"So you think your wife had been murdered. Would you mind explained us why you think that?" Clay asked.
A middle-aged man was sitting in front of her desk, gazing at her with confusion. He was dressed in a sophisticated way, showing that he was a wealthy man. Helena was also in the room, standing near the door.
"Is there a problem, mister?" Clay said.
"Oh, uh...no, it's just that, well, when I heard of you, I thought you would be...a man."
"I see. You were not expecting that the detective Clay Ombrit would be a young girl. I got that often. My name does not help either. But worry not, I am well qualified as a detective. I am sure that if you chose to write me a letter, it is because you heard good things about me."
"Oh, but I was not trying to doubt your qualification, I am just...surprised. I did hear good things about you from some friends of mine that you had help, and since you have your own office and even employees, I assume that you are indeed a qualified detective."
"Then, now that we concluded that, let's get to the main point. In your letter, you wrote that you think your wife had been murdered. Is that right? My condolences." Clay asked.
"Y-Yes. She...the police concluded that she had a carriage accident, but I cannot believe it. Our coachman was a competent man, I cannot think that we could have an accident. Unfortunately, he died too. I am sure someone made this accident happened, to kill my wife."
Clay took the time to think about this case. At first glance, it seemed to just be a widower who hadn't accept the death of his wife, unable to accept that it was just an accident and instead, wanted to blame a nonexistent culprit. But, as a professional, Clay had to acknowledge any lead, even the most improbable one, if she wanted to find the truth.
"Do you have any proof that you were wife was murdered? Or any reason to think that someone could have been after her life?" Clay asked.
"Well, not really...but I do have a suspect." the man replied.
"Oh, really? Who?"
"The man in white."
"...care to tell me more about him? And why did you not go see the police if you already had a doubt on someone?"
"Because...I never met him. And I do not know his name. But my wife, she...some days before her death, she told me that there was a man, dressed all in white, that was following her. She said...that everywhere she looked, he was there, staring at her. He even tried to court her. I am telling you, this man...he was angry because she rejected him so he killed her."
"So you think this man in white murdered your wife. Considering the circumstances of her death, it would be hard for someone to have killed her, but not impossible. I could inspect the carriage to see if there is any sabotage, as well as look at the autopsies of your wife and your coachman."
"Thank you, miss Ombrit. You are the only one who is giving be the benefit of the doubt. Here is my address. Send me a letter as soon as you have news about this case." the widower said as he left a piece of paper on Clay's desk.
"Of course. I will start my investigation as soon as possible."
With a satisfied expression, he left her office. When he was gone, Helena approached her with an annoyed expression.
"You know that there is no way that his wife was murdered, right? He is just a foolish man who cannot get over a single death." her maid complained.
"Perhaps, but he already paid half of my fee. If I want to have the other half, I need to at least try to investigate. And who knows, maybe she was really murdered. Anyway, it would not be good for my reputation if I refuse a case before trying to investigate. Now get ready, we will have to break inside the police station as well as the morgue if we want to get clues."
"Well, it was a real waste of time." Helena commented.
Clay and her maid had finished to investigate the carriage of the accident, as well as the corpses. There was no signs of sabotage on the carriage, and from the autopsies, neither of the client's wife or the coachman were either poisoned, intoxicated or under the influence of drug. Helena even confirmed it with her demon's sense of smell.
"According to the police report, the coachman lost the control of his horse and the carriage fell in a ravine," Clay began to say. "Since the coachman was not under the influence of some drug, then the culprit could not have drugged him to cause an accident."
"Culprit? Milady, do not tell me you actually believe that it was a murder...did we not just find the evidence that it was truly an accident?"
"We found proof that if there is a culprit, then this person did not use drugs to cause an accident or any sabotage. And we also found out that the coachman was not drunk, which is technically a clue that is against the accident theory in a sense, if he was as good as my client said. So there are two options: it was really an accident, or it was a murder. The culprit could have frightened the horse or put a trap on the road, and then removed it. There are still options for the murder theory, and as a detective I have to investigate all the leads before coming up with a conclusion. And I did find an interesting clue in the wife's belonging that had been found in her pocket."
Clay took out something from her pocket and showed it to Helena.
"...a napkin?" the maid said.
"Not just a regular napkin. This one has a logo on it, this napkin was taken from a specific place. Wherever the wife was before the accident, it is possible that she got that napkin there. It also a possibility that she saw this man in white there, and that he is related to this place. This is the next place we should investigate."
"I see, you are after this mysterious man in white. I do believe he is only a stalker, but perhaps it would satisfy your client if we find him."
They both went back to their carriage, where Alphonse and Jackie were waiting for them. Estelle had stayed at the office in case someone visited them during their absence, and to continue the paperwork.
"So how did it go?" Alphonse asked.
"If you want to know so much, you should have come with us." Clay replied.
"But...what you did was...you know, illegal."
"Fare point. But this harmless break of the law did bring us an interesting. This napkin belonged to the client's wife." Clay explained.
"Hey, I know that logo. It's from a tavern." Jackie suddenly commented.
