"Gil, Gil wake up," Roderich commanded as he shook me. Groggily, I rolled over and cracked my eyes open. A towel hung around his neck, and his hair was still damp from his shower. I hadn't even heard him get up. "It's almost seven, shouldn't you be getting ready?"
"For what," asked, letting my eyes roll back shut. "I don't know," Roderich commented, "appointments? Investigations? Whatever it is you do." Yes, I did have an appointment with Honda today, but that wasn't until after lunch. I suppose I should stop in to see Romano first, but still, that didn't warrant getting up at seven. I groaned and rolled over, away from Roddy. "Now you're just being childish," he grumbled, but after that he left me to my dozing. At a quarter till, Roddy came back in to tell me he was leaving. Groggily, I sat up and he hugged me goodbye. "Take a shower, you stink," he said before he left. Real nice, Roddy. God forbid he gets into some sort of bizarre tragic accident today. Just think, his last words, the last time we spoke, would be take a shower, you stink. If that ain't tragic, I don't know what is.
I took his advice, though, when I finally did get up. In the bathroom, Roderich's towel was drying on the side of the tub. After living alone so long, it was odd to see things like this around my apartment. I hopped in the shower. Some of Roddy's toiletries were sitting on the shelf of the bath. Again, after having him gone a month, it was odd to see them there. His touch was in the kitchen, too, I noted, as I saw a bowl and spoon drying in the dish rack. I should have gotten up and had breakfast with him, at least. Well, I never claimed to be a thoughtful guy.
I ate breakfast at my desk, scribbling in last-minute details on those reports for Romano. When they were finished, I packed them into my bag and strode towards the door. I was late already—and it had taken ten minutes to find my shoes and keys—so I was fairly running down the stairs. And who do you think I almost bowl over? The naggy wench who lives across the hall. "Excuse me," she says in a voice that really means excuse you. I mumbled an apology through my teeth and attempted to squeeze past her. Unfortunately, she blocked half the stairwell, and seemed intent on talking. "Mister Beilschmidt, I hope you realize that there are parking regulations at this apartment complex. I have happened to notice that you continually park in 22B's spot, causing Mr. Jones to have to park in your spot—"
"He hasn't said a word to me about it," I said, exasperated. I really, really need to be going! "And if it doesn't bother him, why should you care."
"There are rules for a reason, young man. If you park in Mr. Jones' spot, what's to stop him from parking in my spot? With my gout, I simply cannot afford to walk." If I recall correctly, the old hag has a handicap sticker. It would be stupid of Jones to take a handi and risk the bajillion dollar fine. I frowned a moment. Think your way out of this one, Gilbert. She'll never let you go if you don't use your wits!
"You know, Mrs—uh, ma'am," I don't even know her name. "You're right. I hadn't thought of it that way. I'll go move my car right now." The cow frowned at me, as if deciding if she should lecture me some more, just to be safe. "Well, alright. I shan't keep you then. I'm glad you saw it my way, Mister Beilschmidt." I mumbled a goodbye before squeezing past her and sprinting the rest of the way down the stairs. Finally, I was outside. I hopped in the car and was off.
Traffic wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, and thank god, I mostly hit green lights. So who wasn't late to his meeting with Romano? This guy right here. Though, I will admit it weirds me out when we meet at his house instead of his office. I mean, I'm not crazy about having to sit in a chair I was once duct taped to, but seeing where Romano lived was definitely something I could have died happy without knowing. Did I mention Toni lives with him? Well, I don't know if he actually does, but he's there every single time I drop by, and he's never mentioned having a place of his own… This situation falls under the category of 'things I don't ask too many questions about.' After all, take away the ambiguity and you can never not know, you know?
I shook my head, clearing away a very disturbing image of Romano and Toni using the same shower—possibly at the same time—and rang the doorbell. One guess as to who opened the door. You don't think that Romano actually answers his own door, do you? I don't even think the diva answers his own phone. "Hey, Gilbert! Come in. I just frosted a cake, want some?"
