This is a longer chapter this time. I did my proofreading now. I did some rearranging to make the chapter make more sense. Sorry for all the typos earlier today.
Clive had said once, the fashion design industry would not fall apart if she were not there, but that Tuesday morning, the entire company had been flipped upside down like one of those funny pineapple cakes.
The bus cannot let her off at her usual stop because the police are blocking their way with their blinking vehicles. Outside the front doors of her building many officers and detectives are investigating. The detectives are no strangers to her actually.
She jumps off the bus and runs up to the inspector she knew well, "Chemley?"
"Oy! Flora Reinhold!" Chemley declares with surprise, "What in the dickens are you doing here?"
Detective constable Barton turns and greets her pleasantly with a warm smile that blocked out any of his partner's grouchiest barks, "To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Reinhold?"
"I work here... Am I allowed inside?" Flora requests, hoping that her office is not off limits. She is already far behind... But what did it matter? Without the promotion, her motivations had cooled off. All she had to do was design the winter accessories for the upcoming season. She could design such accessories in her sleep.
"You wouldn't happen to know a mole in this place?" He interrogates
"A mole? Like an agent?"
"Yes," Chimney clarifies, " Mr. Stiles is missing a Ms. Thenue's designs. They were stolen Friday night."
"WHAT!?" Flora gasps. "Without a trace?"
"Right, lamb," Chemley informs her, "We are interrogating all you employees. Care to give us your alibi, Reinhold?"
"Of course, you being Layton's girl this will only be a formality," Barton assures her with a smile.
"Oy! Barton! We can't be soft on her! There will be no special treatment!" He scolds Barton while wagging his finger at him.
"I understand!" Barton tells him immediately, "But I do trust that this girl is not a thief."
"We can't decide that without any evidence!"
"Of course!" Barton nods obediently, "The alibi would be most helpful. Do you remember what you did that evening? From nine o'clock until the next morning?"
"Of course, "Flora gulps nervously, "I left shortly after the announcement was made... alone. I went to a pub at ten o'clock. I only had club sodas because I don't drink. I left at two in the morning as they closed. I started to walk home, but my feet got tired. I sat on the bench by the bus stop near my home. Then, Clive came..."
"Clive? Mr. Clive Dove?" Chemley runs his ear with a knuckle as he is writing, but this detail he is sure he misheard.
She had nearly forgotten they knew Clive too, "Yes. He is staying with us. For the past few months actually. And... He came looking for me... To see that I was alright," her cheeks flush furiously when she remembers what had occurred afterwards. His lips over hers and his hand stroking her curls so softly. "And then I went to bed!" Flora lies quickly. She pulls on her ponytail, cursing herself for being so abruptly suspicious.
"That's a flimsy alibi if I ever heard one Ms. Reinhold," Chemley barks at her, but he keeps the statement and doesn't question her further, "You had better not have left out any details."
Her cheeks still burn, but even so she shouldn't have any reason to tell them of such matters with Clive. It didn't affect this detective work or bring them any closer to finding a thief. "I ought to go upstairs then and clock in."
"Lead the way. We're comin' on up too!" Chemley barks.
"Certainly," Flora invites them.
They follow her to her cubicle where a crowd has gathered. Blinking in surprise, she shimmies past many of them, trying to reach her desk. In the middle of this collection of people is... Rocco Stiles himself! His blue hair is combed over and shines like silk. The man is stylishly dressed in a suit of lavender and he leans on a cane of a fine cane of rosewood.
"Mr. Stiles!" Flora gulps nervously. She had never met him personally before! She never thought he would have any business to attend to in her cubicle.
He is accompanied by a few officers who are putting her designs into evidence bags. For a first greeting he evaluates her with a great frown "Are you Flora Reinhold?"
She glances at all of them and finally to Barton who is the only one abstaining a look of judgement. "Yes... But, what is going on!"
"We have found the missing designs... In your desk files. Would you care to explain?"
