theodora mcmystery

*obsessively researches*

[whodunnit-ktl]

Patton’s Plan

So far, rereading Kill The Lights, I kept wondering why Logan was called by Roman. Remy may have been a threat to Roman, but why did he call Logan that specific day? I mean, he could’ve called Logan before for whatever reason, but the fact that he brought Logan to Ego on that specific day should be noted. From there, theories started whirling around my head until this finally formed. Big thanks to @ the-golden-ratio0112358 for putting out this theory in the first place! I’m mainly working off their post, so check them out to see the original theory!

As established before, Patton obviously knew Thomas. However, looking back on previous chapters, we can see just how much of a connection they have.

Evidence:

Chapter 7

“No. At home. Some stupid accident . We didn’t know what happened until his body washed up.”  A hint of color appeared on his face, anger and grief painting his cheeks red until it was washed away by the gray, and he crumpled down with a sigh.  “I just miss him. A whole lot.”

(Thomas’ body was found washed up)

He loitered in Patton’s living room, flipping through a Macy’s catalog, palm-tree studded postcards from a Christian and a Shea, a note in a child’s careful, rounded letters thanking him for looking after her while her parents were out.  There were winter gloves under a thin layer of dust on a bookshelf, behind a Carson McCullers novel. The entire place was filled with meaningless bric-a-brac, side effects of a life well-settled.

Chapter 11

“Really?”  A note of heat crept into Patton’s voice.  “Is that what I’m supposed to do? Am I supposed to be honest when the police ask me just what type of establishment this is?  Am I supposed to be honest when Roman asks me if everything is alright? Am I supposed to be honest when people here need me to smile?  Am I supposed to be honest when I write to the godsons I have left and tell them that everything is fine? Am I supposed to be honest when things in this world are five seconds from falling apart, and everyone needs someone who at least looks like he’s holding it together?  Am I supposed to be honest with Virgil about how I feel, when I know how that will end?!”

Chapter 13

“I can’t wait for you to meet everyone,” Thomas bubbled, tugging Logan along by the hand through the heat of a July afternoon.  “You’ll love Shea – you’ve got the same terrible sense of humor – oh, and Christian!  I don’t even want to think about all the stories he’s going to tell you about me.  My mom is going to grill you, but it’s Aunt Patty you really gotta worry about–”

As soon as they crossed the spacious home’s threshold, they were met with cheers, and Thomas’s brothers practically tackled him, dragging him off with some complaints about how their godfather and cousin hadn’t been able to make it.

From all of this, it’s easy to deduce that Patton may be the godfather of Thomas, Christian and Shea. For incredibly-thought-out mysteries like Kill The Lights, the evidence is laid bare, but scattered as to confuse us readers. Now, back to my original question of why Roman asked Logan to come to Ego that day.

It was for Thomas. 

The murder was for Thomas. Patton and Roman were in on it. They brought Logan to see for himself that Thomas was avenged, but unfortunately, Logan didn’t realise what realise that avenging. Patton, I assume, is the one who pulled the wire and strangled Remy. As seen on one of my previous posts where I stated Patton wore gloves before Roman’s impromptu intermission, removing the gloves would have left no evidence of rope burn. As for Roman, I’d say that he was a red herring of sorts. Wanting revenge on Remy too, he joined in on the plot. That’s why he says that his heart wasn’t beating wildly due to him murdering Remy (Chapter 7), it was because he was covering up for Patton.

For this theory, I don’t think Virgil, Viper nor Dorian were involved. Virgil and Viper had valid alibis, Virgil working with the tech crew and Viper making out with someone (though we’re not sure if Logan checked those yet). Dorian’s confession on his love for Remy was too tender, too raw and pleading to be a lie. Even if it was, every good lie does require a nugget of truth, and this one’s is easy to see.

And so, that’s the theory! Big thanks once again to @the-golden-ratio0112358 for putting their incredible theory out to Tumblr! Let me know your thoughts and please tell me if I’ve missed anything!

@impatentpending

[shamelesslypoetic]

No Returns (1/3)

Summary: Roman, a luxury few can afford, likes to be fancy and spend more than his paycheck can take. Logan, his scientist boyfriend, is tasked with reigning him in. Virgil, his emo best friend who doesn’t want to be here, sends them off to the grocery store where they eventually fight, make up and make out.

Wordcount: 1.7k 

Pairings: Logince baybeee, two lines of background moxiety

Warnings: Cursing, sexual innuendos and vague referencing to the devil’s tango, unreliable narrator, Roman is a drama queen, lmk if I missed anything.

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Roman doesn’t have a problem.

It was all the suit’s fault anyway. Delicious tweed suit. Roman would have looked gorgeous in it and put Aphrodite to shame! It was even 50% off... but Logan. Annoying Logan, who constantly nagged about Roman’s spending, continued to haunt his mind and infringe on his agency. Roman was a grown man and he would decide how to spend his money! 

Yet here he was, crying and searching for his keys because Logan had a fucking point. The absolute bastard.

Roman might have a problem. 

Okay, so he had a little spending problem. So what? 

It still didn’t justify Logan being so harsh. 

Roman winced at the dramatization, steps going wobbly and uncertain. Logan had merely stated facts, abrasive, blunt facts. And the fact was Roman needed to start taking finances seriously. He shuddered at the thought.

The air pricked at Roman’s eyes and another tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away roughly, stifling a sob. Heels occupying one hand, the artist struggled to find the mark of his key in the door lock.

“You know, it’d be easier if you put the shoes down,” a voice of gravel rasped behind him. 

Roman whirled, disheveled as he was, to his roommate and best friend since college, Virgil Kahale. He turned up the slope of his nose in defiance. “These are Gucci.”

“Gucci makes shoes now?” 

Roman smeared a smile across his face, oily and uneven. “Para-less,” Virgil scowled at the nickname. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you back so soon?”

