Chapter 10: Nothing Complicated
Life was good. Goku had started staying over every night, which allayed some of Bulma's fears about a madman chopping up Chichi on his way to the real target and allowed Chichi to subtly weave marriage into a lot of conversations, for a certain value of 'subtle'.
And despite her initial rage, Bulma found she didn't mind having Eighteen around. The woman herself was cool and quiet, a good sounding board when you just wanted to rant about East Island and didn't expect an answer. Her partner, a little bald guy named Krillin, was witty and casual. Bulma thought they would have made a great buddy cop movie team, and although she never talked to them about her fears she assumed Goku had and she felt safer for having them around.
When Eighteen came back with the phone records one of the many knots in Bulma's shoulders undid itself.
"A local number," Eighteen said, holding out the papers.
Vegeta took them and looked at the entries Eighteen had highlighted, then groaned. He shoved the papers into Goku's chest and stormed off up the steep main road, towards the residential area. Goku looked quickly down at the documents then trotted off after his partner, giving a quick wave to the rest of them, left standing outside the stores looking clueless.
"Kids," Goku shouted over his shoulder. "They do this sort of stupid stuff all the time. We know the number by now."
"What's all that about?" Krillin asked, jogging up to the group while eating pineapple fritters out of a paper bag.
"Just some crank calls I was getting a little while back. Eighteen chased down the phone records for us so now the boys are chasing down the callers," Chichi explained.
"Really? I didn't know you were doing that, Eighteen. I could have helped."
In response, Eighteen slapped the bag out of Krillin's hands, sending fritters flying across the footpath. "You are supposed to be on duty."
Krillin's mouth dropped open and he took a moment to assess the situation before deciding his fritters were beyond hope. "Yeah, I was checking in with store owners to see if the peak-time security recommendations were working for them or not. I finished up at the seafood so we could all share some fritters. I thought since you hadn't done swim duty before you might not have tasted them how they're served on East Island, with cinnamon sugar."
"I am not interested in fritters, Krillin. I am trying to do my job." She spun on her heel and began a stiff patrol down to Ocean Road and along the beach.
"What's up with her today?" Bulma asked.
"I don't know." Krillin nudged the fritter bag with his shoe. "She doesn't really chat and her family are all overseas so it's hard to tell sometimes. Her oldest brother died a while ago and things haven't really been the same for the family since. Reading between the lines I think her other brother isn't dealing real great." He looked at Bulma. "Don't worry, though, she's totally focussed on her job and isn't about to let anyone down."
Bulma rolled her eyes. "Some secret," she muttered.
Krillin grinned. "Don't worry. Goku only told me because he knows me. I've been coming over for the swim for a few years now and we get along great. I can vouch for Eighteen myself. The other two Westies haven't heard a whisper about this ex of yours."
"He's not really an ex," Bulma mumbled under her breath, but not quietly enough. Krillin caught it and Bulma and Chichi spent the next twenty minutes listening to Krillin's supportive talk about leaving abusive relationships before they could beg 'end of lunch break' and wend their ways back to work.
"Have you been in my room?"
Bulma looked at Chichi lying on the couch and regretted the sharpness of her words, but the question stood.
Chichi lifted the ice pack from her forehead and squinted at her house guest.
"I mean, obviously it's really your room since it's your house and all. I just ... if you need to borrow something from me could you just ask? Under the circumstances I'm feeling a little touchy about privacy."
"I haven't been in there except to vacuum. I don't move your things, I just vacuum around whatever's on the floor."
"Well, A: that makes me sound like a pig and I'm not, but B:" she hesitated. Chichi had just gotten back from a long day on her feet and collapsed straight onto the couch. Her shoes were still sitting next to the coffee table, which meant she hadn't even had the energy to put them away yet. "You know what, I'm sorry. I'm just being paranoid. And I didn't even realise you were vacuuming for me; you don't need to do that. I'll vacuum my own room, okay?"
"Minimum once a week or I'll start doing it myself again," Chichi called out as Bulma went back into her room and closed the door.
She leant against the door and sighed, surveying the room. In her opinion, there wasn't any point vacuuming the carpet, which was an eighties brown-and-white swirl pattern. Lipstick on a pig. That was unkind, though, when Chichi had clearly put a lot of effort into her home. She'd mentioned once having stripped the whole house of wallpaper then repainted on her own, and all the curtains looked neat, clean and meticulously mended. But no amount of care was going to make the guest room more than a glorified closet.
