Scared Shitless
Charles woke up to Eezo snuggled in against his side. His head hurt a little, mouth and eyes feeling dry and gritty. Rolling over, he found Ares' side of the bed empty but it didn't come as a surprise. The turian left the bed far earlier than Charles most days. Even when he went to bed before Ares, and even when Ares drank as much as he did the night before. He yawned and flipped to his back, stretching his arms out over his head, pushing out with his legs to feel his spine pop in a couple of places. He let out a groan and yawned again, tossing the covers off of him.
Eezo whined and stood up, wagging her tail and sticking her cold nose against his ribs as he sat up. Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to his side, kissing the top of her head before letting her go again. He grabbed his sweats from the floor and pulled them on his legs before standing and tugging them the rest of the way up. Swiping his cigarillos and lighter from the table, he made his way to the bathroom.
After taking a piss, he brushed his teeth before heading out to the balcony, knowing he'd find Ares out there. Glancing around, he didn't see Jasmine anywhere. He stepped out onto the balcony and lit a cigarillo, taking a deep drag as he leaned into Ares' side, bracing his elbows against the railing. "Morning."
Ares hummed in greeting, taking a drag of his cigarette. Charles yawned again, bringing his cigarillo back to his lips. Eezo shuffled out onto the balcony, pressing her side against his legs.
Glancing over his shoulder, he looked into the empty apartment again. "Jasmine take off?"
"Yep."
Silence sat between them for a minute or so as they both smoked, looking out over the balcony. Charles looked up at Ares, taking a deep drag as he tried to read the turian's expression. He'd prepared himself to see Ares struggling over seeing Garrus at Chora's Den, thinking maybe Ares worked so hard to pull himself together because of Jasmine. Charles thought being alone with just him, Ares would let his guard down again and want to talk about it a little. But, despite his initial freak out, Ares seemed to be coping pretty well, for the most part. Which actually didn't feel right to Charles for some reason, but he couldn't really place why.
He licked his lips. "How are you doing after last night?"
"About as good as I can be," Ares said with a shrug.
Charles hummed, chewing the inside of his lip before asking, "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really." Ares blew out a wisp of smoke toward the horizon.
"Okay … let me know if you change your mind." Charles turned his attention out over the Citadel and took a deep breath. He wished Ares would talk to him, let him know what went on inside his head, what he needed. He still felt so lost as to how to do the right thing for Ares after how badly he messed up last time, but he desperately wanted to be whatever it was Ares needed him to be. "I have to go into work soon. Do you want to meet for lunch later?"
Ares shrugged. "Sure."
"Cool." Charles glanced up at Ares again and scraped his teeth over his lip. The one-word answers he'd managed to pull from the turian made him uneasy, felt like he missed something big, something he should be doing. If only he had a single fucking clue what it was. "There's a place over on the Tayseri Ward hosting MMA matches later tonight if you're interested?"
"Mixed species or just human?" Ares stamped out his cigarette butt before flicking it off the balcony. He grabbed his pack from his pocket and lit a new one, taking a deep, long drag.
"Mixed." Charles took another drag and reached down to scratch Eezo's ear when she stood on her hind legs, putting her front paws against his thigh.
Ares shrugged. "Why not?"
Grinning, Charles finished off his cigarillo and put it out. "Awesome." He leaned over, pushing up on his toes to kiss Ares' mandible. "I better get in the shower." Turning, he headed back into the apartment, feeling a little more optimistic. He knew getting out and doing something entertaining for the evening wouldn't fix things for Ares, but he thought it might help, at least a little.
"Welcome to Citadel Sou—" Charles' words caught in his throat when he glanced up and saw the chime rang to announce the presence of several C-Sec officers, weapons out and ready, coming into the store instead of customers. Ice water flushed through his veins and his stomach churned, bringing up acid to burn the back of his tongue and throat. Warning bells went off in the back of his head, telling him to run, and it took every ounce of his will to stay put.
Jesus fuck. I'm dead. I'm so dead. Oh my God. They're going to lock me away for the rest of my life. I'm never going to see Ares again. He's going to be so pissed at me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Oh … can I help you?" The alarm in Mahlia's voice drew Charles' attention to her for a second. She stood at the other end of the counter, palms pressed to the surface, eyes wide, posture tense and rigid.
"Yes, ma'am." The turian taking the lead moved over to Mahlia while the other officers spread out a little, blocking the exit and looking around. "I'm Detective Aldras. We've received reports there may be illegal weapons and substances on the premises. We need all employees on site to come to the front and wait out here with one of our officers while we perform a search."
