Oh hey, look! A reasonably long chapter!
After some thinking, I think I've roughly decided what I'm going to do with this fic. I have one problem to work out, still: is this story going on in the background of the episode, or will there be major changes to the plot? Eh, we'll see.
Enough of my obscenely long authors note. Enjoy~
It hadn't been too long since the robbery had taken place, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, and the air in the bank was still thick with worries and shock. In hope to avoid speaking to any officers, Aggie tried hard to keep to herself in a corner by the door. At this point, she certainly could have left if she had really wanted to, but she had decided that it would be dishonest. It would be perfectly moral to avoid questioning, but to straight out leave, that would be dishonest. She did, though, have a home to get to, tea to steep, dinner to prepare – those thoughts did cross her mind – but this was a crime scene. She'd never been on site of a crime before, but she imagined that it would be wrong to just up and leave everyone else.
"When a murder takes place, we're not allowed to touch or move the body unless absolutely necessary."
That was what her cousin had always told her, his first few years of bragging about his job at the station. Is a robbery like a murder? She wondered. Perhaps the witnesses are to a robbery as the body is to a murder…
"Excuse me, ma'am." A man's voice said, quickly snapping Aggie back into reality.
"I… yes?" she said, looking up and smiling. It was one of the constables. Her heart sank. A constable grabbing her attention clearly meant she was going to have to give out details.
"Excuse me, but I'm afraid we are going to have to take your details." He said, pulling from his pocket a thin booklet of paper and a pencil. Aggie swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course."
"your name, ma'am?" "Aggie – Agatha Twain, sir."
The constable paused for a moment, carefully jotting down her name. "Alright. Now, tell me, did you see any recognizable features on this man? His eye color? His hair color?"
Aggie peered at the floor uncomfortably as her heart started pounding. She couldn't possibly let the authorities in on her hunch. "No, sir. I'm afraid not. I didn't see or recognize anything about him." She lied. The constable nodded.
"And you're not hurt yourself, ma'am?" He asked. Aggie shook her head. "why, no, sir. I wasn't touched. He didn't even look at me, and I am quite fortunate and thankful for this. I was most frightened."
The constable nodded. "Yes. This is good. And what, may I ask, was your business here?"
Aggie drew her un deposited check from her pocket. "To deposit my paycheck, sir. I work for the Toronto Gazette writing a column. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you, sir."
He flipped closed his materials and slid them into his jacket pocket, smiling. "Alright. Thank you, Miss Twain. Have a good day, be safe."
He walked away and to the next closest person to her, drawing his note book. Aggie sighed a sigh of relief, sliding the check back into her pocket.
She hated answering questions. She hated talking to strangers, period, but she found it very hard to keep her cool when answering questions such as those.
She also found it difficult to lie.
"Make way, make way! Paddy Glynn with the Toronto Gazette!"
Aggie turned and groaned at the sound of an all too familiar voice, a voice belonging to someone she wasn't hoping to see any time soon.
Making a bee line for the inspector and his crew, Glynn quickly proceeded to draw his notes and bother them. Aggie discreetly shook her head, hoping he wouldn't notice her. After a short pause, she started for the door ever so quietly. Her details were taken. No one could be angry with her if she made her way home.
No sooner had she reached the door, he managed to catch up with her. Aggie swallowed her resentment as he tapped her on the shoulder.
"Agatha Twain? I did not expect to see you here." He said in a tone of voice a tad bit too happy to suit his job.
"Ah, Mr. Glynn. Alternatively, I quite expected to see you showing up here. Bothering Brakenreid and his crew once again, I see?"
They both stepped out the door, Aggie a bit faster, and started down the road. "Not bothering, my dear, Inquiring."
Aggie sighed. "Bothering, Glynn."
He shrugged. "I see the deposit of your check was interrupted. Better get back and deposit it soon, you and I both know you're forgetful."
Even though this completely true, Aggie narrowed her eyes at his remark. "I… am not forgetful! How dare you say such a thing. We're not family, you cannot say such a thing to a woman of my position, I…"
Glynn laughed quietly and drew his notes. "For a girl as shy as you, you sure get fired up easily."
Aggie sighed in frustration. At times, she felt as if she wanted to throw him a swift punch in the gut.
She didn't know why they were friends. She didn't even know how she could stand him.
"Now, Miss Twain, do you mind if I ask of you some details of this robbery?" He asked, stepping a little closer to her. She smiled and stepped away.