"Of course you would know that. Well then, I think it settle how next destination." Clay said as she went inside the carriage.
The tavern was far from being a seedy one. There was a nice bar, some tables, few games and even a dance floor with musicians. It wasn't what Clay expected. She didn't really have a good opinion of taverns, so she was expecting to see a disgusting place full of drunkards. But it wasn't the case. Most of the customers seemed to be rather wealthy.
"This is...cleaner then I thought." Clay said.
"Well after this place do possess napkins with their own logo, so it couldn't be a cheap tavern." Alphonse commented.
"Jackie, I hope you are not thinking about drinking. Do not forget you are our coachman." Helena warned.
"Of course I ain't gonna drink! I don't do that when I'm on duty."
"Anyway, even if the man in white is not here, maybe there is some people who know him and could give us information about him. Let's split up to talk to people and find clues." Clay proposed, or rather, ordered.
Without complaining, her employees walked away, to accomplish what they came for. Clay started to look around, actually searching for someone clothed in white.
"Excuse me, miss," a masculine voice said.
Clay turned back, to discover a brown haired young man who appeared to be in his twenties. He was well dressed, but was average when it came to beauty. He was smiling at her in a friendly way.
"Yes?" Clay asked, suspicious.
"Oh, sorry to bother you, I was just...would you like a drink?" the young man offered politely, yet with a nervous voice.
"I do not drink, but thanks...hey, have you seen a man dressed in white?"
"Uh? Perhaps, but you know...I might be more willing to talk if...you give me something in exchange. How about...a dance with me."
As he said that, the man approached him. Instinctively, Clay recoiled.
"No, I...I do not know how to dance."
"Oh, come on, it's not that hard...I'll teach you."
This time, the man walked faster and managed to grab her arm. Not in a violent way, but still, it was well enough to freeze Clay. It always happened when an adult man touched her. Flashes of memory from her past came up in her mind, memories of her enslavement, of those slaves owners who abused her. It was a reflex she couldn't control.
"Helen...a." Clay managed to whispered.
Not even a second later, her maid was at her side. Helena immediately pushed his hand away from her mistress.
"Mister, would you mind not touching her? Milady does not like to be touched by men."
"Uh? What a maid is doing here? And what do you mean by that? That I'm disgusting!?"
"Well, if you want my personal opinion, then yes, you are disgusting." Helena replied coldly.
Visibly offended, the young man raised his fist. Clay hid behind Helena, which seemed to infuriate him even more.
"Why are you running from me?! I was being nice, why you're hiding behind that...bitch!"
"Hey what's going on?" Jackie asked, worried.
"It's none of your business, get lost." the man replied rudely.
"Not my business? I work for that girl. If you're bothering her, then I won't hesitate to kick you ass."
"What!? Do you really think I'm afraid of you? You're just a woman, what could you do against a man..."
"Then how about I deal with you. My sister said you no, so stop bothering her." Alphonse intervened.
The young man was now surrounded by Helena, Jackie and Alphonse. The man shivered a little, while looking upset.
"Fine! I don't care anymore. But you don't know what you're missing." he said as he walked away, clearly pissed.
When he was far from them, Clay stopped hiding behind Helena's back and joined her employees.
"We heard that you seemed in trouble so we came to see what was going one." Jackie explained.
"That jerk...he'll certainly never find a wife if he's acting that way." Alphonse commented.
"You two, Helena...thank you," Clay said sincerely. "So, have you found anything...?"
But before she could finish her sentence, Clay noticed a particular man sitting at the bar.
"Never mind, I found him. The man in white..." she said as she approached from the bar.
Sitting at the bar, there was a man all dressed up in white. But he wasn't just dressed in white. He was literally all white. His skin was abnormally pale, his hair was short and hair, and he was wearing a white suit.
"Excuse me, is that place taken?" Clay asked, pointing at the seat next to him.
The man turned back. He was wearing square-framed glasses and his eyes were red. Despite his manly outfit, he had a rather delicate face that gave him a feminine vibe, and was quite elegant. The man in white seemed at first confused, but quickly he smiled politely.
"No, you can sit. I would never deny a sit to a lady." he replied.
With some suspicions, Clay sat next to him, while keeping some distance with him.
"Would you want a drink?" he asked nicely.
"I do not think I am old enough to drink."
"Then how about a cup of milk?"
"I am not that young either..."
"Of course. You are definitely not a child. Sorry if I offended you," he said, before he looked at her with attention. "Nice trench coat by the way. Would you mind giving me your name?"
"Should you tell me yours first before asking mine?"
"Ah, you are right. How rude of me. My name is Blanchard."
"I am Clay Ombrit."
"Clay? Is it not a masculine name?"
"Perhaps, but it is my name regardless."
Blanchard took a sip of his drink, before glancing at Clay in a rather seductive way, which put the latter a little bit uncomfortable.
"Your white hair and those red eyes, as well as your skin...could you be...an albinos?"
"I see you know about this condition. Yes, I have albinism."
"Is it why you are dressed all in white?"
