I want to thank Poet Bucky and I.K.A. Valian for the reviews and all the advice and pointers you gave for this chapter. It's been a tough week for me and I'm really glad you guys pulled me through it. In fact, you're the sole reason why this chapter is up tonight rather than later on.
On this note, I want to dedicate this chapter to a co-worker of mine, who passed away last week. Clarence had been a tremendous person, as he did site maintenance at my workplace. Without his hard work, there's no way my workplace would run in such top shape. So this one is for you, my friend; RIP Clarence, RIP.
Namco owns Tales of Symphonia. Hong Kong TVB owns To Catch the Uncatchable.
"This is Masako Hirano's office, or least it used to be," Regal showed Gil. Gil glanced around at the surroundings, and figured that Masako was a man of high society and taste. On the walls were pictures of beautiful scenery from Mizuho and other exotic places. There was fancy furniture, a large desk, executive's chair, and newest computer model, prompting Gil to conclude that Masako must have made a lot in one pay cheque.
"And this is where the files are," Regal showed Gil a few folders while starting up the computer, "Masako's the new manager to the warranty and insurance department, so he's only had a few cases for the time he's been here. Three cases, to be exact."
Gil slowly lowered himself to a seat while flipping the first file open. "What type of warranties do you sell with your products anyway?" he asked in curiosity.
"As you know, mana-based products often mean instabilities, mainly because the use of mana is rare since after Reunification times. Our technologies emphasize safe, responsible use of mana beneficial to everyday health and conveniences," Regal explained, clicking on certain files, "When we market any of our researched products, we often provide some warranty or insurance that the product will be safe and can be backed up whenever it will fail, and that's the unit Masako is in charge of since his hiring two weeks ago."
Gil nodded nonchalantly, flipping a page as he read on. But the second he got to the first line of the next page, his expression changed completely. "What on earth? You must be joking!" he exclaimed, his eyes growing to the size of saucers, "This woman paid a five-digit amount for a warranty on machines that keep her legs in shape. Who does she think she is, the captain of Altamira's female soccer team?"
"That would be Mrs. Simon, a dance enthusiast," Regal replied, typing her data into the screen, "I have her file here, and it says she's an expert on many styles of dance. She frequently shows up to balls and parties in higher social circles, and her amazing dance skills often make her centre of attention. Besides, her husband is the owner of a chain of department stores across Tethe'alla, so she's got quite a fortune herself."
Gil shook his head in disgust, skimming through the information for a few more minutes before slapping it shut. Moving to the second one, he scanned the front pages and got the same response. "Are you kidding? This one here paid a five-digit amount for a warranty on a mana-based washing machine!" Gil called out, nearly dropping the file.
"That would be Mrs. Murdoch, one of Altamira's assistant district attorneys," Regal informed Gil, again scanning her corresponding information on the computer, "She often appears in court wearing very fancy and expensive clothing, and she wants to keep those in good shape. That's why she ordered the mana washer to clean them more effectively."
Again, Gil shook his head, wondering why anyone would want to waste their riches on these warranties and insurances. Opening the last file, he hoped that it would be someone normal, but instead, it nearly gave him a heart attack. "A dog? She bought a five-digit warranty on machines that give luxury to her dog?" Gil sputtered.
"Mrs. Chalmers, general animal lover and co-founder of a pet store chain with her husband," Regal answered, not even bothering to look up, "She claims that her dog is her favourite pet out of all her exotic animals and is an active member of a high class dog club. She even had some machines custom made to give her animals comfort and care."
Gil threw his head back, leaning against the back of the couch and staring into the ceiling. How so many high class individuals could spend so much money on such trivial things was beyond him. Yet because of this, all three could be suspects, since any of them could stop contributing and force Masako out of business. "If we assume they planned to continue investing in the warranties for more stuff in future years, we're talking about six digits per person. That may lead to over a million with these three alone," Gil muttered.
Regal nodded, shutting down the computer. "We're constantly trying to expand, and the warranties and insurances area is one that we require the most help on. That's why we hired Masako as its manager, because we believe he has what it takes to gain more clients, and he showed it with these three. Is there anything else you would like to see?"
Gil lifted his head up, the files falling off of his body as he grabbed his crutches. "No thanks, I got what I want here. I just want one of you to go with me tomorrow to talk to that district attorney, but I'll be fine with everyone else," he informed Regal.
"I have a meeting with the Board of Directors tomorrow, so I can't make it. But, if you promise not to turn George into a human milkshake, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to tag along," Regal responded as they got up to leave. Gil only nodded at Regal's proposal, wondering what move to employ next as he returned to the hotel to prepare for more roadblocks ahead in this increasingly complicated case.