The other incarnation of workaholism smirked up at Roman from the porch stairs, placing an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. “Was worried about you. You left for work at 8 am, and I know you usually finish up at the studio around noon so when you didn’t call me back and I figured you stayed out I called our home phone later but you didn’t pick that up either and I thought…” Virgil dropped his arm, edging out of tension with a nervous laugh. “Actually, I don’t know what I thought.”

“That I wouldn’t look both ways when crossing the street out of sexual frustration?”

Virgil’s face contorted in horror, his moonlight gray eyes flashing. “Don’t!”

“Why? Is it because you’re throwing up or because you’re actually worried ‘bout me?” It came out warm, teasing, but the genuineness of Roman’s question held like a weight on his chest.

“Both,” Virgil said, drawing himself up and sighing as he unlocked the door. “You’re never the same when you and Logan fight.”

“Yeah, well, considering how many times I’ve had to drag you out of your room after one of your and Pat’s rows, that’s not saying much.”

“Ha-di-fucking-ha, Roman.”

“I’m serious!” Roman called, ambling his way through the apartment and trying not to slip on the wooden floorboards. The fishnet stockings covering his feet, the ones he’d worn for Logan a few nights before, were skin-tight and mildly uncomfortable. Roman told himself he still bothered to wear them because they made him feel pretty. But deep down, in the deepest depths of his heart, far far down, he knew the truth. They made him feel closer to Logan. The chemist’s hands had trailed them, had peeled them off of Roman’s skin inch by inch, adoring every revelation with wonderfully passionate, shaking fingers. 

Roman shook his head but his voice still quivered as he called to his roommate, “Did you get the champagne?”

“We have sweet sherry left over in the fridge.” 

“All time lowly!” Roman squawked. “What did we say, good wine is essential! Especially when I’ve fought with my darling love!” 

Virgil didn’t answer, too busy unloading groceries, all frugal and composed. Rude. Just rude. Hmph, maybe Logan should have chosen Virgil instead. They’re both misers. And damn it, Roman loved them both so much. 

“Ugh, whatever, I’ll pop back out and get some myself.” He slid out of his crop top in the middle of the living room. Virgil continued his sonnet of clacking cans and rustling rucksacks but Roman yammered on anyway. “And those chocolate truffles, cause they always help me feel better and maybe some smoked salmon, I’ve been craving it.” 

“Are you having a dinner party without me, dearest?” 

Roman froze, suddenly aware of his half-nakedness and not even the kind he’d felt on the street. Literally bare-chested this time, Roman turned around. Slowly.  

No. No this wasn’t happening. Roman was hallucinating. Logan could not be standing there, larger than life with his copy of Wuthering Heights and that all knowing smile Roman either felt like kissing or punching away. He wanted to do both. His body, however, was dead set on flinging Roman’s arms around Logan’s neck and whispering apologies and assuagements, amendments, promises, sweet nothings until they both forgot when and how the fight had started. 

“Son of a--!” The artist was saved by the divine power of the stubbed toe, mightily provided by Roman’s Lord and greatest fear, edge of the coffee table’s leg. 

“Virgil!” Roman screeched, holding his horribly injured foot, his life flashing by before him in a series of glaringly stupid and death-defying feats. He should have perished while saving someone from drowning or climbing a mountain. Not like this. “Virgil, what the hell!?”

Logan rushed over to Roman’s side, dropping the book at the table and helping ease him onto the couch. As Roman fanned his chest, recovering from the horror he’d faced, Logan crouched down, massaging the artist’s foot with the same concentration he’d solve a rubix cube. 

Roman melted internally, marvelling at a stray bouncing lock of Logan’s slicked-back black hair. He resisted the urge to tuck it back into place, prying his foot away. 

“I’m fine,” he meant to snap but his voice came out merely a coarse croak as ridiculous tears welled up in his throat again. 

“Thank heavens,” Logan muttered, but an edge of wryness held his voice and a ghost of a smile quirked his lips up. “I’d hate for you to be hurt, love.”

Virgil emerged from the shadows with a cup of coffee in hand, taking his sweet time getting into the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind, Sir sing-a-lot,” he said unceremoniously. “But since you weren’t planning on communicating your feels any time soon I took the liberty of asking Lo to come over.” Arching an eyebrow, his eyes glinted with wicked satisfaction. Roman was going to kill him. “No hard feelings, right?”

“I wouldn’t have hard feelings if you didn’t have them every time you were with Patton!” Roman shot back before starting, whirling to Virgil over the couch. “Wait, you, that whole spiel! You being worried about me!”

“If there’s one benefit to having anxiety, it’s knowing how to fake it,” Virgil intoned, darkly enough to be believable. 

The chemist looked between them. “Falsehood.”

“Was worth a shot,” Virgil took an impassive sip of coffee, pausing only to motion towards the pair with his mug. “You two, solve your issues.”

Roman made a beeline for Virgil’s room but the door slammed shut in his face. All well and good, he didn’t need imprisonment by posters and Tim Burton figurines adding to his misery. 

“Roman?” Logan’s voice rumbled behind him, stiffening the artist’s back. “I didn’t, I had no idea Virgil hadn’t informed you of my arrival...If you aren’t ready to talk…”

“You’re a terrible liar, mi corazon,” Roman turned to him with a sweetly mocking smile. “Much worse than Panic at the everywhere too.”

Logan held up a hand to Roman’s cheek, brushing it with his knuckles. “Can you blame a man for trying, my dear?” 

Roman’s eyes hardened even as he leaned into the touch. “I can blame you for many things, Logan.”

“And here I am at your feet,” Logan pressed closer, something about his smile triumphant in a way that made Roman want to argue. “This is me begging for forgiveness.”

“Why are you here?” Roman took a step forward, planting his hands on his hips. “What do you want, Logan?”

“You,” the chemist whispered. Roman hummed, eyes half lidded as he hid his face in Logan’s palm. In answer, a thumb delicately swept across his cheek. “And to help you sort out your finances.”

