Case Study & Surveillance Report DM8 (Closing), 02/97:
Oh my gawd you would not believe what a night and day I had!!!!! Or week, if you want to look at it that way. On the other hand, you could say two weeks -- I'm sorry it took me so long to send this to you, but I've been busy. And it's totally incredible, you won't believe it!
Ok, ok. . .I'll make sense here, eventually. I've gone ahead and done this in report form anyway, even though I'm finished with filing reports -- hey, so I'm sentimental, what the heck.
All right, when I last said goodbye, I was heading out to meet with Prof. Karoly. I resurrected the ACME Sekrit Undercover Trenchcoat for the trip -- dunno why, that sentimentality, maybe. The mud did mostly wash off, but it was still a pretty sorry-looking item of clothing; on the other hand, I figured it would fit right in down by the warehouses!
Soooo, I gathered all my notes in trembling hands, hied myself out of the loft, and zipped on down to the waterfront. Parked the car in an out-of-the way place -- ok, so it's a beater, but I still wouldn't want it stripped, c'mon -- it's the only transportation I've got! Or was. Anyway it was good practice for skulking (remember that? The thing that got me into this in the first place? Yeah, that!). I carefully and silently, except for a bit of flapping from the SUT -- there was a breeze blowing and I swear, they should advertise those things as parasails, I almost got lifted over the edge of the docks a couple times, you'd think it was a hot-air balloon -- anyway I sneaked towards the rendezvous, congratulating myself on the foresight to wear the SUT. The new mudstains made it even more camouflaged, I almost couldn't see myself! There was still a bit of that funny smell, though. . .
Okay, I finally make it to the meet point -- and guess what? Yup -- NO KAROLY!!! Only some guy skulking around in the dark, just like I was -- except a lot clumsier about it.
What, you don't think I was stupid enough to go waltzing up out in plain sight to a meeting point, do you? Of course not!! I said I was sneaking! And of course I scoped out the perimeters first, made sure I had a couple good lines of retreat -- then went through all the dark corners inside the warehouse, of which there were plenty, to make sure there weren't any unpleasant surprises waiting. I did not go wandering over to the so-invitingly-lit area in the back where there was no one standing impatiently to meet their student. And was I glad I hadn't when I found that guy lurking! Because guess -- just take a wild guess -- who it should be????
Well, you'll never figure it out, so I'll tell you -- it was GREEN ROBE!!! Yup, large as life and twice as natural -- fuzzy slippers and all, he musta found 'em again somehow. They sure as hell didn't look like a new pair, by any means. I just hoped he had something else on, under the robe I mean; I didn't wanna see him that natural again. Oh, and he still had his sword. Kinda bent at the tip, and the whole thing curved a little. . .but hey, he probably didn't care. I didn't particularly care, either -- the sucker was still sharp!
So, despite my normally sunny and trusting disposition, I somehow didn't think he'd be too glad to see me -- that hill, you know -- and I crept back into the shadows behind some crates, carefully handling the skirts of my SUT. (Well, let's face it, it's a wee bit large -- they only had three sizes in the catalog: extra large, truly monumental, and OhmyGodit'scomingatme!!) That's when I tripped -- literally -- over Rosebud!!!
Fortunately, as Duncan had with me a few days before, I landed on her -- thus muffling any loud noises I might have made hitting the floor. And decreasing the chance of adding more bruises to my already battered body, for which I was truly thankful. Although Rosebud didn't seem to really appreciate that aspect of it; she made a sort of stifled snorking sound (thanks to the skirts of my SUT, again -- it really is awfully long, and muffled her noise quite nicely) then apparently fainted dead away. . .either that or my knee hitting her head knocked her out. I didn't stick around to find out, I just made sure she was still breathing and high-tailed it to yet another vantage point. Hallelujah, this one was unoccupied. About time, too -- I was beginning to wonder how many other students Prof. Karoly may have had enrolled from Seacouver. At least the redhead wasn't there, too!
