[Chapter Three]
We stood there in stony silence for what could have been hours, but was, in reality, probably less than a minute. For some reason, time always seems to behave strangely when one has a gun pointed at oneself.
Finally, she spat, "What do you want?"
"As I said before, lady, I'm here to ask you a few questions. And you are not being very cooperative."
Slowly, she lowered her pistol. "Ask away. I'm not guaranteeing any answers, though." She motioned into the living room with her gun. "Come have a seat."
We walked in the living room, each watching the other out of the corner of our eyes. She was going to be a tough customer, I could tell. There's nothing more frustrating than a stubborn woman. I wouldn't hesitate to beat the shit out of a man being so uncooperative, but a woman? It would be contrary to my code of honor to hit a woman.
"First off, what" the hell "is your name?" I asked as I perched myself on the edge of a navy blue armchair and fished my notepad and pen out of my shirt pocket.
"Lucrezia Noin."
"How do you know Relena Darlian?"
"A little bird told me about her."
Maybe my honor code was due for a revision.
She narrowed her eyes as she sat on the light grey loveseat opposite me, arms and legs both crossed. "I haven't the slightest clue who you are, Mr. Chang Wufei, Private Detective. You're the one who barged into my house. I'd like a few answers first before you start asking any big questions."
"Fine. Fine! Ask!" I groaned as I flipped my notebook closed with a sharp snap. I hate Mondays...
Ms. Noin fixed me with a critical glance, thinking, then uncrossed her legs and leaned forward a bit.
"Did Relena Darlian herself put you on this case? Answer me honestly, and I won't cause you anymore trouble than I need to."
"For the last time," I growled out through clenched teeth, "I will not answer that question. I cannot violate the confidentiality-"
The phone rang. Why did I suddenly get this overwhelming sensation of deja vu? Without so much as a word, the woman quickly strode out to the kitchen. I was left all alone. Poor me. Or, rather, lucky me. My gaze happened to alight on a photograph tossed on the coffee table in the middle of the room. The woman and that blond guy again. Something about him seemed terribly familiar, but I couldn't place him at the moment, out of context. Reaching over, I picked up the photo and tucked it into my coat pocket. Don't get me wrong, I'm no thief. I'm the guy who catches them. But sometimes the ends really do justify the means. Consider it evidence gathering.
"I'm terribly sorry for the trouble I caused you, Mr. Chang," the woman said, suddenly walking back into the room, her lips twisting into an amused smile. "I didn't realize who you were. But I just a confirmation of your good intentions." She winked. "So... what were you saying?"
I gaped. Then I scowled. "Who the hell was that on the phone?"
"Sally."
"Sally?!"
"She's a good friend of mine. I knew she worked as a secretary to pick up some extra cash, but I never knew exactly whom she worked for. Now I do."
This was so impossible. It's an overwhelming feeling when you are an independent, self-possessed man and then, one crappy Monday, the world cracks a big grin, gives you a noogie, and reveals that everyone somehow knows more then you do. But a man has to do what a man has to do. I reopened my notebook. Back to business. With a frown.
"How do you know Relena Darlian?"
"Friend of the family."
"Your family a friend of the family or you friend of anyone in particular?"
"I..." The clock on the mantlepiece ticked audibly as Ms. Noin remained silent, staring pointedly not at me, biting her lip in concentration. "I dated Relena's brother before he died."
The clock seemed to tick a bit louder than before. My frown tightened as I swallowed. "I'm sorry," I muttered, hastily turning to a clean page in my notebook. "So you still keep in close contact with Miss Darlian?"
"Yes... Yes, I suppose she's like a little sister to me." She sighed. "Her father's death hit her really hard."
I nodded as a reflexive response. "Mm-hm. Has Miss Darlian seemed excessively agitated to you lately? Something more than normal grief?"
This, she pondered for a moment. "Now that you mention it, yes. For her, at least. She's a strong young woman. For someone more excitable, it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, but she does seem troubled."