Gil waved goodbye to Regal as he entered the front doors of the hotel. His watch and a glance at the reddening sky told him that afternoon was giving way to evening, and that his friends would be having dinner soon. Gil stepped into the dining hall, leaning on the doorframe and tried looking for Lloyd and the others. To his surprise, none of them were there. "Is it too early? Maybe they booked a reservation for tonight," he mumbled.
Gil clopped his way to the greeter at the entrance where he lined up behind some other guests. But before he could inquire where his friends and son were, he was stopped by a familiar man in a dark suit and tie. "How can I help you, Mr. Irving?" he asked, approaching Gil from the right.
Gil turned around and saw Childress standing before him. "Wow, you're really amazing, how did you know I was here?" Gil responded with a fake charming smile, "I'm hoping to find out whether my group has booked dinner here tonight. Maybe they decided to eat out and forgot to let me know where they were going."
"Actually, your group told me that they'll be taking in room service, and I'm going to check on their orders just now," Childress responded with stiff formality and a façade of sincerity.
Gil nodded in thanks, but his eyes were locked onto Childress' order form. "May I ask what they ordered, just so I know what to expect when I go back up?" he asked, "And can you tell me especially whether alcohol has been ordered? You do realize that my son is underage, but with a girlfriend next door, he may do something, you know, crazy," Gil requested, putting extra emphasis on the word crazy as he wiggled his eyebrows.
"I assure you that no alcohol has been ordered," Childress replied, glancing at the list, "As for everyone else, they…" As Childress named each item, Gil turned his attention over Childress' left shoulder at the bar where all the alcohol was stored. Bottles of wine lined the ceiling-high racks with a large wooden beer keg placed in the centre like a neon sign, attracting alcoholics and casual drinkers alike. But there was something not right about the way alcohol was managed, and Gil was intent to find out why.
"And that's what everybody ordered. Now, if you would like me to place your order…Mr. Irving?" Childress looked up only to see Gil clopping past him and to the direction of the bar, where a bartender with tan skin and dark curly hair blended in with the kegs. Had it not been for his bright tropical shirt, the Iselia police officer might have missed him. Stuffing the list into his pocket, Childress hurried to the bar after Gil.
"Yes, I'm the head bartender, and I'm in charge of all alcoholic beverages. All orders from both the dining hall and room service go through me," the bartender informed Gil. He was a young man with an easy smile and a warm friendly attitude.
Childress' eyes narrowed to darts as Gil asked how orders for alcoholic beverages were made, and to which the bartender promptly replied, "All orders are recorded in a log book. It's then sent to the back where the other bar staff will prepare the beverage for guests. They'll then be delivered to each table by the waiters or to each room by porters and caterers. In fact, even staff members who consume alcohol here must have their orders and payments recorded too. May I know why you're asking?"
Gil looked to his left and received Childress' distrusting death glare. Keeping a straight face, he ignored Childress and responded, "Well, my son and his girlfriend are both underage, and I'm just worried about how they may bend the rules a bit. I'm not saying they will, but as a parent, I believe I'm justified being a bit concerned. I'm sure you don't have children yet, so you may have trouble understanding."
The bartender nodded with a grin. "None yet, but I'm not too surprised since I receive these kinds of inquiries fairly often. While you're here, can I get you anything?"
Gil shook his head and thanked the bartender. Turning to Childress, he then asked, "Surely a mature individual like you will understand. You do have kids, right?"
Now it was Childress who received the death glare. "No, Mr. Irving, I don't have any children. But I assure you, should your son break the rules behind your back, I'll make sure you're the first to know. In fact, our hotel security has its eyes peeled on any danger or hazard to our guests, and does its best to guarantee safety." It was increasingly obvious from the suddenly frigid air that Gil was outstaying his welcome here.
"Really? What a coincidence, because none of those security measures worked when the two deaths happened here. Strange, don't you think?" Gil retorted with a somewhat mocking tone. For a second, he thought he saw Childress shrink his shoulders, and sensed a feeling of vulnerability within the usually unflappable hotel manager. "Well, I'm done here. Just send our food up, and all's good." With that, he clopped off, leaving a flustered Childress and surprised bartender in his wake.
"Gil, this is the assistant district attorney's office. Why did you take me with you?" Lynn asked nervously. It was early next morning and Gil hoped to speak with his first target before she arrived. Along with George, who showed up with the warranty files as promised, Gil chose to have Lynn Sage come, which made the elderly woman's hair even greyer. "What should I say?" she asked as they sat on the chairs facing the desk.
