John and I took a cab to Lilly's house this time, despite having more than enough time to walk. We had to save our energy for the approaching interrogation. This time, John had called Lilly to let her know of our forthcoming visit.
When we knocked on the tasteful front door, thankfully, it wasn't the brat Harrison who stood before us. Lilly was wearing a casual outfit, but kept the same habits with her makeup. Why so much? It was obvious that she'd been lying on the couch for the past hour (Creases in shirt indicate being in a relaxed position for a long time. Crisp crumbs on thigh.), and yet, her makeup was heavy. Certainly it wasn't just a habit to wear so much... Right?
"Hello, boys! Are you ready to check out a corpse?" Lilly spoke with false enthusiasm, but her smile seemed sincere, as far as I could tell.
"Yeah, um... Where are your kids?" asked John.
She seemed to be constantly beaming (she was in a better mood than I'd ever seen anyone experience, I believe), but spoke confidently, honestly. "Daycare. I'm honestly not sure what I'd do without it."
I raised an eyebrow, cautious. "Right. So, Molly?"
Lilly smiled. "Of course. I can give you boys a ride to the hospital, if you like."
I exchanged a look with John. On one hand, riding in a car with a potential murderer was suicide. On the other, we couldn't let Lilly know that we were at all suspicious of her. "Yes, that would be... Convenient. Right, John?"
He looked at me like I was completely insane. "Well, uh..."
I cut him off, giving Lilly a massive grin. "Yes. Please."
She laughed lightly and led us down her driveway, to her car. "You kids are weird these days. Hop in."
The interior of the car was completely normal for a family with kids. Crisp wrappers on the floor, probably from the kids. Van seats eight, definitely a family car. Not cheap, not expensive. Known to be especially safe, which means Lilly cares an awful lot for her children. Hasn't been washed for many months. Low priority?
John leaned into me and began to whisper once Lilly had started to drive. "Sherlock? Are you trying to get us killed?"
I pursed my lips. "I know this isn't the greatest situation to be in, but we can't seem suspicious."
"You're telling me to stop acting suspicious, and you're over there deducing the car!"
"What? How did you know that I was doing that?"
"You aren't exactly subtle, Sherlock. You always zone out and when you look around, your neck goes every which way like you're about to break it."
"Is that really abnormal?"
"Actually, yeah. We aren't owls."
Lilly adjusted her rearview mirror and looked back at us. "How are you two doing back there?"
"Brilliantly, thank you," John said quickly.
She raised her eyebrows and focused back on the road. "Well, alrighty then. We're almost there."
After just a few more minutes of (silent) driving, we arrived in front of St. Bart's Hospital. Lilly parked, and the three of us hopped out into the chilly afternoon air.
Molly's corpse was being kept on one of the lower levels of the hospital. Lilly led us down winding hall after winding hall, until, finally, we reached a large open room with what seemed to be many rows of file cabinets covering the walls. Other than that, it was bare but for a large metal table.
I felt John shudder, uncomfortable, next to me, so I pressed my side into his. The boy had seen far too much death in his life, and now he stood here, surrounded by it.
Lilly pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and motioned for us to do the same before pulling one of the drawer handles on the wall, proving that it was not in fact a file cabinet, but a body cabinet.
Molly's body was still in a body bag, so it was easy for Lilly to pull it out of its spot and place it on the metal table. She unzipped it, took out the corpse, and placed Molly onto the table under a white linen blanket like it was no big deal- and, I suppose, it really wasn't for Lilly.
Lilly placed the now-empty body bag under the table. "Alright, she's ready."
I stepped toward the table easily, but John lingered behind me. Still, I proceeded to pull the linen away from her face, taking a look at the wounds on her face. Her lips were cut up, presumably from when the hooks were forced into the roof of her mouth. I spread apart her lips now, and looked at the roof of her mouth. She must have been suspended by ten or twelve of the mini hooks I'd pulled out when we first found her. That would be far too difficult to do on a living person, so she must have already been dead when they were inserted. I grimaced and continued down the body, uncovering Molly's chest and stomach.
"Sherlock," John said, obviously uncomfortable with the nudity.
I shook my head. "John, it's okay. Apparently, neither of us likes women anyway."
Lilly stifled a giggle and I continued my work. Bruising on the collarbone. Forced to sit somewhere? That would make sense, as she was sitting in the chair in the classroom. But it would be far too difficult to kill her at the school... The gash on her stomach where the massive hook had been embedded was much larger than I'd previously imagined. It certainly could have been a cause of death.
Molly's legs had no bruising or cuts on them anywhere, which I found peculiar. With the bruising on her collarbones, the only way she'd be alright elsewhere is if she had stopped struggling completely. This didn't surprise me, really. Molly was a gullible person, and could easily be tricked into sitting still like a good little victim.
I stepped away from the table. "Interesting. Lilly, what do you think?"