I'd just got settled down when I heard footsteps approaching. And oh, my, was I excited -- I'd get to meet my teacher at last!! Although I was a bit worried about the other two; I mean, what the hell were they doing here? Was something else going on? And since they'd been lurking around Duncan's place when I first saw them. . .well, I was a bit perturbed. But I comforted myself that the Professor would know what to do about them, once I warned him that we weren't safely alone.
So I'm eagerly looking over the edge of a crate while perching on another, waiting for the first sight of my teacher, anticipating the praise he'd give me for my good work, especially for making it to the rendezvous unsighted -- almost -- but Rosebud didn't really count. I mean, she was unconscious. Probably had no idea what hit her. So, again -- I'm sitting there fizzing inside, with my eyes glued to that little open area so well-lit -- and who should saunter into the light? I nearly fell off the crate -- it was Duncan!!! Geeze, you coulda knocked me over with a feather! I couldn't restrain a gasp -- and of course, he heard it, I swear the guy has ears like a bat!
Now, he already looked exhausted; wired, yet just totally wiped, y'know? I didn't know what the heck he'd been going through on his little jaunt, but he looked like hell and acted even worse. As soon he heard me make that noise, he was ramming into the stacked crates like a crazed bull elephant or something. Talk about reflexes!!! Not to mention a nice understanding of the proper application of speed and weight to make something get out of his way. He'd be a great athlete at anything that involved tackling, I can say that! Those crates went flying -- guess they were mostly empty -- and so did I. Oy. More bruises, as if I didn't already have enough!!
Next thing I knew, this big hand had hold of the collar of my SUT and was dragging me out into the light -- although I almost slipped clear through the SUT. (I told you it was rather large for me.) Then Duncan sort of snarls and half flings me up against the wall of crates on the other side of the open spot, and shoves his face in mine -- probably to say something nasty, as it didn't appear that he was expecting to meet a friend -- but he stops with this look like he'd just been whacked in the face with a flounder when my head finally pops up out of the confines of the SUT. (I'd kinda slid down inside it, remember?)
You'll be proud of me -- the very first thing I said to him was that there were a couple people watching us, and if he wanted to keep this private, we'd better move. Well, he just stands there like a statue, his mouth open -- I guess it was his version of my kissing gorami fish-thing -- so I pry his fingers off my collar (difficult, that) and start trying to drag him towards the entrance. Only it's kinda hard dragging 175 lbs. if it's in the form of (apparently) a totally flabbergasted man. Especially when you're as short as I am.
Then he asked, in this sort of stunned voice, what the hell I was doing there. I said meeting my teacher -- or I was supposed to be -- and gave him another tug. Well, I was rather impatient. I mean, if the man was a pro at this stuff, he should've realized hanging around in the only lighted place in a large, gloomy warehouse containing two lurkers was not such a hot idea! That sort of thing appeared to have slipped his mind for the moment, though; men can get so sidetracked, it's amazing!
Well, wouldn't you know, the man simply stands there gaping down at me -- honestly, men can be so dumb sometimes, it's a wonder the race has survived as long as it has. I was wondering what the heck I could do to snap him out of it when he finally gave his head a shake, grabbed my hand (as if I were the one who needed to be dragged!) and headed towards the door. As this was my primary intention at that point, I kept my mouth shut -- well, ok, I didn't talk with it, I gasped for air -- and concentrated on keeping up; that guy can move when he wants to! And as you might remember, I'm not that quick on my feet; at least not when it comes to straight speed, although dodging. . .well, let's just say that I've made my way unscathed out of more than one tavern brawl.
Once we got outside, I gently pointed out that a) he didn't need to wrench my arm out of its socket anymore, we were out in the open and could see anyone coming up on us; and b) maybe he should STOP WALKING SO DAMNED FAST!!! Yeah, I lost my temper a bit; well, hey, I'd been through a lot the last coupla days, and I hurt enough already!