"Lynn, remember all the times you spoke to me about how I should deal with my problems when I was undercover, even though you didn't know I was a mole? Well, we'll be talking to a top-notch lawyer here, and I'll need those top-notch communication skills to deal with her," Gil responded, facing her and clasping her shoulder reassuringly.
Seconds later, a wall of intimidation and authority brushed passed the seated threesome. With a flourish of cloth, the woman's coat was on the coat rack standing in the corner of the room. "My assistant tells me that you showed up without an appointment," she stated briskly, her face fiercer than any monster from before Reunification. She filed through the papers in a yellow tray set on the corner of her desk, not even bothering to look up as she continued, "I'm a very busy woman. I don't have time for trivial matters, so if you don't mind, make this quick."
"Mrs. Murdoch, my name is George and I'm with the Lezareno Company," the moustachioed man on Gil's right began, "We have files on warranties you purchased from us. Regarding the agent that sold them to you, we would just like to know…"
"If you're talking about Masako Hirano, then I say don't bother," Murdoch rudely replied. She slapped the power button on her computer, causing it to whir to life. "It's true I bought several warranty packages from him for my mana clothes washer, but now that he's dead I'm not interested in any future contracts with Lezareno. I am sorry for Lezareno's loss, but it's time to move on. Now, if that is all this impromptu and pointless meeting was for, then I would ask you to please leave. I have a lot of work to do, and I don't have any time to waste. Next time you want to discuss this, a memo would do."
"Mrs. Murdoch, that's not what we're trying to do …" George stuttered, trailing off pathetically. Gil leaned back and observed the situation, noting how quickly the swift-talking lawyer had cut George down to size. The room was totally silent as Murdoch carved her name on a document. With George at a loss for words, Gil turned to his left and tapped Lynn to back him up.
Lynn took a deep breath to gather her courage before chiming in. "Mrs. Murdoch, perhaps there's a better way to handle this. It's obvious that you are very trusting of Masako, and your confidence in Lezareno has dwindled since his death…" While the two elderly folks dealt with the assistant district attorney, Gil scanned around the room, looking for anything that might resemble the list of items he found in those garbage bags. For some reason, his eyes kept keying in on the expensive jacket on the rack. Turning back to his now on laptop, Gil opened the evidence file and scrolled through the list he compiled, looking for anything that rang a bell.
"Stop," Murdoch raised a hand up to Lynn, stopping her mid-sentence. As she shoved the sheet into the trays, she turned her X-ray like piercing eyes to Lynn. "Who are you? Are you even an employee of Lezareno? Are you authorized to speak for them? Who are you to butt into my business with Lezareno?" Murdoch demanded. Lynn pressed her back into the chair, caught off guard by the sudden frontal assault. The lawyer's studious glare and barrage of harsh questions slammed into Lynn like a brick.
Gil winced, sickened by the tongue lashing Lynn received from a supposedly well-educated woman. Accessing his email, Gil sent a quick request to Arnold and the forensics unit, who promised him he had priority over other emails today. Meanwhile, they must stall for time, something they were quickly running out of. "If there's no more to discuss, please leave my office," Murdoch ordered in a sickeningly sweet voice.
Gil's eyes darted around the room like a mouse at night, searching frantically for anything he could use to stall. Settling on the jacket, he found the perfect issue. "I must hand it to you. You have great taste in clothing. This jacket you have there seems to be a very expensive, and possibly rare model, is it not?" he asked, waving at the coat rack.
A smirk lined itself on Murdoch's lips. "Good eye. In fact, this jacket is a rare limited edition that I acquired at a high-end, members-only sale at Altamira's most expensive clothing store last week. I also added custom upgrades to it, so in total it costs over five thousand dollars," the assistant district attorney boasted.
"Very nice, and definitely better than the rags we're wearing," Gil responded, looking at his companions with a not-so-critical eye, "George's cardigan here is about fifteen, twenty years old. It could be how old he was when he started wearing it." Gil leaned to his right and pulled the cardigan, causing a disdainful glare from the older man.
"And Lynn," Gil stated, turning to his left, "her preferred clothing style is stuck about fifty years back, her mind still in the days when she's swing dancing with her then boyfriend, now late husband John Sage." Lynn stared at Gil incredulously, not knowing how to react to this new, nose-snubbing man that took the sensible one's place.
"And me, don't even look at me. How can I even walk in public wearing this stuff?" Gil shook his head and scrunched up his face, pulling on his shirt in disgust. To his either side, Gil's companions stared at him wondering, "Who on earth was this man?"
George and Lynn were only further incensed by Murdoch's following rebuttal. "To work with the best, you have to be the best, and look the best," she arrogantly touted, "By the way, you do look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?" she asked.
