Chapter Text
Brendon locks the door quickly behind him, hoping no one saw him dash in here, even though that's not something he should be worrying about, because it's a party and people do that all the time at parties.
He looks at himself in the mirror, his black lace mask resting on his pale nose. He's wearing a collared shirt with puffy sleeves that have straps on them, and a vest on top. His pinstripe pants are starting to ride up; he adjusts them and fixes the tuck of his shirt. Undercover at a masquerade, this is a first.
Time to get to work.
Brendon checks the shower first, making sure no one is sleeping in the tub and then opening bottles of shampoo and body wash and conditioner and acne scrub to search for any contents that should not be in the plastic bottles. He lifts the bath mat and small rug on the bathroom floor to make sure they hide nothing. His fancy shoes click against the tiled floor as he shuffles around and works.
Next he checks the medicine cabinet, opening every bottle of pills and perfume and makeup (his fingers get dusty with eyeshadow) and peers in as he moves quickly and with precision. The cabinet is clean.
He lifts the rear lid of the toilet, swirling the water around a moment to make sure there isn't anything he can't see, and checks the lid itself quickly before closing it.
He makes sure to thoroughly scrub his hands after touching toilet water because ew and then returns to his search.
He makes sure the pomade sitting on the sink is empty before dropping to his knees and opening the cupboard underneath the sink.
He jolts at a knock on the door.
"C'mon man, people need to piss!"
Brendon regains composure before replying, "Sorry, I'll just be a minute!"
"Well hurry up!"
Brendon hurries up.
Toothpaste, he kneads his thumbs along the tube, bleach, screws open the cap and swirls it a bit while peering into it, dental floss, takes it apart to check and then reassembles it.
He's about to give up his search because there's another knock at the door.
"Come on, man! I'm about to piss right outside here!"
"That's not needed!" Brendon hurriedly says as he springs up to remove the plug from the sink and shine his flashlight down the pipes.
Brendon goes through his mental checklist and almost slaps himself at his obvious forgetfulness.
Only two more options.
He jiggles the grate for the air vent a little before it springs loose and Brendon once again shines his flashlight around before he frowns.
Only one more option, then.
The man on the other side of the door is banging incessantly, and Brendon worries he'll actually kick down the door.
He plants his ass firmly on the bathroom carpet, reaches behind him to clamp on the cabinet frame, and maneuvers himself under the sink.
Bingo.
Taped to the inner frame of the cabinet is a pill. Its shell is clear, the inside containing small grey granules with black flecks that sparkle in the light of Brendon's flashlight. And he can see it, a ripple in the tape the same size directly next to it, and Brendon knows there was another.
Brendon snaps on his latex glove and pulls out his camera phone.
He snaps a photo, using the flashlight as a proper lighting, and carefully removes the pill from the frame with his gloved hand, slipping it into an evidence bag he had stashed in his back pocket.
Brendon pushes a button on his phone and waits.
"Detective?" a tinny voice asks.
"It's her."
Suddenly there's sirens screaming everywhere, and Brendon is relieved and wants to laugh when the knocking stops.
~
"Victoria Asher, you are under arrest for murder, arson, with the suspicion of plans for another murder. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law," Brendon loses interest in what Greenwood is saying to the woman with dark hair and a peacock-designed mask and turns back to Mulligan.
"As I was saying, Detective, you're great. You're the best we've got. The state noticed this and now you're going to work on a case in Vegas. Dead prostitute."
Brendon raises a skeptical eyebrow. "But Boss, doesn't Vegas have, like, one case of them a day? What's the difference between this and all the others?"
Mulligan sighs. "You'll see. They had the BAU take a look, says it's got the red flags of a serial. You're in for a sight," Mulligan grimaces.
Brendon doesn't like the sound of that.
Mulligan gives Brendon a sympathetic slap to the back and grumbles, "Get some rest, you're leaving first thing in the morning. We have everything booked for you. You'll be asking around there for Ross." And with that, Mulligan leaves.
Brendon gives a resigned sigh and accepts coffee from one of the interns that tagged along with a bag of donuts, a stack of cups, and a pot of coffee, still steaming. He takes a sip and walks to his car.