At least that meant it was quick to survey. Bulma took in the unmade bed, the belongings scattered across the dresser and the suitcase, open on a chest at the foot of the bed. None of that was unusual, but something just felt off. She was sure someone had been in here.
On the dresser, a case for one of the sets of dark contacts was slightly ajar. Bulma was certain she hadn't left any open, but if she were honest it wouldn't be the first time she'd dried out a pair doing that. In the drawers her clothes were jumbled up without categorisation, boxes of hair dye interspersed throughout, but that was how she liked it. The window was tightly shut, as she'd left it. Maybe she really was just paranoid.
Bulma sat on the bed and took a few deep breaths. Then she took a look in her suitcase, which by now was just a place to store books and magazines. With one hand she pushed around the contents, looking for a cover to catch her eye. Something brushed against her arm and she stopped. She jumped up and around to examine the inside lid of the case, where a zip pull was dangling in full view.
This one was definitely not on her.
She pulled the zipper and checked the contents of the pocket, normally not obvious behind an invisible zipper with the pull tucked inside the pocket. With its contents on her lap Bulma could see that nothing had been taken, so she set to sifting through the few old letters and photos she'd taken with her. Nothing directly incriminating, nothing with her name on it, and in the high school or childhood photos she could probably pull off claiming that she was one of the dark-haired girls, not herself. But it was enough to confirm suspicion in the mind of someone snoopy.
Suddenly she wasn't frightened; she was angry.
It was ridiculous to imagine a murderer sneaking into her home to double-check her credentials then putting the job off until later. This was the work of somebody who wanted to out her, not kill her. Somebody, Bulma thought, who believed everything was police business.
"Vegeta, I know backseat drivers are one of your pet peeves but did you notice you stopped the car a good forty minutes from town? There's nothing here and it's dinner time."
Vegeta turned the ignition and the car went silent. He shifted in his seat so he could stare directly at Goku. "What did she tell you?"
"She told me to be back by six thirty or I wouldn't get any dinner."
"Not your stupid girlfriend. The other one. 'Bulma'." He narrowed his eyes to glare even more fiercely. Goku cranked down the window a little to let in some cool air.
"I don't know what you mean."
"It's obvious she isn't who she says she is, and it's obvious she's frightened of something. Now you're spending every night there and trying to bring those West Island dickheads into it. She told you something."
"What, I'm not allowed stay over at my own girlfriend's house now? Come on!" Goku forced out a laugh and considered the possibility that he could climb out the window and run back to town. He'd be back before morning.
Vegeta just stared at him. Goku wondered where such a snappy guy found these endless supplies of patience, just in the moments which were wrong for Goku.
"Okay, look. She didn't tell me her real name but yeah, you're right, she's not who she says. The rest of it is kind of personal and I promised her I wouldn't tell you."
"But telling those West Islanders is fine?"
"Well, I know Krillin. He's a nice guy. And Eighteen is a girl, so I thought she might be more sensitive." Vegeta's scowl was met with a grin from Goku. "You can't tell me you honestly think you're some kind of sensitive new-age guy."
He scowled some more and turned his attention to the bright sunset fading over the mountains. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully.
Goku's stomach rumbled. "Come on, Vegeta. This isn't a big conspiracy, it's just personal for her."
"She's changed her eye colour. Her hair too, I think. She's hiding from something."
"Yeah, I know. Look." Goku sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "If I tell you what it is will you leave her alone? It's really not as interesting as whatever you're imagining, but she's scared and she needs people to support her, not interrogate her."
Vegeta didn't look over, but he inclined his chin in a way Goku knew indicated conditional acceptance of the terms.
"She's got a violent boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. She's scared he's going to find her and hurt her, or even hurt Chichi on his way through. Nothing complicated. No CSI shit. Just the same sad old story. You promise you won't let on I told you?"
He tapped the steering wheel again. "She's connected to Red Ribbon somehow. And what was the bad experience she had which makes seeing an old man taking a nap terrifying?"
"I don't think those are related or significant, Vegeta. Can we go home yet?"
"It's all significant."
"You know I was the one who told Chichi you'd like Columbo videos for your birthday. It's the only decision in my whole life that I regret. Seriously, none of this is significant. She's just a girl who got caught up with a bad boy and needs to feel safe while she makes some decisions about her life, okay?"
"Everything is significant," Vegeta replied, frowning off into the distance, but he turned the ignition and pulled the car back on the road.