CHAPTER 4
ONE MONTH LATER
Peter bursts into the seventh precinct frantically, rushing right by Steve. "Woah! Hey, Peter, what's wrong?"
But Peter doesn't stop running, just surges past him until he sees Fury's office. Without knocking, he storms through, panting. "I need your help." he gasps.
Fury's face turns wary. "What happened?"
"It's Mr. Stark. He's missing. I think something happened." Peter's lip wobbles, "I think he might have relapsed."
Tony groans, his head pounds and he blinks though the daze. When he opens his eyes it's dim and he can barely see a thing. His head bangs against the back wall and he realizes he's in the back of a car. He looks down, pulls at his wrists to see that they're cuffed, the skin chafing from all the tugging. When he tries to twist around, he flails and it's then he notices his zip-tied feet.
He looks out the window, it's dark, cloudy, just a flurry of trees.
He sees the driver.
And the gun.
Shit.
TWO DAYS EALRIER
"Mr. Stark you're late. You're LAAAATEEE!" Peter yells, banging on the basement door.
It's locked- which is so typical- but Peter knows for a fact that Tony can hear him. "Mr. Staa-aa-aark!" he yells again.
AC/DC blasts from below and Peter sighs, his head thumping against the door. "Fine." he mutters, "I'll just do it myself."
He heads back into the living room, grabbing a little zippered pouch. He opens it to reveal a plethora of lockpicks and carefully inserts one of the tinier ones in and wiggles it around.
It doesn't work.
But Peter keeps trying, biting his lip to stay focused. Ever since the plant exercise a month ago, Tony had been keeping him ridiculously busy with all sorts of tasks. This week's training was about identifying hand-writing tells and matching samples. It was fascinating stuff, but also just the tiniest bit boring, but Peter kept at it, determined to learn. And while lock-picking had been one of the first things Tony had trained him to do, he still needed some practice.
Luckily for him, if time was currency, he'd be rich. Peter had completed his final exams two weeks ago and was now officially on summer break, which meant he could dedicate himself to his detective studies full-time. It also meant, that he could be on Tony's case 24/7.
Which obviously, Tony loved.
The lock clicks open and Peter whoops, racing down the stairs to catch Tony trying to sneak out from the basement window. "Hey!" he yells and Tony raises his arms guiltily.
"This isn't what it looks like." he starts to say.
"Excuse you Mr. Stark, but you told me it's usually always what it looks like." Peter retorts, arms crossed.
Tony grins, lowering his hands. "Alright, alright. No need to get all up in arms about it. Come 'ere, I'm working on something you'll find pretty neat."
Tony waves him over to something vaguely glowing on his work table and Peter's itching to go check it out before he snaps himself out of it. "You can't distract me this time Mr. Stark, we gotta go."
"Come on Pete, I know you want to look." Tony wags his brows and Peter bites his lip, looking back at the specimen before shaking his head.
"I'll call Fury." he threatens and Tony narrows his eyes.
"You wouldn't."
Peter pulls out his phone, pressing the number three on his speed-dial. The phone rings twice as Tony and Peter have a stare down before Fury picks up, "Parker? What did Tony do now?" he sighs.
Peter practically chirps, "Well Captain Fury sir-" before Tony stomps over and forcibly hangs up the call.
"Has anyone ever called you a brat before? Because, you're a brat."
Peter beams, "Aw man, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Tony scowls.
"You know that I'm a genius right? The kind of genius who could be doing something actually useful instead of going to another meeting?"
The community centre Tony goes to his AA meetings in is only an eight minute walk away and it's a lovely day to be out and about. "It's only an hour of your life Mr. Stark. I think you'll live." Tony sighs dramatically, "Plus," Peter adds, "it's good for you. And you still have to find a sponsor."
"Oh God."
Tony can complain all he wants, but they end up at the meeting anyway.
They sit in their usual spot in the back and Peter doesn't really have to be here- he knows- and maybe some people would say he shouldn't. But…it had been a bit more than a month since he'd been living with Tony and at the end of the day…well…there isn't exactly anyone else.
And Peter refuses to lose someone else. Not again.
Not if he can help it.
He just wants to support him. Help him help himself. And if walking him to his meetings to make sure he goes does that, then, Peter won't complain. What he will complain about though, is Tony falling asleep just as Chloe is bursting into tears about her journey. "Mr. Stark." he hisses, jabbing his elbow pointedly into his side.
Tony jolts up, eyes wide open. "I'm awake!" he yells as the whole crowd turns to them.
Peter sinks into his seat, trying to hide his face. From the corner of his eye, he sees a man with a streak of grey in his hair and a goatee almost as meticulous as Tony's give him a wry look.
The meeting wraps up and Tony still hasn't participated at all, but at least he stayed awake- it's the small victories. Peter figures he has to take what little successes come his way.
"I'm heading out to see Ned and MJ for a bit. I should be back in a couple hours." he says as they walk out.
"Do I need to give you the don't do drugs speech?" Tony drawls.
Peter rolls his eyes. "No."
Tony pops a smile. "I'm kidding. Go have fun. But not too much fun! Moderation is the key!" he yells as Peter turns tail and jets off.
Peter twists at the corner, waving with a very alright-that's-enough expression before he disappears out of sight. Tony hides his smile, stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns away.
"So wait…you're like a detective?" Ned exclaims, pulling out a cheesy slice from their shared pizza.
Peter tilts his head back and forth, pulling his lip like he's thinking, "Yeah, basically."
"Cool!"
"And no one cares you're sixteen?" MJ questions.
Peter shrugs, "Mr. Stark worked out some kinda deal with Captain Fury and technically, we're not getting paid for any of this and they're technically hiring Mr. Stark and I'm just his assistant so." he shrugs again.
"How can he not be getting paid, you guys live in a house in the middle of the city." Ned exclaims.
"Mr. Stark's dad owns the house. Apparently he's this super rich guy who runs one of those mega-conglomerates. Mr. Stark gets his money from these investment things he made when he was younger? I don't know."
"Remind us again how you met this guy?" MJ interjects, still looking unimpressed.