“You bastard!” Roman’s eyes snapped open and he sprung away, smacking Logan’s shoulder. “Sweet talking me like that and then you go and--” Amused eyes reinforced Roman’s annoyance and sharpened his voice. “Oh you’re impossible, a robot through and through! You emotionless, cut-throat, tweed suited businessman!”

Logan’s brows bumped along with a confused smile. “Tweed suit?”

“It was hideous!” cried Roman, throwing his arms up as the wretched suit flickered in his mind’s eye. Without any conscious input from him, his face stuffed itself into the chemist’s chest, into the steady thu-thump there. Grateful Logan didn’t visit the lab on Sundays because it always made him smell weird and medicinal like he’d just left a hospital, Roman let the chemist’s familiar oak wood and musky scent soothe him as he mumbled, “I mean, purple cuffs with a striped orange and olive suit? What were they thinking? Where is the fashion police?”

“Hey, guys?” Virgil’s head interrupted, popping out of his door. “I forgot to get some stuff on my way. Here’s a list.” He threw a crumpled ball in Roman’s general direction, giving him an excuse to leave Logan’s side without acknowledging it.

Grimacing as the artist managed to catch the list, Virgil flicked his hand. “And Princey, please put on a shirt before you poke someone’s eyeballs out.”

“Logan’s enjoying the view, aren’t you, babe?”

In response, Logan took off his coat and draped it around Roman’s shoulders. Roman glowered at him, meeting the coffee brown of his eyes in a huff and puff only to melt at the face he so loved and adored. He awoke then, recomposing his furious bravado. “Fine then!” he said to Logan’s upturned brows, the know-it all expression that made Roman feel like Logan knew everything that went through his head. He made for the door, swaying his hips as he walked. “If you guys don’t appreciate me maybe someone out there will!”

Bet they didn’t see that one coming! Ha!

“No!” The two said at once in the same horrified tone, lurching forwards slightly. 

Roman gave a smug smirk, letting the coat fall off his shoulders as he sprinted to his room and threw the closet wide open. Dresses of silk, crop tops of satin and tulle accordion skirts stared back at him matter of factly. Ugh! He had absolutely nothing to wear!

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A/N: Have honestly been putting this off for such a long time. For various reasons, a. formatting on Tumblr sucks and b. anxiety :D but it’s here now. The first part of my shopaholic Roman fic. I’m really proud of this so I hope ya’ll like it. Reblogs are appreciated and I adore any and all comments! Ask to be added to the tag list. I hope the words are treating you well whether you’re reading or writing them!

Tag list: @ace-corvid @drown-in-lava-choke-on-rubies @ymmm-someone @seouqi

[whodunnit-ktl]

not ktl-related but this is such a fun story to read!

[whodunnit-ktl]

How did Thomas die?

In Kill The Lights’ newest chapter, we have been given so much more information about Thomas. From how he may have worked at one of Remy Salem’s oil rigs to how he disappeared, one question lingers in my mind.

How did Thomas die?

This might seem like an easy question at first. Well, I thought so too. After all, we are given these lines:

Thomas was floating just off the shore, face up.

Dead.

So, he drowned? Then, why does his body only appear now? He disappeared and yet, only when the oil rigs have exploded, we find his body. It could be chalked up to Logan only going to the oil rigs when it exploded, but someone would have noticed the body, or the ocean could have just washed it away. There are three main theories in my mind for Thomas’ death:

He really did drown, which only begs the question, why?

He died in the explosion, but where would he have been?

He died before the explosion, his kidnapper murdering him.

All of these theories only beg the question of why. If he really did drown, which I doubt, why was his body found so late? Why was it not washed up? Why was there no mentions of workers hearing cries for help? From what we know, Thomas would have had plenty of worker friends due to his charismatic nature, and one of them would have at least been with him. Evidence against this also lies in Chapter 13:

If Thomas had slipped from one of the riggings and fallen into the ocean below, the current would’ve taken him westward, but if he had swam against it, he could’ve been swept south-west, or perhaps he had gone out with the rip tide or had been wrapped up in the tendrils of a jellyfish or –

If he died in the explosion, that only begs the question of where he was. He couldn’t have been anywhere in the oil rig with workers, so there must have been a space where he could have been trapped. I don’t know much about oil rigs, but I think it’s safe to say that he could have been trapped somewhere there by his kidnapper.

Finally, the theory of him dying before the explosion. This one is particularly plausible to me, simply for these series of lines:

“You’re not allowed to get a case before me, Thomas,” Logan said tartly, then paused when he saw the look in the other man’s eye.

“Are you quite serious?”

“I mean, why not?”  Thomas shrugged.  “Wouldn’t even be that hard.  Sneak into a few roped off areas, swipe a few files.”

“I see,” Logan mused, then, eyes widening: “Can you imagine what a debuit that would be?  If we were able to expose such an example of obvious corruption–”  He cut himself off, abruptly, adjusting his glasses.  “Well, that would be illogical, I suppose.  It’s hardly worth the risk to you and your livelihood.”

“Sap,” Thomas accused, gently knocking their shoulders together.  “Careful, Mr. Detective.  Your cool-guy persona is slipping.”

“I mean it, Thomas.”  Logan frowned.  “I’d like you to promise me you won’t push the matter any further.”

“Alright, alright.”  Thomas held his hands up, placating, and flashed a smile.  “I won’t do anything stupid, Logan.  I promise.”

As it turned it, he did.

Thomas did do something stupid. He did push matters further. It wouldn’t be unrealistic to say that Thomas could have tried exposing the oil rig, got caught, and murdered.

Side note, speaking of the oil rig, my previous theory of Thomas working at Remy’s oil rig brought me back to Dorian Arya. Bit of a stretch, but being stuck in quarantine makes your brain a little more mushy than usual. 

Dorian turned to him with a wicked smirk.  “I’ve got a very clever tongue, as I’m sure you’ll get the chance to find out. Remy found himself in scandals; I told everyone it was a bum rap, dragged him out, and got paid. Pure gravy.”

A scandal, hm?

Let me know what you guys think!

@impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

Was Remy Thomas’ Boss?

Okay, so bear with me here, this theory has one piece of evidence that definitely confirms it.

We know that Remy is an oil businessman from the get-go:

“Remy Salem. CEO of Salem Oil.”  He ignored the hand and swept into the private room, melting into a plush seat.  Remy looked up and arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to take a seat?”

And that Thomas used to work in an oil rig:

Thomas sighed and shuffled around, resting his head in Logan’s lap.  “Whatever fat cat owns the rigs is working us double time.”

But the piece of damning evidence is only a few lines away from the evidence above:

“Rich jerk.” Thomas wiggled his way more firmly into Logan’s lap, sighing.  “Sayles, or Salesa, or... or something like that.  We’ve been working nine hours straight, and I swear half the safety riggs are falling apart.  I saw some pipes leaking, too.”

Rich Jerk? Guy with a last name similar enough to Sayles or Salesa?

That’s Remy Salem, right there. Now, the only question is, why was this connection given? Why did it matter how Remy owned the oil rig Thomas worked at?  Could it be how he was partially responsible for Thomas’ death? Let me know your thoughts!

@impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

Case File #2: Virgil Avery

Physical Features:

·       Tallest of the squad at 6′2″

·       Close-cropped hair

·       Fairly muscular, like a boxer

·       Gray suit with a purple tie

 Alibi:

·       “…I was backstage the whole time. I’m sure you can get a bunch of techies to confirm my story, or whatever.”

·       Status: Untested

 Motive:

·       Most likely to protect someone

·       Strained relationship with Remy, had tryst the night before:

“And your most recent tryst had been when?” “The night before.  I met him in his box after the show.”

 Means:

·       Has chance to pull out piano wire, as it would not be suspicious for him to be hanging around the piano

·       Strong enough to knock Remy unconscious

Extra Facts:

·       He reclined languidly, crossing one leg over the other, and became aware of the distinct feeling of eyes on him.  Casually, he tilted his head from one side to the other, as if to crack his neck. There. In the darkened hallway leading to the booths, Dorian Arya was watching him. Logan forced a smile and nodded cordially, but the other man didn’t return his greeting. The private eye frowned, realizing Dorian’s eyes were trained somewhere over his head. He slowly stretched around to see Virgil Avery stationed against the wall behind him, glaring back at Dorian with something unreadable in their expression. Before Logan could draw any conclusions, the lights flared dramatically, and Dorian made to go down the hallway, hesitated, and sat in the back of the showroom, disappearing in the crush of people. Virgil entered a door hidden behind the thick velvet curtains and disappeared.

·       There was an echo to his footsteps as he traversed down the long, dark hallway and Logan sighed.  “Are you going to utter ‘hello’, or do you merely intend on striving after me?”

·       They shrugged. “I haven’t seen anyone come out this way since the show ended.”

·       “I gotta get everyone out of here,” they muttered.  “When the police get here… everyone is in danger.”

·       “That’s crippling anxiety for you,” Virgil muttered, wiping their shaking hands on their pants.  They couldn’t quite detach their gaze from the corpse in the middle of the room, dark eyes wide and wild.  “Frick, I gotta…” They swallowed. “Patton. I’ll go get Patton. He’ll know what to do.”

·       “I hardly see anyone else stepping up to the plate,” Logan drawled.  “By which I mean a metaphorical baseball plate, not a literal plate like the one smashed on the ground over there.” Sure enough, a crystalline platter lay in pieces a few feet from the shelves of liquor.  Virgil glanced at it briefly before reluctantly muttering a “fine” and holding their hands out for inspection. Virgil’s hands were broad and long, much like the person themself.  Their nails were short and blunt, clipped with ruthless efficiency. Their skin was almost as dark as Viper’s, with no scrapes or cuts whatsoever.  Logan experimentally ran a finger down their palm, revealing calluses.

·       Virgil stared at him for a long, long moment.  “I’m not telling you a damn thing, Mr. Sul.” They crossed their arms and leaned back.  “Not because I think anyone did it but some lunatic off the streets, but because I hope you fail.  I hope you can’t find a single thing, I hope you crash and burn, and I hope you rot.” They smiled, vicious.  “Understood?”

·       “Not by strangling him, that’s for damn sure!” they snapped.  The two stared at each other for a moment before Virgil deflated, relaxing his shoulders and turning their head.  “Sorry, that was… uncalled for.” They sighed, leaning back in the rickety chair. “Look, I didn’t like Remy, and I sure as hell wasn’t happy with what was happening with him, but I didn’t kill him.  I was back stage the whole time. I’m sure you can get a bunch of techies to confirm my story, or whatever.”

·       Something wasn’t adding up.  Roman had lied, sure, but there was something more. Why did he need to get rid of Mr. Salem so badly? Who had Virgil been talking about?  Where was the damn handkerchief? How much did Patton know about? How hadn’t he seen though Roman’s act?  What was the deal with Dorian? Did Viper have anything to do with -

·       They pulled away from the brick wall, strolling over to Logan with their hands swinging loosely, easily by their sides.  “I’ve been doing a little thinking, and, while I’m no private eye, I did come up with something pretty interesting.” They were taller than Logan, standing like that.  Logan fought down the instinct to take a step backwards as Virgil stopped, far too close for comfort. “Me, Patton, Roman, Ms. Salem… Mr. Arya.  See a connection there?” “Besides having untested alibis, motive, and means?”  Logan raised his jaw defiantly. “Or is there something else I’m missing, Mx. Avery?”

·       “I didn’t see you during our… impromptu intermission.” Logan started.  “I went looking for Roman!” “Untested alibi,” Virgil replied. Logan’s amber eyes flashed. “I just wanted to check if he was okay.” “Motive,” Virgil shot back. “Would you stop that!”  Logan snarled, rage firing up like the spark of a match. He had his arm halfway back before he came into his senses. Their eyes both moved to Logan’s clenched fist. “Means,” Virgil said softly. Logan let his hand drop to his side, suddenly drained and pale.  “What the hell do you want?” He flexed and unflexed his hand at his side, as if to check he was still in control of it.

