Almost, forgot this bit. Been missing from the site for a while. I'm slow to update, but the second chapters almost done. This takes place after episode 103 of the anime series.

I don't own D. Gray-man.

Murder in Nowhere, USA

Tyki Mikk finished the last sip of red wine and slumped back into the velvet cushioned chair. After a few half-drunk attempts, he picked off the gold cuff links and black neck tie. He dropped them carelessly onto the imported rug, and stared up at the elegant baroque mural on the ceiling and smirked. White-robed angels were flying with trumpets in the painting above him. While the painting looked innocent enough at first, there were storm clouds behind the graceful angels instead of a blue sky. Green lightning like Innocence raged in the dark clouds. The entire mural was full of such little jokes, if you knew where to look. It was his favorite part of the elegant, and now empty, dance hall.

"Another ball done, and I'm glad it's over." He said to himself in a slightly slurred voice, and sank even deeper into the cushions.

"Oh? I thought you liked the balls, Tickie. Isn't it fun anymore?"A pair of large violet eyes stared down at him from behind the chair. Her short wild blue hair was tied down with pink ribbons, and she smiled at him like a cat that just ate a canary.

"Road? I didn't know you were there." He straightened up to looked at the little society miss in her frilly pink and purple dress. "I didn't get a dance with you tonight, sister."

"I was busy." The playful and dark tone in her voice implied that it was Noah work.

"Oh? I thought we were at a standstill until the egg was rebuilt."

"At a logging company we finance in Oregon, there is rumor that they can break apart large trees with their hands. Their production in the past few months has tripled. They say that the machines have improved, but still, no other company has seen this much of an increase."

Tyki slumped back into the chair with disgust. "Is that all?"

Road leaned over the chair to wrap her slim arms around Tyki's shoulders. "But don't you think it's odd? It could be Innocence. Lenalee Lee could be the heart of the innocence, but we don't know that for sure. And there's no reason for us to let the Black Order find another exorcist."

Tyki leaned his head on his hand, and loosened Road's arms from his shoulders. At the moment, he had no interest in leaving the chair, much less the country. "I'm tired, Road. Just send some Akuma to check it out."

"We still have some left, but Akuma numbers are low right now. Without the egg, we can't make any more. Besides, aren't you bored here? It's not like you to just lie around like this. You slept in this chair last night, didn't you?" She said with the accusatory note of a big sister.

Tyki shrugged. "It's a comfortable chair. Is there some reason I can't sleep here?"

Road's large eyes narrowed. "You haven't gone to see your hole-digging friends either. Not since you lost to General Cross."

Tyki shrugged that off too, but Road could feel that his shoulders had tensed beneath the black suit. "It was just a game, living as a vagabond and making human friends. I might be over it."

Road leaned forward to see her brother's sad eyes gazing at the ceiling. "Might?" She wrapped her arms tighter and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm busy with the egg, and you need a break. Please, as a favor to me?" She said sweetly.

Tyki continued to stare quietly for a minute more. "Alright, Road. It just occurred to me. I have the entire mural on the ceiling memorized." He smirked, and the smile extended to almost his ears. "How horribly dull it is here."

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The American Northwest was damp and cool. The forest floor was soft and tangled in the roots of massive trees that formed a thick green canopy high overhead. Late afternoon sunlight glowed green through the leaves, and the air was humid and clean. Bird songs Tyki had never heard drifted through the forest.

Tyki smiled to himself. It was already more interesting than yet another ball. He was beginning to have trouble with names at the society dances. The pretty girls and their rich parents who all dressed and acted alike were starting to become indistinguishable.

Tyki stepped out of the stagecoach onto the muddy road with his shiny black shoes. He dressed in a black suit with a top hat, and his dark wavy hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail. He had considered gathering information as a hired hand, but this angle could be interesting too. He already had a family connection to the company, so he came to inspect the company's investment. At least, that was the cover story.

A mosquito drifted by that was bigger than a horsefly, and Tyki couldn't help but stare.

"Yeah, They're big uns, eh? The bugs 'round 'ere, they'll pick yah up and take yah awah" The tall and burly coach driver trudged around the stagecoach with Tyki's suitcase in his thick fist. He threw it noisily onto the long wooden porch of the lumberjack's lodge.

Tyki frowned in annoyance, and reached for the black case.

"LEAVE IT!" The coach driver barked, and Tyki froze in place with his hand outstretched. "Ah take it. Alv a Minute! PAT! GET TA DA HORSES!" He waved to a lanky, orange-haired boy down the muddy road.

