Conspiracy Theory.

Danny doesn't remember when or who started it, but he knows when he noticed.

The case of the girl whose wrists were cut with a cd. Hillary Duff cd, to be exact, and Danny supposed somebody was trying to make a statement.
Bartender in a place she used to work as a dj was their prime suspect. Danny went to question him about the underwear with his DNA they found at the vic's place.
He was cleaning the same glass for about a ten minutes, with a cloth so gray it didn't make a difference.
"Listen, dude, I already told your girlfriend all I had to say."
"She's not..." he stopped and let it go. It didn't matter.

Then there was Mrs. Checkovich, who found her neighbor half-eaten by cats when she went to complain about the stench. The vic had also a huge hole in her chest made by a fucking big gun, but it was the cats part that freaked everyone out. Tiger, alright, but little kittens?
Mrs. Checkovich smiled at them and pushed her glasses up her nose. "You two are so adorable... you remind me of me and my Albert when we were still young and pretty."
Albert's photo was standing proudly on the mantelpiece. Tall and dark and somber, in navy uniform, he was nothing like Danny. Pale and probably red haired in her youth Mrs. Checkovich was nothing like Lindsey, either.
"Just like me and my Albert, so pretty and so in love," the woman mused, putting on the tea kettle and pushing a plate of cookies towards them.

Math professor Edmund Beckett, was found nailed to the blackboard with a huge 'x' carved into his chest and 'I've finally found it' written in chalk over his head.
He always valued a practical approach to his subject.
His TA, Clarissa, found him when she came into the class in the morning with a stockpile of graded papers. She had a solid alibi, golden hair and coy smile, and Danny was sure she'd ask him out before the questioning was over.
That was when Lindsey walked in, cheerfully announcing that she found a vague shoe print in the chalk.
Clarissa looked up at her, than back to Danny with a silent, mouthed 'oh', and didn't smile anymore. When she was walking out, he could hear her whispering 'It's always gay or girlfriend."

Joshua Montgomery, age 7, was the last to see Alicia Paxton, age 17, his babysitter, on the night when she was found in a cinema's bathroom, killed with a hairbrush.
Danny had no idea why he was the one delegated to talk to the kid, since almost anyone could do it better, be it Hawkes, or Stella, or damnit, even Mac. He did not sign up to talk to kids and keep his notes far away from dirty, stingy little paws.
"'an I saw 'Licia walkin' to that car, an I saw her meetin' that guy and 'e was kissin' her, like, long-like, an they were standin' there, kissin', and kissin', and then she got into the car, black car, and she was gone," the kid stopped, to take a deep breath for another sentence. "D'you 'ave a car?"
"No. Can you tell me more..."
"D'you kiss that lady who was 'ere before?"
Danny begun to think it was one, really, really huge conspiracy.

And then, of course, there was Lou. Her id stated she was born Marie-Louise Calabrese, and for once Danny really could understand someone changing their name. She had pink hair and short leather skirt, and turned out not to be responsible for her girlfriend's death from a computer mouse.
She was, however, responsible for slight bruising on the vic's wrists and ankles, and some fairly interesting ink artwork on victim's thighs.
Lou was gifted with a stoic approach to life and death, and after two days was apparently ready to move on, as her looks casted at Lindsey could attest.
"If you ever want to have a really good time, kitten," she almost purred at Lindsey. "Gimme a call. Your boyfriend can watch, too."
With a wink directed at Danny and another brilliant smile, she was gone.

He wonders what all those people really see between them. He wonders if all their colleagues see the same. He wonders a lot if Lindsey notices that at all.
Mostly he wonders how he could not notice that.