Dance, Love, Die.

Chapter 1

Victor
First day

See, I thought today would be a normal day. One more day at work. But the two words, written in a thick font by the old computer in the office, told me otherwise.

Bloody Mary

I felt my eyebrow twitch as I put my cup of coffee down on my desk and sat before the report. Saul knew I wanted nothing to do with this case, but yet, there it was, on my pile. The most difficult and delicate situation had just been handed to me again.
There was a time where I would have been so very happy to receive it. I would have spent hours locked in my office, sticking red threads to the wall above pictures of evidence and reports filled from both correct and false witnesses. My blood would have boiled with impatience and adrenaline at the idea of finding the murderer and impress everyone at the station once again.
But I had grown tired of that. My early years were bright and filled with cases solved without a single mistake. I had always had a great talent at noticing small details that people often overlooked or didn't take in consideration on purpose. And one day, my father died. He died fighting to catch one of those serial killers. It destroyed my mother and it extinguished my burning passion for crimes and killers. The adrenaline no longer made my blood throb for action. My limbs stopped demanding vains and rapid runs to catch delinquents and my heart stopped beating in command to fight for justice to be given.
This accident was recent and I knew I had still many years to spend in the field. Part of me wanted to give up fully and find another job. The other couldn't manage to let go. It was alike a family heritage. For what seemed like dinasties, my family had been linked to the police, to the secret services even. It was in our last name. "Katz". Which literally meant "Priest of Justice". Oh, how I despised that name sometimes. It was synonym of brave souls, ones that would either shine eternally for their talents in their career, or that would forever be cried for, as they had perished in terrible circumstances.
I brought my attention back to the file in front of me and stared at it. All the station had been talking about this during my absence. I had received a few weeks of holidays to mourn my father's death - given by the doctor and therapist I had to see. From what I had heart, no one understood a single thing to how these murders could keep happening.
Finally stopping my staring contest with the report, I dismissed it to the right side of my desk. I would not give in. Not this time. I gave my attention to the other files that had been put on my desk. Much less complicated. Much safer. More boring. Less thrilling.
I sighed and strongly grasped at my pen. My nails dug in my palm until it scrached my skin enough to leave a red mark. I glanced at the thick letters on the new file again. That was the serial killer's nickname. The recent murders had let the inspectors think the perpetrator was a woman. From what I had heard over my forced break, dresses of silk and other delicate and expensive materials were always found abandoned near the victim, which only included men until now.
Curiosity finally took the best of me and I opened the case. I knew this meant I had accepted it. There was no going back. My fingers followed the lines I read, and a small excitement seemed to fill my veins. I swore to myself that this would be my last case. Either I would die fighting to solve it, either I would quit after stopping the murderer.
The case seemed simple at first. The murders happened at important events through the whole country. England wasn't big enough not to be able to keep a defined lists of these celebrations. It would be manageable to send an agent to each of them. Most of the times, the victims were either rich, or famous musicians. The killer definitely had an interest in wealth and music. They were cunning enough to escape the securities. No witnesses had ever claimed seeing someone around the crime scene nor suspectingly leave earlier than after the police interventions. The rumors were true. Each time, clothing of high qualities were abandoned near the victim. No weapons were ever found, except the one at the first crime scene to have been linked to Bloody Mary : the hairdryer that had been found in the showers.
So far, 5 murders had taken place.
I tapped my fingers on my desk as I let my thoughts wander. If the killer abandoned their luxury clothing and never stole anything, the link with wealth was wrong. I traced it out with a red pen. How hadn't they noticed that already ?
But who would kill for music ? Maybe that was why they left richness on the list. To give themselve a more pertinent alliby. I put a question mark next to it. It made no sense and yet, it was all we had for now.
I bounced my leg furiously. For five murders, the file wasn't thick at all. It was always the same scenario, except for the first victim. Death by stabbing multiple times in the neck and chest. No prints were left, no weapons, no traces of violence from the victims. No matter how the killer attacked, their targets trusted them enough to let them approach. Yet, there was no links other than the celebrations themselves among the deceased. The orchestras weren't even the same and the events all took place for different reasons. An important birthday, a holiday, a bal, a ballet competition on an international level and a simple representation of the London Symphony Orchestra.
Lost in thoughts, I startled as I felt a hand being pressed on my shoulder. My gaze met Saul's and I sighed in disaproval.
"Don't give me such frights."
Saul straigthened his posture and grinned. "Since when do I take orders from you?"
I arched a brow and he imitated me. It irritated me, but I stayed silent. He shook his head as to put the silence aside.
"I'm glad you opened that file on your first day back." He started. "I was planning on letting it on your desk until you decided yourself to accept it. It was quicker than expected."
I answered with a jaded look. He crossed his arms, which squared his shoulders up even more. His brown eyes analysed me before softening. Maybe had he just remembered the reason of my recent absence at work. He patted my shoulder.
"It's nice to have you back here."
"Really? Or are you relieved to know someone is taking care of that case now?"
A vague amusement passed through his eyes, but it vanished quickly. "Perhaps a bit of both. Have you read it all?"
I nodded. "There isn't much to investigate. There's even nothing except a link with musicians. And still, not all the victims were known to play an instrument."
My boss agreed. "That's why we're sending you to the next event." He announced fiercly.
I blinked multiple times before being able to talk. "What?" is all I was able to get out of my throat.
"We can't just patiently wait for a sixth victim, Victor." He said on a scolding tone, is eyes narrowing and piercing my soul as if he suspected me of something.
I shook my head. "That's for sure. But do you really think it'll be efficient to send me there? Security never saw anything."
He rolled his eyes. Sometimes, I believed he waited for me to read his thoughts instantly, and if I got his vague explanations wrong, I wasn't worth as much as expected. That's why, after all my brilliant solved cases, I never had an important promotion. Because I wasn't a mind reader. Everyone had the same complaint about him, yet, nobody ever did anything to help our station to be upgraded.
"You're not going with security." He said. "You're going for your own sake. As a civilian." He must have felt the need to precise in case I would ask for more explanations.
I swallowed back my harsh thoughts and settled for a smile. "When does it take place?" I dared asking.
"Tomorrow." He said, smiling back.
He must have found that amusing, it was written all over his face.
Saul tapped my back. "I look forward to see your artwork of red strings, pictures and reports on your wall again." He said, as if I had ever wanted my work to be a type or art. Yet, I had nothing of a creative person. I was not made for that, I had learned my lesson long ago, when I had participated to a piano contest and earned only negative comments from the judges. Never again, had I promised to myself that day. I had only played for my mother ever since.
My boss exited my office as he saw one of my colleagues enter in his. He was half an hour late, and he would regret it. No one ever arrived so late without getting scolded or mocked. No matter the reason we had to justify ourselves.
I shook my head and glared at the wall I had used so many times to solve my cases. I took a deep breath and stood up, pinning pictures of the five victimes on it. That was it. I was back at the job.