"I told you guys, when we were figuring out the angel of death thing."
"Your life is so crazy man." Ned shakes his head, "Have you solved any cases?"
"Well, I don't do all the solving. But I helped Mr. Stark solve four so far. The angel, the therapist, the kidnapping case, and then this whole thing with a bomb that exploded a decade after it was supposed to. It was crazy." Peter narrates, gesticulating excitedly.
"And you're happy?" MJ presses, scrutinizing him.
Peter blinks, calms down a little. "Yeah." he says, "I think so- I mean- as much as I can be anyway."
Ned and MJ give him that usual expression people had when they loved you and felt sad that you were sad but didn't quite know what to do. But Peter didn't need them to do anything. It was enough just that they were here now. And it's just nice and fun and he's having a really great time when his phone pings.
Peter slides open the message: YT? ND U ASAP?
MJ raises a brow. "I know we're teenagers but…are you texting a teenager from an anti-millennial propaganda ad?"
Peter snorts, shooting her a goofy grin as he texts Tony back. Still at pizza place, is it a case?
"Nah, he's just super intense about efficiency."
Right on time, his phone dings again, this time with a weirder message. IMLTHO: No. IMPORTANT! CUS!
MJ gapes. "No way. Alright CUS is see you soon but what the hell is IMLTHO?"
Peter looks almost sheepish when he says, "It uhh, it means in my less than humble opinion."
MJ and Ned stare.
Peter can't really blame them.
"Mr. Stark," Peter greets, "your abbreviations are getting super crazy you know."
Tony's sitting at the computer, not even looking up when Peter enters. "Do you even understand how amazing it is that language is evolving faster than we can keep up with it? There's only one thing I love more than text short hand and that's coffee." He raises his mug to prove it, taking a big swig of it.
He closes his Chrome tab and shoots up, clapping his hands, "You excited to meet some actual demons here on Earth?"
"Oh my god are we going ghost hunting?" Peter squeaks, practically rocking on the balls of his feet.
Tony looks mortified. "Tell me you don't believe in ghosts."
"Tell me how you can not believe in ghosts." Peter retorts.
"Okay, we'll get into all that later, but no. We're going to an investment firm. Specifically, I've been requested to come in for a mysterious meeting with the Board of Directors."
Peter twists his lip. "That's weird. What do they want with you?"
"That's exactly what I want to find out."
They're half way out the door when Peter stops. "Wait…shouldn't we uhh, get dressed or something?"
Tony glances down at himself then back at Peter, "Is this an Emperor's new clothes situation?"
"We look like homeless people." Peter deadpans.
Tony carries on. "Peter, you and I both know that my suit collection is probably one of world's seven wonders. But when Wall Street wears them, it's blasphemy. They're all just wearing costumes." his face upturns in scorn, "I hate bankers. They ruin lives and rig the wheel and almost destroyed the entire world economy, yet they still think that if they wear a suit they'll be treated like respected members of society instead of the criminals they actually are."
Peter stares and then pulls out his phone. "Can you say all of that again for MJ?"
The inside of the firm's conference room is just as fancy as Peter imagined it would be. There's a giant rectangular table in the centre with plush chairs all around it and a drop down projector screen at the front. Tony and Peter are seated at the far end of the table while a woman stands next to the screen and introduces them to all the relevant members. "My name's Ray Swan and I'm the Chief Investment Officer."
"That's Daniel Cho, our CFO, and that's Maria-"
Tony waves his hand around, "Yeah, we get it. You're all the chief of something, how about you just get to the good stuff and tell me what you want yeah?"
Swan balks for a second before gesturing half-heartedly to the screen. An image of another man appears. "This is our COO, Richard Talbott. Every quarter, he fields a conference call with our institutional investors. These people control huge pension funds and as far as they're concerned, Richard is the voice of the company. This quarter's call was supposed to happen yesterday, but we had to reschedule because Richard never showed. Nobody has any idea where he is and if we don't this call happening soon, people will start to whisper." her expression turns grave, "And when these people whisper Mr. Stark, millions of dollars disappear."
Tony remains unimpressed yet managed to look disgusted at the same time.
Daniel Cho speaks up, "We tried contacting the police already but they said they couldn't do anything until he's been missing for forty-eight hours. The man we spoke to, Captain Fury, said that we should try you."
Tony raises a brow.
"We'd like to hire you and your uhh," he looks at Peter, "…associate."
Tony interlaces his hands atop of his lap and has that face Peter knows only means trouble. "Today's your lucky day kids. Turns out I'm free at the moment." he stands, "Of course, my usual consulting rates will apply, but of course, they'll be multiplied by a factor of, oh, let's say twelve?"
The board titters among themselves as they look at him incredulously. Peter almost wants to warn them as Tony's grin grows salacious. "You're wondering how much bang you're gonna get for your buck right? Don't worry. Demonstrations are free."
He purses his lips, scrutinizing them as though trying to select which prey to dig into first. "Ok first up, you two, you've been sleeping with each other for a while now, congrats. You sir, have recently removed nail polish from your hands, and you-"
"Twelve times your rate is fine Mr. Stark." Swan says sternly.
Tony grins, "If you're sure." he moves towards the door, "Alright, I'm gonna need access to Talbott's office and computer."
Swan nods, "My secretary, Krystlle, will be happy to take you down there right now."
Krystlle Muguet is the tallest tiny girl Peter's ever seen. She's lithe and stands one arm crossed over her torso like she's shielding herself from his stare. Her hair just brushes over her shoulders and though her expression bares no hints as to her feelings, her eyes are guarded. She couldn't be older than twenty-eight but she carries herself like she's lived beyond her years. "Right this way." she says, and her voice is deep, but gentle.
Talbott's office looks like every other big company important person's office Peter's ever seen on TV. Large mahogany desk with a giant shelving unit decorated with sparse expensive knick-knacks and some thick leather bound books. The view from the window of course, is incredible. Peter trails the shelves, picking up a photo frame of Talbott and a pleasant looking woman smiling. "Is that Mr. Talbott's wife?" he asks.