Werin. Holy shit, this must be about Werin. Oh, thank fucking God.
Mahlia turned her big, doe eyes on Charles, an obvious if silent plea for help.
The turian followed her gaze to Charles and flicked his mandibles. "Are you a supervisor, sir?"
Charles cleared his throat and gave the detective a light shake of his head. "No, sir. This shift's supervisor isn't currently here, but I can contact her for you."
"Please do." Detective Aldras nodded his head, fluttering his mandibles softly. "In the meantime, please gather anyone else here to the front."
Jerking his head in understanding, Charles turned and made his way toward the door to the back room. Nerves still shook him, regardless of knowing C-Sec didn't come there for him, leaving him feeling slightly skewed, off-center from the rest of reality. He couldn't even feel his feet moving across the floor.
"Sir?" the turian called after him.
Charles stopped and turned to look at the detective, licking his lips. "Yeah?"
Flaring his mandibles wide, the turian pinned him in place with his dark blue eyes. "I need you to stay where I can see you. Does the store have an intercom system?"
"Uh, no … but there's only one other person here." Charles shifted a little, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at the group of C-Sec. "I can call him on my omni-tool?"
Detective Aldras jerked his head, so Charles made his way back to the counter. He opened his omni-tool and put in Cammus' contact information, taking slow, calming breaths while he waited for the call to connect. As soon as he saw Cammus' face pop up on the screen, he said, "Cammus, you need to come up front right away."
Cammus' mandibles stilled, and he gave Charles a curt nod before cutting the call. A few seconds later, he came through the door. Stopping in his tracks, he flared his mandibles and took in the C-Sec officers before taking slow, hesitant steps over to Charles' side. Mahlia moved down the counter to stand with them, too, biotic flames softly licking along her exposed skin here and there. She looked utterly terrified, but her fear helped center Charles a little. He shifted, opening his arm to her, and the asari moved in against his side without a word. A moment later, her biotics died down.
"Is there anyone else on the premises?" Detective Aldras asked, looking Cammus over.
Cammus shook his head, mandibles flaring. "No, sir."
The detective nodded before looking at the other officers and jerked his head toward the back. One by one, six men and women in C-Sec blues filed behind the counter, four heading through the back while two looked around the front behind the counter. Charles urged Cammus and Mahlia out of their way, moving around to the other side of the counter to wait. The asari officer left guarding the door flared her biotics and turned to watch them, assault rifle aimed low at their feet, making Charles bristle all over again.
"I need to call Irene," he said, dropping his arm from Mahlia. He placed the call, licking his lips when the red-head answered, her face pinched in annoyance. "Irene, C-Sec's here. They're searching the store."
"What?" Her voice came through in a loud enough screech to make Cammus flinch away from the noise. "Tell them to wait, I'm on my way."
Charles brought the thumb of his free hand to his mouth, chewing on the nail for a second before he said, "They're already looking around." He glanced over his shoulder at the asari guarding the door.
"Damn it, Charles. You should've called me the second they showed up." She cut the call, and his screen went black.
"What's going on?" Cammus asked, rumbling softly as he moved closer to Charles. "What are they looking for?"
"They said they received reports of illegal weapons and substances somewhere in the store." Mahlia moved back in closer to Charles, too, keeping her voice low as she glanced between the two of them. "It has to be a mistake, right? Someone playing a prank or something?"
Cammus flared his mandibles and lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug. "I don't know."
"Charles?" She turned her head to look up at him, eyes glassy with the build-up of unshed tears. "Are we going to get arrested? We didn't do anything wrong."
If they search us and find my razor, I'll get arrested. Fuck, I knew I should've called in today. But Irene probably would've fired me. I seriously need to find another job. I can't go to prison. I can't. I just can't. Fuck.
Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her back in against his side. "I don't know, Mahlia. I'm sorry."
She turned into him, hiding her face against his chest. "I want to call Lindsey," she said, her voice thick with restrained emotion.
I want to call Ares.
"I think you should wait until they leave, okay?" he said, and she nodded against him.
Cammus hummed softly, putting his hand on her back between her shoulder blades. He met Charles' gaze, mandibles flicking agitatedly. A few moments later, an asari and a turian C-sec officer—the two who were looking over the front of the store—walked over to talk quietly to the asari guarding the door. Cammus flared his mandibles, his gaze on the trio, obviously able to hear whatever they said.
The turian officer turned and made his way over to their group. "I need a list of names of everyone this store employs, including supervisors."