"I'll answer your question once you've answered mine," Gil cut Murdoch off, directing everyone's attention back to the jacket. His tone also shifted from mockingly patronizing to deep and serious. "Did anybody notice that a button is missing on that jacket? Look right near the chest." Gil pointed to the area of interest.
Indeed, where the button should be, there was only a loose string. George and Lynn shifted their heads between Murdoch and the jacket, wondering how this rare and expensive suit would lose something that small and yet important. But Murdoch barely flinched, taking another chance to emphasize her superiority. "I've actually noticed that yesterday, and I already placed an order for a replacement. Unfortunately, custom suits mean custom repairs. I can't just buy one off the streets…"
As Murdoch shoved her gaudy lifestyle down the throats of George and Lynn, Gil returned his gaze to the laptop. A sly smile crept across Gil's face as he downloaded the attachment from the newest email. The assistant district attorney was right where Gil wanted her. "Mrs. Murdoch, if you don't mind me asking," Gil chimed in, interrupting an explanation on the pros and cons of high-end living, "is the button you're looking for this one?" he flipped the laptop around and showed everyone a round, thick, golden object.
Murdoch's eyes grew wide. "Yes, this is the one. Where did you find a picture of it? I thought it's a unique, custom made button not found anywhere else!" she blurted out.
"It is, and not only do I have a picture, I can tell you exactly where this button is as of we speak," Gil announced like a game show host, knocking on Murdoch's desk like a drum roll, "It is currently sitting in the forensics lab of the Altamira police headquarters after being found on the ground in the hotel room of Mr. Masako Hirano!" Gil announced the name like he was the star player of a sports team. He even cupped his hands on his mouth and breathed loudly to simulate cheering. Turning serious, Gil applied his own X-ray gaze on the blond, wavy-haired lady. "I think you have some explaining to do, no?"
Murdoch's eyes flickered, like a flash camera was taken to her face. Regaining composure, she calmly dismissed Gil's claim. "Just because there's a button resembling mine, it doesn't mean it's mine. Yes, I know the man quite well, and I have discussed warranties with him, but the button being found in his room doesn't prove anything."
Now it was Gil's turn to go on the offensive. "Mrs. Murdoch, you're a lawyer, so you should be familiar with 'the evidence never lies.' You see, we want to believe you, but the evidence is being stubborn and won't let us do that. Now, I did an experiment to see how hard it is to pull a button off a coat. Even with George's old vest it was pretty hard, and assuming you're telling the truth when you said you only discussed warranties, how is it possible that a button so unique to your brand new coat became dislodged? And how did it get dislodged in Masako's hotel room, of all places?"
Upon hearing that, George guarded his vest closely, eyeing Gil with an irritated look. "Mr. Irving's sick and twisted experiment had Mr. Bryant, my superior and one of Altamira's strongest men, turn me into a milkshake. I have no intention of going through that again," he spat, covering the buttons with his arms.
"And I think there are ways to track who the button belongs to," Lynn added, "If it's custom made, then that means it can't be too common. There's probably some way to match the button to the coat it came from. Right, Gil?"
Gil nodded sagely. "Forensic technology, you got to love it. We can match up a single item like a button back to the original clothing. All we have to do is to match the fibres of the two. But I'm sure you know all about it, since you've been involved in so many cases with them."
Murdoch looked gut-punched, and Gil took the chance to pounce to make her spill the beans for sure. "I'm sure the one who appointed you to this post won't be too happy to hear that you're involved in a murder case. And it doesn't help you that two people with a combined age of about a hundred fifty just shot down your entire cover story, so you tell me what we greenhorns should think?" Gil stared her in the eyes, oblivious to the death glares from George and Lynn for openly mocking their ages again. "So can you please tell us your story regarding Mr. Masako Hirano, starting with when you last saw him, and whether it involved being in that hotel room?"
Murdoch swallowed, her eyes not leaving her desk. She took deep breaths to calm her nerves, licking her lips as she began her story. "It was two days ago when he invited me up to discuss expanding my warranties. The hotel manager saw me, and he especially ordered a valet to take care of my car…" As she continued, Gil returned to his laptop, typing up another email to police: "Bring officer to Assistant DA's office, ASAP!"
"Wait, what do you mean go on standby?" Lloyd demanded on his cell phone. It was during lunch time at the dining room that Lloyd, Colette, Genis, and Raine decided to spend some time strolling around the streets near the beach that afternoon. The four were already changed into their summer gears when Gil suddenly called his son telling him not to wander off too far, citing that he needed their help on an important investigation.