"Speculate on any reasons for that?"
A shrug. "Not off the top of my head."
"Have there ever been any threats to Miss Darlian's life before?"
"Who the hell is that outside the window?"
"Hey, I'm the one who's asking the..." I trailed off as I realized what she said. I turned around. There, jumping up and down on the front lawn in front of the living room window was... "Maxwell?!" I ran to the front door and yanked it open. "Maxwell!! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Trying to get your attention!" he called as he bounded over to me.
I crossed my arms and narrowed his eyes. "This had better be for a good reason."
"Uh, yeah, it is, Wu! Ya see, I know you were relying on me for transportation and, well, my car sorta got towed-"
"What?!"
"-and it wasn't properly licensed, so-"
I grabbed him by the collar. "Listen to me," I growled in a very even, controlled, angry voice. "You will shut your mouth this instant. You will keep your mouth shut unless it is to answer any questions I might ask you. Such as what the hell sort of mess have you gotten us into?!"
"Eheh..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "One that you can help me get us out of?"
I pushed him away roughly and walked back inside. "Here," I said, handing Ms. Noin one of my business cards. "Come into my office tomorrow to resume questioning. I have some business I need to care of now." Without waiting for any sort of reply, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
It was then that an afternoon I long to forget began. Yeah, I know you'd probably get in a snicker at my expense, wouldn't you feel special then, but what I was forced to endure has no impact on the plot and this is my damn story. Let's skip to that evening.
I walked into the Three Ring Bar and Lounge in a fouler mood. That would be due to the fact that I had first walked into the lamp post outside the Three Ring Bar and Lounge in a foul mood.
"Yo, 'Fei," Maxwell frowned, "How much sleep did ya get last night? You look like a wreck-"
"No small thanks to you," I muttered.
"-and ya ain't been too steady on your feet."
"Around three hours. Happy now?" Wondering as to why everyone seemed to be obsessed with my sleeping habits, I glanced around the room, trying to find where Barton and Yuy were. We had arranged to meet here at seven to discuss what we had found. I grimaced as I thought of what most of my day had consisted of. Maxwell, Maxwell, and more Maxwell. A strong drink seemed very appealing.
"Chang. Over here," called a voice in the middle section of the building, the lounge area centerpieced by a small raised platform that served as a stage of sorts. Yuy. I walked over to sit down. Maxwell bounded.
"Heeero! Yo! Anything exciting happen?!"
"Could you possibly lower your voice a bit?" asked Barton in a tone that I could have sworn bordered on annoyed.
The braided idiot grinned and slid onto the bench seat, next to Yuy. "Heeero! Yo! Anything exciting happen?!" he whispered as a waitress came over to take orders for drinks.
I dropped into a chair next to Barton. The green-eyed detective looked to me. I scowled. He nodded. "I didn't manage to find anything hot today. Some more background information, though. Job. Mr. Darlian had worked for the government for twenty-one years, since 1931. Started out in the foreign service. Eventually worked his way up in the ranks by means of common sense and not pissing off foreign countries. Can't say the same for at home. He was most popular among liberals, though others did not like him so much. Not as hardline as the administration would like. Family. Survived by daughter, Relena, and wife, Elaine. Had a son, Zachary. Zachary joined the army in 1942 as soon as he turned eighteen. Presumed killed in North Africa, though his body was never returned. Miscellaneous. Favorite baseball team, the Yankees."
There was a moment of silence as Yuy and I let all of that soak in. A very brief moment.
"Man... Shot that off like a fucking machine," Maxwell laughed. We ignored him.
At that moment, the lights in the central lounge and in the restaurant area to the left dimmed slightly, only the bar remaining fully lit- though the bar was somewhat dimly lit to begin with. A few bumps and mild curses came from the stage area. Then, the lights on the stage went up, revealing an auburn-haired young woman at the microphone, surrounded by a small band, and glittering off the woman's deep purple ankle-length dress and matching high heels. She gave a nod to the bespectacled pianist and the music started.