At least he paid attention this time. He stopped so suddenly I nearly went flying past him. Momentum, you know. Fortunately he grabbed me around the waist with his other arm and kept me from taking yet another tumble. By this time, though, I was almost getting used to it; it was quite a surprise not to end up facedown on the ground, it was beginning to seem like I belonged there.
To find myself still upright and in his arms was even more of a surprise, although it made me feel like I belonged there, too. So surprising, in fact, that I didn't do anything when he picked me up and kissed me like a drowning man grabbing the lifeguard. Well, actually, I did kiss him back; but that was more reflex action, I didn't have to think to do that. Then the idiot started laughing, which made me wonder uneasily about his sanity for a second or so.
However, when he explained everything back at the loft, it made perfect sense. Except for the parts he didn't explain, of course; but, y'know, you don't have to find out everything at once, it's kinda nice to leave some surprises for later. It was really a shocker to find that my wonderful teacher, Prof. Karoly, was apparently a dangerous killer that had hired on at the school expressly for the purpose of using the Detective Course students to track down anyone who knew about him! Which was why Karoly had given me the assignment of searching the general neighborhood of the dojo anyway, and was so damned interested when Duncan's name came up -- the jerk was using me to keep tabs on Duncan until he could get out here and try to kill him!!! Guess he'd managed to kill at least five other people with the same trick. (I carefully didn't ask Duncan how he'd found that out -- but I remembered that call from Joe, and put two and two together. I even got four, although I'd sure like to find out what the heck those damn tattoos have to do with it all.)
And the rat had told Duncan that he'd warned his student (me) about him (Duncan) - and had sworn I'd get Duncan in trouble if Duncan managed to get him (Karoly)! Well you can imagine how happy Duncan was to hear that -- apparently they had a rather intense discussion concerning the current whereabouts of said student, which Duncan managed to get out of Karoly before taking care of him. (Now there's nice, euphemistic phrase -- I wondered exactly how Duncan had taken care of Karoly, but figured I'd worry about it later.
If Duncan had killed him, well, Karoly was trying to kill Duncan; I'm gonna kick up a fuss when it turned out the other way around? Yeah, right. Duncan's still a sweetie -- so what if he knows how to take care of himself, I had that figured soon after I met him. As long as the cops don't start camping on my doorstep, I don't care. Hey, if I was encumbered with lots of unnecessary worries about breaking stupid laws, I never would have gone into the investigative field. You think it's legal to break in and search offices 'n things?)
So when Duncan had gone to the warehouse, he expected to be running into more trouble -- especially when Karoly had boasted about his student to Duncan. (Which was nice to hear, although sort of two-edged -- I mean, to have a ruthless killer, who's used you, praise you for your 'quick learning and powerful skills' sort of takes the glitter out of the approval, if you know what I mean.) Duncan had this really odd expression on his face during that bit, like he was thinking of something hilarious -- but I have no idea what it was, he wouldn't say. He just shook his head and looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek real hard; you know how you'll do to stop yourself from laughing? But I didn't notice any blood later, so guess I must've been mistaken.
Now, of course, Duncan said he couldn't tell me how he knew about Karoly, or any interesting details like what sort of job he might have been in where he had acquired such an intimate knowledge of a killer. Make that killers; apparently this sort of thing has happened before, and probably will keep doing so. Duncan sort of looked guilty when he said that, so I tactfully told him I understood, and not to worry about it, I wouldn't pester him with questions. He gave me another rather funny look then, and asked me wasn't I worried at all about getting mixed up with someone who might have the odd stranger popping in to try and kill him occasionally? When I might be in danger, too, simply because I was associating with him?
Well, geeze!! What kind of girl does he think I am, a wimp or something? Someone who insists on perfection? If I were, would I ever have gone out with Weasel -- you know, the biker -- in the first place? I ask you! Not to mention Stoker Harrison, whose major hobby seemed to be trying to break every bone in his body by crashing as many planes as he could; and then that guy who liked snakes so much. . .well, you get the idea. Besides, what does he think a career in investigation will be, a stroll in the park? (Although after that recent one, I wasn't so sure strolls in parks were all that simple any more; they seemed more like what you might encounter in Central Park after midnight.) Actually, it was rather a relief to find that he had a few warts -- besides possibly moodiness and a temper. (The handwriting analysis, remember?) After all, I'm certainly not perfect, and I dunno how anyone could live with someone who was. Without trying to kill them eventually, that is.
