Chapter 1: Orange Flower and Rosemary
The Yard was always busy from the rushing policemen and the noise of the ringing telephones and rolling typewriters. It was hard to find a quiet spot to clear his mind and to gather his thoughts. Alistair sat at his desk, staring the case file before him as he did for hours. Something was off and he hoped his awaited guest could provide him some answers.
He heard high heels knocking on the cheap tile floor and saw a silhouette stopping at the door, concealed by the drapes he pulled down earlier.
Solona Amell entered the dimly lit room, escorted by a police officer. The ginger haired woman ran her eyes across the policeman before Alistair dismissed him. But as if he was petrified he just stared the lady before him. An alluring glint in her green eyes, reflecting the lights of the neon lights shining through the shutter slats, rooted the police officer in one place.
"I said, dismissed," he pressed his words firmly this time. The subordinate blinked as it woken from a trance, shook his head and left, shutting the door behind him.
Solona Amell removed the fennec fur shawl around her neck and with a casual elegance and dropped it on the back of the seat. She sat down. Her stockings sighed as she crossed her legs. She leaned back and raised her eyes to him. There was something vaguely threatening in that glance mixing with the unreadable half-smile.
Alistair had heard rumors of her. The mysterious butterfly of the Denerim nights. The exotic beauty from the Free Marches. The dame of the nightclubs and casinos. The shooting star of the Fereldan's high society. She had numerous patrons among the aristocracy, who always sought her favors, overwhelming her with luxurious gifts. Like that fennec fur. He was sure that piece of pelt cost three months worth of salary.
There was a even a classy name for her kind. What did Cullen call them? Luxury whore? No, he was too sophisticated for such vulgarism. Courtesan, maybe.
She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her bag, before drawing out a golden cigarette case. Her every move was deliberate and considered as he observed. Her eyes never moved from him.
"Smoking is not allowed here," Alistair declared. She raised the cigarette to her lips with an insolent smile on her face and lit it. She inhaled a deep drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke right into the detective's face.
"What will you do? Arrest me?" she mocked, her cadence was melodious and provocative. Alistair measured her in the dim, brushed light as the white and cold neon glare painted her fiery locks pale where it touched. He wondered if she was a natural redhead. Girls often dyed their hair red in her profession to make themselves more erotic than they were. He idly wondered if they dyed anywhere else.
"It only violates the house rules of the yard, so the prosecutor cannot issue a warrant," he replied. She smoked one of those flavored ones. Alistair could smell the scent of raspberry mixing with tobacco. Sacrilege to good tobacco, in his opinion. But even this nauseating reek couldn't conceal the scent of her perfume. Orange flower and rosemary. Everything on her was luxurious, delicate, a piece of epicureanism that half of the aristocracy had tasted. The other half... well they sought different enjoyments.
"Shame, I would have loved to see you manhandling me. It must have been a magnificent sight," she purred. "Then why did you drag me in the middle of the night to this-" she looked around his austere office, filled with cabinets and case files. "dreadful place?"
"A simple inquiry, the Yard is always appreciative when you assist with our inquiries," Alistair shrugged. He placed a brown folder across his table, her name artfully exposed from the untidily tucked papers within. "I understand that you spent yesterday night with Lord Teagan Guerrin at the Black Pearl. An institution near the Harbor?" He let her words sink in as she inhaled another drag from her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in his face again. He didn't startle though the smoke burned his eyes.
"I did, indeed," she answered.
"Would you be so kind to enlighten me about the nature of your acquaintance?" Alistair asked. Solona Amell reached for the cheap, tin ashtray on his table and stubbed her cigarette.
"I wonder Detective, why is an ashtray on your desk if smoking is forbidden?" she inquired. She leaned back on the back of her chair her hand brushed her neatly combed hair, dropping it over her shoulder, making her long neck visible. She was wily, he had to give that.
"You haven't answered my question, Miss Amell," Alistair said.
"Neither did you."
Alistair crossed his arms before his chest. "The difference is I am the one paid to ask questions here."
Solona Amell raised her eyebrows, half amusement, half imitation of innocence reflected from her green orbs. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"Not yet," Alistair stated, fussing with the case file lying on his table. "But this can easily change. So, Miss Amell, I ask you as nicely as I can once again. Would you explain me the nature of your acquaintance?"
She took a glance on her polished red nails as if she search any spalling on it. "No."