Maxwell let out a low whistle. "Woo... nice singer they got here..."
"How was Miss Darlian, Yuy?" I asked as I glanced through the menu.
"...check out that chest, man..."
Yuy shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. No one followed her or anything. Can't find any justification for her being so jumpy."
"...heh, looks like that drummer's got a little problem, if you know what I mean..."
Hmph. "Typical woman."
"...wouldn't mind having her sing for me..."
"Will you shut-up?" I rolled my eyes in exasperation. There was no end to it. No end. No exit. Hell is not other people. Hell is certain people. Because once you've been subjected to them, everything else seems like heaven.
"Aw, c'mon, guys, lighten up!" he whined and began slurping his Coca-Cola through a straw. For God's sake. A straw. "What do you guys think of her?" he asked, elbowing Yuy in the ribs.
"Hn," he replied with a glare.
"She's a singer," I snorted.
"She's my sister."
There was a loud spluttering noise from Maxwell's direction. The chatterbox stared at the one green eye blinking back at him from Barton's unbreakable deadpan. He gulped. "You've gotta be shitting me, man."
Barton shook his head.
"Okay, then! Anyone feel like removing my foot from my mouth?"
I was suddenly aware of the waitress standing next to the table. I looked to her. I looked to Duo Maxwell. "I don't know him."
The waitress just smiled sympathetically. "Are you ready to order?"
"Actually," Barton cut in, "we're waiting for one more person."
I blinked at him. "We are?"
He nodded. I decided not to argue. I didn't have the energy.
"You gotta guest, Barton?" Maxwell demanded. A sly smile crept onto his face. "Lemme guess... a lady friend!" He cast me a glance. "Nix that. You'd lose her before she sat down. But who is it?"
"Just a friend. To help us out," he said calmly, eyes sliding toward the waitress, hinting at Maxwell to be discreet.
He nodded, actually having picked up on the hint. "A friend, eh? To help us out? Has to be someone pretty good then! C'mon, just tell. Do I know him? Or wait," he chuckled, "maybe it's someone famous, to help us. Lemme guess. Harry Truman! Or maybe Charles Winner!"
"I'm sorry I'm late," came a breathless voice. I turned around. I stared. At Charles R. Winner. More choking sounds from Maxwell's direction.
"That's all right," Trowa assured him, calm as ever, pulling out the empty chair next to him for Mr. Winner. "We were just ordering."
Maxwell seemingly sedated by the shock, we ordered without incident. Then the blond newcomer turned to all of us. "Hi, I'm Charles Winner. Call me Quatre, though. That's actually my real name. It's just not quite as press-friendly," he confided.
"This is your... 'friend'?" I asked, still staring at Barton in disbelief. He nodded. Damn his imperturbability.
Charles R. Winner. Or, as we now knew him, Quatre. Recently-crowned patriach of the Winner family. CEO of Winner Enterprises. Incredibly wealthy. Unbelievably influential. Sitting at our table in the Three Ring Bar and Lounge. Though he wasn't nearly as intimidating in person as he was on paper. A slightly-built young man in a neatly tailored business suit, he resembled more one of those eager young clerks with big dreams than a saavy politician-businessman with an empire that marched to conquer in the battlefields of utitilities, marketing, and God knows what else.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chang, Mr. Yuy," nodded the blond, then glanced to Duo.
Trowa sighed. "Quatre, this is-"
"Duo Maxwell!" The loudmouth jumped up out of his seat to shake Quatre's hand vigorously. "Great to meetcha!"
"Likewise," laughed Quatre, apparently amused by the idiot's antics. Still smiling, he handed me a crisp grey businesscard. "This is probably isn't the place for discussing work, but feel free to drop by anytime. If security gives you any trouble, just show them the card."