Charles shifted, letting his arm drop from Mahlia again as she pulled away and turned to face the officer. Clearing his throat, he said, "Our supervisor is on her way here. Is it alright to wait for her?"
The man flicked his mandibles and let out a low, barely audible, threatening growl. Cammus growled a little in return, and Charles put a hand on his shoulder. Cammus glanced at him, mandibles snapping in against his jaw, nodding but shifting his weight closer to Charles.
Jesus Christ, Cammus. Do not give them a reason to arrest us.
Staring Cammus down for a moment, the turian officer flicked his mandibles again, turning his attention back to Charles. "It would be best for everyone if you cooperate with us, sir."
"Right. Yeah, okay. Um." Charles raked his hand through his hair. "I need to go to the employee kiosk in the break room."
"Let's go," the turian said, jerking his head toward the back.
Breaking away from the tight cluster Mahlia and Cammus formed around him, Charles headed through the front toward the back room, acutely aware of the armed turian at his back. His heart pounded in his chest, and he knew he must reek of nervous fear. He just hoped the turians present—including Cammus—didn't credit it to anything more than stress from having C-Sec show up to raid the place with their guns out.
What the fuck would he do if they did decide to search him? It wasn't like he could make a run for it, and he sure as hell couldn't take down seven officers with pistols, assault rifles, and biotics with a fucking razor.
"Calm the fuck down and stop acting suspicious, idiot," Ares' voice filled his head, and he took a slow, deep breath.
He opened the door to the break room, gesturing at the kiosk as he glanced over his shoulder. The officer following him nodded, so Charles crossed over to the kiosk. Taking another deep breath, he did his best to still his trembling fingers and accessed the kiosk's main menu. He may not be a supervisor, but he knew Irene's code. She'd been reliant on him to pick up her slack since the beginning. He typed in her code and accessed the employee roster, pulling up a full list of everyone employed by Citadel Souvenirs, including the supervisors. He glanced up at the turian and nodded, stepping back out of the way.
Opening his omni-tool, the turian stepped forward and downloaded the information. Fluttering his mandibles, he looked over the list and rumbled. "Head back up front."
The door behind them leading to storage opened, drawing their attention before Charles could move. A human officer stepped through, gaze locking onto the turian, and she gave him a brief nod. "Call down, let them know we've found the crates."
Shit. This is so fucked up. Werin, you sonofabitch. I swear to God if Jasmine wasn't already going to kill you ….
"Get moving," the turian said to Charles, jerking his head toward the door.
Without a word, Charles turned on his heel and headed for the front, swallowing as he crossed the threshold. In his absence, Mahlia moved on to Cammus for support, tucked in against the turian's side. He turned his head, gaze searching out Charles, mandibles pulled in tight against his jaw. Charles made his way back over to them while the turian officer moved to the two asari, talking to them in hushed tones.
"Spirits," Cammus muttered a moment later, and his mandibles drooped when Charles looked at him.
"Alright, the three of you, turn around and put your hands against the wall," the turian officer said, turning back to them.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. No. I've got to get out of here.
"What? No! Why?" Mahlia's voice carried a frantic edge, adding to the spike of adrenaline suddenly flooding Charles, making his pulse race, echoing in his ears.
"I don't believe that will be necessary," a salarian dressed in a sharp suit said, walking up to the door with Irene at his side. "I'm the legal representative for Citadel Souvenirs, and as such, the legal representative of Citadel Souvenirs' employees in this regard. I've already spoken with Commander Halavie and have been informed of the reason for this search. You already have your suspect for these alleged crimes, and unless I am mistaken, none of the employees you are harassing is a salarian named Werin Menoko."
Smoking a cigarillo, Charles picked at his fingernails while he waited for Ares outside of The Moons of Palaven. The whole thing with C-Sec left him on edge, and he dreaded returning to work after lunch, but he knew he needed to. It'd look suspicious if he didn't. C-Sec cordoned off part of the storage room and were still searching the rest when he'd left. The lawyer, Ristol Fumar, convinced Detective Aldras to let them take their lunch breaks, but he only let them leave one at a time. Charles felt a little surprised they didn't just close the store, but between Irene and the lawyer, they threw a big enough fit to keep the business running. He wondered if Citadel Souvenirs would be shut down permanently because of Werin's shit.