An officer holds up the stolen designs to her. She glances at them and discovers that they were indeed stolen. From her!
"I didn't steal these! These are my original designs that I submitted! See! Right there!" She points to the bottom corner. "That is my signature! Right there!"
"The designs I received did not have your name written there. You must have written these on afterwards."
"No! I didn't! These are mine! Not Beth's!" But constables are already putting her wrists in cuffs. "No! Someone's framed me!"
"We will have to take you to the Yard," Barton tells her calmly.
Flora gulps, but nods, "I only want to go with you and Chemley please."
"You heard her chaps! Finish your work here. We've got the suspect."
"Suspect? Isn't she the culprit?" One of them asks.
"Oy! You do your job and we'll do ours!" He scolds the younger officer. He immediately backs down and unloads more of her designs from her filing cabinet.
Barton rests a hand on her shoulder to lead her away while Chemley shakes his head. "You Layton's sure are trouble. Even if your name is Reinhold. To think Hershel's little girl would be accused of such claims. Despicable!"
"Thank you for believing me," she smiles weakly.
Barton looks her in the eyes as they ride in the elevator, "We will find proof, Miss Reinhold, don't worry your pretty little head. We are on the case!"
She rides in the squad car and is put in a holding cell. Barton took off her cuffs and sits with her while Chemley makes calls on her behalf. Flora holds a box of tissues and wipes her eyes at her misfortune.
"Will I have to stay here all night?"
"I'm afraid so..." Detective Barton nods. Flora's head falls on his shoulder.
"But I didn't do anything wrong," Flora whimpers.
"I believe that, but we need more time to get the proof."
Her afternoon is not better. Chemley questions her for hours, but her story doesn't change. The process is exhausting for both of them. The single light flickers above them when all of them wanted is the proof that Flora's story is true so they could have a nap.
She went to the pub. Clive took her home. The designs are hers. They. Are. Hers. They were stolen from her. She mailed copies of the work to Stiles in Paris. But Stiles claims that they were taken right out of his briefcase.
That's when she realizes... If those designs are hers... Then she did earn the promotion!
Flora slams her hands on the table, thoroughly startling Inspector Chemley, "We need to get Beth R. Thenue down here! She must have stolen them! She's our culprit!"
"Finally, we could have used that lead an hour ago!" Chemley grumbles, but he is relieved the questioning can end as well, "Back to the cell for you, lamb." She sighs, but follows her shepherd obediently.
Barton, however; brings good news for her. "You have a visitor! Come this way."
She expects to be taken into one of those rooms with the glass barrier between her and the visitor, but he takes her right to the front desk. There Clive had been waiting for her because he had just paid her bail.
She runs into his arms, never so thankful to see him in all her life. The impact at which she hits him nearly makes him stumble backwards with her. "Clive!"
He responds with a grunt because of his arm, but then he fully receives her, "Flora..."
She trembles "Thank you so much. I couldn't be in there another minute!"
"I figured you were too soft for this place. You would never last as long as I did," Clive almost smirks, but he is more relieved that she is ok. He places a strand of her hair behind her ear as she dares to look up at his face. He is so close she could kiss him again, but she pushes the thought aside and ducks her head into his shoulder.
"Clive thank you. How did you do it?"
He sighs, resting his chin on her hair, "It took about every cent so earned over the summer from the factory."
Flora winces at this. "Oh no. I'm sorry, Clive. You didn't have to."
"I didn't," he confirms with a shrug. Her face moves with his casual movement, "But I did."
Flora almost comments on how he didn't feel so skinny anymore. It must have been because the Layton's had taken such good care of him. She appreciates that he had returned the favor, but she should really stop hugging him.
She lets go of him bashfully to see Barton with a cheerful smile and Chemley with a stern surprise at them, already assuming what she didn't want.
'So much for keeping my affairs a secret from the police...'
Clive notices them too, "It's been a while since I've seen you, chaps! Long time no see Chem! Barton!"