The Noah gentleman straightened his back and glared. "What an irritating, ill-mannered geezer." He starting to imagine him with his heart ripped out, and quickly dismissed the thought. "I'm not here for him, and I won't find high-bred manners at a lumberjack camp. Laborers won't bother with manners like that. I know that. I remember that." Tyki unclenched his white-gloved fists and spoke politely through his teeth. "Is Mr. Lancaster here? I'd like to see him immediately."

"Ah? Yeah." The stout, old man handed the horse's harness to the freckled, lanky teen. He lumbered onto the rough wooden porch of cut logs and scooped up the black suitcase. "Falla me, Sir." The word 'sir' stuck on his tongue like a curse.

The lodge was one long, low building made of cut logs that set among the tall trees like a crate dropped in the forest. There was one large central room where all the men ate and slept with a huge fireplace in the center. A couple small rooms were sectioned off to either side, but privacy was zero. The kitchen was partially walled-off against the back wall and had its own small chimney for the iron stove. Plumbing was non-existent, and the men far outnumbered the rough-made chairs. Still, compared to the tents and rough lodges of most lumberjack camps, this was a palace. Tyki remembered a number of times when he had slept in the mines because there was no shelter for the diggers at all. "Not bad." He smiled as he took in his night's lodgings. "Much more than I expected."

"Tyki Mikk?" A brown-haired man in red flannel and blue denim held out his massive hand for a handshake. He was both as tall and as broad as a door. Tyki politely shook his hand. He was terribly strong, but he made no attempt to crush the gentleman's hand. "I'm Curt Lancaster, the foreman. We've been expecting you, and I've gotten together the financial papers." He glanced at the black suitcase in the gruff coachman's hand. "You came late in the day. Were you planning on spending the night here? We don't really have a private bedroom for you. Even I sleep in the main room."

"The girls got their own room. You could kick them out for a couple nights." One of the lumberjacks jeered over his steaming stew.

"You have girls here?" Tyki said in surprise.

"Well, a pair of sisters. The older one works with and repairs our logging machines. Their out repairing right now. Their parents are dead, so the little sister stays here as well. She's very good at her job, really, dead serious about it." The foreman folded his arms defensively. Lumberjack camps normally didn't have girls in them. "Didn't feel right to me, them sleeping in the main room with the men. I cleaned out an old storage room and gave it them. Actually, I do have an office. If I cleaned that up a bit, you could sleep in there."

"Yes. That would be perfect. I wouldn't want to force the ladies into sleeping in the same room as the men." Tyki said like a gracious gentleman, and several of the loggers around him snorted and stifled a laugh."While I'm here, I'd like to observe your logging operations in addition to collecting the financial documents for our main office."

Mr. Lancaster nodded and unfolded his arms. "Alright. First thing tomorrow, we'll take you out with us." The huge foreman led Tyki to one of the side rooms and opened the heavy door. A dead gray fox was hanging on the inside of the door. "Whoops, forgot about him. We keep chickens around back, and he was helping himself." The room inside was piled with papers, boxes, heaps of heavy cloths, bottles of lamp oil and a couple unfinished wood carvings leaning against a battered table. The air that wafted through the door was stagnant and dusty, and there was no window. From the smell, the fox probably wasn't the only dead animal in the cluttered, small room.

"Another storage room." Tyki thought dryly. "You don't have to go to so much trouble, Mr. Lancaster. I can sleep in the main room if it's a bother."

"Oh, no. I can clear this out in no time." The foreman picked up the nearest stack of papers.

"He says he doesn't want to sleep in your stale, dirty office with a dead animal hanging on the door." Tyki turned, and a sandy blonde woman in her early twenties stood behind him. A golden-haired girl was attached to her arm like the child was in mortal terror of the entire world. "He's a city gentleman, so he's not saying it straight. But he doesn't want to set foot in your office."

"Erk. That's not what I said." Tyki corrected, but by the expression on his face, she had obviously hit a bullseye.

The woman was average build under several layers of wool shirts and pants. Her tangled hair was cut short and her hazel eyes were clear. She sized up the dark, wealthy gentleman, and her sullen frown turned up into a predatory smirk. "Do you play poker, sir?"

This made Tyki smile. "On occasion."

Her smirk widened. "Do you drink?"

"Yes." Tyki liked where this was going, even if she was out to hustle him. "What's your name, Miss?"