Krystlle nods. "They're kinda like our gossip couple. Everyone called them Brangelina as a joke."
Tony hides a snort. "Fascinating."
Krystlle pulls her lip in a tight smile. "If you don't need me for anything, I'll be at my desk outside."
Peter smiles her off but she leaves without reciprocating. "She's a little cold don't you think?" Peter asks, watching her go.
Tony shrugs, "You try being a woman in a man's world. You either get tough or get trampled."
Peter frowns but goes back to examining the shelves. "Well, at least you're having a good time." he grins, "I think that's the most excited I've ever seen you." he teases.
Tony sighs, "Honestly, it was kinda a let down. I should've gone for twenty times my normal rate."
"What is your normal rate anyway?"
Tony turns and grins like a classic Disney villain. "No clue."
"Mr. Stark!" he cries but can't stop laughing.
Tony claps his hands, "Alright padawan, let's see if you remember our observation training. What can you tell me about the bookshelf?"
Peter pauses. "Well, he's obviously trying to present himself as well-read. He has all these fancy books but none of them have been opened."
Tony nods, "Typical of people who are full of themselves, yeah. But how do you know they haven't been read?"
"Because none of the spines are cracked. Except this one." Peter pulls out a thick blue leather book traced in gold.
"Correctamundo." Tony praises, taking the book from Peter's outstretched hand and flipping through it. "The spine is worn as are the page edge suggesting he's opened this book quite a lot over time."
When he opens it to the middle he makes a face. "Well now we know why."
Carved into the pages is a nook for a little black book. Tony pulls it out gingerly, an oddly judgemental expression on his face. "What's that?" Peter asks.
"A menu."
He hesitates before showing Peter but resolves to in the end, flipping through the book to show pictures of scantily clad women in provocative poses. "See the gold rings on the bottom? Those tell you the price. The more rings, the more you gotta shell out."
The further they flipped, the more obvious it was that Mr. Talbott had expensive taste. The pages ear-marked were all ones with four or five rings. "Okay, so our missing person had a nasty expensive habit. But you can't just tell IRS you spend hundreds of thousands a year on prostitutes…you have to hide them." Tony muses, mostly to himself, "Pete, find his calendar."
Peter jumps to attention, rifling through Talbott's desk until he finds the calendar book, inside it, a little contact book. "His accountants' info?" Tony asks.
"He has two. One is DDB-"
"No, that's a big firm, probably does all his official books, not that one." Tony interrupts.
"Uhh, well the other one's just a name, no company. Martin Rydell. It says he handles the 'executive private account.'"
Tony snaps his fingers. "Bingo." He turns to the door, "Krystlle?"
The secretary pokes her head in. "Would you mind booking us a reservation for three at Villa Pacri?"
Later, Peter finds himself stumbling over his feet entering probably the most up-scale restaurant he's ever been to. The ceilings rise above him with paintings running all up the sides and giant gold chandeliers twinkling. Everyone looks like their outfits cost more than a year's rent and there he and Tony were in rumpled jeans and t-shirts. Needless to say, their waiter wasn't pleased at all.
Tony though, looks right at home. "Hello George, it's just George right? No fancy French twist?"
George gives him a tense smile.
"Alright we'll get the Seafood Platter and I want it stacked with all the expensive stuff. Add on some extra caviar for good measure." he looks up, "Hey Pete, you like seafood right?"
Peter shrinks in his seat, caught off guard. "Ok it's fine. Fresh seafood is basically perfect you'll be fine. But just in case, get me an eleven ounce striploin medium cooked and two sides of the mashed potatoes and your most expensive entrée just for kicks."
Peter swears he sees George's eyebrow tic. "Would you like a glass of wine with that sir?"
"Depends. Will you buy me a new house if you give me one?"
Peter's head drops into his hands.
"Mr. Stark!" he whisper hisses when George leaves, "You just spent like, a million dollars!"
"Normally, I'd have the exact calculation to prove you wrong, but this is on the firm's dime so," his hands flop in the air, "who cares?"
Peter gives him a look but he's trying extra hard not to grin. "So you hate Ernest and Co. but you have no problem spending their money?"
"I'm redistributing money stolen from the pockets of people just trying to make a living wage. If I have to work for a bunch of soul-less demon monsters, I might as well make them as poor as possible." Tony takes a big bite of the bread, "Kid, I'm seriously debating giving you the card so you can learn to have a little fun in your life."
"I know how to have fun!" he retorts, crossing his arms like he was five.
Tony grins. "Prove it then. Next time Georgie comes, order something ridiculous."
Except, before George returns, a different waiter comes by, an older man with an expensive bottle of champagne. He holds it out to Tony. "Sir?"
"Mr. Stark!"
"Kid, relax. It's not for me." he points casually to the table behind them, "See that couple there? Look at his suit, it's frayed from the dry cleaning and I bet it's the only one he has. What does that mean?" he looks at Peter expectantly.
"That he uhh…that he was waiting for something special?" he guesses.
"Bingo. Now look closer, he keeps touching the inside pocket of his coat as if he's checking to see if something's still there."
Peter perks up, "He's gonna propose!"
Tony smacks his hand lightly against the table, "And we are going to send them a congratulatory bottle." he turns to the waiter, "It's perfect."
George returns to their table with a cart full of the food they ordered and Tony's staring at Peter intently, gesturing his head almost psychotically towards him. Peter frowns, then glares then sighs, "Excuse me, Mr. George sir? Can I have a-"
He's interrupted by a man in an expensive suit and slicked back hair sliding into the empty third seat. "Sorry I'm late Mr. Stark, shall we begin?"
Tony catches his glare for ruining what would no doubt be an awkward interaction between Peter and the waiter before smiling graciously. "No worries. Thanks George, we'll call if we need anything."
He turns to give the man his full attention. "Mr. Rydell, let me introduce you to my protégé, Peter Parker. Before we start, I have a bit of a confession to make. We lied over the phone," he gesticulates nonchalantly as he talks, "nothing too dramatic or anything. But, I don't work at Ernest and Co. and I definitely don't want to open an executive account with you."
