A/N: I do not own rights to the Harry Potter series and I do not make money from this.
This story takes place in the summer after DH, probably around July 1998 or so. If anyone finds any cultural errors (references to British Police, British Churchgoers) in this chapter, please let me know so I can fix them.
Chapter 1: Under Investigation
"One green tea, ma'am."
Audrey glanced up from the notepad in her hands and stepped forward to take her drink. Turning, she surveyed the shop and chose a small table for two beside the window. It was 3:12, and there was no sign of the man she was supposed to be meeting. She rushed here, afraid she'd be late, and now he wasn't even here.
He has three minutes, she told herself. Give him three minutes.
She sat and put down her books. University was a pain, but a necessary one. She often had to remind herself that she was paying for this, ergo it had to do her some good at some point.
3:13.
"Miss Bones?"
she looked up, surprised out of the mess of equations and physics problems running through her head.
The first words to her mind were 'fire', and 'round'. A man was looking down at her through thick round glasses, his hair a startling shade of flame-red.
She rose. "Mr. Weasley?"
"Yes Madam." They shook hands, and he sat. "I must apologize for my tardiness." He began.
"No, you're not late, you're actually in time." She assured him.
"I usually prefer to arrive precedent to an interview." He informed her, and straightened his glasses, returning to business. "Now."
"You wanted to talk to me about my father's murder." She said bluntly, staring across the table at him.
His eyes met hers from behind his glasses. "Murder, miss?"
She felt a bitter, sick feeling rise in her stomach. They were going to dismiss the idea of homicide. But it was murder! She wanted to scream. He was in perfect health! He was murdered! Never mind there was no evidence. She swallowed. "There were a lot of very suspicious things surrounding his death...it was never likely he just...died."
He shuffled some papers in front of him. "Yet the official report states that he died of natural causes. Heart failure?"
"That's what the official report says." She said dully. He was another suit, another bureaucrat, another stiff man giving her unsatisfactory, half-formed answers. She would have to go home and tell her mother, watch her face fall as they both realized that out there in the world there breathed a man who would never suffer for the one life and two hearts he had destroyed.
"To which anomalous circumstances are you making reference, precisely?"
She blinked at his word usage and replied, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "Well, he'd never had heart troubles before. He was in good health. He didn't even have chest pains. It was very abnormal."
"And nothing more than that?"
She glanced up at him a little defensively. "Well, his death itself was...strange. I saw the body. No one had touched it or moved it yet, and he was..."
"He was..." He gazed at her, surprisingly patient for someone who didn't believe it was a murder.
"He was all stretched out." She said. "If he'd had a heart attack, he would have been in any position. But as it was, his face...his eyes were wide open, and his mouth was wide open, and he was lying stiff, and...at attention..." She could remember it vividly. As if he'd just fallen over backwards while screaming. His hands at his sides, his legs together, lying on his back, staring eternally at the flickering lights of the bakery's ceiling.
Mr. Weasley was scribbling something down.
She could just hear it. Delusional. Obsessed with homicide. In need of mental care.
His eyes came up. "Did he have any enemies?"
"No. He never made enemies. He was friends with everyone. Everyone..." She rubbed her neck faintly.
"Can you think of any reason that someone would want to kill him?"
"No."
"Perhaps, the restaurant's money? Perhaps someone wanted to burgle the establishment, and he refused to give them permission?"
"No." She shook her head. "He knew his life was worth more than money. And he would've given them whatever they wanted to save a life." She said. "He always worked for people..." Her mind was spinning.
"Was there any blood at the scene that you saw?"
"No."
"A weapon?"
"No."
"Any wounds or marks on the body?"
"No."
"What was the cause of death as determined by the autopsy?"
"Unknown." She admitted softly.
"And the police report?"
"Natural causes unknown, but most likely a sudden heart attack."
"But you don't believe it." His tone was firm now, no longer questioning, as if he were summing up their little session.