·       Roman and Virgil were having a silent conversation, made entirely of twitching eyebrows and narrowed eyes.  Neither of them seemed satisfied with the conclusion.

·       “That’s a bum rap,” Virgil snarled, dark eyes flashing.  “Roman would never do something like that. Why would he even–”  They broke off, shaking their head. “You’re a damn liar.”

·       “Why would it have been though?”  Viper snapped back as Logan followed the voices through the twisting, turning curves of the club’s backstage.  “Wouldn’t it have been more convenient to kill him somewhere else?” “Not necessarily,” Virgil drawled.

·       “I’m going to tell you a secret, Mr. Sul. I didn’t like Remy, not at first. He was just some rich jerk that showed up, unprompted, and tried to act like the world owed him something.  Especially towards Virgil. He was awful. He’d always call them a ‘he’. They’d have these awful screaming matches about it, especially after the two of them got together. 

“I’m next,” Virgil deadpanned, “but don’t worry.  We’ll get to why you’re such a drip in a jiffy.” Roman stifled a snort, and Dorian bristled, straightening up, ignoring Viper’s murmur of ‘simmer down, Arya’. “Oh, does the kitty-cat have their claws out?”  Dorian’s mouth twisted into a cruel smirk.  “I thought Specs had you too clobbered to do anything but purr.” “The hell is your damage, Arya?”  Virgil demanded, hands clenched at their side, stalwartly not looking at Patton.  “You didn’t used to have it out for me like this.” Dorian’s face stayed carefully smug.  “Too much personality in one place.  Bound to make anyone antsy.”

There was a cacophony of noise all at once – Viper, rising from her chair and demanding to know why, Patton, frantically asking if everything was alright, Dorian, throwing back his head and laughing, Virgil, snapping that if he wasn’t handling the case, the police would, and they all knew how that would end up going.

“What the hell are we supposed to do about the pigs, then?”  Virgil snapped.  “They’re not just going to magically forget about Remy.”

@impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

Case File #1: Roman Torres

Physical Features:

·       On the shorter side, about 5′5″

·       Dark brown skin, eyes, and fluffy hair

·       Always wearing makeup with lots of red lipstick

·       Soft, innocent face with high cheek bones

·       Hourglass figure

 Alibi:

·       Roman demurred, blinking those long, thick eyelashes.  “Technical difficulties, just like Patton said. I had a little trouble with my costume.”

·       Status: Weak

 Motive:

·       To prevent blackmail: There was a reason Remy had been able to blackmail Roman.  There was a reason the singer’s voice strained up by nature but kept low by choice.  There was a reason he stiffened when Logan’s hands teased the edge of his waistband, why he was careful to never let his chest press against Logan’s.

·       Question: Why does Remy want to blackmail Roman?

It can’t be because of Remy wanting Roman, mainly because of this: “Oh, he wasn’t Roman’s gentleman caller, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Patton corrected gently.  “I mean, I saw Roman go into his box a few times, but never long and only rarely.”

UPDATE: “There weren’t any,” Roman said, softly.  “He didn’t want anything.  I think he just liked knowing he could ruin me at any second, having me smile at him even when I just wanted to–”  Roman cut himself with a shuddering breath.

·       Rebuttal: “Of course I didn’t!”   Roman threw up his hands.  “Why would I hire you and then murder him on that same day? I would hope you think more of my intelligence than that.”

 Means:

·       Has chance to pull out piano wire, as it would not be suspicious for him to be hanging around the piano

·       Question: Why would he point out the missing piano wire then?

“And the piano’s broken again,” Roman chimed in. “I think one of the keys is busted.” 

Extra Facts:

·       “Good authors, too, who once knew better words,” he purred, leaning his torso, encased in a white shirt with golden rope accents, against the wall, “now only use four lettered words.”

·       Slowly, discreetly, he nodded - five hundred micrometers of acknowledgement of this bond between them.  “Anything goes.” It sounded almost like a warning.

·       The music managed to quell the crowd until, perhaps five minutes later, Roman sauntered back onto the stage, smirking.

·       “No rope burn,” Logan noted.

·       “Let me illustrate for you, Mr. Torres, the specifications of this ‘bad business’. You had Mr. Salem accused of a false conviction and put a renowned private eye on his case, so obviously you wanted him out of the way somehow.  A scandal, a conviction, a death sentence-” Roman made a noise of protest, but Logan silenced him with a snarl. “-you wanted him out of your way. Why? He was a threat to you somehow.”  Logan pulled back, tugging at his tie and pacing the small dressing room.  “You couldn't have minded his patronage; Mr. Parker himself said you call get paid because your employment is obtaining people's affections.”  A dark shadow crossed over Logan's face. “As I so unwittingly discovered.” “Logan, please-” Roman held his hands out beseechingly, but Logan knocked them aside. “I wasn't finished!”  He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair, trying to calm himself. “As I said, Mr. Salem was a threat to you. It can't be because of your employment here, because any member of the audience could unveil you as a… bent person.  No, he had something else. Something that made him dangerous.”

·       “I didn’t kill him,” Roman breathed.  “I swear to you I didn’t.” “Your heart is racing,” Logan said, pressing his fingers deeper into the side of Roman's neck and watching his eyes dilate.  “You're lying.” Roman shook his head and responded breathlessly.  “Trust me, Mr. Sul. That's not the reason.”

·       “Wouldn’t it have been more convenient to kill him somewhere else?” “Not necessarily,” Virgil drawled.  “Public spaces and all that.” “Exactly!”  Roman’s voice was triumphant.  “He was big into oil and all that, right?  You can get a ton of enemies whenever you’re in a dangerous business, and those rigs blow up all the time.”

·       Roman could’ve worn this, as he secreted a piano wire into his pocket.  Roman could’ve worn this, as he crept through the twisting maze of backstage, towards that rusty door.  Roman could’ve worn this, as he snuck behind Remy Salem, looped a wire around his neck, and began to pull.