"Just stay in the hotel lobby for now, I'll tell you more when I get back," Gil informed him before cutting the line. Gil informed them that after visiting the assistant district attorney early morning, he took George and Lynn with him to the police station to record some things, and would be eating lunch away from the group. But now, it seemed like Gil was expanding his targets by dragging Lloyd and his friends involved as well.
And that's where the group was found, loitering in the hotel lobby wondering what Gil had in mind. They were seated on nearby sofas, leaning their heads on their hands with bored expressions on their faces. Lloyd didn't have a shirt on, wearing only his dark blue board shorts and sneakers, and twirling his goggles around while keeping his eyes peeled for the door. "What does Dad have in mind?" he murmured, "Did he forget that we're on vacation and not another one of his undercover missions?"
Colette lifted her head up as she tried wiping the tomato sauce she spilled onto her white tank top during lunch. "Don't be too worried, Lloyd. I think he must have a reason for all this. Why don't we just be patient?" she stated soothingly to her boyfriend.
But while the three younger ones discussed, Raine's eyes were on another target. "Mr. Yancey," she called, rushing across the lobby. Indeed, stepping out of the elevator was a certain bespectacled man she came to know quite well from her last visit to the police station. "Hey, fancy meeting you here," she greeted, breathless after the dash.
"Yes, glad to see you too, Raine. But please, next time just call me Leonard," the jewellery expert politely replied. "What are you up to now? I don't see your friend here."
"Oh, Gil's off to do some weird stuff, and my brother and his friends are hoping to take a walk around the beach. What I'm really interested in is the Heart of Balacruf and its history. Do you have any sources where I can get more info or other stories on the necklace?" the female half-elf asked, her eyes sparkling at the mention of the jewel.
"There are certain books and historical reviews on jewellery and artefacts from the Balacruf Dynasty, so I'm sure you can turn to those," Leonard replied, a warm smile on his face. Never in his life had he met such an eager scholar, and he wasn't about to let that slide. "But first tell me, are you a first-generation half-elf?" he asked.
Upon hearing that, Raine nearly collapsed, having to take a couple of steps back to regain balance. "That's amazing, how did you guess that? People keep thinking I can't possibly have one human parent and one elf parent, but you figured that out in one shot! That's incredible!" she marvelled, her eyes twinkling at Leonard.
"Actually, most first-generation half-elves inherit many facial features from their elf parent. The most prominent ones are usually the ears, cheeks, and sometimes eyes and chin as well. It's only second generation, where two half-elves give birth to more half-elves that the human features start taking over. Of course, we'll have to go into a lecture on genetics just to figure that out," Leonard explained, sounding much like an expert.
"The Law of Inheritance, I remember it from my friends studying biology," Raine recalled, staring into the distance, "The half-elves are like a heterogeneous trait, where the human and elf genes are mixed together. Should you have two heterogeneous individuals breed, the chances of getting heterogeneous offspring are fifty percent, while the chances of getting homogeneous offspring, pure human or pure elf, is twenty-five percent each."
Leonard smiled and nodded, astonished at Raine's vast depth of knowledge. He was about to continue when Lloyd came over. "Dad's going to a cultural dance studio and wants two people to join him. Do you want to go?" he asked.
Again, Raine's eyes lit up like fireworks. "More cultural activities to learn, then that's the place for me! Tell Genis that I'm bringing him, whether he likes it or not," she replied. Turning back to Leonard, she excused herself from their talk. "I take every possible chance to learn about our history, so I can't possibly miss this."
Leonard smiled. "Don't worry, because I have to be on my way as well. I still have things to discuss with the police about regarding the case. We'll meet again, Raine."
The crisp sounds of ballroom music filled the studio as a middle aged woman swung around the wooden floors with a tall, long-haired man. They both wore unusual costumes, reminiscent of a past age as they whirled through the room. From the outside, Gil, Genis, and Raine looked on in fascination, albeit at different things. Raine strolled up and down the hallway, observing each picture of said woman in various costumes. "Just look at all these dance clothes, and the culture and history behind them. Unreal!"
But Gil and Genis were not focused on that, as the former mole sat on a nearby bench facing his laptop, sending the forensics unit another email regarding his list of items. While his right leg was kept immobile, his left foot tapped out the beat from the dance music. Just in front of him, Genis was on his feet, dancing along to the music in his own style. He waved his arms in the air, snapping his fingers while bending his knees up and down, almost like he was coming in and out of a crouch. "Let's boogie!" he called.