"Uh, no thanks, Toni," I said, pushing my way past him into the house. If you don't lead Toni away from the door he'll keep you talking on the porch all day. Romano hasn't been able to train him to invite guests inside the house. I guess Toni figures that if you really want to come in, you'll come in. "I just want to get these files to Romano, and get going. Where's he at?" Toni pointed to the open door at the end of the hall. I walked down there, and found Romano at his little home office. Romano looked up from his computer, and scowled. Nice to see you too. I pulled the files out of my bag and dropped them on his desk. Romano opened the top one and skimmed the first page. "Took you long enough," he commented. I shrugged. "I'm busy these days."
"I come first," he said, looking up from the files, favoring me with a dangerous glance. He's like a dog; you can't let him scent fear. I shrugged my shoulders again. "Alright, princess."
"Hey listen," Romano growled. He was standing now, leaning on his desk and pointing a finger in my face. "You wouldn't have shit without me, capiche? I own your punk ass. And if I tell you to jump, you better fucking hop to it, cornuto. Your clients? All my clients and friends who I've funneled your way. Your brother? I'm basically paying him to be good to Feli and keep his mouth shut. Your stupid piano playing boyfriend? You'd never have fixed his little discretion without me. You're fucking boozing buddy Antoinio? He doesn't leave the house without my say. Your happiness is a gift from me, got it? You want to keep being happy, you do what I tell you. And more importantly, you do it when I tell you."
"Well here it is," I said, waving a hand at the reports. "It's all there, and it's all damned good investigating. You know I do awesome work, and you pay half the consultation fee for it. You ain't providing chairity for me, Vargas. I bust my ass for you. And whatever you have going with West and Feliciano is your business. It isn't a favor to me. All I ask is that you let me do my job. When I walk in here and get a fuckton of attitude I don't deserve, it pisses me off."
"Whatever," Romano said, sitting back down. Whatever? That's it? He's such a little twerp. At least he was scribbling my check now. He tore it out of the pad and handed it to me. The memo line read over-priced consultation. He's such a jerk. I didn't wait for his leave; I exited the office in a huff. "Are you sure you won't stay for cake," Toni asked as I passed him in the hall. "After seeing that asshole, I've lost my appetite."
"Gil," he whined. "I've asked you to be nicer to Lovi. You two are terrible to each other."
"Well Toni, unlike you, I'm not going to suck his dick, especially when he doesn't ask nicely." The shocked look on Toni's face made me feel bad for a moment, but I was already half out the door. Besides, real men don't apologize.
XxXxX
As I pulled up to the gated community, I cursed myself. Why in the hell would I accept a case as fucking trivial as missing cats? What the heck was I smoking when Honda came into my office? I mean, sure, the guy looked sad and all, but he's a grown man. He needs to build a bridge, and get over it. I told the man at the gate that Honda was expecting me, and he let me though. I made my way up the hill, and meanwhile, my mind was boggling at these houses. Talk about posh! This Honda guy must be oozing money. He could buy a whole army of cats, if he could afford to live here. Better yet, he could take his snobby ass down to the shelter and adopt some strays like a decent human being would do. A cat's a cat—it still hacks up hairballs and scratches up your furniture, no matter if it has blue blood papers or not.
I pulled up to house 1305. This should be Honda's joint. I left my car parked on the curb, and noticed immediately how shabby it was compared to the neighbor's rides. I better finish my business quickly before the neighbors call the gatehouse and complain of a vagrant car spoiling their view. The sprinkler clicked on to water the plush, unnaturally green lawn as I tread up the walk. Waste of water. My German sensibilities are offended. I was a little disappointed to note that Honda didn't have any cat statues or ornaments on his lawn or porch. That would have been the perfect indication of just how off his rocker he was. Ah, maybe the covenants of the community forbid tacky ceramics in the yard. Shame.
In a last ditch reserve of hope, I crossed my fingers that the doorbell would be a cat meow, or something. Alas, it wasn't. Nobody ever lets me have any fun. Well, there's always the interior to look forward to. Five bucks says I see at least four pieces of feline paraphernalia. Honda opened the door. "Ah, Mr. Beilschmidt, please come in. But please, if you could be so kind, remove your shoes." He ushered me into his house. "I lost track of time," he said apologetically. "I was out back having my lunch. I forgot you were coming today."