·       “It’s rather queer,” Logan heard someone behind him murmur to their companion.  “He never used to sing so many love songs.”

·       “No,” Roman bit out, knotting a scarf around his neck with a vicious sort of single-mindedness.  “I'm saying you wouldn't like me if you knew everything about me.”

·       “You didn’t always hate Remy Salem, didn’t you?  You must’ve liked him at first, thought him charming, even.  Must’ve gotten close enough for him to find out about whatever secret you’ve been keeping so close to your chest.  Can’t imagine how much it shook you when he sidled up to you with a cruel smile and made his demands.” “There weren’t any,” Roman said, softly.  “He didn’t want anything.  I think he just liked knowing he could ruin me at any second, having me smile at him even when I just wanted to–”  Roman cut himself with a shuddering breath. “Regardless,” Logan continued, and he found he couldn’t look at Roman, not without giving everything away.  “You had a problem, then.  Someone held everything you had worked for, what you had dedicated your life to, over the fire, and as soon as he got bored, he’d drop it and let it all burn. You couldn’t let that stand.  So you came up with a plan, didn’t you?” He let himself smile then, a cold and joyless stretching of lips.  “You’re so clever, Mr. Torres,” he said softly. “More clever than you ever want anyone to know.  You practice with the band every day, and you can know each and every song they play in advance.  It wasn’t hard to tell which piano keys wouldn’t be pressed.  You play it yourself, after all, so no one would think it strange to see you pouring over the sheet music, slipping your hands beneath the cover.  Or maybe you did it earlier in the day, so no one would even see you.  Either way, there was a string in your pocket, and a neck to twist it around.” “Logan–” Roman started, helplessly, but Logan barreled on. “But you knew the police would come if someone like Remy Salem died, and you wouldn’t do that to Patton and Virgil.  So you needed someone else, someone the police had worked with before, someone they would be willing to hoist the case off onto and still placate the media that the case was in good hands.  Maybe you saw me in the newspaper, or heard someone talking about me, but either way, you had that poor sucker you could twist onto his head, until he couldn’t tell left from right.  I don’t know if you knew of my inclinations or not, but by the time you left this office, me trailing behind you, you knew exactly what you do to me. “You spun a pretty story about a stalker, about how scared you were, how I was the only one who could save you, so by the time I bothered to look past your red lips, I wouldn’t even see how wicked that smile of yours is.  You showed me around, gave me a room full of people I could pretend killed him instead, and in between songs, you slipped through that rusting door.  Maybe you lifted the keys from Patton earlier, or maybe you just used that smile to convince a worker to leave it unlocked, but either way, you had greased the hinges and slipped through. “Remy was sitting with his back to the door, smoking a cigarette or sipping a glass or whisky and generally looking bored with the world.  The floors were thick carpet, so he didn’t even hear  it when you crept up behind him.  He didn’t realise anything was wrong until you wrapped that wire around his neck and started squeezing.  He tried to scream, but you twisted even tighter.  He struggled to his feet, and that wasn’t part of the plan, at all. You wrestled with him, but he was so much taller than you, and he staggered out of the chair, crashing into that pretty crystal plate and smashing it against the floor.  But it was too late at that point.  He fell to his knees, and you kept squeezing. “You didn’t know how long it takes for someone to suffocate.  So you squeezed and squeezed, trembling, just like you are now, until you heard murmuring, and you looked through that one-way mirror to see that you’d been gone for the longest time.  You left him there, slipped the wire back into your pocket, and sped through those twisting, turning corridors until you were back on stage. Smiling and beautiful and a killer.”

·       “Oh?” Logan smiled a shark’s grin. “Then why don’t you still me where you really were during that impromptu intermission?” Roman, trembling, dropped into the chair across the leather chair across from Logan.  His eyes were obscured by a mass of dark brown hair and his hands were shaking. He said nothing. “Look at us.  It’s just like the first time you came here, isn’t it?” Logan smiled at him, a bittersweet flickering of the lips.  “We were talking about your ‘stalker’, only I was thinking of your lips, and you were thinking of murder.”

 Note: 

Great possibility that he is a red herring, as why would the author lay it all down like this?

@impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

Does Patton have a connection to Thomas Sanders?

With the newest chapter of Kill the Lights, so much new info has flooded in! However, since the chapter opens with Thomas, I thought this post should be about him!

There’s been a few pieces of dialogue that points to Patton having some sort of connection to Thomas, perhaps even being close to him!

Evidence:

Chapter 7: “No. At home. Some stupid accident. We didn’t know what happened until his body washed up.”  A hint of color appeared on his face, anger and grief painting his cheeks red until it was washed away by the gray, and he crumpled down with a sigh.  “I just miss him. A whole lot.”

Chapter 9: “–well, kiddo, Thomas always said–”

Chapter 10:  “Oh, that’s true.” Patton nodded emphatically as the two rounded the corner into the main room. “When I was in Florida, I heard about this kiddo who went missing for weeks on one of those things.”

Chapter 13:

Thomas was floating just off the shore, face up. Dead. 

Thomas sighed and shuffled around, resting his head in Logan’s lap.  “Whatever fat cat owns the rigs is working us double time.”

This could just be circumstantial evidence, but if it’s been planted throughout all the chapters like this, there has to be some sort of purpose in these. Let me know what you guys think!

@impatentpending

[shamelesslypoetic]

Not Today, Logic!

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairings: Blink and you’ll miss it dukexiety. Logince, could be read as one-sided but I think of it as returned ;)

Warnings: Embarassment, some self-deprecating thoughts, vague ending, Roman being a gay train wreck you can't look away from

-----------------

‘Fashionably late’ was Roman’s latest statement these days and though Logan didn’t necessarily like it Roman thought he must still have some sense of agency against the increasingly hindering crush he’d developed in the past few months. 