"No." She was drawn out of her reverie. "No, I don't." She glared him down, aware that he was nearly finished and he hadn't probably learned anything new from her.
"Miss Bones." He said, pushing up his glasses and leaning forward, "Did your father have any sort of secret life that you were aware of? A secret past, mysterious nights out, unanswered questions...anything at all you can think of, ever in your life?"
"No." She said firmly, knowing she was sealing any chance of him opening a homicide investigation. "He didn't have any secrets from me or my mother. I believe," She added, "I believe it was a spur-of-the-moment crime."
"One which was executed so flawlessly it leaves no trail to follow." He mumbled, flipping through some papers, not even looking at her.
She felt a hot flush rising to her face. How dare he, this pristine ginger moron who knew nothing of pain, how dare he dismiss her and her father. A man was dead, a man who ought to have been alive. Did he have any idea what that meant?
"Try losing your father and then getting pummeled by the police, and see what you think then." She snapped at him, crossing her arms and leaning back. "I was under the impression the case was being re-opened."
He ignored her comment, making her angrier, and confirmed her remark. "It is. It's under my jurisdiction now, I'm just going to be talking to all those connected again, collecting their former statements, and closing it as soon as I come to a conclusion."
So easy. As if they were machines and not humans who were remembering painful pieces of their lives. "I see." She said. "So it's not really under investigation."
His eyes came up and met hers again in a serious manner. "I assure you, madam, I completely intend to investigate this to the very fullest of my capabilities."
She gazed at him, arms still crossed. "Good."
"He was an absolute swot." Audrey threw a hand towel down on the counter. "He thought I was bonkers. And he kept using all these big words. 'I assure, you, my lady, I fully intend to examine the anomalous circumstances of this pecuniary investigation.'" She mocked.
"He's only doing his job." Her mother replied softly.
Audrey glanced over at her, feeling intense sympathy. Lucy Bones had taken the news rather well, considering that there was a murderer running loose somewhere with her husband's death on his hypothetical conscience.
Silence reigned.
Three firm, efficient knocks fell on the door.
The two women looked at one another. "Who would...?" Her mother wondered.
"I'll get it." Audrey pushed off the counter. She crossed the front foyer in stocking feet and reached for the door. It swung open to reveal...glasses and hair. Audrey blinked.
"Mr. Weasley." She said abruptly.
"Miss Bones." He greeted her. "Is Madam Bones in residence?"
She blinked again at his word usage, finding it almost cute (coming from a stiff), and bobbed her head. "Yes, she's here. Please, come in."
"I hope I am not suspending your meal plans. I'd intended to arrive prior-"
"No, no, not at all." She interrupted eagerly, letting him in. He was in fact holding them from their fresh made lasagna, but she and her mother would gladly sacrifice many meals to get somewhere, anywhere on the case. She led him through the kitchen and into the breakfast area. "Mum, this is Mr. Weasley, he's working Dad's case."
"Detective Weasley. Lucy Bones. Tea?" Her mother had been as surprised as she, but pulled it off well with the air of a cook and hostess.
"Yes, thank you. And please, it's Mr. Weasley."
"Not detective, or investigator?"
"No, ma'am." He hesitated, glancing between the two of them. "This is case is not under the jurisdiction of the police, it's...er, been assigned to a special department for temporary reinvestigation."
Audrey glanced at the back of his head as she poured the tea. Special?
"I just have a few questions...it won't take long." He flipped open a file and shuffled through papers. "Madam Bones, what do you believe was the cause of death of Michael Bones?"
"The official police report said it was likely a heart attack."
He rubbed his eyebrow, squinted, and sighed. "Madam Bones, please answer the questions precisely as I ask them. What do you believe was the cause of death of your husband?"
Audrey looked at him with surprise as she set down his tea.
"I..." Her mother was equally put off. "I believe he was killed by...someone. Maybe an accident. I certainly don't think it was natural."
"And why, may I ask, is that? What supports your conclusion?"
"Nothing." She said fearlessly. "I have no evidence."
