A note from the authors: This story is a co-written by St. Ciel and Justine Harker (from AO3). It's a parody of The Maltese Falcon and we hope you have fun with it.
…
The outside sounds of the bustling city fill the room as the setting West Coast sun bleeds through the open slats of the Venetian blinds, which cover the windows.
My back is to the window but I still feel heat the sun provides. It warms my ears as I lean back in the chair and think about how I should end my day. Perhaps I should call it quits, it's been a slow and uneventful day and I'm really no use just sitting here by myself but I'm still waiting for my partner Claude to return. He disappeared off this afternoon to finish a case; I thought he'd be back by now to give me an update but no such luck.
We were fortunate to get an office facing Market Street, it allows for a lot of foot traffic through our door and provides me with some light entertainment between customers. Glancing over my shoulder I look out the window. This city is full of tall buildings but through them, I can see a section of the Bay Bridge and the cars crawling over it like multi-coloured bugs. The bell of a cable car sounds out to announce their departure and it pulls me out of my thoughts.
Turning back around and reaching over, I slide a decorative wooden box toward me. Flicking open the lid I pull out a small canvas pouch and a thin cardboard packet. Sitting the pouch down and opening the packet, I pluck a piece of paper out of the packet and toss it down. My fingers dig into the pouch and bring out a pinch of loose tobacco.
Lining the paper's crease with the tobacco and resting my elbows on the desktop, I lean over, rolling the cigarette between my fingers.
I hear the door open and softly close, creaking under the weight of a body leaning against it. I don't need to look up to know it's our office secretary Grelle. Whenever she comes into the office, she has a not so subtle tell. It's lead by the impatient tap of her heel and little annoyed sigh at being ignored.
She's an obnoxious, impetuous and hot headed creature, which goes along with her fiery red hair and temperament. I get a little thrill from pretending to ignore her, as I know it infuriates her so much. Continuing to roll my cigarette I hear Grelle exhale another exasperated sigh. This time it's louder as she tries to get my attention. She drums her nails along the side of the door in frustration and I can tell she is desperate to say something. I may as well address her, as she's likely to explode if I don't.
"Yes?" I smile, carrying on with the task at hand.
"Someone's here to see you," she says.
"A customer?" I wonder, my gaze lifting from my hands to her.
"I guess," she rolls her eyes over the rim over the rim of her glasses. "You'll probably want to see her anyway, she's a knock out."
Well, if she's a knock out, I grin to myself.
"Certainly, bring her in Grelle, bring her in."
Licking the edge of the paper and laying it flat against itself, I seal it with a quick twist of my fingers. Shaking her head, Grelle opens the door and slips back into the reception with a swish of red clad hips and her hand still on the doorknob.
"Mr. Michaelis said he will see you now Miss Lapin but be quick."
There is a soft murmur from the other side and Grelle sharply nods toward me. Appearing in the doorway, a young woman hesitates a moment before entering. Tutting under her breath, Grelle shuts the door behind her.
She's a peach all right; a black wrap is draped over her slender frame with black lace gloves covering her delicate hands. She clutches her wrap closed over her throat as she makes her way into the office. I try to get a better look at her face but a chic black hat with blue roses obscures my view, the brim is so wide it completely covers her right eye, shielding half her face from me.
I instantly rise to my feet, flashing her a polite smile and motioning to the well-worn brown leather armchair beside my desk. Her eye tentatively looks over to the chair and back to me. Quickly going over to it, I pull it back for her. With a slight nod of appreciation, she sits, crossing her legs at the ankle and placing her small clutch on her lap.
"Thank you," she says softly. I go around to other side of the desk and slink back into my chair. Sliding a pad of paper in front of me and collecting a pencil, I tap the point on the pad and look up at her. She seems jittery and nervous as she makes light work of torturing her bottom lip.
"What can I do for you, Miss Lapin?" I smile, hoping I can set her at ease.
"My sister… She… I don't know where she is…" She hurriedly replies.
"Where'd you leave her?" I ask with a little cheek, which I quickly regret as she doesn't appear to find the humor in my words. Adjusting the clasp of her wrap, she rolls her shoulders as her body stiffens. "All right, perhaps it'd be best of you start from the beginning."
"She met a man in New York, some scoundrel from outside our social circle. And now he's gone off with her and our parents are gone. I have to find her before they get back from Europe." She rambles, each word pours out in rapid succession.
"When are they coming back?" I inquire, scribbling down what I can gather from her rambling.
"At the end of the month," she answers.
"That only gives us two weeks," I say more to myself than her.