Right now, however, he couldn’t help but agree as he ran out of theatre practice to the cafeteria, desperately trying to catch some time with Logan before his next class. His heart pounded in his chest, skin prickling with nerves as he glanced down at his wrist and promptly disregarded the clock, it was all gibberish and he only wore it because Logan had got it for him anyway.

The bustling cafeteria pulled the theatre loving geek in with all its colorful chatter and smiling faces, the laughs behind them bubbly and inviting. 

This school was his home, and had been for as long as he could remember. 

Still, in favor of finding some random group to hang out with, his eyes scanned around the crowded spaces for one person in particular, bumping shoulders good-naturedly and ignoring a scowl here, a biting retort there until he finally  found his target.

The impossibly cute and endearingly rambly Logan, sitting alone in a far table with his closed fist propping his cheek up and a book open in front of him, had his eyes closed. Roman’s heart swelled at the sight, workaholic stupor having forced the object of his affection into an unplanned nap. Logan always pushed himself to such states and then some. That determination and sharp intelligence etched itself across the bruised quality of his amor’s eyelids and it was enough to knock Roman off his balance. He sank into the bench and started yammering away to quell the force of the longing inside him. 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty!” Roman trilled loudly, the arm sliding against the table pushing a food tray away as he bumped the other sophomore’s shoulder. 

Logan started, letting out a very dignified yelp as his eyes snapped open and his shoulders rose in alarm. 

“Hold on, your glasses are smudged,” Roman noted, squinting. “Lemme just...” He raised his hands up as Logan barely had time to turn and took the glasses off his face. He delicately held it between his hands, words pushing out of him in a flurry far too passionate for the present situation, especially seeing as one of the would-be participants of the conversation had yet to manage a word in the wake of his crazed Chemistry partner.

“Ro-Roman?” 

Roman blabbed on, acutely aware of his companion and trying not to show it with every ounce of his Disney adoring being, going off, piling on the words blocking his ‘I love you’ from exploding out of him. “Classy guys such as yourself can’t be seen like that, no siree.” Roman trained his gaze on the thick-rimmed square frames in his hands rather than the strong tea brown that typically looked through them. 

“Roman?” Logan said again, impatience trickling into his voice of elegant fountain pens on parchment paper. 

“But don’t worry I gotcha,” Roman continued a train of thought from earlier that he was sure his chemistry partner hadn’t quite caught as he cleaned the lenses, but the glittering sing-song coming out of him just wouldn’t stop. “Nerds gotta look out for each other, right Lo? Of course I’m right who would you possibly sacrifice this ravishing company for--”

Logan persisted, “Roman!”

Roman turned his head as he let go of the edge of his shirt, “Whaaaat?” His drawl broke off into a flustered noise between confusion and awe as he fully alighted on the bare face and the slightly skewed necktie. “Whoa-uh...”

“Roman you startled me!” Logan said but Roman wasn’t listening, too lost in sharp edges and a jawline spawned from a knight’s sword, accented by arching, sweeping eyebrows and perfect, dark eyes. The wannabe actor’s breath caught in his throat as his mouth fell open and an itching blush quickly creeped up his nose. His hand trembled in pure gay disaster style as he took in the exasperated face in front of him once more, eyes hungrily tracing every dimension as if he could learn all the edges, as if he could fold the memory into his brain to call it whenever he wanted if he stared long enough. And yet, he was afraid if he got any closer like he so wanted to that wherever his skin touched the other’s it would come away hot and colored bright crimson. Just like the blush across his face. 

Logan gave Roman a weird look as he felt his face redden, wordless in stark contrast to the way he’d just been chatting away with all the conviction of a hummingbird that somehow managed to learn human dialect.

“Why are you staring?” he asked, a hand cautiously coming to Roman’s arm. “Is there something on my face?”

Roman didn’t answer, far too transfixed and a note of worry knotted the other’s words, the elegant, incredibly sophisticated voice all Roman could now hear. Everything else, the chatter, the bustle, fell muffled under Logan’s melodic words, all but white sound to the theatre enthusiast.

“Roman?” Logan said again and tightened his hold on the boy’s arm, the feverish skin underneath poking out from the cuff of his letterman jacket’s sleeve. 

Logan slid his hand down to check Roman’s roaring pulse and a rolling shiver coursed through Roman the way the cool assured hands felt holding him. It was too much. The press of skin without any space to spare, the absent sweeping of Logan’s thumb, the way it fit so perfectly on Roman’s vien as if it were already carving out a place there. Too much for Roman’s frail gay heart. 

Before the older of the two sophomores could say anything more, his glasses shot across the air and Roman slapped them onto his face with a force that had Logan reeling backwards, hold on the other faltering as he sputtered, “Ah!” he gave a sharp cry, blinking rapidly. 

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

The word Logan would normally never use for its rudeness escaped him by his temper and Roman finally stirred which was arguably worse than the state of frozen horror as his mind chanted shit shit shit shit! and the frantic, uneven thu-thump carried on against his ribcage. 

“I, I gotta go!” he stammered, grabbing his bag from the bench and neglecting the unicorn notebook falling from it. 

Logan stared at him, a purple blossom  appearing on the slope of that perfect pointed nose, hitching Roman’s breath as he held onto his bag’s strap.

“Sorry, Specs, I’d love to stay but I’m gonna be late for my next class at this rate, and not even fashionably so!” 

Shut up, shut up! The last of his common sense hissed as he backed away, bumping his hip against the table and wincing more at Logan’s incredulous face than the impact. “Love these get-togethers, babe!” OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE! 

Roman could see it now, the hole he’d dug himself, gaping wide in the middle of a graveyard where he’d soon be put out of his ineloquent misery and then buried, never to be seen embarrassing himself again. “O-Okay, see you around, bye!”

He ran, because really what else could Roman have done, when all compliments and flattery drifted from him every time he found himself in front of someone so damnably handsome, when he was confronted by feelings he normally only mimicked? 

So, blind and deaf to all around him, his feet carried him to the Chemistry lab, early for once. The Chemistry lab! 