"Don't mind me, finish your lunch. We can talk as you eat."
"Ah, very well. Please, if you would come out back with me?" Kiku led me through his house, and I looked around surreptitiously. And no, not just for cat statues, thank you very much. You can learn a lot about someone by what sort of home they keep. Forget the eyes, it's the living room that's a window to the soul. Honda's was sparsely, yet finely furnished. The furniture was modern and low, the color scheme beige and white. Unobtrusive, yet functional. The pictures in the hall were a mismatch of old Japanese style landscape prints, and black-and-white shots of cities. Stylish, yet traditional. Hmmm. The whole house was spotless and un-mussed. A man of his means must have a house keeper.
He led me out to a nice little patio, with an expensive looking garden set for lunch. I was instantly jealous of Honda's yard. It was beautiful. Bamboo grew all along the tall white fence around Honda's yard, broken only when small, well formed trees filled the space. In the center of the yard, there was a large shady tree with a lovely carved stone bench setting underneath. Stepping stones meandered through the yard, fuzzy in shape by the moss encroaching upon them. The flower beds were perfect; there wasn't a wilted or unflowered plant in sight. On the far right of the yard was an in ground pool. It was several moments before I could bring myself to train my eyes back to Honda.
"Can I get you something to eat," Honda asked. I waved him away. "No, thanks. I've eaten already. I'd just like to get down to business. To be frank, I don't know if I can help you, Mr. Honda. This case is… unusual, to say the least." Honda set his fork down, looking distressed. "Please, Mr. Beilschmidt, I can pay—"
"That's not the issue," I said gently. "If this is a case of breaking and entering, as you indicated when you came to my office, perhaps it'll be best if the police handle it."
"But they said in the note, if I get the police involved…" he trailed off, looking away.
"When you get a note telling you not to call the police, that's probably about the time you should."
"The police won't care," Honda said, eyes flashing." I need someone like you, someone who's paid to care about these things." I held back a wince. He wasn't wrong, per se, but it did rather make me feel like a money grubber. "I know you must think me odd," Honda said. He was looking into the distance, but his gaze went farther. His mind was a million miles away, in some other place, maybe even in some other time. "You think they are simply pets. Pets can be replaced. It's the sentiment that I cannot replace. You see, the cats belonged to my son. They were a present, a little companionship for him as he wasted away in his bed. When a father buys a ten year old a cat, he takes it for granted that his son will outlive it. I was not so fortunate. We—" here, Honda chocked up, "we buried Natsuno so very far from home. My wife could not take the grief, and returned to her family in Okinawa.
"She left me the cats, and separation papers," Honda finished. He was flushed in the face, though it did nothing to give him a glow. He looked sick, and sad. I was reminded of why I agreed to take his case in the first place. "I'm sorry," I choked out, on numb lips. Of all the people Honda could have spilled his soul to, I was probably the worst choice. I mean, I empathize with him, I really do, but his grief made me uncomfortable. My words were awkward, and I knew there was nothing I could say to make him feel better. I also didn't want to give him hope. I was good, but sometimes there's only so much you can do before a case goes closed. This is the real world, not Murder, She Wrote. Investigation had its limits, and I certainly couldn't count on a dues ex machina moment to magically make everything ok, no matter how much Honda might deserve one.
But hell, I'd be a coward not to try for the man. After he's lost so much, how could I sit by as he lost more? I really, really wanted to find whoever did this to him, and jack them in the fucking jaw. My lips pressed in a thin line. "Mr. Honda, I wish I could promise you… I can't guarantee I'll be able to do anything for you, but I'm willing to try." Honda met my eyes. He was still sad, but at least that tired look of defeat had retreated. "Thank you, Mr. Beilschmidt. That is all I can ask."
"Call me Gil," I replied. I cleared my throat, a little uncomfortable, but set in my decision. "Now, if you could tell me exactly what happened the night of the robbery…"
God help me, but I love a lost cause case.
XxXxX
[A/N Sorry I missed an update last week, but I had some unpleasant personal issues that prevented me from updating. I would sincerely appreciate reviews!]