I Hear About You, But I Never See You
Mabel's eyelids snapped open at six in the morning. For a moment, she had trouble remembering where she was and how she had gotten there. But it was just her hotel room. Ray had dropped her off the afternoon before, letting her rest in peace. And now that she'd recuperated for over twelve hours, aided in dreamless sleep by painkillers, she felt better. Loads better.
She'd pass on the strong pills for today, as they obviously didn't sit well with her. There was Tylenol in Ray's car if she got desperate. But her aches and pains were minimal for now. Her mind felt clearer after unloading emotionally. It was time to capitalize on her wellbeing and stop a murderer.
Stop?
Stoplight.
Mabel blinked as a crosswalk to an unfamiliar intersection came to mind, but she shook it out of her head. There was no time to dilly-dally.
A hot shower later, she was donning her standard suit. The Windsor knot in her tie took an embarrassingly long time thanks to her clunky splint. She slid her matching, hot-pink headband into her hair as she checked her appearance one final time in the mirror. Perfect.
Not bothering to be silent for the other hotel patrons, she rapped loudly on Ray's door. His answer came – after a full five minutes – complete with foggy eyes and rumpled sleepwear.
"Get ready!" Mabel chirped, "We've got a big day ahead."
For once, Ray didn't complain.
She should have picked up on the fact that something was suspicious then, but she was too excited.
It was still too early for continental breakfast, so the pair found an IHOP. Mabel pigged out on all things sweet and savory: crepes, sausages, pancakes, hash browns, the whole shebang. Ray continually refilled his mug of coffee until he was almost normal at the end of their meal.
Mabel practically skipped through the Salem Police Department's front doors. Cheerfully, she accepted stacks of reports from Argent and Becket. Alice plopped a heavy envelope of developed photos in her arms. Madison met up with them to hand off the officer's statements.
Ray didn't think that anyone could match Mabel's exuberance this morning until Madison broke out a huge smile.
"Did you hear?" the officer announced, brown eyes shining, "Holler was brought in early this morning!"
Mabel nearly did a dance.
"Detective Werner is questioning him now. They're in the interrogation room if you want to stand in."
"Lead the way!" Mabel told the young woman.
If Chris Werener's boasts were true, the man sitting in the interrogation room certainly didn't live up to his infamy. Ray didn't think Holler was impressive, more like a grayed out man that looked as if he could dissolve into dust at any moment. Like the vestiges of his popular drugs.
The man's skin looked as if it had once been tan and supple, but now it sagged off his body from exposure to Bunsen burners, fumes, and endless hours in a makeshift lab. His eyes appeared unpigmented and dry. His wispy hair was thinning on all sides.
But the tiny cant to his lips spoke volumes. Holler wasn't afraid to be here. He wasn't afraid of the consequences of his actions. He wasn't amused.
Ray frowned, the man's cool confidence setting him on edge.
Detective Werner peppered the man with questions, the usual vigor one would use to intimidate and make a suspect fumble up. But not only was Holler unfazed, he played into Chris's hands with unequivocal honesty.
"Yes, the lab in the river boat is mine."
"Yes, I've been concocting illicit drugs for years."
"Yes, I am the producer of Holler's Mix."
"He seems awfully helpful." Mabel observed, her face caught between concern and excitement.
Ray assessed the man again, then muttered. "He's dying."
Both Mabel and Madison whirled on Ray, surprise clearly written on their faces.
"My guess is cancer." Ray went on, "My dad looked the same way. Like he'd lost weight too fast. Like his eyes were constantly glazed with fever. Like he was anemic, always pale, shaky, and tired. Holler has nothing to lose. He probably even wanted out of his trade and wasn't permitted to leave. Holler's Mix was the best on the market after all."
Mabel turned to the man on the other side of the glass with sympathy in her eyes. Holler continued to explain.
"'Bout two years ago, the boss – Gemma Randell – asked me to develop a new drug. She said that it would be something that could revolutionize her industry. Make a lot of money. That it would be enough to pay off the debts I owed her. I knew it was a farce. But the idea was intriguing. I've been cooking this stuff for ages, and nothing new had never come along. You never added things to this stuff, just watered it down so you could sell more. So I agreed." He chuckled, "But let me tell you. The stuff Gemma sent me, the brainchild of Holler's Mix, is like nothing you've ever seen before. It took some time to experiment and discover the best avenue of consumption for the stuff. But when the final product was ready it was the most recreational, but also the most harmless drug on the streets."
Mabel hummed from her side of the glass, "This man is smart. We're lucky he's not against us."
"He's not our killer?" Ray murmured.
She shook her head, "Just keep listening."
"Where did you get the ingredients for Holler's Mix?" Chris asked predictably.
"Gemma always had someone drop it off at my lab. She always needed to have control. Micromanaged. She was paranoid that someone would hijack her business. I don't know if the person who brought the stuff was the supplier."
"What did this person look like?" Chis prompted.
Holler's gaze became unfocused as he recalled, "Like a nobody." The man answered, "I always found it strange how it was hard to recall his face. I chalked it up to the fact that he had such a normal appearance, but now that I think about it, there might have been something else involved." The man paused for a minute, "Plain clothes. White. Male, but these days, sometimes it's hard to tell." A shrug, "Average height and build." Holler squinted at the wall, "Brown hair… maybe."
"You're saying you worked with this person for two years and you're not sure what he looked like?" Chris asked, disbelief evident in his voice.
Holler nodded.
Ray stiffened. Mabel stared. Madison folded her arms in disappointment.
"Detective," Holler place his hands on the stainless steel table in front of him and met Chris's eyes, "I'm far too late to undo the damage I've done with the drugs I've made. I'm far too late for anything. My family. My friends. Even my city. But if you give me the chance, I'd like to do what I can."
Chis glanced at his notes, "You will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
Holler nodded.
"Start with telling me your affiliation with Robert Valentino and I'll decide if I accept your offer."
Holler's smile was half-grimace, "Testing me with information you already know? Very clever, detective."
"Just answer, Holler. No games."
"Fine." The gray man said, "Robert Valentino is the most lack-luster salesman I've ever known. He doesn't have an ounce of charisma. He is prickly as a porcupine with the patience of a teenager. But he covers a good area with his artist gigs at Blue Moose Inc. and the university downtown. Gemma specifically wanted him to market Holler's mix."
"Who is Gemma?"
"Gemma Randell is the most unsuspecting old woman you've ever met. Beneath layers of fat, white hair, and a southern accent, she's a viper. About as low as one too. She can't be more than five feet tall."
"What if we were able to get you a new queen? One even more beautiful than me?"
"Her name is Gideon and she has lovely, white hair."
Mabel stifle a giggle as a past conversation came back to her. When they'd described Gideon to Jeff the Gnome, hers and Dipper's words had been roughly the same as Holler's.
The rest of the interrogation went on without a hitch. Mabel was happy for Chris. He was more ecstatic about this case than she'd ever seen him. With Holler's witness, he could practically bring down an empire. But Mabel was also happy for the information she'd learned about her own case. She had a feeling that she had most of the pieces. Like one more push would begin the domino effect and all the cards would be in her hands.
She was mixing metaphors, but… whatever.
After the fact of writing this, yes, I got the Breaking Bad vibe. Sorry about that. Now I'm done simmering, I'm in a state where everything is hilariously funny, including my writing... skills? Hehe, anyway, evidence and clues and implications galore ;)