"Why, if you don't mind me asking?" he growled.
"In my profession discretion is crucial," she purred. "It can be the matter of life and death,"
"And what is your profession exactly," Alistair sighed.
"Investment broker."
"Right." Alistair opened the case file before him, he had examined before she arrived. He watched the picture of the corpse covered in blood. It was the ugliest crime scene he had seen for a long time now. The whole room was splattered with blood. The skull of the victim smashed with a blunt object, his brain splattered everywhere. It took hours for the coroner to collect all to pieces.
"Look, missy," he began. "I have no time for your games. I'm sure on other men is extremely effective, but I'm only interested in Lord Teagan Guerrin." He slid the photo across the table, where it stopped in front of her.
"Shame, I would have bet my life on it that you are interested in women," she mocked as reached for the photograph. She observed it and he observed her. Her face was blank. Not even the slightest grimace of horror. Most women he expected to break out in hysteria or a dead faint when seeing images like this. But this one was different. She was something else. "What do I have to do with this?" she asked as handed the photo back.
"You were the last person who saw him alive," he said. "So please would you be so kind and tell me what happened that night."
"Are you sure you can handle the truth, officer?" she challenged him.
"Test me," Alistair steeled his voice.
She sighed as looked away for a moment. He could feel a slight annoyance in it. "Do you want to know every single detail?"
"Yes, sweetheart," he growled. "Every. Single. Detail."
She sighed again. "Lord Guerrin and I spent a wonderful dinner together in the Rosemary and Thyme. Then we went dancing to the Black Pearl which was his favorite place of entertainment and accidentally mines too. Then he was so kind to invite me to his loft where we spent two more pleasant hours together. Then he ordered me a taxi and I went home."
"What did you do at his place?" he inquired.
"A lady never tells," she replied and her lips curled into a telltale smile.
"And you are no lady," he slammed his hand on the desk in his impatience. "So talk." She didn't falter. Just took away her cigarette case and put on her leather gloves.
"Do you have a warrant?" she asked as stood up.
Alistair jumped out of his chair, his face tense, his lips pursed. He bypassed the table, grabbing her arm, yanking her to him. That was the moment he noticed the freckles on her face. "I can easily get one and put you in custody, sweetheart." he hissed. "Few days in Fort Drakon and you will sing like a little bird."
"On what charge?" a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
"Let's begin with a classic one," he hissed. "Obstruction of justice."
She laughed. "Nothing obliges me to speak about my private life."
"What about a nice steel bracelet around your wrist?"
Solona Amell laughed and turned out of his grip. "I usually charge extra for that," she smiled insolently as she adjusted her dress and put on her fur shawl. "As I said, it would be fascinating to be manhandled by such a dedicated and virile servant of the law, but until you bring me a warrant, I have nothing else to say." she strode to the door, stopping at the door frame, turning back at him. "I'm sure we meet again, Officer Theirin. I hope next time somewhere more pleasant."
She left the room. The officer stationed at the desk before his office jumped up as she passed, ran to open the gate for her. She cast a seductive smile on him. as left waving her hand to a casual goodbye. He watched her go, walking with that dress of hers clinging to every curve as the furs fluttered about her features with her movements.
A figure in the hallway straightened up from where he leaned against the wall waiting for her. No, Alistair looked closer. Not he. She. The woman was wearing the pinstriped suit of a man, but there was no mistaking the hips. Short dark wavy hair peeked out from under the cocked hat she wore as her fingers twirled an umbrella idly.
"Well?" Alistair heard as footsteps approached him from the office next to his. He glanced at Cullen, his tie lopsided from where he tugged it when stressed. "Anything?"
"I'm sure she's guilty, or at least guilty of hiding something," Alistair said.
"Yes, I can see you staring at her guilt," Cullen murmured. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Solona Amell join the young woman.
"Who's that other person?" Alistair asked, cocking his head at the girl as he quickly changed the subject.
"Evelyn Trevelyan. The Associate, she calls herself," Cullen replied. "And by that, I mean 'bodyguard'. I arrested her for reckless endangerment and causing grievous bodily harm last year. She's on probation."
The girl glanced at them as she turned to walk with Solona Amell, and cast Cullen a sultry little wink.
Alistair gave Cullen's reddening, thunderous face a sidelong look. "I can see she remembers you," he noted. "Are you blushing because you're staring at her guilt too?"
