2019-07-22 - A Crime of Passion

The back of Lilith's shop is for her personal parking, drop offs, and dumpsters. It connects to an alleyway that leads to Elm proper. Lilith's SUV isn't here, but that's not surprising, she totaled it how many days ago? There's no replacement vehicle either, the lot is empty. There's a shabby orange cat walking the edge of the dumpster, eyeing Alexander, but other than that, there's no real sound of foot traffic, so that cat is the only one seeing him.

The camera sure isn't seeing the man. There's one mounted above the steel back entry door, pointed downward at an angle to catch the comings and goings out of the back, but study of it shows no lights or operational function. It seems to be disabled in some fashion. The door itself has two key holes and indicative screws that imply an inner draw chain, one key for the top bolt, one key for the bottom knob lock. It's hard to tell from the outside how locked up things are, but testing the bottom knob says that one, at least, is intact.

The best place to hit the glass is probably right next to the thicker, smoked glass door so he can reach the lock from the right side. It takes some doing, probably more than one hit, but he gets a good punch in to shatter and crack things enough to capitalize on. It doesn't shatter the whole window or anything, but it's enough. The shop door easily swings open once unlocked, and though the natural chime of alert goes off, it's dark and no alarms start blowing alert.

On the actual shop floor, everything -seems- in order without any signs of trashing or anything. It also seems empty, no one is coming down the stairs from the sounds of things.

Alexander's natural inclination is to get into the back office or her upstairs loft, probably in that case. Really, there's just a register and a shutdown computer that probably needs a password and everything else to get into once booted up in that workspace she's made behind the glass case. The more he looks, the more he notices nothing in the shop seems out of line, the register and jewelry case don't appear messed with. There's a door at the back of the shop for her office, they've talked in there before, he knows it looks like a pretty casual and official kind of deal with her laptop generally set up there, at least while she's at shop.

Now, the shop being fine is obvious. It's obvious that the door that blocks the way to the loft stairs and the office door is open, but it's too dark to tell if the office door itself is open, and the way up the loft stairs is dark as hell too. Still doesn't -seem- like anyone is in here, though, at least.

It's not hard to see Lilith's door or the state of things beyond. His general senses for details are put on the back burner because there's one very big detail when he gets to the top of the stairs.

Her door is closed and it has been previously blown with gun ammo that allowed entry. It's wooden, not the steel numbers like her office door was, so someone's clearly forced their way in quite unkindly. There's the dim glow of a nightlight of some kind through the holes, knob hanging some.

This loft apartment is fairly spacious, an overhead add-on that spans the entirety of the pawn shop floor below. It's been left extremely open concept, much like a smaller studio would be, despite the run of space, and is clearly designed for a single person or close couple. A burgundy-draped queen bed is surrounded by storage build-ins, tossed with an owl throw blanket at the foot, mirrored dresser nearby glossed with black paint. There’s no architectural structure breaking space into designated rooms, but clever blocking arrangement confines the sleep and storage area to one side of the apartment, middle clearly designated as living room. The lounge area is comfortable with pretty stained glass lamps on the side tables that are probably restored antiques, matched black and white damask furniture arranged around a flat screen television. Spanning the other side, there’s an open kitchen with black appliances, island workspace, and bar seating instead of a dining table. Long windows span the outer wall and look over Elm street below, hung with combined sheer and solid drapes to allow privacy or light.

Some photography artwork adorns the walls, mostly detailing picturesque places or still life with keen detail, but a lot of space on the soft eggshell walls is left bare to leave design scheme minimal and casual. Despite the open concept, there is a separated bathroom, and while nice enough with swirled marble tile, it's a bit cramped. Where there should by all rights be a modern stall shower, instead, there’s an old restored clawfoot tub with modern connected piping and chrome waterfall shower head, all wrapped around by a shadowy shower curtain that flies with black crow images.

It's a mess. It's empty and it's a mess. Alexander barely makes it inside before his shoe hits a random thing before he can even reach to find a switch for some lights. The shop floor was so undisturbed, this, by contrast, looks like a crime scene that's not just to sweep for something, but it looks like a crime of passion that didn't extend to the shop floor for some reason. Huh.

Everything is torn through, it would seem. Her clothes are pulled out of drawers and storage units, the cabinets are all open, the laundry appliances are viewed through sliding doors in a large closet and he can see a hatch ajar like a tiny crawlspace attic trap pulled down at dangle. Even the sugar and flour have been dumped out, and things weren't just rifled through, they were SLUNG as if someone came through in a frenzy. The bed is unmade... but doesn't quite look as ripped apart as everything else, even though the mattress was no doubt checked after all this. There's a stuffed husky dog familiar from the hospital up by the pillows, too, like... bed setting in the middle of chaos.

There's various things to wade through and places to check. The bathroom is dark and the only place not given some low light.

Really, everything is a mess. He notices there's even stacks of cash that have been torn out from a place, probably above the washer and dryer where that small hatch is hanging ajar given the scatter on top of the appliances and floor. He also notices that there's a box of jewelry of value that's been dumped from a work box and the variety probably indicates it's not things she would wear so much as a stash of shop items she keeps up here for whatever reason. Apparently whoever was in here wasn't into taking anything valuable as far as he can see.

But really, using just that light and his eyes and ears and brains, there's no indicator of where in the hell she might be. And it's hard to know if she was caught in here and if there was a struggle or not because everything is so messed up. There doesn't appear to be any blood, but in all this with the lighting how it is, who knows.

Alexander is suddenly holding that dog like Lilith. He knows it's hers, Byron gave it to her, he was there to see her rolleyes and get pissy about it. But that demeanor doesn't match what comes off of the dog. He feels her fear, paranoia, the mania that causes it ramping those two things high, along with a fair amount of stubborn resolve. He also feels the squeeze of her arms around it, as well as some chagrin about holding a stuffed dog to keep her comforted and safe. He can't tell which moment this is, really, but it seems recent, perhaps because everything is so highly amped about it, it may be a form of mania igniting that paranoia instead of the more natural feel of plain rational worry.

He knows the dog (named Dog) is Lilith's and he sees her for a moment as the legitimate owner outside of the emotions that come from it, harried, tousled, wild-eyed and illuminated by flickering firelight in soft glow. She's lovely. She's mad.