"I did not ask for evidence." He said, looking directly at her gray eyes. "I simply ask, 'what?'"
They had answered the questions so many times before.
"Well..." Her mother glanced at Audrey. "I'm sure Audrey told you. They body placement was odd. There were no signs of distress, nothing he might have knocked over in a heart attack. And his health-he always took excellent care of himself, never any trouble with his heart or anything else..."
Mr. Weasley was scribbling again. "And did he have any secrets that you are aware of? Ever, at any time in your marriage? Personal, political, financial...?"
"No, no, and no. Never. Michael was a good man. He always told the truth."
"What was his religion?"
"His religion?" Her mother echoed incredulously.
Audrey raised her chin and studied the man. What did religion have to do with anything?
"Well, he was a...a Christian. Non-denominational. We all are."
Weasley scribbled quite a bit there for a long moment before raising his head and pausing. He seemed to dislike the next question. "Did he ever get into an argument with anyone about faith, religion, spiritism, morality, ethics, paganism, or..." He coughed slightly. "Demonism?"
"No." Both women echoed together, faintly after a pause.
"What about friends or acquaintances who were involved in radical or open faith, religion, spiritism, morality, ethics, paganism or demonism?" He ran down the list as if he had asked the question many times.
"No."
"Excuse me." Audrey cut in for the first time. "What does this have to do with...anything?"
"Just checking all the avenues, Madam." He said, almost robotically. A cut-and-dried suit bureaucrat, that's what he was, she thought. Well...maybe not. No one detective she'd spoken to had ever brought up religion before. Or demonism, either for that matter.
He looked up at the two of them again after a moment. "This afternoon, your daughter said he had no secrets at all from either of you. I am going to ask you again, to confirm with absolute certainty that that statement is true to all of your knowledge."
"It's true." Her mother said. "Michael was not involved in anything...covert."
He paused, wrote nothing more, and raised his head. "All right. That will be all for now."
"For now?"
"Yes, Madam." He looked up at her through his glasses.
"Wait." Audrey cut in again. It had been so short...she had known such things to drag on hours, and he seemed to know already everything about it. He seemed to know already what the outcome would be, an attitude that did not bode well in her mind. "Why exactly has the case been reopened? I mean, why is it special?"
His brown eyes cut back and forth between them. He again hesitated, the way he had before the question about demonism. At last, he reached up, took off his glasses, and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if to stay away a headache. Once the horrible things were off, she was surprised to see dark circles hidden beneath his eyes, and she was suddenly aware that he didn't look so good. His eyes were brown, she noted, a deep brown. He abruptly replaced the glasses and resumed his businesslike manner, leaving her uncertain as to whether he had been trying to elicit sympathy and get them to stop pestering him, or whether he really had a headache.
"Madam Bones. Your husband's case has been brought to the attention of certain eyes because of certain characteristics in it's nature. We...wish to investigate it further, and close it as soon as possible. Though our inquiry may at times seem rather unconventional, we ask that you be patient and compliant and allow us to perform to the best of our ability. If our labours are conjoined our probability of success will be much greater."
She stared at him, ran his answer through her head, and realized that he had simply spouted off a whole lot of nothing at her face.
"I'm more than willing to help in any way I can, sir, but I only ask that we be told what's going on." Her mother said calmly, and Audrey wanted to squeeze her hand.
Mr. Weasley looked between the two of them. "I'm afraid most details are confidential. What I tell you will have to be kept between the two of you. Any further disclosure would lead to detrimental consequences."
"I understand that."
He snapped his notepad shut. "Copacetic. I shall inform you further when the necessity arises." He stood quickly, no doubt eager to escape the clutches of what he must have viewed as two pitiful, weepy women in the depths of mourning. Audrey rose with him, disappointed at his sudden exit.
"Thank you for your time." He said.
Both women murmured their own thank-yous and Audrey saw him to the door. "Good luck." When he was gone, she leant her head against the door when it closed after him.
What on earth?