"I wasn't sure she had gone with him until I got the letter from San Francisco. I was absolutely shocked that she'd actually done it. I didn't know what to do. What could I do?"
Dropping the pencil, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms as I think.
"I suppose nothing, but then, you received a letter from her?" I say calmly as I can see she's on the verge of tears.
Miss Lapin nods in response, her eyes on the notes I had taken down instead of seeing me. "I sent a telegram telling her to come home. She never responded which just got me more concerned. I decided to come out here to get her myself. I wrote to say I was coming. Should I have done that? I don't know..."
"Miss Lapin, from my experience, it's always hard to know what to do in these situations," I try to reassure her. "So, you're still unsure of her whereabouts?"
"Of course not. Would I be here if I was?" She snaps.
"No," I agree.
"I said I would go to St. Mark's, and told her to meet me there. I was hoping I could convince her in person to come home, but she didn't turn up."
"Not even a message?"
Her hands fall to her lap and her gaze follows suit. Lacing her fingers together, she uses her thumb to rub the side of her other hand and sighs heavily.
"Not knowing what was happening to her was the worst feeling," she says with a small shudder. "I sent another letter and went to the post office to wait and see if she would come to pick it up. Instead of my sister, I saw Eric Slingby."
"Slingby?"
"The scoundrel she ran off with."
"I see," I nod, trying to piece all of this together. "What did he say? Why wasn't she with him?"
"He told me nothing. He wouldn't tell me where Mer was or anything except that she was happy and didn't have any interest in seeing me."
"Do you think that's true?"
Her head snaps to me and her large eye starts to water.
"She wouldn't say that. Why would she refuse to see me?" She defends. "Slingby is lying to me, I'm sure of it. He said he would relay my message and would try to bring her to see me this evening at the hotel. He said he was sure she wouldn't want to come, but that he would come alone if she didn't." Miss Lapin pauses to take a breath and gather her thoughts.
After a moment, she feels ready to continue, opening her mouth to begin again. However, the door quickly swings open and stifles her. Clapping her lace-clad hand over her mouth, we watch as my partner Claude comes marching into the office.
Looking around, he stops suddenly upon seeing Miss Lapin and hastily takes off his fedora.
"Oh, do excuse me, I wasn't aware someone was in the office," he apologises, shooting me a dirty look as if I should have given him some kind of warning.
"Claude, may I introduce you to Miss Lapin? Miss Lapin, this is Mr Faustus, my partner."
Claude comes toward us, stopping at the corner of my desk. Pushing his glasses up with his index finger, he nonchalantly casts his eyes over Miss Lapin. From her lowered face to her neatly crossed ankles and back up again. Once he is finished taking her in, he looks over to me and lets out a self-satisfied snort of mild appreciation. I stifle an amused chuckle at my partner's typically stern expression showing something other than contempt.
"Pleased to meet you," he offers her his hand and she politely accepts it, giving it a small shake.
"Miss Lapin is here because she's trying to find her sister. She ran off with a fella by the name of Eric Slingby and ended up in San Francisco. Miss Lapin has since seen Slingby and agreed to meet again tonight in the hopes he'll bring her sister, Mer, but the likelihood is low. Miss Lapin wants us to find her sister, get her away from Slingby and back home to New York. Am I right so far?" I ask her.
"Yes," she agrees flatly.
Picking up my pencil I begin to write some thoughts down quickly. Miss Lapin and Claude both look at me curiously as I put a plan together on paper.
"I reckon it's a matter of someone being at the hotel to follow him when he leaves and hopefully, that'll bring us to your sister." I surmise, still looking at my notes.
"What if she doesn't want to leave him?" Claude wonders and I shrug.
"That's a possibility but you know as well as I do, there are ways of handling that, should it arise."
"Right," Claude agrees with a knowing look.
"You'll have to be careful. I'm afraid of...what he might do. Bringing Mer here from New York is serious. What if he does something to her?" She says with concern obvious in her voice.
My eyes dart to Claude who simply nods.
"I wouldn't worry about that, we'll know how handle him." I state.
Miss Lapin sits upright as though a jolt raced up her spine. Her hands land on the arms of the chair, gripping them tightly.
"He is a dangerous man. You understand what I'm saying?" She warns with a blanched look of fear on her face. "I honestly think he would stop at nothing and may even kill Mer if he was forced to, if he was cornered."
"All right calm down, what does he look like?" I ask. Her eye drifts to the side as she recollects his appearance.
"He's tall with dark blond hair, glasses and jaunty beard just on his chin and has a peculiar smirk on his face."
