CHAPTER ONE

The Missing

The night air hung hot and thick with salty mist off the harbor. A strong storm had hit the small seaside town of Garreg Mach less than a week ago, and the humidity had been unbearable ever since. During the day the air was thinner and moved more easily through lungs, but at night it was like a hearty seafood soup. The residents had taken to shuttering their windows closed at sundown in the hopes that their houses wouldn't grow damp overnight and mildew.

Garreg Mach's beaches were small, but the water was temperate and the sand soft, so the town enjoyed a healthy tourist season. Tonight, though, the westernmost cove was empty, and the moon dark.

Sand crunched as a man, barefoot, stepped down the stairs of the boardwalk connecting the dimly-lit street and the beach. He breathed deeply, deliberately, as he strode across the sand, his steps halting when he reached the darkened area where the ocean just barely lapped at the land. A wave crashed, sending water scurrying up to meet his feet. When it touched his toes, he curled them, digging into the wet sand. A small glimmer flashed somewhere out in the inky waves, and the man swayed, goosebumps rising on the flesh of his arms.

He was an outsider—not at all a rare sighting in a sunny vacation town—so it was days before anyone realized he was missing. By then his footprints were long gone.

The mist, however, remained.

—

"Name: Ashe Ubert. Age: twenty-three. Last seen, as far as we can tell, three weeks ago at eight-thirty PM on June third by a local gentleman taking out his trash. No job. No family or friends in the area." Officer Sylvain Gautier looked up from his notepad, pulling a photograph from the file he held. "We have a picture of him here, supplied by his adoptive father."

Detective Felix Fraldarius took the photo and stared at it, eyes flitting back and forth as he printed the missing man's features into his mind. "Forgettable face," he said, handing it back. "Why was he in Garreg Mach?"

"Unclear, " Sylvain replied, tucking the picture back in the file. "Locals who recognized him said he had been in the area since mid-March."

"Did he have any enemies? Four months in one place is long enough to piss somebody off."

"For you, maybe. According to all reports, Ubert was—er—is a quiet, even-tempered man. A writer. Sensitive. Couldn't find one person with a bad thing to say about the guy." Sylvain swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away a band of sweat that had accumulated. "You're gonna smoke? Now? It is way too hot for that."

"Mind your own business," Felix growled, cigarette dangling from his lips as he slipped his lighter back into his pocket. The detective had a long list of bad habits, among them his penchant for smoking to get his investigative cogs turning. "Who called him in?"

"His sister, Aldea Ubert. She states that the two of them kept in close contact and texted daily. Says his tone was off for a few days before his disappearance, then his messages stopped entirely three days ago. "

"Any history of suicidal tendencies?"

Sylvain shook his head. "None reported."

"Mental illness in Ubert's history or that of his family?"

"Zero."

"Has he ever run off before?"

"Never even played hooky from school."

Felix took a drag off of his cigarette, his eyes staring into nothing. After a moment, he blinked. "You said he was a writer. Where did he write?"

"Different places, but according to preliminary investigation," Sylvain flipped through his notes. "He spent a lot of time at a local cafe, The Merrow."

Dropping the cigarette on the asphalt of the police station parking lot, Felix ground it out with his foot. "Let's go."

"Right behind you." Eager to get moving, Sylvain pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on his face. "The cafe is on the beach, so don't forget your sunscreen. I remember how red you got during the dig in April."

"Red?" Felix repeated, slipping a pair of sunglasses on himself. "That's rich, coming from you."

Sylvain laughed, self-consciously reaching up to touch his hair, which had been gelled in just a way so as to seem naturally tousled. "Hey, don't be jealous, man. Just because the ladies are always flocking for some cinnamon—oi, are you listening?"

"No," Felix replied, opening the car door and pointing to the interior. "Get inside the car and shut up."

—

The parking lot for The Merrow was almost full, and Felix grumbled as he circled, looking for a spot. He finally found one and pulled in, jerking the wheel hard enough to jolt Sylvain against the window. Smirking a little how he'd ruined his partner's perfect hairstyle, Felix dropped his badge inside his shirt and headed for the cafe's front doors.

The smell of fried dough and citrus wafted out the door before the two even entered, and Sylvain's stomach grumbled audibly when it hit him. "I hear the bubble waffles here are great," he said, looking hopefully at Felix. "If you want to try one, I'll buy."

"Focus," Felix snapped, stepping over the threshold. "What devilry is this?" Decorative fish nets hung from the cafe's door frames, and Felix swiped at them, trying to prevent them from brushing his face.

"Don't fight it; just walk through," Sylvain instructed, pushing the other man through before he caused permanent damage to the decor.

A chorus of female voices welcomed the two when they finally made it into the eatery, and Felix glanced their direction. Multiple young women busied themselves around the counter area of the spacious cafe, some tidying up, and others operating various machines in the food prep area. Sylvain responded cheerfully, full flirtation mode activated. Leaving his partner to order food and charm the staff, Felix crossed his arms and turned to walk about the dining room, taking note of the layout.