"Yes, I do mind. I too, work for the Gazette. I'm sure there's a written rule somewhere that if I don't wish to be questioned, I shant be." Aggie relied smugly, crossing her arms. He laughed again.
"No, miss Twain, there is no such rule. Besides, we're friends. Now tell me… did the bank robber kiss any women?"
Aggie bit her lip. "Don't be a fool. I heard you just now asking the men from the station just that. You're calling him the kissing bandit, are you not?"
He shrugged. "Yes, and I'm not allowed a second opinion? Backup? This is good reporting, my dear. These are widely used skills. For an aspiring journalist you sure—"
"Yes, he did." She interrupted, not too eager to hear him finish his sentence. He shot her a look of annoyance, which she returned.
"…Very good. What did this robber look like? What did he want? Did he… do anything else of interest? Anything at all?"
Aggie titled her head at his sudden and obsessive interest in the Bandit. "I, uh… well, he was dressed head to toe in dark clothing with a bright… red… scarf, sir, and he… I don't know." She paused. "You seem awful interested in the details, Glynn."
He squinted. "Interested? Like I said, I'm a reporter and it's my job—"
Aggie mockingly patted him on the shoulder. "I had my eyes closed for most of the robbery. You know me, frail, shy, terrified little Aggie… you best ask someone else."
Glynn frowned. "I'm sure you didn't. You're lying." He said in an almost certain tone of voice.
"Ah, you sound so sure, Mr. Glynn. Perhaps you have more faith in me than I've been lead to believe."
By this point, they had tread a fair way away from the bank, almost to Aggie's home, where Glynn had followed her. Aggie nodded to the sight of her house up ahead.
"It looks like you've followed me most of the way to my house, Mr. Glynn." She smiled sweetly, and reached over to close his notes. He shifted uncomfortably.
"It appears I have. I'm sorry."
Aggie continued walking for a moment, only to realize he hadn't continued following her. She then proceeded to laugh heartily. He looked up at her in confusion.
Most of the time, Aggie seemed to him to be very quiet and shy.
She was feisty when she wanted to be, but quiet and shy. Loud laughter was neither of these things.
"…What? What exactly is so funny?" He asked in confusion.
"Paddy Glynn, intrepid reporter, so easily turned off the view of a witness because of some minor lashes and the arrival at her house? I must say, Mr. Glynn, I find myself quite disappointed."
He put his hand on his hips. "Miss Twain, I was trying to be polite. Are you not pleased with anything I do?"
"…I suppose not." Aggie said awkwardly, quickly sinking into her usual, quiet demeanor.
She stepped back towards Glynn and smiled politely. "I'm toying with you, sir. I'm sorry. The robbery must have gotten me a tad bit shook up-"
"It must have." He interrupted.
Shut up. She thought. "You're good at what you do, I suppose." It pained her to say so. "…and listen, Glynn. If you and I are friends as you say, it would be lovely to see you outside of work in a situation where you are not probing me with questions."
He raised an eyebrow. "oh?"
"Yes, sir. Now, good day. The hours are growing late, and I have business of my own to take care of. I wish you luck on this case, as you seem intent on glorifying this robber."
In most cases Glynn would have lashed out at her for making such a remark, but she didn't seem to have intended it that way, so he said nothing. "Yes, I, er... Good afternoon, Miss Twain."
Aggie waved politely, stepping inside her house. "Good afternoon."
/
It was beginning to grow dark, and Aggie had taken it upon herself to sit down and relax for the evening with a nice cup of earl gray. The day for her had been long and stressful, and she was afraid she had made a bit of a fool of herself in front of Mr. Glynn.
…Paddy Glynn.
The same thoughts had been running through her head since she had left the bank. Her thoughts about him, that is…
His voice, his height, the way he moved – everything about the masked robber was leading her to think that she was perhaps going insane. The man bore a striking resemblance to her not so appreciated friend.
Paddy did, though, arrive at the scene not too long after the robbery. Perhaps that could be evidence that it wasn't him, if she'd like it to be.
It wouldn't take long for a man to remove and hide a hat, scarf and cloak, but she chose to ignore that.
Her day had been stressful, and she didn't want to worry herself anymore.
She took a long sip from her steaming cup of hot tea, smiling. Her joints ached from her panic, and it felt lovely to go limp and relax with nowhere to be and nothing to do. She had no work the next day, and that suited her fancy just fine.
She needed some time to herself.