"Hello Dove," Chemley rolls his eyes, "is everything still right as rain in that noggin of yours, boy?"
The detective knocks on his head and Clive laughs, "I'm hardly a boy anymore."
"You were a young kid when we arrested you," Barton recalls, "You've both grown up so much since then."
"But they haven't learned a darn thing! Stay out of trouble, eh!" Chemley glares at them sourly.
"I'll make sure Flora behaves," he grins at him.
"I wasn't worried about her!" He scowls.
"You never were one for jokes," Clive shrugs, but Barton coughs with a few chuckles caught in it.
Flora bids them a farewell as well, though she would be visiting them again soon. It would seem she would be stuck in London for the time being. She and Clive walk the way to a bus stop and stand side by side. She pulls her hand away not even realizing she had been holding his since she pulled him out of the station with her.
"I want to go home," Flora sighs sadly.
Clive glances down at her sympathetically, "You have had a pretty rotten day. So those designs that were stolen were yours then?"
"Yes, but I don't know how to prove it. Other than I wrote my name on them. But the ones I submitted did too. I don't know what went wrong."
"It's simple. Someone cut it off or made another copy without it."
Flora's pulls her hair back and the stress against her ears, "This is such a mess."
"I've made bigger ones. We can clean this one up easily in comparison. We'll get you back to your house soon."
"You're staying there too," she reminds him.
He turns his face away at this for some reason. "For now, but it's not home." Flora drops the topic, but is sad he doesn't see it this way.
Clive's arm rests over her shoulder for the lengthy ride home on the bus. This time Flora had paid. He blocks the view outside so that only he can glance at the buildings and the streets he hates so much. They don't speak another word all the way home so naturally, Flora drifts off in the large vehicle.
Boy did Alfendi have questions for her when she walked in the door. Did she do it? What was jail like? Did she do it? Who made the arrest? Who did do it?
It became tiring rather quickly.
She shuts him out of her room for the night, but he carries on the one way conversation through the wall. Flora has to bury her head not her sheets and hide under her pillow. She did not want to answer another question! When exactly were they going to repair this gaping void?
With time her brother finally runs out of steam. With his criminal interrogations aside she rests her head on her pillow trying to forget her day entirely. She had almost fallen asleep too when Alfendi pipes up one last time, "Flora?"
He doesn't wait for her to answer because he assumes she is awake, "Do you love Clive?"
Flora pretends she is asleep by breathing more deeply and audibly for him to hear. It doesn't fool him, "Flora? I gotta know." He insists seriously.
She sighs, "I shouldn't..."
"But do you?"
"Can we not talk about this?"
"I think Clive loves you though."
"I know..."
"Are you going to marry him and leave me?"
Flora rolls over and faces her wall, "What? What ever gave you that idea?"
"I don't know... I just wanted to know."
"I would never do that to you. Of course, I would tell you and the professor if I planned to get married!"
"That's all I wanted to know."
"Silly boy," she reaches her hand through the wall to ruffle his red curls. For the first time he doesn't gripe at her, "Get some sleep, Alfendi. I love you, ok?"
He yawns in reply, restfully assured, "I love you too, Flora."
She loves that boy with all her heart, but the questions he thought up! Kids sure did have crazy imaginations!
But his misunderstandings, delusional as they may be, now have her staring up at her ceiling unable to make a wink much less sleep. How could she? What did he mean by this? Did he know something she didn't? Or is she paranoid?
She is most likely not going to be allowed into work tomorrow... Why not stay up a teensy bit longer and ask Clive herself?
She knows it is a terrible idea even before she has it completely thought up, 'No, no... I really can't. Our relationship is a strain as it is. These mixed feelings will only become worse if I ask about something like that.'
I'm sorry I've rearranged this chapter so many times today. I should have waited a bit longer to upload. Some content I just took out and I feel it will be better placed elsewhere.
That last bit with Clive I am going to do the next chapter from his POV and actually extend that further. It would make so much more sense that way.