Roman mentally prepared his will, his plushies would go to Princess and his writings would be published with not an extra edit and he’d have to tell someone to apologize on his behalf for teasing the emo in seventh period about his crush on his twin: Remus. Who would have nothing, because he’s a stinky bastard.

Roman steeled himself with little more than sheer pride as he took a seat. But then he ended up folding his arms on the metal desk and putting his head down. He pretended to sleep for the whole period. 

Which is not to say that his skin didn’t warm as Logan took his place beside him, that he didn’t want to apologize for such stupid behaviour, that when Logan told him -- “Sorry, for, for yelling at you back there, I can have the worst temper and you...you tend to...exaserbate that.” -- he didn’t sheepishly smile but none of it mattered, not even when Logan slid the notebook toward him with a whispered, “You forgot this.” 

Why? Because he was a coward. For all his bravado and pomp, he was an utter fool for Logan and a coward on top of it.  

He’d tell him in time. He’d tell him pretty poetry and have flowers in his hands, he’d scour the shops for Logan’s outlandish favourite of gladiolus and preferably also take him out somewhere nice, that new diner perhaps or stargazing in that meadow on the outskirts of town. He’d tenderly hold his face and ask if that’s okay and then he’d lean in and kiss him, slow and sweet, chaste and gentle. A bit far reaching and maybe even presumptuous. But feigning sleep gave plenty of time to daydream.  

One day Roman would tell Logan that it was his own otherworldly looks that turned his dramatic classmate into a bumbling, savage mess. But not today. 

Today, Roman would apologize. And that would have to be enough somehow. 

-----------------

A/N: Another one based on art by @sleepy-starling because I'm unoriginal. Hope you like it and that the words are treating you well whether you're reading or writing them! ^^

[whodunnit-ktl]

unrelated to kill the lights but this story is so so amazing!!

[whodunnit-ktl]

Viper’s Alibi

There’s a mention of Viper’s alibi as her being with a member of the sound crew:

“If you must know, I was preoccupied at the time with a rather delightful member of the sound crew.”  Her lips curved derisively, hands a blur as they fiddled with that pen - together, apart, together, apart.  “You’d be welcome to confirm it, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch her name.”

Considering that there is currently only one worker that we know of using female pronouns:

“Not all gentlemen,” Patton corrected gently, setting down the plate of cookies on the stage.  “Patricia, the one with the pretty braids, is a woman, and Omar doesn’t like being referred to with pronouns.”

Just a fun little fact I found! Let me know your thoughts!

#killthelights #quarantine @impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

Theory #1: Logan is the killer

I’m split over this theory, with the amount of evidence pointing against it and the amount of evidence hinting at it. In stories the author has written before, they have hidden clues and little tidbits that point to a certain character. For this one, the clues we have is mainly made up of implications/suspicions, though they are admittedly strong ones.

1. Both Dorian and Virgil Have Suspected Him

Those two have raised strong points about Logan that point to him being the murderer.

As Virgil has stated in Chapter 7:

In Chapter 12, Dorian says this:

They both remind us that Logan is going along unchecked, that while we were told in the very description of this story that there were only 5 suspects, the very man we’re seeing the story through may not be as transparent as we thought. Dorian even says this in a line that can be translated as breaking the fourth wall:

“Because you’re the most reliable narrator of your own biased accounts. Totally trustworthy, I’m sure.”

He’s reminding us that Logan is narrating this story through his own biased accounts and thoughts. That he may not be the most reliable narrator, and we’ve seen more than enough evidence throughout the story that Logan is possibly an unreliable narrator. His traits also provide enough evidence to push him towards being a top suspect.

2. Untested Alibi, Motive and Means

Logan has an untested alibi that did pass my eye when I first read Chapter 4. Re-reading it with the goal of finding clues led me to this:

We readers don’t know what happened that caused Logan to slip out of his chair in the first place. We didn’t even know that he wasn’t out of the chair that whole intermission. We only have his word during his and Virgil’s conversation, and it’s established that Logan has and can lie. There’s even been mentions of him having a habit of it with Roman!

However, his motive isn’t that strong. It has been mentioned throughout the story that love can cause you to do reckless things, but he’s barely known Roman. The raw attraction is there, yes but is that attraction strong enough to push him to kill Remy?

Finally, there’s his means. Logan has a history of violence, which we’ve already seen so many times in the story. He can act impulsively with violence, so there is certainly a means. The only question is, how did Logan get the piano wire? It would’ve been suspicious for him to be so near a piano like that, and he wouldn’t have been able to do it during the intermission, with the piano player taking requests.

3. Why?

A main question nagging me is how or why Logan would keep the investigation going. True, it could be used to throw off suspicion off, but there is this specific line that throws that thought off:

Did he black out during the intermission and just filled in the blanks afterwards? There’s not exactly an explanation for when or how he did it, especially since we’re there with him for a good portion of the mystery.

So, did Logan kill Remy? It’s hard to say, and I am still split on it. Evidence is hidden well, which does point it to being him, but there are way too many holes in this theory. I’ll post a follow-up once the new chapter is up and if there’s any clues there. Let me know your thoughts and anything I missed!

#killthelights #quarantine @impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

alright so between the chapters 2 and 4, there’s one inconsistency I found particularly interesting:

Patton wore gloves in Chapter 2:

But where were they in Chapter 4?

This is what Logan does immediately after seeing Remy dead:

Considering the fact that Logan checked Virgil’s hands for rope burn and did the same to Patton later on, it’s plausible that this was the clue hinted at. That Patton is involved with the murder somehow since gloves can conceal their the rope burn. At the very least, it’s suspicious how his gloves suddenly disappear.

Let me know what you guys think, and Happy Easter everyone!

#killthelights #quarantine @impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

new clue!

#killthelights #quarantine @impatentpending

[whodunnit-ktl]

soo I guess quarantine boredom created this blog for researching who is the murderer/s in Kill The Lights?

#killthelights #quarantine @impatentpending