Rydell's face darkens and he stands to leave before Tony's arm shoots out and grabs hold of his wrist. He lowers his voice and there's an edge in his eyes. "What I do want to talk about though, is your work hiding Talbott's thing for expensive hookers."
Rydell swallows. "You have the wrong guy."
Tony shrugs, letting him go. "It's not super legal what you're doing right? This whole," he waves his hand, "executive accounting business thing. But despite that, you were a pretty happy bunny coming all the way down here to meet me. What do you think that means kid?"
" That he has other sketchy clients."
"Correct. So you can totally go on your merry way right now, but that'll just leave me and my phone and all the magazines who'd just love to publish a story about the man who hides Wall Street's dirty secrets."
Rydell glares down at him but doesn't move. Tony tilts his head like a challenge and then pulls out his phone, typing quickly. "Hello, is this the Post? I have the best-"
"Wait!" Rydell exclaims and Tony holds the phone away from his ear.
"Can you hold on a sec, I'm on a call."
"Wait." Rydell says again, sitting down, "I did work with Talbott."
Tony cancels the call.
"I set up a shell corporation to put away a bit of his paycheck every month into another fund so he could do whatever he wanted with it."
"And if he were using those funds to hook up behind his wife's back, where would we find him?" Tony presses.
Rydell bows his head. "I rented an apartment in Tribeca under the shell corp's name."
Peter pulls out his phone. "Address please?"
Behind them, the man gets down on his knees and the woman jumps to kiss him, "Yes! Of course! Yes!"
Peter catches Tony eye, and smiles.
Peter and Tony are walking to the apartment when Peter bumps his shoulder. "Have you found a sponsor yet?"
Tony sighs. "I'm working on it kid."
"Okayyyyy," Peter drags, "but are you working on it working on it, or are you just," he twists his hand around his head, "working on it."
"If you haven't noticed, we're trying to solve a murder. It's not exactly high on my list of priorities."
"Okay yeah but you heard what the Captain said-"
"Peter, we'll talk about this later. We're here." Tony says firmly.
They stop in front of a nicely maintained building with a buzzer on the outside. Tony takes a breath then using the best Boston accent Peter's ever heard, gets them in. "Hi this is Detective Horowitz of the NYPD, we got a warrant to search apartment 2G."
"What warrant?" Peter whispers.
Tony waves him off, "They never check."
The buzzer goes green and Tony winks.
"Holy shit this place is incredible." Peter gushes, admiring the giant art on the walls and tall ceilings.
Tony nods at him, walking slower as he catches sight of a man sprawled on the couch, facing away from them. Tony clears his throat. "Mr. Talbott? Your bosses are looking for you."
The man doesn't answer.
Tony raises an arm, blocking Peter from following after him as he circles around the couch. He marches confidently until he freezes. His jaw clenches and there's just the slightest staccato in his breath.
Peter runs behind him and stops, his stomach twisting inside of him.
Talbott is dead. His fingers still holding the needle plunged in his arm. White powder is scattered on the side table next to him and the entire room reeks of the alcohol spilt around him. Peter looks up at Tony, then back at Talbott.
In two distinct yet utterly identical ways, this is both their biggest fear.
The police arrive twenty-odd minutes later and Peter's answering Thor's questions when he sees Fury pull Tony aside. "Stark, you doing okay?"
Tony nods, but his twitchy quality is back. "Why are you asking me how I'm doing when there's a dead man sitting in that armchair."
"You and I both know that the even in support meetings you're not even allowed to name the drug you've abused, let alone this mess and all the bottles everywhere. Even just saying the name of this stuff can be enough for a relapse."
Tony smiles but there's no warmth, "Aww come on Captain, you know I never pay attention to those things."
"Yeah?" Fury's face hardens, "Getting you to care about yourself has always been a lost cause," Tony winces, "but I thought you'd give more of a shit about the kid."
Tony's face slackens and he turns around to catch Peter staring at him with eyes bordering somewhere between worried and frightened. Tony sighs, walking over to him. "You okay? This is probably not typical sixteen year old stuff."
Peter swallows. "I'm okay. I'm a detective. I can do it."
Tony smiles, his hand resting briefly atop of Peter's head. "But…what about you? This is…this is bad right? Do you want to go outside for a little? We've been here for so long…"
Tony pulls his hand back. "I'm fine. We have a case to work. That's all that matters."
"But Mr. Stark! The case is over. We found Talbott, we don't have to-"
Tony shakes his head, that antsy energy roaring back as his hand trembles and his voice sounds like it's all over the place. "No, no, look- look at the salad." he points to the kitchen.
"Fury!" he yells, "you're trying to drop this as an unintentional suicide right?" he doesn't even wait for Fury to agree, "Well you're wrong! In case you were wondering! Talbott was murdered."
Steve frowns, but it's gentle. "Tony…the murder weapon is right in his hand."
Tony whirls around, "That's right, the murder weapon is in his hand but he didn't shoot himself up, just- just look at his arm. No track marks."
Steve nods, "Okay, but he's a junkie, they can find a vein anywhere."
Tony shakes his head, something wild in his eyes. "Steve could you just- just look at this apartment. Does this look even remotely like the home of a hardcore heroin addict? Or even an alcoholic? It's- it's perfect! Spotless! I bet you even the food in his fridge is perfectly arranged."
To prove his point, Tony races to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to find piles of containers perfectly placed in a grid. "See! Does this look like your typical drug user's fridge?"
Thor shrugs, "So he's not typical."
Tony's energy quiets. "Addicts are looking for nothingness. They want to dull all their senses. That's why when you find them overdosed, they're in squalid apartments or alleyways. They don't keep apartments like this. And they definitely aren't COOs of multi-billion dollar companies."
Steve stares calmly. "So you're saying someone gave Talbott the shot? How? There's no sign of a struggle or a break in anywhere."
Thor nods, "No normal person is going to let someone just stick a needle in their arm."
Tony's face darkens. "No, you're right. That's why they had to make him unconscious first." He stalks over to the salad container and stares.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter asks, voice small.
