Chapter Text
"Good morning, beautiful!" Malcolm practically sang as he approached Detective Dani Powell with a smirk pressed to his lips. Rays of sunshine kissed her skin and made her doe-eyes sparkle. He knew how she'd react. Her cheeks would flare red and she'd struggle to look him in the eyes. The word had gotten under her skin in the best possible way. Ever since Malcolm had allowed his fantasy life with Dani—one where he'd curled next to her every night and pressed sweet kisses to her lips—to bleed into reality at the plastic surgery clinic, he'd taken every opportunity to make her smile.
After all, her happiness was the only sliver of light in his destructive wormhole of a life filled with violent nightmares and delusions.
Just as he'd predicted, Dani squinted her eyes, pressed her lips in a line, and her gaze fell to the floor. She moved her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words.
Then she did. "Good morning, Malcolm."
His name rolled off her tongue like heaven. Malcolm heard it for the first time at the precinct. At first, he convinced himself it must've been a concussion-induced product of his hyperactive psyche. But it wasn't. She'd called him by his name. Not Bright—a name he'd created to escape his father—but Malcolm.
"You look..." Dani studied his face, probably dissecting the dark bags under his eyes that seemed to linger like a bad tattoo. "Terrible."
Malcolm laughed. She hadn't meant it in a bad way. She was just worried.
He shrugged. "Well, not everyone can be as beautiful as you."
Dani's chest rose and stayed there. "Stop that."
"What?" He played stupid.
"You know what."
"Sorry, would you prefer something else, like gorgeous or stunning? Oh, maybe exquisite!"
She bit back a smile and shook her head. "Malcolm..."
There it was again. His name. A prayer on her lips.
A delightful warmth washed over his body and his heart fluttered like a tiny hummingbird. In a perfect world—one where Ainsley hadn't killed a man and slathered herself in pig's blood to get back at him for lying—he would've swallowed his pride and asked her to dinner. Or maybe a movie. Normal people stuff his therapist droned on about back when Malcolm's biggest concern was his serial killer father.
But covering up a murder for his sister wasn't exactly the definition of mundane.
Dani gestured him forward. "The case."
"Right, right." Malcolm threw his hands by his head. "Sorry. I guess I just got distracted." He considered calling her beautiful again, but decided against it. Words lost potency when they were overused and he cherished knowing he could make her blush any time he desired. "Insomnia will do that to you."
"You okay?" She asked, raising a brow.
"Yeah, just the usual nightmares. No big deal."
Malcolm regretted the words the second they left his mouth. He trusted Dani more than anyone in the world, but he hated when she worried about him. Her smile would vanish and be replaced by furrowed brows. He'd probably slaughtered the mood to shreds. It threw his stomach into knots and made him want to disappear.
"Well," Dani sighed, "I'm sure Gil has something extra twisted to cheer you up. And give me some new nightmares."
He chuckled, glad Dani hadn't allowed his slip to sour the conversation. It was easy talking to her. Laughter flowed freely and naturally.
Malcolm held the yellow tape for her to pass under and followed her up the steps of a cozy little pavilion at the center of the park.
J.T., Gil, and Edrisa were already surveying the body. Gil noticed them first.
"What do you have for us, Gil?" Malcolm chimed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dani bite back a smile.
He tilted his head, eyeing them from head-to-toe. "You two seem strangely...happy this morning."
"I don't know what you mean. I'm always happy when there's a murder!" Malcolm said in a desperate attempt to distract him from Dani's rosy cheeks. Several officers on site paused and gave him a funny look. "To solve. A murder to solve."
"Whatever you say, Bright." Gil sighed. He shot them a knowing glance, but didn't push further. "Meet Isaac Griffith. A twenty-six-year-old insurance broker engaged to be married in three days."
"Guess he won't be making it to the wedding," Dani said.
"Insurance broker, huh? Hopefully, he had life insurance..." Malcolm approached the corpse. Post-mortem rot had begun to set-in. The man's face had paled to a dull gray. "Cause of death?"
"Heart-attack! Or at least, that's what the killer would want you to believe." Edrisa turned toward him. "But a shard belonging to a shattered wine glass thrown over the side of the pavilion suggests otherwise."
Malcolm knelt beside her. "Hang on...is that—" He blinked a few times and inhaled deeply. "Almonds." A smile crept onto his face. Of course, he smelt like almonds.
"Bright, did you just...sniff the body?" Dani said from behind him.
