Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! So, you guys wanted translations and I shall provide them! ^^ Sorry for not providing them earlier. Oh well. Enjoy this chapter!
.:|Silver|:.
Francis lounged in his seat, staring with concentration at a picture of the late Ms. Gray. About a minute later there was a shuffling noise and Arthur walked into the room, toweling his hair dry. He paused at the edge of the couch to study the picture before moving away to put the towel to dry.
"Got any food, frenchie?" he asked, coming back to flop onto the couch and study the picture.
"Oui. I'll make somezing. Unless…you want to?"
"Fine. What do you feel about a chicken curry with rice for lunch?" asked the Brit, already moving to the kitchen. Francis looked up and blinked before shrugging and frowning at the photo, taking down some notes. Arthur took that as a 'yes' and moved into the kitchen to start working.
Hmmm… She was injected in her neck with a precision that only a doctor or a nurse 'as. I 'ave to tell Marc to bring me 'er personal doctor… mused Francis, writing down the note for himself.
"I'm going to be meeting with Alan Smith tonight," said Arthur from the kitchen, jolting the Frenchman from his musings and setting down a plate of food in front of him. Francis studied the food. It looked strangely appetizing. He shrugged mentally and dug in, blinking in surprise because it actually tasted…good. The green-eyed blond next to him was too busy checking the phone of the ambassador.
"…Hmm...New cover, a bit scratched, but otherwise new… someone made this phone look like her old one. The scratches as relatively new since they're very clear…" he mumbled to himself, turning the phone around before nodding sharply and taking down another note, pausing only to shove some more food into his mouth. Francis had left his notes, concentrating instead on the food. It was surprisingly good.
"Are you done examining ze phone?" he asked the Englishman, putting his plate away and picking up one of her bracelets. Chipped, slightly bent, one jewel is missing… he mused. Arthur pushed his own plate away and swiped his thumb across the screen, staring at the lock with a groan.
PASSWORD?
The word was sitting there on the screen with a four-digit space underneath it. The Brit showed the screen to Francis, both of them frowning.
"We might 'ave to ask Marc to 'elp us," grumbled Francis with disgust, snatching the phone out of the other blond's hands and typing in a password. Her birthday…isn't zat what people normally use?
4189
WRONG PASSWORD. THREE TRIES LEFT.
Francis groaned and tossed the phone away, taking the plates and stalking to the kitchen, dumping them in the sink before flopping down again, picking up a file on Alan Smith.
"Are you going to come with me when I'm going to interview Alan?" Arthur asked to break the silence. Francis looked over at him and hummed distractedly.
"If you want me- Mon dieu! I just remembered! We 'ave to get to ze forensic lab! I want a closer look at ze cadaver!" he said, jumping up and rushing to put his coat back on. The Englishman rolled his eyes, following him out and slamming the door behind himself.
"Alfred! Ou es tu?" [Alfred! Where are you?] Called Francis, looking around the forensic laboratory eagerly. A blond man popped his head out of a room, rolling his blue eyes at the French detective. He stepped out of the room and walked towards them, his white lab coat swirling around his knees, white sneakers silent on the floor.
"Dude, how many times have I told you? I don't get any of what you say," he said in a distinct American accent. Then he paused, his eyes drifting to the other blond standing next to the detective. He raised an eyebrow.
"Bonjour, monsieur," he greeted, making Francis and Arthur flinch at the accent.
"I can speak English very well, thank you very much," said Arthur, saving them from dying by the mutilated accent. 'Alfred' breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled.
"Awesome, dude! Are you English?"
"No, I'm Scottish," replied Arthur sarcastically. Alfred made a confused face before brightening.
"Really? Where's your kilt? Can I see it? Did you see Braveheart? It was awesome! 'They can take our lives, but they cannae take our freedom'!" said the American excitedly, mimicking a bad Scottish accent. The green-eyed man blinked then looked at Francis with a look that said 'is this guy for real?'
"Really Francis, is this man even competent for the job?" he finally asked. Alfred looked a bit offended while the Frenchman snickered.
"Alfred, Arthurr is anglais. Not ecossais [Scottish], I assure you," he explained. The glasses wearing blond's face slowly cleared and he gave a sheepish grin.
"Sorry man. Let's start over, yeah?" he offered. Arthur sniffed.
"Why don't we just get on with what we came here for, Mr. Jones?" he suggested, already pulling on latex gloves he produced from his coat's pocket as he started walking down the corridor and to where the body was. Alfred stared after the Brit with a bemused look.
"He's got a stick up his ass," he noted. Francis snorted.
"A very big one," agreed the Frenchman before hurrying after his 'partner' and pulling on his own gloves. They all entered the autopsy room and studied the woman lying on the table, covered to her neck in a white sheet. Alfred moved forwards, back in his territory, and smiled at the two detectives.
"So, she was killed by-"
"Air embolism, we know," chorused both the said detectives, glancing at each other and then back at the pathologist. Said pathologist pouted.
"Aw man! If you guys know everything why did you come to me?"
"We need more details. Anything interesting?" asked Arthur, shifting the sheets away form the woman's arm so he could study her hand.