Lilly shrugged. "Not many signs of struggle. The cut in her stomach was deep enough to kill her, and it also damaged her large and small intestines, which would have eventually killed her anyway."
I raised an eyebrow upon noticing the lack of emotion she spoke with. "Ah, so the killer had a backup plan, then? If the blood loss didn't kill her, this would?"
"I suppose so," Lilly said, nodding.
"And you wouldn't have any idea who could think like that, would you?" I chose my words carefully.
"Like I said, the forces have given up on her case. In fact, we're sending her body to be buried in just a few days. Family's request."
"Isn't it a bit soon to be doing that, Lilly?"
She shook her head. "Actually, it would have been done ages ago with anyone else. We've held her here for far too long already."
I slammed my palms on the table, but kept my voice steady. "It's almost like someone is trying to hide the evidence."
Lilly took a step back. "I- um-"
"You what? You confess? Because that's all we need you to do right now. She didn't have to die, but she did because of you. All we need is a confession and an explanation."
Lilly was becoming more and more flustered. "I'm not a murderer"
"Right, haven't heard that one before," I said sarcastically.
John grabbed my arm. "Sherlock. I don't think..."
John's touch calmed me, made all of my emotions fly back into their correct spaces. I looked at him, his brown eyes pleading, and everything snapped into place.
I turned to Lilly, calm. "Your husband."
Tears were welling in her eyes now. Confused. Scared. "Wh- What about him?"
"He was an addict, correct? But you're an investigator. A cop, according to some. Why didn't you ever arrest him?"
She looked at me in shock. "Wh- He- I loved him!"
"And yet, you wear no ring. Quick recovery, then? You just bounced right back after losing the man you 'loved.' Or, perhaps, you couldn't wear the ring. Not in your business."
Lilly shook her head. "The ring only reminded me of him. I cried every time I looked at it!"
"The makeup, Lilly. Why all the makeup? Not to impress your children, certainly. They don't give a damn. No, you weren't just spending time with your kids that day. You'd seen other people. People you feared so much that you couldn't even mention them to two seventeen-year-old boys."
Lilly was nearly sobbing. "I... I just..."
I didn't wait for her full response. "It's possible that you're just set on keeping a nice image, sure. But that's not very likely, is it? When we visited you in your house, you sure were in a hurry to get us out of there. Why such a rush to get back to hanging out with your kids? Surely visitors would make for a nice break for you. Unless, of course, you already had visitors... That sure would explain a lot."
"I just don't know what you're talking about," Lilly stammered.
I leaned towards her. "I don't think that was flour on your sleeve."
John shook his head, suddenly understanding everything. "I'll call the cops."
While John stepped outside to call 999, I stayed inside with Lilly. "You know, Lilly, you were right."
She shook her head, hating me. Tears filled her eyes, but she was making an effort to keep them from falling.
I smiled at her. "You aren't a murderer.
"Sherlock Holmes. I despise you."
"Words like that no longer affect me, you know." I paused. "You're not going to run?"
She laughed coldly, quietly, and a few droplets escaped her eyes. "What's the point? You're right, anyways. As always. I've gotten all mixed up already. The alternative to this is living on the run, and putting my kids in even more danger than they're already in. I just- I can't do that, Sherlock Holmes."
I was surprised. A drug dealer, yes, but Lilly still seemed to be a rather good person. "How did you get mixed up in all this?"
"Love," she said quietly. "I did it for love."
"Your husband?"
She nodded. "He was in too deep, but I loved him too much. His friends, his people... They got us involved. Even after he passed, I was stuck." She let out a sob. "But your- your John. He's a good man. You are too, even if you kind of seem like an ass sometimes." She laughed, tears still falling. "You've made a good choice, Sherlock. You picked a good one."
I bit my lip, deeply touched by her kind words about John. "Thank you, Lilly." I offered my hand for her to shake, but she shook her head, turned away from me.
Just moments later, the door crashed open and three officers entered the room. One of them restrained Lilly (which was unnecessary, as she was standing completely still anyway) while the other cuffed her. The third approached me, told me to leave. I nodded and left the room.
John waited outside in the hallway. "You alright, then?"
We began to make our way out of the hospital. "I'm fine. She's a good person, John."
"Sherlock, she's a drug dealer."
"Not by choice."
John was silent, and we were soon out of St. Bart's, leaving without a single glance back. As we walked, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I answered. "Yes?"
"Sherlock, I need you to meet me- well, us at the Sussex Heritage Coast." Moriarty. Ugh.
"Jim, that's two hours away. We can't get down there right now."
"Well, figure something out! It's important!"
"Jim, I-"
"Remember, Sherlock, we're a team. I'll see you here in two hours."
He hung up before I could protest. John looked at me, already intolerant of Jim's needs. "What does he want now?"
"He wants us to go to Sussex."
"What? That's ridiculous!"
"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "So, John, have you got a car?"