"Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth."

Pablo Picasso

...

Fifteen long minutes later, a heeled woman with loose black knickers and a heavy briefcase walked down the halls, straight to the white door at the bottom, the one that belonged to Klein's flat.

She turned the knob and stepped inside, perplexed at the quietness inside the lurid room, which had been turned into a dismal and melancholic scenario.

The doctor was hoping to find the whole team chatting about the new facts and new pieces of evidence found. Instead, she discovered a slender silhouette of a pale blonde man, laying over a sofa, partially illuminated by a horrid purple light.

She got closer, adjusting her glasses to her tiny nose, slightly splattered by freckles, recognizing Jude in the shadows. She knew it was his flat, but she didn't expect to find him there. Not after what had happened. That was now a crime scene after all.

Perceiving the vicious smell of death, along with the yellow tapes blocking the door to the bedroom, her sweetest tone, like one of a mother, shrilled the room.

"Klein?"

She approached him carefully.

"Why are you still here?"

"He's dead Dr Gibbs."

"Who's dead Klein?"

"Didn't he tell you? Perhaps he feels guilty."

"Who feels guilty, what are you talking about? Are you OK?"

"Jorah. He's downstairs, hiding from me".

The young woman moistened her lips and sighed. It was usually the little, but constant arguments between Jude and the detective, due to Klein's strange temper, and Jorah's lack of patience; this time though it seemed something more serious.

"Who's dead Klein?"

Gibbs had answered Jorah's phone call a few minutes ago, and all he said was: "The painter is back. Meet me at Klein's the quicker you can".
She was about to go to bed when she received the call but dressing up quickly, she managed to reach Klein's flat in 15 minutes.

The blonde detective didn't answer her question. Instead, he made a gesture that invited her to go, and find out by herself.

Shattering the yellow tapes she opened the door and entered the bedchamber, as the sudden smell of chemicals and death took over her lungs and made her cough. The faint purplish light of the lamp in the living room enlightened Steven's body, still frozen, with the looks of a Renaissance painting; the vulture still kept inside the bag over the nightstand.

Her body shivered and her heart clenched. She wasn't expecting to find a partner defeated by death. Now she knew why Klein was in such a state.

She opened the briefcase and drew out a pair of silicone gloves, turning on the lights. Her eyes scrutinizing the room, analysing the body from the distance on the doorstep, as her mind couldn't still believe what she was seeing. Poor boy, who had always been so kind and caring, but she felt deeper sorrow for Klein, who might never find another partner to fit his hideous temperament.

After getting back control of her emotions, she took out her camera and began to photograph every corner and every detail, everything she thought deserved to be kept.
Klein was still on the sofa when Jorah came upstairs once more, stumbling with the busy forensics, who was placing yellow signs with numbers every place she packed and kept something that was considered as physical evidence.

"You were here already..." said Jorah addressing to Dr Gibbs, who was now leaning on the ground, picking up some blood samples from the carpeted floor with a stick. She jumped and stood up quickly, gasping and staring surprised at the detective, who was putting on some gloves too.

"You scared me."

"Who wouldn't? This place is creepy and vicious. The only one capable of staying here is that monster."

Jorah's words came out with a bitter, harsh tone, as his eyes looked to the dark living room.

"He's not a monster detective." She said, looking straight to his eyes. " He's shocked as none of us is. He just lost the only person he had."

"It doesn't look like he's sad or upset to me"

"The fact that he doesn't show doesn't mean he doesn't feel."

Jorah shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and started explaining to the doctor what he knew about the murder.

"All we know about this is that it happened before seven pm. There was no one here when we arr-."

"I saw a shadow leaving through the window." Klein's voice interrupted Jorah's speech. He sounded empty and hollow, like a shell of himself. His eyes were cold and shiny, like a piece of blue steel. "He left a footprint on the window frame. It seemed a boot shape. I took samples already. It was muddy, it'll have to be tested in the lab, I think there's blood in it, and obviously, the mud belongs to somewhere else, perhaps where he came from."

Both, Jorah and Dr Gibbs were silently staring at Klein. When he was analysing a crime scene, he wasn't himself. He looked like he had been possessed by some evil force capable of increasing his senses and his ability to understand a criminal mind. That was his gift.

"He must've entered the building by the front door like he always does. He managed to get a copy of my key, cause the door wasn't forced. I assume he came to kill Stevens. He knew he was my assistant, and that it would break me...."

Klein stopped to catch his breath. Jorah was staring now to the corpse over the bed, regretting some of the words he spoke earlier, as the younger detective seemed now to be affected by what had happened.

Klein continued:

"Steven was supposed to meet me here at five pm. That was the moment the painter arrived, perhaps a few minutes earlier to prepare his canvas, meaning he had two hours and a half to enjoy his work. I recognize he came back with a playful mood. He could've planned to kill me, but he planned Steven's death in my bedroom instead, like he wants to hurt me somehow. He awaited Stevens arrival with patience, sitting on the sofa in the exact position I was lying minutes ago."