Ambidextrous, hadn't smoked for at least two days, the missing ring is, well, missing, hmm…her nails are chipped. While Arthur was studying Katherine's left hand, Francis was busy studying her right foot. Alfred watched both the detectives curiously before sighing and clearing his throat. They both glanced up then returned to their work, the only thing that said they were listening was Francis' questioning noise.
"Right, she died from air embolism. The air was most likely injected through her neck. She put up quite a struggle with her assailant and managed to scratch him. I found skin under her nails." That had the older blonds' attention. They both looked at him.
"It was a man's. Um, he's in the records too. Someone called Erik Muller," said the American, shuffling and moving towards the dead ambassador to cover her chest properly. Arthur had frozen next to her hand. He suddenly sprung away and rushed out of the room with a muttered 'goddammit'. The remaining occupants of the room looked at each other before rushing out too. Well, Alfred rushed out. Francis paused, looking back at the body. A small bruise on 'er cheek…backhanded across ze face most likely. The Frenchman hesitated, glancing at the door and the body. Deciding quickly, he took two steps towards the body again and opened her eye. Bloodshot. He glanced towards the door again before shifting the sheet up and studying the woman's chest before replacing it and walking out of the room. Fake. Breast implants. He quickly exited the room.
Arthur was pacing the forensic building's garden, scowling at the ground. Why, why Why? Alfred watched him silently, wondering if it was safe to ask why the Brit seemed angry. That's when the younger blond noticed that their oldest companion wasn't here. He was about to say something when a familiar voice came to him.
"Alfred? Mister Kirkland? What are you doing here?" asked Matthew, walking over and looking between the detective and his partner doctor. Alfred shrugged at his brother, looking back at Arthur who had resumed striding.
"I told them about Erik and then Arthur came here. Did you see Franny anywhere?"
"Non. Isn't he with you?"
"Nope."
"I am 'ere. Arthurr? I 'ave to talk to you," announced a familiar French voice. To Francis' surprise, Arthur had said the second sentence with him. They both studied each other, trying to deduce, before giving up and nodding at each other, walking a little way away from the two doctors.
"I'll go first," volunteered the Englishman, already starting to talk. "Erik Muller, a danger in many countries and known for drug dealing. Unfortunately, he's in here right now-"
"But 'e couldn't 'ave committed ze murder because you knew 'im?" interrupted the Frenchman, looking at the other blond with a slight frown. Arthur paused and solemnly nodded.
"Its not that I'm supporting him or something," he explained. "It's just, I know his brother too. Erik's brother is in the police, and Erik… Well, he started going out with an aristocrat, and you know how it is with those people. He gave up on crime and went legal. As far as I remember, he started a private detective thing too."
"And 'is name isn't Erik is it?"
"No. His name is-"
"Gilbert Beilschmidt."
"You know him?"
"Oui. 'e was a friend. I just wanted to know if you knew 'im."
"Lovely. I already talked to him. He's coming over here in about twenty minutes."
"Fantastique! I 'aven't seen 'im since college!"
"Re-"
They both were cut off as their conversation was suddenly invaded by a swarm of policemen grabbing hold of them. Needless to say, both the detectives were surprised.
"Qu'est ce que vous faites? Nous sommes detectives!" [what are you doing? We're detectives!] Said Francis indignantly. Marc appeared from the small horde and sighed, eyeing both the detectives with a slightly sorry look on his face.
"Est-ce que tu peut nous expliquer pourquoi un fugitive viens ici? En…vingt minutes?" [Can you tell us why a fugitive is coming here? in…twenty minutes?] Asked the inspector calmly, waiting for an explanation. Francis and Arthur looked at each other then back at Marc.
"Je peux expliquer-" [I can explain-] began Arthur, only to be cut off as Alfred and Matthew were pushed towards them, accused of helping a fugitive. Both the doctors looked confused. Francis rolled his eyes, firmly shaking off his captor. Arthur was already smoothing his coat, a glare directed at the inspector.
"Marc! C'est pour le cas! Alfred m'a dit que le peau d'Erik a ete retrouver dans les ongles de mademoiselle Katherine! Nous voulions juste l'appler car il est ici. Et aussi ecouter son alibi. Mon dieu, Marc. Toi et ton imagination!" [Marc! It's for the case! Alfred told me that Erik's skin was found in Katherine's fingernails! We just wanted to call him over while he was here. And also listen to his alibi. My god, Marc. You and your imagination!] Explained Francis, rolling his eyes at the end. The man looked a bit suspicious but instructed for the MEs to be released. The Englishman scowled disdainfully, crossing his arms.
"And I have had enough of your interruptions, Mister Marc. I don't care who you are, but I will not let you ruin this case. Everything we are doing is for a reason, and if you question those reasons, I swear I will fid a way to pin the blame on your country and watch you suffer. Now if you are quite-"
"Is the awesome me interrupting something? Kesesesesesese!"
What do you think? Good? Bad? Okay? I translated the French here (Up there so you guys don't go without understanding the dialogues as they come)! I hope you all liked it! Anyways, review!
.:|Silver|:.