Anyway I told him a few little inconveniences were worth putting up with for a chance at really knowing a great guy like him . . . and it wasn't like he was involved with anything really illegal, was he? He looked funny again, and then said no, he only had to take care of people when they wouldn't leave him alone . . . Which I told him I understood perfectly, and certainly wouldn't hold against him, it seemed only logical. I pointed out that after all, you had to defend yourself, and despite the way the courts treated the end results nowadays, it was legal to do so. He got that look again, like he was biting his cheek, and agreed in a rather stifled voice.
After that he didn't say anything more for a few minutes, and I started to get really worried myself, even if he had forgiven me for doing all that snooping and prying into his background. (I did erase everything and give him all the disks later, so he could be sure they were destroyed -- it wasn't like it was ever a valid class assignment anyway.) And in the process of confessing everything, he had begun to revise his opinion of my intelligence, I could tell. I mean, he kept raising his eyebrow as I went on, and looking surprised, then amused and at least a little bit respectful. Especially when I explained the decoy floppy disks and how I hid his trash over at my place . . . his shoulders shook a bit at that, but his face didn't show anything. Which is fine with me; at least he's not likely to laugh right in my face when I come up with ideas. I'll bet he'll even listen and seriously consider 'em; or at least pretend to. Plus at the end he told me I certainly did show a talent for the work, which was great to hear, of course -- especially from someone I trusted.
But then he just sat there, silent, with a thoughtful look on his face -- and I was starting to feel this odd empty feeling inside. I mean, it's not as if he'd seen me somewhere and gone after me, y'know. If I hadn't been tailing him and he hadn't been suspicious enough to have seized on an opportunity when he tripped over me . . . Well, geeze. I mean, if he'd seen me at a party or on the street, would he have done more than given me an appreciative glance? Or once he'd met me, would he have hung around at all after he got to know me a bit? It wasn't like I was anything special; a guy like him would always have women panting after him, and not just for his looks or natural assets, either.
So I sat there, as talkative as a rock, starting to die inside while he thought. After another few minutes, I surprised myself with a little sniff -- and immediately jumped up and started babbling about maybe I'd better get home; after all, I hadn't picked up the mail in a couple of days, and God only knew what could be piling up in the mailbox . . . Stupid, I know, but I hate crying, especially when I'm afraid any resultant cuddling would be purely out of pity. If I want pity I'll go cry on my local priest. Anyway, I headed towards my purse, still babbling in a fakey cheerful voice; you know the kind. I almost made it, too, until the sound of his voice stopped me. All he said was did I really want to go . . . and that did it, I started bawling like an idiot. I hate crying!
This time, though, it wasn't so bad after all.
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[happyend.doc.]
Sorry about that -- Duncan came home then and I never got to finish this -- more delays, and now I've got to finish and send this in a hurry. Because, guess what? We're going to Paris!!! Yup, 'lil ol' me, going to Paris, a place I never thought I'd get to -- and first class, yet! Apparently Duncan keeps a barge permanently moored somewhere around Notre Dame . . . which tells me absolutely nothing, of course, except that it's on water (the Seine, natch, I know that much) near the oldest part of Paris. Yah, I'm a world traveler, all right -- not! But I do know some history. I've always wanted to see Notre Dame, and the way Duncan talks, he's the equivalent of several stacks of guidebooks to Europe and elsewhere. Ye God the guy must have traveled! And there's that money thing coming up again . . . paying for mooring a barge when half a year or so you aren't using it? Uh, right.