"Chicago Armstrong."

Tyki looked twice at her dirty lumberjack clothes and tanned skin. "As in, the city?"

"I know, it doesn't fit. Mom was from there, that's why." She pointed to the golden-haired little girl that clung to her arm. "My sister's name is California. Guess where Dad was from."

The little girl fearfully peered at Tyki from behind her older sister. Her thick, wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail and bangs fell just above her wide, violet eyes. Her clothes were oversized boy's clothes and hung off of her like she was playing dress-up. She stared for a moment, then ducked back behind Chicago.

"She don't talk much. Come on, I'll introduce you to my poker buddies."

"Eh? Wait, Chicago. . ." Mr. Lancaster hurriedly set down his stack of papers.

"I got it, boss. I'm just entertaining our guest while you get the room ready." She threw a wink that made the foreman wince. "Just a few hands of cards and a glass of 60 proof."

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Tyki's aching head slowly pulled him out of a drunken sleep. He became vaguely aware of the cot beneath him and the heavy wool blanket over him.

"Rise and shine, city slicker!" An obnoxiously playful voice called as a set of heavy footsteps stomped by his head.

"Shut up." The Noah grumbled and rolled onto his side. He realized that every movement made his head pound. His clothes were soaking wet somehow, but he couldn't care less. He pulled the heavy blanket over his head without opening his eyes and hoped everyone with their noisy boots and bellowing voices would leave.

"Time to get up." This voice was female, and therefore, it must belong to Chicago. "Mr. Lancaster's ready to give you a tour of the company. He's planned it all out. You've got to get up to keep on schedule."

"You're joking."

"I wish I was." She said brightly. She sat down on the floor and placed a steaming tin cup in front of her. "Want a hangover drink? I made some willow bark tea. It dulls aches and pains."

He reached one hand out from beneath the blanket and felt around blindly for the cup.

"You're going to have to sit up to drink it anyway." She pointed out.

Tyki groaned and reluctantly pushed himself into sitting on the edge of the cot. His dark hair was loose and damp with a few dead leaves hung up in the tangles. His white shirt was wet and dirty along the back. He rubbed his head as if that would stop the headache.

The lumberjacks glanced up from their breakfast and grinned. "Well, who are you, stranger? Something the cat dragged in?"

"Don't." Tyki warned. His head hurt, and breaking their heads was starting to sound like fun.

Chicago pushed a steaming cup of thick green liquid in his hand. "Drink it."

It smelled like turpentine mixed with honey. He took and sip and nearly spit it out. "That's bitter!"

"Medicine often is."

Tyki threw his head back and swallowed the bitter mix the same way he downed his first shot of whiskey the night before. "Nasty! YUK!"

Chicago chuckled. "Alright, you're up. That was my goal. Go get yourself cleaned up." She got up to go, and Tyki stopped her.

"Wait, Miss Chicago," He asked the first question that formed in his foggy brain. "How did I get wet?"

"Oh, I told you to go jump in a lake, and you did. You dragged Jason in with you, for some reason, and nearly drowned him. Then you passed out on the lake shore, so that ended that." She smiled sarcastically at his surprised expression. "You don't remember a thing, do you?"

"I remember playing, and losing at poker." Tyki was holding his aching head again. "Then somebody, I think the coachman, was caught cheating."

"We didn't prove it. It was just, way too lucky. And I still came out ahead, so I don't care." She started walking off and called back over her shoulder. "Mr. Lancaster put your suitcase in his office, so you're not flat broke, yet. Your top hat and coat are gone though."

Tyki sat and tied to fish more memories out of his hangover, but he only remembered gambling in the main room. Jason was a wiry, tall man with a thick black beard. He was naturally lucky and an experienced player. The coachman, Eustace, was a cheat. He was sure of it. Two royal flushes back to back, no way. Chicago was good at guessing other people's hands, and became increasing accurate as the deck grew thinner. She was a card counter. Maybe she had a high ability to read people too. Mike and Stephen played together, and helped each other out. In this group, they were slaughtered even worse than him. Tyki shook his head ruefully, and found the resulting pain was a little duller than before. "As much as I've played cards, I should be better at it. Maybe I should learn to cheat." He remembered playing Allen Walker on the train. He remember Allen Walker trying to exorcize the Noah within him, a failed attempt. Tyki stopped that line of thought and staggered to his feet.

A freckled boy ran in with a terrified face. Tyki recognized him as the boy who helped with the horses the day before. "DEAD! HE'S DEAD! Oh God! There's a hole! There's a hole right here!" He pointed to the center of his forehead.