"Well, my tie is light gray, but I see what you mean. Let say that unlike some people who would see my condition as an illness, I personally view it as one of my charming point, and I want to accentuate it with my clothing."
For the moment Blanchard didn't strike her as the stalker type, or the type who could kill. He sure do act like a womanizer. But, her client did report a man in white as a potential suspect for the death of his wife, so she had to try finding out if he was really the culprit. She pulled out a picture from her pocket and showed it to him.
"Do you know this woman?" Clay asked.
"Let me see...Oh, yes, I know her! I heard she died recently in an accident, how tragic. She...wait, why are you asking me that?"
"Because I know her husband, and he told me that...a man in white was stalking his wife before her death."
Blanchard remained impassive for few seconds, before he suddenly let out a slight laugh.
"What is funny?"
"Oh, nothing. It is just that...did he really claim that? That I was stalking his wife? Sounds like a excuse a man would say to not look like a cuckold."
"What do you mean by that? Was his wife...cheating on him?"
"Not from what I know. She did spend some time with me here, nothing more. Her husband must just be the jealous type who cannot accept his wife to be friendly with other men. It is not my fault if her wife preferred to spend time with a gentleman such as myself rather than a possessive man. How does it matter? She is dead now. I do not know what he is trying to accomplish by discrediting me, but it is quite childish of him."
Clay took the time to think about Blanchard response. He didn't even seem to realize that he was suspecting of murder, he only thought that the husband was attacking is reputation out of jealousy. Either he was really good at acting, or he was truly innocent.
"Very well. Then I will return to my em...my friends." Clay said as she stood up.
"Wait!"
Before she could walk away, Blanchard suddenly rose up and grabbed her hand. Clay immediately froze, but it wasn't the same as when the other man touched her earlier. She did feel uncomfortable to be suddenly touched by Blanchard, but somehow, it didn't cause her to remind her horrible past. It was just the same as anyone who wasn't an adult men (except Helena) who touched. She just didn't like it. She turned her head towards him, and he released her.
"Ah, sorry. I should not have touched you without asking first. That was ungentlemanly of me. Forgive me."
"It...it is fine. I just don't like to be touched."
"I see. Then I will not insist. All I wanted to say was that, I do not know what this man is accusing me of, but he is wrong. He needs to overcome is wife's death, and it is not by accusing others that he will manage to do that."
"I...yes, you are right."
"Well then, if you excuse me, but my date had arrived. I have a lady to entertain."
"Oh, you were not here alone?"
"Me, alone? Of course not. There is no way I would be in a place like that alone, or else I would be busy courting ladies, not just be sitting on my own. I was only waiting for her to arrive."
Blanchard began to walk away, before he turned back to look a Clay with a charming smile.
"I hope I will have the chance to see you here someday. You may not like to be touched, but we could still dance close, or take a drink."
"Is not it a little bit impolite to say me that when there is a girl who is literally waiting for you at few meters of you?"
"Uh, perhaps, but...well, you never know what will happen later. I may be free in a couple of days." he replied, before winking at her.
Blanchard finally went to meet up with his date, who was a beautiful young woman.
"Wow, what a ladykiller...and I mean in as a player, not a...you know, an actual killer." Alphonse commented.
Clay realized that her group had joined her as soon as Blanchard left.
"So, how did it go with him?" Jackie asked.
"I do not feel like he is a murderer, but I will keep an eye on him. What about you, had you found something?" Clay asked.
"Other than the fact he's always flirting with women and acting like the perfect gentleman, not really." Alphonse replied.
Suddenly, Helena approached Clay with a concern expression.
"This man, he touched you...why did you not ask my help?" the maid asked.
"I...I just did not feel that bad with him. Sure I did not like it, but...he did not frighten me as much as other men. Perhaps it is because he looks so delicate and feminine? Or because he looks young? Anyway, it does not matter. It is getting late, we should got back to the office. There is nothing more we can do here. I think you were really right Helena. It does seem like it was just an accident and the husband cannot simply accept the death of her wife."
"CLAY!"
The young detective almost dropped her fork when Alphonse suddenly went inside her dining room without knocking, yelling and running with a newspaper in his hand. He stopped right next to Clay and began to pant heavily, like he had run for a while. Helena glanced at him with annoyance.
"Milord, milady is still having breakfast. She has not start to work yet."
"I know, I'm really early, but I've good reason! Remember what happened in the tavern couple of days ago? Well, check at this article..."
"But I usually read it after my breakfast, while drinking tea." Clay replied.
"You need to read it now, it's important I swear!"
Clay sighed. Her half-brother could be really impatient sometimes, especially when he personally considered something as important. To not lose time arguing with him, Clay took the newspaper and started to read the page Alphonse was showing her.
"Uh? Another woman beaten to death? How is it so important that I'd to stop my breakfast to read it now?" Clay asked with some annoyance.
"Look at the picture! You don't recognize her?"
Clay look at the picture carefully. She then realized what Alphonse meant when she indeed recognized the woman who had been murdered.
"But this is...yes, I had seen her. She was the girl with whom Blanchard had a date in the tavern."