He doesn't turn to look at him. "Peter, we haven't covered drugs yet so I'll let you pass on this one. But if someone needed Talbott unconscious before overdosing him, and if any other chemical would come up in a tox screen, then he'd have to have dosed him with more heroine through this." Tony nods, picking up steam, "And then…after Talbott knocked out, the killer dragged him to the chair where he gave him that final dose and then arranged everything for us to find and left."
"So." Fury says, "You think someone dosed the salad."
"Well it's easy enough to test isn't it?"
Fury stares him down, "Fine. But first, we have to go notify the wife."
"We're coming." Tony says immediately, "This guy has a secret apartment to hook up with prostitutes? That's a motive if I've ever heard one."
In the back of the squad car, Peter glances up at Tony from the corner of his eye. He hadn't participated much in the apartment breakdown of the murder and even now, he's too uncertain to reach out to his guardian about…well…about everything. But Tony's jaw is still clenched and his shoulders tight, so Peter looks down into his lap and doesn't say anything at all.
The wife as it happens, is just as beautiful as she is in the photos in the office. Fury and Steve are across from Jane Talbott in the conference room while Tony and Peter are relegated to the back. To her credit, she looks genuinely shocked. At both the death and the method.
"Oh my God. Richard said he was done with all that…the girls…the partying…he said he was ready for us to have kids and you say he…" she takes a deep breath, "you say he was using heroin?"
Tony takes a sharp breath and Peter reaches out to touch his shoulder but Tony ignores him. "Mrs. Talbott. Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind telling us where you were between six and midnight?"
Jane recoils in her seat. "What?"
Tony keeps going. "That's our estimated time of death for now and I was wondering where you were."
"No-" Steve interjects before Jane turns on him.
"You think I hurt my husband?" she sounds aghast.
Steve levels his hand, "No. No. Everything we've seen so far indicates an accidental death."
"Yeah, that's not for sure at all, so whereabouts?" Tony chimes in.
Steve looks at him for a second, caught between wanting to tell him off but wanting to know, when Jane purses her lips to compose herself and then untenses. "I volunteer at Habitat for Humanity. I was running the silent auction."
"And up until today, you had no idea your husband was using heroin?" Tony asks.
"I told you, no. I'm shocked." she pauses, looks down into her lap as tears pool at the corner of her eyes. "But I wish I could say I'm totally surprised."
Steve softens, "What do you mean by that ma'am?"
"Ever since he got promoted to COO, Richard's been getting so overwhelmed. He used to joke that the last guy dropped dead just to get out of going to work."
Tony's head shoots up. "Wait, wait, scale back a sec. Did you just say the last COO died?"
Jane sniffs, "He-he was allergic to peanuts and he died when some restaurant put the wrong oil in his lunch."
"How long ago was that?" Tony asks, ignoring Steve's confused look.
"Um, last October?" Jane wrings her hands, "Why? Do you think this has to do with Richard?"
Tony doesn't answer.
When Jane is shown out minutes later, Steve returns with a flat expression. "Peanut allergies? Seriously Tony?"
"Steve, come on. You don't think it's weird how the same company lost two COO's in the same year? Being an investment demon is supposed to be dangerous morally. But not like this."
"I think Mr. Stark's right." Peter chimes in, his heart beating in his throat.
He's never really spoken up like this around the precinct, usually he'd only build on Tony's points or take the lead when they were out in the field. But he didn't like the way Steve and Fury were looking at him and he knew Tony, better than either of them, and he knew Tony believed there was something bigger afoot. And honestly, Peter believed it.
He's learned now that coincidences are just secrets waiting to be revealed.
Fury looks at him, brow raised. "Really now?"
"We can check it out ourselves. No harm no foul right?" Peter raises his chin.
Fury shakes his head, "Fine. Now get outta here. We have real work to do."
Peter's busy cooking pasta when he hears Tony on the phone. He's speaking quickly, in a language he doesn't know. But the inflection and the enunciation sounds like the Mandarin Peter hears sometimes when Tony rushes through world news to get the gist. He scoops out two bowls of pasta and sets them down on the table Tony's working at.
"How many languages do you speak? Because that was definitely not English."
"It was Mandarin. And I'm only partly fluent, I need to practice more. But I am fluent in five other languages."
Peter whistles. "Holy shit."
"Watch that mouth kid." Tony berates, taking a bite. "Huh, not bad. Is this your aunt's recipe?"
Peter smiles, nostalgic. "Yeah, it's good right!"
"Definitely." Tony looks at him, "Wanna talk shop?"
Peter nods and Tony dives right in. "So I was talking to the chef who made that old COO's meal, a guy named Gary Norris. Anyway, this guy had a really bad peanut allergy and he was apparently crazy about avoiding them. Enter Chef Zhang. Norris had made an arrangement with him, Zhang knew to never put peanut oil in his meals and because of the arrangement, Norris had lunch there every day."
Peter twists his lip, "Yeah, I get all that. But it only takes one mistake right?"
"That's the thing, Zhang swears he never messed up. He said he always made Norris' meals personally and he believes that someone else put the peanut oil in the food after it left his kitchen." Tony twists his fork into the pasta, "I'm starting to think he's right."
Peter blows out a breath, "Well it's not exactly a dumb plan. It's pretty smart honestly." He nods to himself, "Plus, if he was murdered, the MO is pretty consistent. Kill the target in a way that looks like an accident."
"Exactly." But Tony seems moderately distracted and he keeps looking at Peter like he wants to say something but doesn't know how.
Peter swallows. Yeah, he knows the feeling. What he wants to say right now is that he wants to be there for Tony and that he cares about him and that Peter wants to support him. But…he just…doesn't know how.
"Today, at the crime scene. I was caught off guard for a bit. I…I forgot what it all smelt like. And about the oblivion."
Peter goes deathly quiet. "But I'm fine now. Everything's fine."
"Mr. Stark-"
Tony gets up. "I'm going to head down to the workshop. If the captain calls, let me know."
Peter nods.
"Dammit." he whispers as soon as Tony closes the basement door.