Geeze it's hard getting out of detective mode!! Guess I should stop doing that -- but it's so much fun!! And look what it got me, huh? [veg]
Oh, Duncan helped me get a refund from the school -- and my Certificate. So I'm a fully accredited graduate Detective 2nd Class!! With high marks and a personal letter of recommendation from the Dean, yet! It's a rather vague letter, but hey, who cares -- I'm described in glowing terms, I should be able to fluff my way past any questions about what I did to get such high praise.
It's amazing, but Duncan seems to be absolutely enthralled by me for some strange reason . . . which is lovely, of course, since I'm just as bad about him. I don't know how long this beautiful dream will last, but I plan to enjoy every second of it. He says it's because I make him laugh more than he has in the last 20 years or so. To which I said get real, you're telling me you haven't laughed much since you were around 15? And wouldn't you know, that made him laugh! The silly nit. I love him, but he can be awfully silly sometimes. He laughed even more when I made the suggestion that maybe it was my chest or something that he liked even better. Well, hey, he's very appreciative of- well, that's private, never mind.
He'll be out in a minute -- I'm waiting in the car, he's making last-minute arrangements with Richie about taking care of the dojo. Richie has this dreamy look about him all the time lately; Duncan says he's got a new girlfriend, although he looked a wee bit worried when he mentioned it. I asked him why, and he said the girl seemed to be playing Richie and Adam off each other, in a very skilful way for such an innocent-looking thing. Well, naturally I perked up at that -- and yup, from the description it's Rosebud!! What's she up to now, huh? Richie and Adam? I'd hate to see Richie get hurt -- he's a sweet kid. Adam can be an awful -- well, pain -- at times. I'm rootin' for Richie. On the other hand, if Rosebud (I never did catch her name) ends up with Adam, well, she might get just what she deserves.
No signs of Green Robe, which is fine by me. Now that I've seen real Japanese swords used by a master, that repro one isn't terribly impressive, sharp or not. But somehow those fuzzy slippers keep sticking in my mind. No idea why, they just do . . . And I still don't know why he and Rosebud were lurking in the warehouse that night!! Maybe I'll have a little discussion with Rosebud, just her and me, when we get back. If she's still around in six months or so.
Wups -- Duncan's at the door, Richie's waving at me -- almost ready to go. This is gonna be fun!
One last item -- Duncan did put his foot down about one thing. The only thing he's insisted on, as a matter of fact. Re a relic from my course. He said I had to get rid of the ACME Sekrit Undercover Trenchcoat, the thing gave him the willies. Or something to that effect. His opinion of it was muttered under his breath in Gaelic, but I got the idea. (I've always wanted to learn Gaelic, I'll have to see about a course -- for some reason Duncan looks slightly goggle-eyed at the thought of me learning it from him. Why? It's not as if I'm that hard to teach, I pick up accents really fast. Maybe he just wants to be able to mutter privately to himself . . . if so, well, I'll work around it some way.)
Anyhoo, I tossed the ACME SUT last night, in the dumpster that started it all. Kinda hated to see it go -- after all, it had done me a favor in the end -- I'd never have really met Duncan if it hadn't been for trying the catch-up bit in the park when I fell so far behind him on his run. Or at all, if I hadn't been trying out the SUT in the first place and stumbled- ah, investigated that dumpster after seeing Duncan!! But he's right; it doesn't really fit in with my new lifestyle. Besides, he said I could buy all the trenchcoats I wanted in Paris; ones that fit!! Without the smell, too; that never did want to come out all the way.
Gotta go -- I'll write you from Paris after we settle in and tell you all about it!
Monica
Detective 2nd Class
PS -- Guess what I just saw? You'll die . . . We were pulling out of the alley, I hadn't filed this yet, and I looked back to wave at Richie -- and lo and behold, there was Groucho glasses pulling the Sekrit Undercover Trenchcoat out of the dumpster!!! No way could I have mistaken that red hair, not to mention the glasses! But the really funny thing? She put that sucker on, and I could swear she almost wasn't there any more!!! LOL . . . I wonder who she wants to tail???