Gil glanced up at the siblings. Somehow, Genis' dance looked so creative, yet so odd in so many ways. And it didn't help that Genis was wearing only his two-toned swim trunks and sandals. His beach hat rested on the back of his bare shoulders, making him look even more out of place. Just down the hall, Raine was so absorbed in the photos that she didn't even notice the music stop and the dancers inside disappeared from sight. "Better get prepared," Gil muttered, shifting his laptop and struggling to his feet.
The slightly plump, brown-haired woman was about to march off with her partner when Gil called out to her. "Mrs. Simon, can I take a moment of your time please?"
Simon glanced back at her partner, who gave her a slight peck on the cheek as he left her alone. This was not unnoticed by Gil, who eyed the long-haired man all the way out the door. "Mrs. Simon, we're here to discuss some stuff about Masako Hirano…"
"If you're talking about my warranties with Lezareno, then please cut them for me after the next month," Simon responded, "I'm sorry for your company's loss, but I only have faith in Masako. I'll only contribute to them through him, nobody else."
Just then, Raine rudely pushed her way to the front. "Mrs. Simon? I'm not with the Lezareno Company. In fact, seeing how these two have no interest in the arts, I'm not even with them." She pointed to the photos on the hall, "I'm a historian and archaeology researcher, and I respect all those who values such precious pieces of culture. Would you care to share some cultural dance experiences with me?" she requested.
Simon straightened her back and puffed out her chest. "Each dance has its own unique story that makes it special. That's why you'll see a collection of clothes that draw out and embraces the culture…" she lectured with pride, swaggering down the hall like a peacock with its fan open. Gil followed uneasily on his crutches while Genis changed to a dance more suitable for someone wearing only a swimsuit. In a wide stance, he stretched his arms out sideways and shifted his weight between his two feet like a surfer.
Gil only had half his attention each photo, his eyes sneaking peeks at his laptop on the bench. Thanks to Raine's barrage of questions and Genis distracting everyone with his crazy dance, Simon couldn't see Gil clearly, giving him many opportunities to gather information. Gil also scanned each photo and used his mole memory to remember all the important details, knowing even the smallest piece might break the case.
"This is truly fascinating, don't you think? Genis, stop dancing and pay attention! This is a valuable lesson!" Raine yelled at her little brother, who now added a shuffle and a spin to his steps and became quite a nuisance to her. Gil cursed under his breath, as eyes were now getting closer to him, giving him fewer chances to approach his laptop.
"What are you talking about? I'm not just learning about culture, I'm developing my own," Genis retorted, reacting to Raine's words as an enticement to show off more of his moves, "Don't you like my moves?" And as Genis continued to wave around, much to the surprise of Raine and Simon, Gil turned to the laptop and saw a new email. He quickly downloaded its attachment, smiling in glee as he got what he wanted again.
Gil's head perked up to find the right photo, his eyes darting up and down the hallway. Raine and Simon were still flabbergasted at Genis when Gil finally saw the one. It was right next to Genis' head, showing the curly-haired woman in a colourful, beaded dress. "Mrs. Simon, this costume looks really unusual," Gil stated, hobbling over to the picture and the still swinging Genis, "I've never seen one like it. What is it worn for?"
The older woman grinned, strutting her way to the picture in a flourish. Placing herself in the middle, with Raine to one side and Genis and Gil on the other, she gave her boastful lecture on the history of the dress. "This is from an Asgard ritual dance, and the dress is made so that it feels like the wind is carrying you as you dance," she described.
"Hey, I can do that," Genis chimed in, shifting his body again. This time, he drew everyone's attention to his bare chest, pushing his belly and waist forward and back and making small circles with his arms. "Look, the wind is swirling around me!" he declared.
Raine could only roll her eyes while Simon tried to continue. But Gil would not be denied, as he asked abruptly, "Mrs. Simon, last time I was in Asgard, I didn't recall seeing beads on their traditional clothing. Can you tell me why they're there?"
"Actually, these are custom-made. The beads are optional, but I thought they added more flare to my dances…" she bragged about how much the dress cost, giving Gil time to compare the beads in the two pictures. Smiling, Gil could now zero in on his prey.
"Mrs. Simon, I just happen to have a bead identical to the ones on your dress, and it's not where you expect it to be," Gil stated, resembling a sports announcer again, "This bead is now in the forensics lab of Altamira police headquarters after being found on the ground in the hotel room of Mr. Masako Hirano!" Doing a twirl on his good leg, he pulled the laptop up and showed the bead, "Now can you explain to me how that got there?"
Simon's face and mood darkened, like someone just stepped on her feet while dancing. "What are you implying? Masako and I only discussed warranties, and the bead showing up in his room proves nothing!" she fumed, crossing her arms and glaring at Gil.