Peter's in bed, tossing and turning when he hears rummaging downstairs. Curious, he peeks out from behind the bannister to see Tony pinning up photos above their mantle where their crime collages go. "Who are they?" Peter calls and Tony waves him over.
"They're everyone from Ernest and Co. who've died over the last ten years."
Peter stifles a yawn. "Well it's a big company right? Deaths are bound to happen."
Tony nods. "A lot of these are probably random. That's guaranteed. But if we ignore those, there might be a pattern."
Peter helps pin up the rest of the pictures when Tony's phone dings. "Yes!" he exclaims.
Peter tilts his head.
"The results came in. I was right. Someone put heroin in Talbott's salad."
Peter's face darkens. "So there really is something wrong with that company."
"Seems like it." Tony squeezes Peter'shoulder. "Get some rest kid. I'll try to be quieter. We have a big day tomorrow." At Peter's confused face he elaborates, "We're going to call a Board of Directors meeting."
"But…they canceled our contract."
"I think they're going to want to know there's a murderer amongst them."
As Peter predicted, the Board isn't happy to see them at all. They sit in their designated chairs with grumpy expressions, half of them checking their watches every five seconds while the other half mutters amongst themselves about wasting time.
Tony loves it.
"If I could have your attention for just a second so I could expose some corruption that'd be great." At the C word, the entire horde silences.
Tony clicks a button and the projector turns on, a picture of a man on the screen. "This is Miles Durham, he was the former head trader in your Denver office. He died camping." The picture switched to a woman, "This is Bushra Mistry, she ran your equities division in Dallas and suffocated when the natural gas line running into her house ruptured when there'd never been a problem with that brand of piping before or since."
"Is there a point to this Mr. Stark?" Ray Swan asks, "We're busy people."
"Yes there's a point." he switches the phots again, "Jason Palmer, worked right here in the city. He got a five million dollar bonus in two-thousand and nine and then drowned while swimming in a lake near his home." Tony pauses, "The weird thing, is that Jason used to be a lifeguard."
Swan sighs. "Respectfully Mr. Stark. You did what we hired you to do. You found Richard. He OD'd."
"Actually, he was murdered. The police are investigating it now and we also believe that whoever killed Richard killed your previous COO, Gary Norris, as well as everyone I just mentioned here."
The Board falls silent. Even Swan looks subdued at the thought.
"I can't find a plausible motive that makes any sense for anyone outside of this company. This isn't about passion or spurts of anger. These murders are well-planned and well concealed. They're crimes of opportunity." Tony's gaze is piercing, "I think you have a sociopath in your rank and file. If I'm right, they wait and hide until they find the right opportunity to give themselves a leg up and then pounce."
One of the Directors speaks up. "You're saying someone's killing their way up the ladder? That's crazy."
"Is it though?" Tony asks. "You find ripping off poor people so they starve in their houses they can't rent anymore morally acceptable but not that?" he makes a face before continuing, "To find out who's responsible, I'm going to need access to your records. If the murderer is here, I'll find them."
Swan stands, "We control billions of dollars worth of assets Mr. Stark, we can't give you those files. They're confidential." she says firmly.
Tony rolls his eyes, "Can everyone just relax. It's not like I'm trying to audit you. I just need to do some simple math. There can't be that many people who were in Denver in two-thousand and three, Dallas in oh-five, and New York in oh-nine. If I can find whoever that is fast, I can wrap the whole thing up and it won't end up blowing up in your face in a giant scandal."
Swan's expression hardens. "Enough. Your services aren't necessary anymore Mr. Stark."
Tony looks incredulous. "Did you hear me when I said you have a murderer here?"
"There isn't a killer." Swan says firmly. "You know how I know that? Because the only person with that career path that you're describing here is me. And I can tell you right now that I didn't murder anybody."
"We're just going to go?" Peter demands as Tony hails a taxi.
"Ray Swan refuses to confess and we technically have no proof."
"But she's the only one who was at all the murder scenes at the right times."
Tony frowns. "Yeah. The question is how do we prove a link."
The two have only just gotten home when the doorbell rings and Ray Swan bursts through the doors. "I brought your cheque. And also, we need to talk."
Tony looks after her as she walks through their home. "Do we? Unless you're here to confess to the murders I don't see how you can be helpful."
Swan glares at him. "Do you have any idea what you did to me today?" The silence is heavy, "Do you know what it takes just to survive at a place like Ernest and Co. not just as a Board member but as a woman?" Swan takes a step closer, "I never murdered anyone."
The two stare at each other before Swan sighs, sitting down on the arm chair. "Have I done some questionable things to get to where I am? Yeah. Sure. I was inches away from becoming COO, which everybody knows is where they groom you for the big chair. But then," her eyes flash, "you accuse me of murder. And now?" her fingers tighten over the cushion arms, "Gossip is poison in that place. It doesn't matter that I'm completely innocent. Now I'll never get that job."
Tony pretends to wake up, jerking his head around. "Sorry, do you have anything interesting to say? Every time you say you're innocent I tune out."
"Alright fine. I'll prove it. Miles Durham, the first of the so-called murders? I had surgery." Swan pulls out a file from her purse sliding it over, "Those are my medical record. He was dead between the seventh and ninth of August. Well I had surgery the sixth and I wasn't released until the twelfth." she cocks her head, "See? Innocent."
Tony stares at her. Swan smiles but it's ice cold. "You think there's a sociopath amongst us?" she leans forward, eyes flashing, "I'll let you in on a secret. We're all sociopaths."
When Swan leaves, Tony's fuming. He dumps the medical files on the floor and grabs a basketball smashing it up and down atop the files, glaring. "It doesn't make any sense!" he yells.
Peter pokes his head around the kitchen wall.
"Ray Swan couldn't have done it, but she's the only one who benefited. She rose up the ranks every time someone died and yet she couldn't have done it." The ball smashes into the files.
Tony gets more revved up as he glowers into the pages and Peter feels something swell inside him. It's not fear but…it's something anxious. Something worried. Tony's getting frantic, stuck at a wall. And after the emotional roller-coaster of being exposed to an overdose and an alcohol binge and having to deal with Fury and Steve shutting him down and now this, Peter's worried.