A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up, seeing Ares standing in front of him. "Hey," he said, bringing his thumb to his mouth to tear off a jagged piece of nail and spit it off to the side, and Ares flicked a mandible, nose twitching with distaste. He took a drag of his cigarillo, finishing it off before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath his foot. "C-Sec showed up at work today." Sucking in a deep breath, he headed for the veranda, glancing back over his shoulder as he added, "Scared the shit out of me."
"Why? Were you carrying something?" Ares hummed as he moved past Charles and led them to a table of his choosing.
Why? Seriously? C-Sec is looking for a goddamn serial killer!
Charles huffed. "I've always got my razor on me. Been thinking about carrying the Stiletto, too, since the shit with you coming home to find Jasmine there." He licked his lips and took a seat. "Will you take it back home for me?" He handed the razor over when Ares rumbled and nodded, watching him tuck it away in his jacket pocket. Charles felt exposed and vulnerable without it. "They're still there, it's about Werin."
"Figures." Ares grabbed the menu and began looking through the options.
Charles glanced at Ares as he picked up his own menu and blinked, processing Ares' statement. He knew Werin was doing illegal shit, but he didn't expect C-Sec to show up at work over it—at least not to raid the goddamn place. "He's been using the store's shipping to smuggle shit."
Ares merely hummed, not looking up from his menu.
Of course.
"You already knew, though, didn't you?" Snorting, Charles shook his head and turned his attention to the menu.
"Yep. Not directly, but I figured. Makes sense." Ares shrugged, flipping his menu closed. "Not that it was smart, but it was logical."
Rubbing his hand over his face, Charles picked out what he wanted to order and closed the menu before digging his cigarillos out of his pocket. If Ares suspected, why didn't he say anything to him? For fuck's sake, he could've wound up getting arrested. He could still end up getting arrested just because he worked there, too. Then what? What if they started asking him questions about other shit, or realized some piece of evidence they collected on the murders related to him in some way?
Stow your shit, Charles.
"Would've been nice to have a heads up, but I guess I should've figured it out on my own." Idiot. "Guess I probably need to stop running around with my razor on me, too." He didn't like the idea. At all. But he knew only pure luck saved him from being searched before the lawyer showed up. Letting out a heavy breath, he rubbed his hand over his face again before smirking and shrugging. "Irene's livid. I thought she was going to take a swing at one of the officers and get arrested. That would've been fun to watch."
Ares huffed a laugh as he leaned over in his seat to reach into his pocket. "I didn't tell you because you would've been anticipating it. This way, your reaction was natural."
Naturally freaked the fuck out because I thought I'd end up spending the rest of my life in prison for multiple accounts of murder. Sure. No way they could've taken that for guilt and pegged me as Werin's accomplice.
Lighting his cigarillo, Charles gnawed on the corner of his nail. "Mmm, maybe. Hopefully, with everything else, though, I didn't seem too nervous."
"Were you doing that?" Ares asked, flaring his mandibles.
"What?" Charles stopped biting his nail long enough to take a drag from his cigarillo, and Ares motioned to his own mouth, wiggling his fingers next to his mandible. Huffing, Charles shook his head. "No." Maybe a little. Mostly not.
"That's a tick of yours." Ares fluttered his mandibles, brow plate twitching. "You need to stop doing that when you're nervous."
Taking a long, slow breath, Charles nodded, knowing Ares was right. He shoved his free hand between his knees, trapping it there, and focused on smoking his cigarillo. "Yeah …."
An asari waitress came over to the table, a smile on her face. "Good afternoon. Can I take your drink orders?"
Charles glanced up at her and said, "Orange Paragade."
She recorded it on her datapad and turned to Ares. "And for you?"
Ares put his cigarette in his mouth and opened his omni-tool, pausing to look up at her and nod softly before typing. "Cipritine Red for myself."
She flashed another smile at them both and said, "Great. I'll be back in a few minutes with your drinks and to take your orders." She turned and left them again.
"So, anyway," Charles said, shifting around in his chair and taking a drag, "should we tell Jasmine about the raid?"
"What's a flavor that disgusts you?" Ares asked, ignoring the question as he dropped his attention to his omni-tool.
"Black licorice," Charles said without thought and then raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
And why are you dodging my question?
Ares hummed and typed into his omni-tool before closing it. "I got something you're going to put on your nails. It's bitter and tastes like this 'black licorice' you're talking about."
Charles laughed both amused and secretly thinking of the gesture as really sweet, though he didn't dare say so to Ares. "I guess that's one way to do it."
"Would you rather I pull them off?" Ares said, not giving any hint as to whether he was serious or not.