"Oh really? You wear a dance costume to discuss warranties? Are you sure there is nothing going on in that hotel room, or perhaps you're all like 'Mm-ch-ch, mm-ch-ch' with him?" Gil challenged, bobbing his head and shoulders back and forth like a hip-hop dancer. This egged Genis on, as he put his hands behind his head and did a belly roll. His abdomen rippled up and down like a wave, making the odd dancer look even stranger.
Raine stared back at Simon in shock at the revelation, while the older woman kept her lips sealed in a thin line. "No worries, because I'm sure your husband wants to know about it as well. And given that you guys run a line of department stores, I'm sure it'll be bad for PR if you're caught in a murder investigation," Gil continued his interrogation and his dance with Genis, "Why don't you tell us when the last 'bom-cha-cha' was?"
Simon's mouth dropped like a rock, much to Gil's amusement as he continued taunting her by complementing Genis' dance. Seeing he had Gil's interest, Genis decided to get bolder. "Hey, try this," he suggested, sticking a finger into the round, bowl-shaped depression on his gut and pulled in and out. "It's like the belly roll is controlled through my belly button, isn't that cool?" he asked, enjoying every flex of his abdomen.
Feeling trapped, the dance enthusiast revealed her information. "I last went to Masako's three days ago, and I did dance with him that night," she responded quietly, "The hotel manager was there, and even invited me to the next dance ball at the hotel."
Gil nodded, stopping his dance and lifting his laptop to his face, much to Genis' dismay. "Hey, don't stop yet, we're not done! Besides, I cleaned my belly button this morning, so we can do a few more dances with it!" he protested, still playing with the deep, hole-like object. Raine listened on intently, forgetting her mania for cultural dances as the former mole emailed to police: "Bring officer to dance studio, ASAP!"
"So is she really a dog enthusiast? Does she have a really cool dog? I think it'd be great to meet her!" Colette exclaimed giddily as she waited on the beach with Lloyd and Gil. Upon hearing that the person they were about to meet had a dog, Colette couldn't help but get excited, as the life-long dog-lover got a chance to be with a high-end canine. Hopping happily and half-clinging onto Lloyd, her eyes perked around in hopes of catching a glimpse of their target. "When's she going to show up?"
Lloyd, however, wasn't so sure of Gil's premises. Taking a level-headed approach for once, Lloyd mulled over each detail and felt something was not right. "If the hair or fur you found in the trash indeed belongs to an animal, what guarantee do we have that it will be the one she brings right now?" he asked, scratching his head, "And even if it is the right animal, how can we be sure that she comes to this beach for a walk?"
Gil nodded, typing furiously on his laptop. "Both are very good points, son. Your thinking skills have really matured after the Cruxis fiasco," he commented. Before Gil revealed his identity as a police mole, he found Lloyd was too willing to take the easy way out and blindly did what his intuition told him rather than think things through. But when Gil put Lloyd into the case for him to solve externally, Lloyd's mentality totally changed and he really matured as a person. And Gil couldn't be more proud of him.
But looking up from the laptop, he flipped the screen around to show the spiky-haired teenager some essential information. "The police investigated her background a bit. They found out about the dog club to which she's a member to, and people have seen her walking her favourite dog around this time at this beach. Also, the police has sent the fur to an animal lab and results have just come in," he explained.
Gil returned to his laptop, sending another email to the police and leaving Lloyd and Colette to themselves. Colette looked her boyfriend in the eyes and asked softly, "If we ever start living together, what type of pet would you want to own?"
Lloyd shrugged, his dark brown eyes aiming back at the love of his life. "Well, I think it's too early to think about things that far down the line, so I never really gave it any thought. I know you're a dog person, and I do like dogs myself, but what type of dog we're targeting might be different…" he trailed off with a sly grin.
"I prefer small ones; cute little guys you can pet and cuddle when you're down," Colette suggested, putting an arm on Lloyd's bare back. Lloyd returned the gesture by putting his arm around her shoulder, hooking his fingers on the tank top strap and pulling the blonde closer to him. "But I think we should get something that we can both agree on, because compromise is most important if we want to be with each other, right?"
"You bet, and I wouldn't want to spend it with anybody but you," Lloyd replied, emphasizing the last word. The two leaned inward, the world around them nothing but a blur as their attention was to each other. Lloyd closed his eyes, passion and love roiling inside his stomach as the smell of Colette's sunscreen penetrated into his nose. As his mouth closed in on Colette's, Lloyd was anxious to taste her lips again.