He texts Ned, asks him to meet up to get some advice and when Ned confirms he's free Peter hesitates at the door.
"You're going to go meet your friends aren't you?" Tony says, still pounding the ball. "Good idea. It's not gonna get any quieter in here."
"You going to be okay?" Peter asks softly.
"Peachy."
But when Peter comes back home an hour later, Tony's gone.
Tony bashes the ball some more before he stops, picking up one page of the medical file. It's Swan's release form where it shows her emergency contact. "Krystlle." Tony whispers before sprinting right out the door.
Tony's back in the firm's office, right at the elevators when he catches sight of who he's looking for. He presses the down button and waves. "Krystlle." he greets.
The woman startles, staring at him with wary eyes. "God, no one ever remembers the secretary do they Krystlle?"
"What?" she says, pulling her purse tighter against herself.
Tony rocks on the balls of his feet, "As a career choice," he makes a screechy noise in the back of his throat, "kinda limiting. But the invisibility must be nice sometimes."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Krystlle retorts, "But I'm pretty sure Ms. Swan had you banned from the building."
Tony ignores her, "You've been with her a long time haven't you? Until tonight, I just assumed she'd picked you up when she moved to New York. But then I saw your name on as the emergency contact for her surgery in Denver and it hit me, you'd followed her from there to Dallas to here."
Krystlle shrugs, "Yeah so? Ray's a good boss. We're loyal to each other."
"She's definitely been something of a superstar around here. And she probably owes a lot of that to you doesn't she Krystlle?" Tony has a knowing look, "Ray Swan wasn't the only one to benefit from all the deaths was she?"
Krystlle glares, "Do I need to call security?"
Tony grins. "By all means, let's bring them into the conversation." Krystlle lowers her phone. "No? Didn't think so." The elevator doors open and Tony follows her inside.
"Anyway, I'm pretty annoyed I didn't see it sooner. Every time Swan got promoted, you had something to gain. Pay raise, stock options, the company even contributes to your retirement plan now."
"So? I've given them years of my life."
Tony has a wry expression. "I can't even imagine the little thrills you got, changing the fate of a giant company from your little desk." The doors open again into a dimly lit garage and Krystlle moves away.
"Get away from me." she seethes.
But Tony persists, following on after her. "Either way, what I still want to know is whether you and your boss were working together or not." he waggles his brows, "First one to tattle gets the shorter sentence." he sings.
Krystlle stops in front of a large black car and stares him down. "I've seen executives like you come and go." she sneers, "A little bit of smarts, a whole lot of ego."
Tony flicks up his brows, "Trust me. You've never met anyone like me."
Krystlle looks unimpressed. "Oh sure I have. My bosses use five thousand dollar suits to get attention. You use a blazer and a cat t-shirt." she steps closer, looking at him like she can't even believe her luck, "You're so proud of yourself for what you think you discovered, you just couldn't wait to tell me." her voice drops, "Even if it meant following me into an empty parking garage."
She drops her hand into her purse and pulls out a taser. It crackles and a surge of light bursts.
Tony topples to the ground before he can he even say a word.
When he wakes up, he's zip-tied and hand-cuffed in the back of Krystlle's car and it's pitch black out. Krystlle looks at him from the rear view mirror. "You're awake. Good."
Tony grunts, pushing himself upwards, trying to wish the grogginess away. "Yeah, I've chased after my fair share of bad guys, but most of them are ridiculously boring. You though, you're fascinating." he grunts again, "The initiative, the patience. I don't think it's gonna work out for you though." he shrugs, "You jumped the gun on this one."
Krystlle raises a brow. "Oh yeah? Who did you tell about me? Or did you just rush off for the big finale?"
"I emailed my colleagues-"
"No you didn't." she says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion. "We're going to be at Ray's country estate in a couple of minutes. In a week or two, someone's going to call in an anonymous tip and the police are going to find your body buried on the property. And then everyone will know that you were right, and that Ray Swan killed you before you could prove it."
"You're going to frame your boss." Tony nods, "Yeah, makes sense. The promotion will go to Cho and I guess he's going to need an experienced secretary to help him out. Enter you."
Krystlle quirks a lip up. "Huh. Maybe you're a smart guy after all."
"Now that's a real compliment coming from you." Tony grins, his brain already whirring away in the background to figure a way out.
"Ernest and Co. should make you the new managing director." he muses.
Krystlle snorts. "Yeah, they don't have enough imagination for that."
A phone rings in the front and Krystlle sighs harshly. "Peter." Tony's heart lurches. "That's the kid who's always with you right? This is the fourth time he's called and I don't even want to get into how many times he's texted."
Tony's lips curl up in a shadow of a smile. "He won't stop you know. Kid's high-strung. His aunt died a month ago and after I took him in, you can say he got a little over protective over the last guardian he has left in the world. I wouldn't be surprised if he called the cops."
Krystlle frowns, then picks up the phone. "In that case, we should let him know you're alright."
Back in the precinct, Peter is inconsolable. "Parker, why do you think Tony might have relapsed?" Fury asks.
"Yesterday, at the crime scene, he said it didn't effect him but I know it did. The drugs and the alcohol everywhere. And when I left, he was so mad at himself and I feel like…if he thought he wasn't doing enough then maybe he…and it's been hours and he always texts me back when I text because he knows I worry and I-"
Peter's phone pings and he rushes to pull it out of his pocket. "It's- it's Tony." his shoulders drop, "He says he's fine. He's heading back."
Fury sighs. "Great."
But Peter still has that look on his face. He stares harder at the texts and frowns.
Everything's fine. Phone was off, my mistake. Heading back now, see you soon.
Tony crosses his arm and glares. "Are you serious right now? I won't do it."
Krystlle raises the gun she's pointing at him higher.
"Nope. Absolutely not. I'm not digging my own grave. You're the murderer, you do it."
"Have you ever been shot by a gun before?" Krystlle asks, voice inching higher in annoyance.