"And his build?"
"Thin, quite agile looking. He had on a black suit and black gloves when I saw him at the post office this morning," she says and I nod whilst making notes.
"What time did you arrange to meet him?"
"After eight o'clock," she replies. Sitting the pencil down I look over my plan, humming lowly as I'm sure it will work.
"Very well Miss Lapin, we'll put a man there to-"
"No need Michaelis, I'll look into it myself." Claude hastily interjects.
I can't help but smirk at my partner's offer. Trailing people isn't something Claude typically cares to involve himself with. Of course, with the right pair of legs, you can convince a man to do anything.
Sitting forward, a grateful smile makes its way onto Miss Lapin's lips.
"Thank you, thank very much."
Flicking open the gold clasp on her clutch, she roots around in one of the side pockets and withdraws a few bills, sliding them purposefully across the desk.
"This should be enough to get you started," she says.
"It's just fine," I smile, looking at the money on the desk.
Clearing my throat and getting up, I go over to Miss Lapin. Offering her my hand, she places hers in mine and I guide her up to her feet.
"Thank you," she blushes.
"Not a problem," I say, escorting her to the door. "Oh, just one thing, can you meet Slingby in the lobby? I think it would be easier to track him from there."
"I will," she nods.
"And Miss Lapin, try to act as natural as possible when you meet Slingby," Claude adds. "You don't have to worry about looking for me, I'll be there."
She gives him a polite smile as she makes her way out of the office. Closing the door behind her, I head back to my desk. Picking up one of the bills, Claude examines it carefully, feeling the texture of the paper between his fingers.
"They're real all right," he notes as he folds it up and shoves it into his vest pocket. "And I bet there's more where that came from."
I hum in acknowledgement and slide the other bill toward me before sitting back down. I don't bother to give it as much attention as Claude, simply folding it and tucking it into my coat pocket.
"What do you make of her?" I ask, genuinely interested in his opinion. The whole time she was here, I couldn't seem to get an accurate read on her.
Claude shrugs. "She seems sweet," he answers and then lets out a smug chuckle. "You may have seen her first but I spoke first," he sneers, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocks back onto his heels.
"Is that so?" I grin with an arch in my brow. "You're smart Faustus, yes you are."
"I'm sure there's a compliment there," he smirks, perching his fedora on the crown of his head.
Smiling, I pick up the cigarette I made earlier and pop it between my lips watching as he leaves the office once again.
…
After the day is finished, I make my way back home.
Clicking on the lights to an empty apartment, I take off my hat and shrug off my coat flinging both onto a nearby chair. I live alone; it seems fitting, especially as I wouldn't call myself a people person. Sure, they're all right I guess, but I find them more interesting from a business perspective, rather than simply good company.
Besides, the idea of sharing my life with someone isn't something that appeals; especially I already have something wonderful to come home to. Looking down I my feet I see her sitting quietly beside me, her glossy black fur shines with each sway of her tail. Smiling, I bend over and run my hand from the top of her head down to behind her ears as she purrs loudly in appreciation.
"Good evening Astor," I greet my cat sweetly and she replies with a little meow. Stepping past her, I meander to the cabinet along the wall. Pulling on the knot of my tie to loosen it, I look over the various crystal decanters until I settle on the one containing the whisky.
Taking out the stopper and sitting it to the side, I pour the dark brown liquid into a glass and put it down. After adding a splash of water to it, I take my glass, inhale the peat scent released by the water, and head over to the couch. Flopping back on it, Astor jumps up to join me, curling up on my lap.
Stroking her back and taking a sip of whisky I reflect back on my evening but in particular, meeting Miss Lapin. There is something not quite right about her but if Faustus thinks she's on the level, then who am I to argue? Reaching into my pocket I take out the bill and twirl it between my fingers. I wonder, who is Miss Lapin? Is she really the wide-eyed innocent she appears to be? I guess it doesn't really matter what she is as long as the money's good.
Smiling to myself and resting my head against the back of the chair, I close my eyes and try to relax.
I must have fallen into a very deep sleep as the next thing I know is I'm jolted awake by the loud ring of my telephone. Yawning, I stand and go over to the telephone, pick it up and tuck it between my ear and shoulder.
"Hello?" I inquire, waiting for their reply. "Yes, this is Sebastian Michaelis… What? Dead?" They inform me and I nearly drop the receiver. "Of course… No, no, come to me. Bush and Stockton, fifteen minutes, thank you."
Putting the phone back down on the hook, I stare blankly at it and try to wrap my mind around what I just heard. Claude is dead.