Likewise, Colette wanted to do the same, leaning in and pressing her other hand on her boyfriend's pectoral and abdominal muscles. But suddenly, something jogging up from the beach entered her vision. Colette tilted her head at the object and squealed in glee. "What a cute dog!" she cried, letting go of Lloyd and charging to the target. As she dashed off, Lloyd had nothing left to lean on, causing him to nearly fall flat on his face.
Lloyd glared up in annoyance as Colette squatted down to face level with a golden retriever. She petted and scratched the dog, which seemed to have taken a liking to the girl with similar-coloured hair. Beside them, the dog owner, a plump woman with red-brown, shoulder-length hair smiled and explained her dog's achievements to Colette. Upon seeing that, Gil lifted himself up with his crutches and inched his way forward.
"Mrs. Chalmers? There are some issues regarding Masako Hirano that I think we should discuss," Gil began, trying to get the woman's attention. Beside him, Lloyd was not happy at the attention Colette was giving to the dog, as his fists clenched on his board shorts, creasing the sides as he squeezed on the fabric.
"Yeah, I heard about his death. Just cut the warranties for me, I have no use for them," she murmured, waving a dismissing hand while continuing to attend to Colette's inquiries about her dog. "Bebe has won a majority of the dog shows she's been to. She's also voted dog of the year by my club for two years in a row, and…"
Gil tried to explain himself again, but to no avail. Chalmers continued bragging to Colette, favouring her dog's fan rather than the father and son. Meanwhile, Lloyd grew livid as his girlfriend forwarded the boasts to Lloyd. "What a great dog, Lloyd! I think we should get one like this," she stated, scratching and rubbing the canine's chin and fur.
Upon seeing the rubbing, Gil flipped his laptop around and showed everyone his discovery. "Mrs. Chalmers, I assume that, like all of Masako's other clients, you often visit the man in his hotel room when discussing warranties, right?" Gil asked, "In this case, can you explain why this golden fur can be found in the garbage of his room?"
Suddenly, the excitement between Chalmers and Colette faded as the smiles spun upside-down. Even Lloyd, who was simmering earlier, reacted like he was hit by a bus. With a smirk, Gil pushed the laptop down to the dog, matching the fur colours almost perfectly. "You see? Appearance-wise, the two are a match. And according to the latest police reports, the fur seems to be from a canine, most likely yours. Your comments?"
Chalmers, like the other middle-aged, wealthy ladies Gil interrogated before her, sealed her lips and refused comment, which only gave Gil more shots at her. "The hotel even has a policy of no pets, so bringing your dog in there is already against the rules. Besides, why will a warranty discussion involve a dog? What's so special about what you bought from Lezareno that requires your dog's presence?" Gil challenged mockingly.
Chalmers shot Gil a dark look, her anger seeping out from her face. "I don't like it when people challenge Bebe's abilities. She's a great dog, and I love her dearly. If you don't find her impressive, then that's your problem. But I've given her the best care and nothing you can say can change that," she spat heatedly, her fist clenching onto the leash.
"Mrs. Chalmers, there's a death in that hotel room. Anyone who has been up there is considered a witness, if not a suspect," Gil explained bluntly but calmly, "I'm willing to be a responsible citizen and ask the police to confiscate your dog for a DNA test to match the fur to her. That way, we'll know for sure whether you've been in the room or not. And mind you," Gil inched his head closer, a sinister look on his face as he whispered in a mean tone, "dogs don't have human rights, so any complaints you have on the police's treatment of her are fruitless. Think carefully before you act."
Chalmers staggered back, shocked at the lengths Gil was willing to go. With no options left, Chalmers pleaded with the smirking, goateed man to spare them. "Please, I'll tell everything you want to know, just don't put Bebe through any pain," she begged.
Even Colette, who was enamoured with the dog earlier, was appealing to Gil to let the dog go. Beside him, Lloyd was amazed at his father, as his mole tactics were working wonders here. Gil smiled and shook his head, satisfied that another victim fell into his trap. "When was the last time you've been to Masako's room, why was the dog there, and how did she get in?" he asked, leaning on his crutches and looking on with interest.
"It was four days ago," Chalmers began, her tone fluttering and weak. She also refused to tear her guilty eyes from Bebe, fearing what torture the golden retriever would experience at the police station. "We wanted to extend the warranty for the dog massage machine, and I brought Bebe with me. It was the hotel manager who allowed us in from the back door and into the freight elevator…" And as she continued, Gil turned back to his email and typed in: "Bring officer to beach, ASAP!"
And in this chapter alone, all 4 of my intended running gags have shown up at least once. For those who don't know what they were intended to be, feel free to try guessing what they are. For those that do, please don't give them away. Thanks for reading!