"No. But I'm pretty it'll make it harder to dig!" Tony retorts. "Shoot me, yank my fingernails out, I don't give a shit. The answer's still no. I'm not digging the hole you're going to bury me in and that's that." As he talks, he hopes it masks the quiet clicking of him picking the lock of his handcuffs.
He hopes Peter remembers to always keep a pick in his pocket.
"Fine." Krystlle growls, "I'll do it myself. It's not even supposed to be that deep anyway. I want them to find you."
She steps closer, pressing the gun to the back of his head. Tony feels his sweat dribble down his forehead. "Tell me something," he says suddenly, as his fingers race to set his wrists free, "How did you get started with all of this? You must be proud of yourself. I for one know exactly how much effort it took to hide everything you did. But God it must kill you to keep it all a secret." Tony shrugs slowly, "I'm about to die anyway, so it's your chance to share. You might as well."
Krystlle is quiet. "So? What launched the career of Krystlle Muguet, corporate sociopath?"
He hears her puff of amusement at the title. "Ray was a bonds salesman back in Denver, the company was downsizing. They were either going to cut her job-" sirens ring in the background, red and blue light casting shadows all over the trees.
Krystlle takes a step back, her voice shaking. "What are they doing here!"
"No clue." Tony says, snapping his cuffs clean off. "Bought me some time though." he remarks cheerfully.
"Did you know I pick locks?" Krystlle swings at him with the gun but Tony catches her arm, and with his other, pulls out the taser from her jacket, "Pockets too." The electricity shoots through her as she convulses on the ground.
"Police! Hands in the air!"
"Hey Fury, how's it hanging?" Tony asks before Peter bursts from Fury's side and tackles him in a hug.
"Mr. Stark!"
Tony's arms hesitate in the air as Peter buries himself within the crease of Tony's neck. "Are you okay?" he says, pulling away to look Tony up and down.
Peter's eyes are frenzied but the more they look at Tony, the calmer they get.
"Yeah, I'm ok. A little woozy. You know, from all the volts that went through me. But I'm fine. Don't worry kid. Everything's fine."
Steve walks by to pick Krystlle up, squeezing Tony on the shoulder. "Glad you're alright."
Tony nods at him, then turns back to Peter. "Pretty convenient you and the cavalry showing up when you did."
"No such thing as coincidences." Peter jokes, but it's weak.
Tony's lip quirks up. "It was the texts right? The ones Krystlle sent?"
Peter's laugh is puffy and grateful, "Everything's fine, phone was off, my mistake, see you soon. That's it. No emoticons, emojis, or really weird acronyms. It didn't sound like a baby boomer impression of a millennial so I knew it couldn't be you."
Tony smirks. "I manipulated her into writing it. I knew she'd never be able to copy my flair with language." he looks down at Peter gently, "I also knew that if you knew it wasn't me texting, you'd know I was in trouble. From there, it would be simple for the police to run a cellular interceptor on my phone, find the location-"
Peter balks. "Hey, are you seriously trying to take credit for me saving your life right now?"
"It was a group effort." Peter glares, "Fine. Let's say fifty-fifty." Tony pinches his lips, "Maybe sixty-forty."
Peter makes a face, knocking him in the shoulder lightly. Tony smiles. "It doesn't matter. You did good kid. You did really good."
By the time they get back home, the sun is rising above the horizon and Peter looks two seconds away from sleeping while standing. Tony locks the door behind them as they walk in, leading Peter up the stairs. The kid's so sleepy his eyes are bleary and half closed but he finds the energy to sink into Tony's hand that's pressed against his back. "Hey Mr. Stark?" he mumbles, "I'm really glad we got there in time."
"Yeah, me too Pete." He murmurs.
"But…I know that I can't 'save' you when it comes to your real problems. So please, I really want you to find someone you can talk to because I don't…I don't want to see you in an empty apartment. And I know me caring about you isn't enough."
He doesn't say what he means, but Tony knows what he's saying anyway. "Go to bed Peter. Nothing's going to happen to me."
Peter goes to sleep and Tony sits on the couch and thinks.
Two and a half hours later, Tony heads out to an early morning meeting while Peter's still asleep. He leaves a note on the dinner table along with a set of letters for Peter to analyze and compare while he awaits Tony's return. There's a bruise that's still just as vibrant as ever on his forehead from where he fell on the concrete but Tony elects to ignore the strange looks as he takes a seat in the back.
He's not a hundred percent sure why he's here. But he thinks about the expression on Peter's face when he saw Tony emerge from the woods. The relief, the gratitude, the fear melting away before he ran at him. The alcohol…the alcohol would make him forget everything he did wrong and all the regrets he had but it would also mean putting that fear back in Peter's heart. And while he's always been committed to his sobriety if not for anything but his work, knowing that keeping Peter is contingent on it keeps him motivated.
And he knows Peter wants to help him and be there for him. But that isn't his job. He's the child, not the guardian. And Tony can rely on him for a sense of joy and familial relationship, but not as a crutch for his journey to healing. He wouldn't burden him with these problems. He refuses to.
When the meeting ends, the man with the streak of grey in his hair greets him and points with his whole hand at his own forehead as though he couldn't separate his fingers. "Looks like a bad hit to the head."
Tony makes a face, shrugs. "Went full frontal on the concrete. Not pretty."
The man laughs a little. "You try arnica on that?"
Tony's nose curls. "Isn't that some kind of homeopathy nonsense?"
"It is homeopathy. But it works. As a former doctor, I feel confident in saying that."
Tony tilts his head, "Former?"
The man raises his arms and Tony can see the dozens of lightening like scars all across his hands and down his wrists. At this close distance, he can see the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers can't move without going all together. "You had an accident." Tony says. "I'm sorry."
The man shrugs, "Went full frontal with the windshield of my car." His lip turns up and Tony lets out an amused breath.
"I'm Stephen by the way. Stephen Strange."
"Tony Stark." he pauses, "You wouldn't happen to be looking for a sponsee would you?"
"Do I get the inside scoop on detective stories?"
"Depends, how well do you handle murder?"
"Considering I teach medicine at NYU using cadavers, fairly well."
Tony grins. "Well Doctor, I think we'll get along great."