil alone. Virgil, while Logan was talking, had taken it upon himself to type out the next blog post:

Raoul DeStantos, the house boy, botox.

When the red phone rings, they're there waiting. Logan grabs it. He presses it to his ear, and Virgil watches him closely.

"Hello?"

"...Help me..." It's the tremulous, blind old lady. She's so scared now. So many hours of terror. "He was so... his voice, he sounded so–"

"No!" Logan quickly interrupts her. "Tell me nothing about him. Nothing."

Somewhere in Wales, the laser sight of a sniper whizzes back onto the trigger package of explosives.

"He sounded so soft..."

Then, the woman cuts out. The line goes dead. There is only horrible, terrible, awful silence.

Logan just freezes. "Hello? Hello?"