I nodded in thanks. This Quatre seemed to be an astute man, if a bit soft. Any ambivalence I felt toward him melted away as I met his eyes. They were honest, sincere. This was a man who meant what he said and believed in what he was doing.
Dinner passed quickly. Winner and Maxwell supported a lively conversation, to which Yuy and I contributed nothing and in which Barton seemed surprisingly involved. I poked at the side order of rice that came with my meatloaf in disgust. It was a travesty. It was criminal. No one should be able to make rice that badly. Not even born and bred Americans. What was weighing on my mind, however, was not the rice but my brief interview with Lucrezia Noin and the photograph tucked in my pocket.
All right. The rice was weighing on my mind, too. But only some.
Leaving the other four at the table, I slipped out of my seat to head over to the bar. A screwball sounded good right about now. An alcoholic screwball, not a human one like the one back at the table. Because of one, I deserved the other. As I leaned on the counter, waiting for the bar tender to mix my drink, I pondered what Ms. Noin had told me. Nothing caught me wrong about her story. If she was that protective of Relena Darlian, she had a right to be suspicious. All that meant was that she was unusually intelligent for a woman. What was nagging me was the phone conversation she was having when I entered and the man with her in the photograph.
The bartender handed me my drink and I gave him a nod in thanks. Sitting on the edge of one of the high stools, I took a sip, the case weighing on my mind, not noticing that the singer- Trowa's sister, as we now knew- was revving up for another song until the colored lights dimmed to a pale blue and the notes of a torch song began to glide out of the band with tense slowness.
"There's not a morning that I open up my eyes
And find I didn't dream of you.
Without a warning, though it's never a surprise,
Soon as I awake, thoughts of you arise
With ev'ry breath I take..."
I paused, letting the screwdriver sit on my tongue as I pulled the photo out of my pocket, squinting in the dim light. The big blond man and Ms. Noin standing together, looking like the perfect couple. Hmph. No couple was perfect. Shaking my head, I forced myself to stop wondering what dirty little secrets that pretty scene was hiding, and tried to remember where I'd seen him before.
"At any time or place
I close my eyes and see your face,
And I'm embracing you..."
"Uh, I think you dropped this, mister." The guy next to me shoved a piece of paper at me. I was about to mouth him off when I took a double-take. It was a photograph. Snatching it from his hand, I shoved it back into my pocket. I took quick swallow of my drink. "Thanks," I muttered, then put the other photo back into my pocket.
"If only I believed that dreams come true,
Darling..."
Turning myself so that my back was to the rest of the room, I closed my eyes. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the music... but for some reason I associated that man's face with another face. A face that I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.
"You were the one who said forever from the start
And I've been drifting since you've gone
Out on a lonely sea that only you can chart
I've been going on, knowing that my heart will break
With ev'ry breath I take..."
As the saxophone softtly wailed a solo, I walked back to the table. Yuy was the only one left, and he looked like he was about to go.
"Winner insisted on picking up the tab," he said, putting on his coat. "No one could convince him out of it. He and Barton already left, Maxwell's waiting for me outside." With a slight nod of farewell, he walked out from the dim of the room into the dim of evening. As I picked my coat up off of the chair, the singer returned to the microphone.
"You were the one who said forever from the start
And I've been drifting since you've gone"
I took my hat from the table and began to leave.
"Out on a lonely sea that only you can chart,
I've been going on, knowing that my heart will break..."
The singer's words and the band's blues drifted out the door with me as I walked out to the lamp-lit street.
"With ev'ry breath I take..."
It echoed in my mind the entire walk home. That song. That face. It was an interesting conundrum. If I didn't pay attention to the matter at hand, I would find my attention again drifting back to the past. Yet once I was there, I couldn't pay attention to the matter at hand, no matter how hard I tried.
Fortunately, the matter at hand shoved itself into my face when I returned to my apartment and found the door torn off its hinges.
[Chapter Two | Chapter Four]