"Huh? What? What did he say?" The lumberjacks didn't follow what he was screaming about so suddenly in the middle of breakfast. They stared at him.

"Eustace is dead! He's been shot!" He said as clearly as possible.

The whole room got to their feet, and rushed to the door. Mr. Lancaster was running when he hit the porch. Tyki followed sluggishly behind, borrowing a brown jacket someone left on a chair.

Chicago ran out of her storage room with a bloody white cloth in her hand. "What happened? I heard yelling."

"Eustace has been murdered." Tyki calmly reported. "And I wonder if it was me. I can't remember. Oh well, he was a cheater anyway." He added mentally. Then he noticed the bloody cloth in her hand.

She followed his eyes, and tucked it inside her outer-most shirt."Cali's got a chronic illness. Last night was a bad one for her. She's doing better." Chicago set her jaw and walked out to avoid further conversation.

"So her sister is dying?" Tyki mused for a minute on how he would feel if Eez or Road were sick and dying. "That must really hurt. Poor girl."

Tyki wandered out to the tar-stained long tent that covered the coach's horses and the logging machines. A huge, talkative crowd was already pressed around the entrance, and he could hear Mr. Lancaster yelling for the men to back up.

"Patrick! Ride into town and get the sheriff." The freckled, lanky boy appeared above the crowd on the back of one of the coach's horses. He galloped down the road bareback and vanished behind the trees.

"Mike, Stephen, Jason, Chicago, and you too, Mr. Mikk, I need you to come to the front." Mr. Lancaster bellowed.

"The card players from last night." Tyki worked his way through the crowd to the inside of the tent and found Eustace's body at his feet. "Serves you right, old cheat."

The coachman's mouth was open in shock, and his eyes had been closed by someone's hand. A low caliber bullet had entered through the back of the head at a low angle and blew a hole the size of a half-dollar in his wrinkled forehead. There were no signs of a struggle, and no cuts or bruises on his hands. His winnings from the card game were untouched on the dirt where he dropped them. Blood had soaked into the ground and dried where it splattered.

"It looks to me, like he was taking his winnings to the coach when he was shot." Mr. Lancaster gazed down at Eustace with a miserable frown. "Because nothing was taken, it wasn't a robbery. And we're in the middle of the woods, so . . ." The huge foreman frowned even deeper. ". . .it's probably not an outsider."

Tyki could feel the eyes glaring at his back. He was the only stranger here, and the coachman was murdered right after he lost money to him.

"Mr. Mikk, what time did you stop playing cards last night?" Mr. Lancaster's voice didn't sound suspicious, but out of the five remaining players, the foreman asked Tyki the question.

Tyki smirked and shook his head. If this went badly, he could always kill them all. "I honestly don't remember. I drank so much last night, that most of it is a blank."

A rumbling talk ran through the crowd of men behind him, and Tyki's smile became a shade crueler.

"It was around eleven." Jason volunteered. "We did get into a fight about Eustace cheating, and he probably was."

The angry mumbles of the men grew louder.

"But he left in the end!" Jason's low voice started to sound nervous. "Then the rest of us went out onto the porch and finished off the whiskey. And that's the thing! The five of us were all together for the next hour. Then Chicago had to go off to the outhouse, but still, he would have died right after he left. Right? Because all of the stuff never made it to the coach. So, so we five have alibis!"

The voices of the men changed from anger to confusion in a heartbeat. Tyki cocked his head and took a second look at the body.

"He was shot. I've never fired a gun. Why would I use one? Curiosity? And he was shot from behind. I love to torment. I love the fear of death in a man's eyes. It looks like Eustace never even knew what hit him." Tyki fought hard to hold in a laugh, and ended up in a coughing fit that made his head pound.

"Are you alright, Mr. Mikk?" Lancaster asked.

"I'm fine. It seems I'm not the killer though, so who else here has a grudge against him?"

There was a lot of uncomfortable muttering and shifting of feet. The phrase "It's not that I really hated him, but . . ." came out of several mouths with several variations.

"He played and won money off of every new soul he brought into town." Chicago had been pensively staring at the corpse since she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "More interesting. The five of us were on the porch. The rest, sleeping in a building not a hundred feet away. And Patrick, as he does when the horses are here, was sleeping in the tent.So, how did no one hear the gunshot?"

The men were silent, but many eyes drifted to Chicago.