Okay, sweet for two seconds.
Blowing a raspberry, Charles took a drag from his cigarillo. "Fuck no."
Ares hummed and took a drag from his cigarette. "There was a female in our spec ops training who constantly jostled her leg while she sat. Our instructor caught her doing it and, to teach her to stop, climbed onto her knees and stood on them for a few hours."
Charles lifted an eyebrow. "Did it work?"
"After a few days of it, of course." Ares flicked a mandible.
Humming, Charles took a drag, blowing the smoke out toward the restaurant. "You're not standing on my hands."
"That wouldn't work anyways," Ares said, shrugging. "I'd probably pick the nails off and salt them."
Pouting his lip a little, Charles huffed. "Be nice to me."
Ares flared his mandibles. "I am being nice. I'm helping you kick a bad habit."
"And if the black licorice shit doesn't work, what then?" Charles raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You going to pick my nails off and salt them?"
Ares hummed as if considering.
Charles blew another raspberry. "We're both pretty fucked in the head, you know that?"
Taking a drag, Ares shrugged. "We'd be boring otherwise."
"Damn right," Charles said with a smile, putting out his cigarillo as the waitress returned.
Even just being there with Ares helped to calm Charles, taking the edge off the anxiety plaguing him since C-Sec showed up. He wished he could just take Ares back to Citadel Souvenirs with him. Cling to Ares like his own personal, turian, security blanket.
The waitress sat down their drinks and pulled out her datapad. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"
Ares flicked ash into the ashtray as he rumbled. "Your special …. Does it come where you can only sear the meat? Or does it get that disgusting freezer flavor?"
The asari shifted around a little, her smile faltering. "Well, The Moons of Palaven orders fresh shipments once a week, but the meat does arrive cryogenically frozen, sir. However, I haven't heard any customers complain about any unusual taste. We can prepare any dish to your liking."
Ares' nose twitched, but he shrugged. "Alright. Hard sear it, but bring some sauce for it on the side, just in case."
"Of course." She turned her attention to the datapad. "Anything else for you?"
Ares hummed a moment, checking the menu with a quick glance. "Yeah. Make that two of them."
She blinked but smiled, adding it to the order before turning to Charles. "And for you, sir?"
"I'll have the mixed meats club sandwich," Charles said, starting to bring his thumbnail to his mouth but catching himself and shoving his hand back down to rub his thigh.
"And for your side?" she asked, attention on her datapad again.
"Uh." Charles glanced at the menu. "French fries are fine."
"Excellent. I'll have those right out." She turned and left again.
He watched her go before taking a drink of his Paragade. "I thought I might see if Cammus wants to come with us tonight. What do you think?"
Taking a drag, Ares shrugged with a rumble. "If he wants to.
Despite the presence of C-Sec, business boomed. Charles figured the uptick in customers owed thanks to people being too damn curious for their own good, coming in just so they had a reason to try and see what C-Sec was doing there. Detective Aldras uncovered a total of six crates buried beneath the overflow. Charles began to question how the hell no one noticed them back when the storage room was being reorganized thanks to Okal's obsessiveness, but then he remembered Werin got called in to help with moving crap around. Still, it seemed strange no one else seemed to know anything about any of it.
He wondered if the whole thing at Citadel Souvenirs would put Jasmine off her job, or maybe just delay her making her move on Werin. Then, the pieces clicked together in his head, and suddenly he felt like the galaxy's biggest moron. Jasmine tipped off C-Sec. That was why she'd come into Citadel Souvenirs and asked him about lunch breaks, happy to hear he'd be there alone for an hour. She must've come in while the others were gone and found the crates, but why? She was an assassin, her job was to kill Werin, not hunt for evidence, right?
Fuck, what did he know? It wasn't like Ares really told him all too much about assassins. But … it also meant Ares probably knew goddamn well C-Sec was going to show up—not just that there was a chance—which was why he'd ignored Charles' question at lunch.
Sonofabitch, he lied to me!
"Charles Fairclough?"
Charles turned toward the voice, spotting the salarian lawyer. "Yeah?"
"Detective Aldras would like to speak with you." Ristol brushed his hand down the front of his suit. "I will be present with you doing the discussion, and it's imperative you follow my directions. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Charles pushed away from the counter, leaving Mahlia to deal with the rush on her own, and followed the salarian to the break room.
Detective Aldras sat at the break table, datapads scattered out around him. He glanced up when Charles approached the table and waved his hand. "Mr. Fairclough?" he asked, and when Charles nodded, he smiled and added, "Have a seat."