"Why are we even surprised at this point?" J.T. chuckled.
"He smells like almonds!"
"Maybe he's trying out a new cologne?" Dani crossed her arms, challenging him the way she always did.
"No," Malcolm laughed, "there's only one thing that could make a body smell like that—cyanide. "
"You think he was poisoned?" Gil asked. "Using cyanide?"
Malcolm stood. "It's actually a lot easier to get your hands on than you'd think. In World War II, soldiers would carry suicide tablets containing cyanide to take upon capture to prevent leaking government secrets to the enemy. They were under the impression it'd be a quick and painless death because it only takes around five minutes for the chemical to shut down the lungs and stop the heart, but it's actually an agonizing way to die. Forty years ago in Chicago, seven people were killed because someone tampered with Tylenol capsules, lacing them with potassium cyanide. It's a solution commonly used in mining to separate gold from the ore."
Edrisa nodded. "In small amounts—like in apples—it's harmless, but large doses can be fatal. I bet I'll even find burns in the gastrointestinal tract once I cut this sucker open."
"But it isn't like ethylene glycol or sodium hypochlorite," Malcolm said. The team stared at him. "Chemicals found in everyday cleaning products like antifreeze and bleach. Those can take hours to kill someone. Whoever slipped cyanide into this man's drink wanted him to suffer."
"So, we're looking for, what? Someone who betrayed him?" Dani squinted her eyes and examined the body. "Someone who'd have access to cyanide without raising any red flags. Someone with a connection to mining?"
"Well, it could be anyone." He shrugged.
"That's very helpful, Bright, thank you." Gil's brow raised.
"No, no, I just mean that, traditionally, women are more likely to murder someone with poison than men are. We could be looking at an ex-girlfriend, a scorned lover, maybe an angry colleague or client—"
"What about an angry fiancé?" Dani uncrossed her arms.
Malcolm shot finger guns at her. "It's a strong possibility. This was meticulous and relaxed. Isaac didn't struggle. He trusted his killer enough to accept a late-night drink in the park. I think we're looking for a woman in her mid-to-late twenties. The fiancé would be a good place to start."
"Already on it. Helena Porter. She works as a dance instructor. Powell, take Bright to her studio just off of Broadway Street. J.T. and I will interview his colleagues. Edrisa, get to the lab and check for other signs of foul play."
"You coming?" Dani motioned at Malcolm.
"Right behind you, beautiful!" he grinned before he realized he hadn't said it in his head. He'd meant to say it in his head.
The entire team stared at them.
"I—uh...I mean—" He stumbled over his words the same way he did when he thought a landmine was about to go off in his face.
Gil crossed his arms.
J.T. snickered. "Wow."
Blood drained from Dani's face. She was staring at him. In private, the compliments had been nothing more than playful teasing. A delightful way to get under her skin and remind her she didn't need to be insecure. But now, in front of the team, it was serious. He'd called her beautiful—the equivalent of shouting his love from the rooftops—and then he stuttered over his words. There was no hope of recovery.
"Bright?" Gil almost smiled.
"Yeah, I—" His eyes darted around the park. "Beautiful weather today, right? I mean, it was supposed to rain but there's not a cloud in sight. That's rare in New York!"
Gil placed a hand to his forehead. "Just take our beautiful Dani and report back when you know where Helena Porter was last night. Who knows, maybe all those years of dance will finally pay off."
Malcolm mentally cursed. Gil was the only one he told about the five years he spent in ballet. The team would never let him forget about it. He'd be asked to plié and pirouette every waking second of the day.
"Dance?" Dani laughed, seeming to forget all about his slip-up.
Malcolm shook his head and followed her down the steps. "Yeah, ballet. My mother forced me into it as a child. It's no big deal."
"It's hard to believe you weren't more popular in high school."
"Alright, alright, get your laughs out now." He rolled his eyes, skipping beside her. "But one day it might come in handy."
She paused, stopping dead in her tracks. "How so? Are you gonna pirouette into the bad guy and knock him unconscious?"
"Ha-ha."
A strand of curly hair bounced by her eyes. He fought every instinct to brush it away with his fingertips.
"Better get going before Gil's on us for losing daylight. After you," he stared deep into her eyes before adding, "beautiful."
Like before, her cheeks flushed pink, Malcolm smiled, and a comfortable silence washed over them as he followed her to the N.Y.P.D.-issued cruiser.