"I- No. I'm not. Shut up, Theirin. That joke doesn't even make sense," Cullen snapped as he headed back into his office, rubbing the back of his neck.
The door of the limousine couldn't close fast enough behind her.
She searched for her cigarette case nervously. Her hands trembled. Her fingers fumbled with the flint wheel of her lighter. With a grunt, she threw it to the other side of the car, where a black leather gloved hand caught it. Light flared as Evelyn lit Solona's cigarette. She took a long inhale as watched the Yard through the darkened window.
The police cars slowly faded in the distance as they turned corner, heading to the highway that led to the Rise. Solona couldn't take drags deep enough to calm her nerves.
"So?" a voice, tinged with Antivan accent asked her.
She snapped, her glance meeting with a honeyed one, framed with a tattoo. Her dagger gaze pierced the shadows, which only made the man chuckle. "You are so irresistible when you are mad, dear."
She inhaled another one from her cigarette blowing the smoke right into his face. "Guerrin is dead."
"It does not change a thing," he stated.
"It changes everything, Zevran," she yelled. "How am I supposed to steal it now? Should I try psychomancy perhaps? The police closed the whole fucking flat as a scene of a crime. It will be a miracle if they don't find it first. It is over, and I am out."
She slammed on the window separating them from the chauffeur. The limousine shivered. Solona reached for the handle when the man grabbed her wrist. A click sounded ominously from the umbrella by Evelyn's leg.
Zevran only grinned at the girl before turning back to Solona. "Do I really need to remind you the motto of our enterprise? 'We always deliver the goods.'" He switched seats and hopped down beside her. His fingers closed at her chin drawing her face closer to him. "This is your last assignment, my love," he breathed. "With the price of this one you can retire, live like a queen for the rest of your life. You cannot quit, you and I both know. You are my best investment, so be a good girl and do not disappoint our associates now." he exhaled a soft kiss on her painted lips. "You are too deep in this to quit now, I hope you understand."
"Speaking of goods," Evelyn purred. "Hands off, Master Arainai."
Zevran chuckled and sat back to his previous place. He lowered the window and ordered the chauffeur to proceed. Solona ran his eyes across his slender figure, his blue tailored suit, and Nevarran silk tie. His long golden hair combed behind his ears with an improper amount of pomade. The satisfied smirk on his face like it plastered since the day they had met.
Solona looked out the window, observed the passing houses, her mind blank. It was better not to think too much. She learned that the hard way.
"So how we should get the chalice now?" Evelyn asked. Solona drew her glance on the black-haired girl as she stubbed her cigarette on the ashtray in the limousine. Evelyn was a few years younger than her, newly joined to their 'enterprise' as Zevran called it. She had a petite figure but she knew nothing should be judged by its cover.
"That's a very good question, Zevran," Solona said. "How am I supposed to deliver the goods now?"
The man thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Maybe we should involve the humble servants of the law, if they were so keen to meddle with our business. I think the situation desires your sophisticated skills, my love."
An unamused laughter escaped from Solona's lips. "Fuck you, Zevran."
"Such profanity," he chuckled. "Nothing would make me happier, believe me."
"That other detective," Evelyn chimed in. "I know him. The bastard arrested me last year. We've got an opening there."
"No," Solona shook her head, her glance lingering in the distance "We need the other one. The one that questioned me. Detective Theirin."
"Why?" Evelyn asked.
"I suspect he's the one helming the case."
"Interesting," Evelyn smiled, a click sounding from her umbrella as she settled back.
"Splendid," Zevran clapped his hands cordially. "You have the prey, now set up a bait."
The car stopped at the traffic lamp. Solona's eyes stuck on a mooning couple, They were blessedly oblivious of the scheming inside the car or anything happening around them. They strolled hand in hand blinded by pink clouds. She wondered how much time would pass before the boy would run after other skirts and the girl would resign to the comfort of ignorance. Before she would try to conceal the bruises and the scars, telling everyone it was just an accident. Half a year maybe? Or less?
"No, he will come to me," she said at last, ignoring Evelyn's disappointed pout.
"So much confidence," Zevran purred. "On what you base this foreknowledge?"
She chuckled. "Please, you and I both know I'm good in only one thing." She drew her glance on the man strolling with his sweetheart, running her eyes over him once again. "I know what every man wants."