"Mind if I smoke? Figured I might as well take the chance while I've got it, we're pretty rushed up front." He reached in his pocket, pulling out his cigarillos as he sat down across from the turian.
"Not at all." Detective Aldras hummed, looking back down at a datapad right in front of him. "C-Sec's presence tends to draw in onlookers."
"Yeah, figured." Charles lit a cigarillo, putting the pack and his lighter on the table before dragging the ashtray over.
Ristol sniffed but didn't say anything, taking a seat to Charles' left—away from his cigarillo.
Lacing his fingers, Detective Aldras rested his arms on the table and studied Charles for a moment. "Mr. Fairclough, were you aware of anything illegal being stored and shipped from Citadel Souvenirs?"
Yes.
Charles glanced at Ristol, and the salarian nodded his head, so Charles said, "No, not until you guys showed up." He took a drag, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling, reminding himself to stay relaxed or the turian would smell it on him—and also to not bite his nails.
"Can you tell me who has access to the storage room?" Detective Aldras fluttered his mandibles.
Ristol cleared his throat. "Detective, you are well aware the door to the storage room is not locked, allowing every employee or anyone else on the premises, for that matter, potential access."
Rumbling, Detective Aldras flicked a mandible. "Allow me to rephrase: can you tell me who is assigned to work in the storage room?"
"Go ahead, Mr. Fairclough," Ristol said, giving Charles a nod when he glanced at him.
"Currently, Cammus—on our shift, anyway." Charles shrugged. "You'd have to ask Irene or another supervisor about the other shifts, I don't keep track."
"Currently?" Detective Aldras flared his mandibles.
"Yeah," Charles said, taking a drag. "He's only been here for a couple of months. Before that, there were a few weeks where we took turns pulling items and preparing shipments. Before that, I worked back there."
"I see." Detective Aldras typed something into a datapad. "And why do you no longer work back there?"
"Honestly?" Charles raised an eyebrow.
Ristol let out a soft, sputtering cough. "Of course, Mr. Fairclough. You should answer all of the detective's questions honestly."
Charles rolled his eyes, and the slight flick of Detective Aldras' mandible told him the turian held a better understanding of human speech and rhetorical questions. The detective gave him a slight nod.
"I took some time off last minute, and it pissed Irene off." Charles shrugged and smirked, glancing over at Irene who spoke to another officer over by the door to storage. "So, when I came back to work, she moved me up front where she knows I'm less comfortable."
His answer seemed to give Ristol an aneurysm. The salarian made a choking sound, blinking several times before letting out a soft croak. "I'm sure Ms. Waters had other—more justified and professional—reasons to change your position within the store, Mr. Fairclough."
"Sure." Charles took a drag, letting the smoke seep back out of his mouth as he said, "She claims it's because she hadn't replaced Lindsey yet and needed me more up front. But then she hired Cammus, and instead of having him take over Lindsey's old job the way she was supposed to, she assigned him to the back."
"I hardly think this is an appropriate line of questioning." Ristol sniffed, shifting around in his seat.
The detective let out a low, amused rumble. "You're the one who encouraged him to expand on his statements, Mr. Fumar."
"Yes, well, perhaps we should move on." Ristol blinked, settling again.
"Of course." Detective Aldras turned back to Charles. "You mentioned a 'Lindsey', have there been any other employees, besides Lindsey, who have quit or been fired in the last six months?"
Pulling his shoulders in, Charles said, "Not that I know of, but then again, it'd be a better question for Irene." He took a long drag before flicking his ashes and resting his hand on the table, letting the cigarillo hover over the ashtray.
"You said that you were more comfortable working in the back of the store than the front." Detective Aldras fluttered his mandibles. "Why is that, Mr. Fairclough?"
Charles lifted an eyebrow, stating as a matter of fact, "I hate dealing with customers."
Chuffing, the detective recorded something on his datapad. "How well do you know Werin Menoko?"
"Not very." Charles took a drag and flicked his ashes again. "We don't work the same shift."
"You don't seem surprised I'm asking about Mr. Menoko. Why is that?" Detective Aldras flared his mandibles.
Charles tilted his head at Ristol. "He said Werin's your suspect when he got here."
Letting out an annoyed sounding rumble, the detective glared at the salarian lawyer. "I see. Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Fairclough. That's all the questions I have for you for now."
"Sure." Charles took a couple of quick drags off of his cigarillo before stubbing the rest out in the ashtray and headed back up front, letting out a long breath.