Jorah and Gibbs looked at each other with expectation. They understood now why he had been sitting there all along, or at least some reason.

"I know 'cause of the position of the pillows. When I left this morning they were tossed aside because I slept on the sofa, and when I entered at 7:37 pm they were piled there, as he used them to comfort his back."

Gibbs looked now more surprised of Klein's brilliant observation power.

"He felt the stirring of Steven's key on the lock, and before Steven could get inside, he grabbed his previously prepared needle with Fentanyl and as soon as Steven was inside, the painter nailed the needle on his neck. We know from previous cases he is about Steven's height, a bit shorter than me, and taller than Gibbs."

All those words were being represented by mimics and gestures. Klein was imitating everything he thought the killer did to accomplish his task.

"Whilst the drug was acting, Steven tried to call me, but he never got to dial the number as the killer threw his phone away. Doctor, you might want to get it, it's under the bookshelf." He said, pointing to a huge rack of books located on the left side of the room, and acting as a huge wall, separating the living room from the dining room.

"Before Steven could figure out anything else he faded away, due to the Fentanyl dose, which was enough to put him to sleep but not to kill him yet. The Painter prepared the bedroom and Steven's body. Covered him with formalin as is his tradition, even when he knew I was going to find him before it got rotten. He finally made a cut in Steven's gut, exposing the liver, and released the vulture he brought so it could eat it. The killer knew I was going to find this before the vulture made a bigger mess. Actually, he was running out of time, as he jumped off the window when I turned the door opened."

Jude was looking now to the nothingness, his arms folded over his skinny chest and his eyes got rid of all that evil glare, returning them to their usual tired tone of blue.

"How are you so sure he wanted to kill Steven? I mean, he killed Steven, but how did he know he was going to be here? Why did he choose your bed and not somewhere more...outstanding?."

Jorah's question seemed stupid to Klein. Wasn't he aware of the facts or it was only himself capable of seeing through the beast's eyes? It was true that The Painter usually wanted to call the attention of someone, that's how Klein pictured him, but this painting was different. This was done to hurt him. It all had been a game since the beginning.

That another killing far from his usual zone of action only meant it had all been a scheme to keep him away from the actual place for his new artwork. Now the Painter was more focused on playing with him than proving to the world he was a true artist.

"My dear Jorah..." Klein took a deep breath before continuing. He always added that dramatic touch when he was tired of explaining something, which was a usual thing around the detective. "He prepared this; don't you see? This monster has been observing me for days, weeks, months...who knows how long? Waiting for the perfect time to get closer. He might be anyone close enough to me now to know Steven's schedule. He left another artwork in a museum on the other side of the city. He forced me to travel there, so he could come here today and perform his show. He knew Steven was coming here at five o'clock. He brought a vulture and his oils. Don't you see? This is a message. Killing Stevens was his plan since he started."

"Wait, he had killed someone already?" Gibbs' voice seemed startled.

"He did. A young man. He chopped his arms, legs and head, placing what was left over a white marble stand at the museum. It was the centre of the exposition. He was mimicking the Belvedere Torso with it. I wasn't sure it was him, as it was out of context, it was somehow his signature, but it was a sculpture, actually his first sculpture, and it had nothing to do with his feelings or his kind of art, at least I can't relate it to them yet. It was an empty message for me."

"This guy is going too far" Jorah covered his eyes with utter disbelief. "Well, now we see why he did it. He made you go all that way to make a "painting" in your room."

"The police didn't seem to care, but I did. And now I see it was my mistake..."

Jude looked again to the shape of Steven laying inert over the blood-stained sheets of his bed. That place would never be used again.

"I don't see any art in all of this. I don't understand why you keep calling him like he was some artist with talent. He's a monster, and now I just see a dead man here because of our mistakes. I want to get this guy and I want revenge."

Jorah was upset and now rising his tone. He seemed madder at himself than he was at Klein.

"You will have your revenge, as soon as I get to caught him."

"What makes you think you will? You spent two years trying to know his identity, unsuccessfully."

"This time is different. I'm getting to know him better. It seems he wants to play... And I will play. With or without police support."

"And what is the message?" The female voice of the room pointed out after the men almost forget about her presence. "What's the message with this...painting?"

"I will figure It out, Dr Gibbs...

I will figure it out."

A/N: Another chapter is done.
What did you think about the descriptions of the crime scene?

What do you think about the Painter's style?

What do you think about Klein? I know he's messy and his mood changes every minute, but we will learn more about the reasons for his temperament to be like this.

The picture above is one of the Belvedere Torso. Is a Greek piece of marble, believed to belong to the 15th century. Is now kept on the Muses room at the Vatican's museums.

Hope you enjoyed this. Please don't forget to hit the star if you did.
My regards,
Phoenix.