The cafe's interior was mostly light wood, weathered to round, comfortable edges. Nets and ceramic fish hung from the ceilings, and the walls were crusted with seashells. The room had two other doors aside from those through which he'd just entered, one of which presumably led to the kitchen, and one of which was labeled with a painted mermaid holding a sign saying 'to beach access'. Two enormous fish tanks teeming with tropical fish flanked the latter door, their occupants drifting languidly around plastic seaweed and colorful, bobbing mermaid figurines.

These weren't the only mermaids, by far—Felix squinted as he looked around, finding mermaid memorabilia on every surface. Even the bench seats on the front window wall were painted with mermaids, and appeared to have been recently scrubbed. The smell of antiseptic was just detectable under the heavy waffle aroma, and became stronger the closer he wandered to the benches.

He tucked that detail away in his mind. Perhaps this cafe was a shining example of proper restaurant sanitation. Perhaps they'd been scrubbing blood splatters off of the sea-foam-colored fabric. Hard to tell.

He bent over to examine the chairs arranged around one of the tables. They were shaped like fish tails and, like the benches, they were well-worn but spotless.

"Looking for something?" An unfamiliar voice broke into his thoughts, and he looked up to find a young woman with long, plaited hair and green eyes holding a broom and watching him. Her teal t-shirt bore the cafe's name and logo on the front, and a name tag pinned to her khaki shorts said 'Ingrid'. An employee, Felix thought. Is she just curious or trying to stop me from nosing around?

"What's with all the mermaid crap?" He asked, straightening and jerking his thumb at a painting of three mermaids sunning themselves on a large rock.

The woman's eyebrows lifted. "You must be new here," she replied, her voice brusque and clipped. "Mermaid crap is sort of Garreg Mach's thing."

"Oh?" Felix crossed his arms again, sensing a lecture coming.

She drew in a breath, but before she could reply, Sylvain called out from across the room, drawing their attention. "Oi! Come pick out what you want to drink!" Ignoring him, Felix looked back at the young woman, but she was already halfway back to the counter.

He swore under his breath. "I don't care," he called back to Sylvain. "Pick something!"

"Anything?"

"Just pick something normal." Felix was still eyeing the girl from before. She'd approached a middle-aged woman and said something, then the older woman went into the kitchen and disappeared. Some moments later she reappeared, though nothing seemed to have changed and her full attention was now on a register with a broken drawer.

Sylvain stepped up next to Felix, squinting in the same direction. "You find something? Checking out the cougar?"

"What? No," Felix replied, tearing his attention away. "Don't stand so close. Where's the food?"

"They're gonna bring it out when it's ready, so pick a table. Any table."

"This one is fine," Felix said, plopping down in one of the benches he'd been scrutinizing earlier. The bells on the front doors jingled as another group came in, and the employees' voices rose again in welcome. After inspecting the newcomers, Felix nudged his partner under the table. "If you were a writer, where would you sit?"

Sylvain looked around the dining room, resting his chin in his hand. After a moment, he pointed at a table in the corner. "Near the bathroom, so I wouldn't have to walk far when I had to take a leak."

"Wrong. You're an idiot."

"What? Well, where would you sit?"

Felix thumped the table with his fist. "Right here."

"What's so special about here?"

"See that shadow line? No, not that one. That one. Judging by where it is right now at—" Felix consulted his wristwatch. "—just after two, that shadow will reach this table around seven forty-five. By that time this wall lamp behind me will turn on to keep the light levels stable. If you sit here, you'll never have to strain your eyes to see your notes. You can easily see the door to watch and monitor people who come in. It's the last bench so no one can sit behind you and peek at what you're writing. It's ideal. Also, no one but you wants to sit near a bathroom. If Ubert came here regularly to write, I'd bet you my nonexistent Christmas bonus he sat here."

Whistling low under his breath, Sylvain grinned. "What an analysis, as expected of Faerghus' youngest lead detective. No wonder you're Chief Catherine's favorite."

"Don't flatter me like I'm one of your empty-headed conquests. Use that energy to figure easy things out yourself."

"And so spicy, too," Sylvain continued. "I bet if you ever smiled it'd break your face."

"Keep talking and I'll—what? Oh," Felix laid his hands back on the table as a young woman approached, carrying a tray of food. Her ginger hair was tied in two little rings, keeping it from trailing into the food.

The woman grinned, the expression genuine to the policemen's trained eyes. "I've got an order for Sylvain?"

"That's us!" Sylvain gestured to the table. "Lay it on us."

Placing the tray on the edge of the table, the woman starting put the dishes out one by one. "Here we have a matcha waffle with strawberry and whipped cream. Here is the breakfast waffle—see the bacon? We made it extra crispy like you wanted! Finally here is the nutella waffle with sea salt and sprinkles. The nutella is hot and might fall out the bottom if you squeeze too hard, so be careful."

Felix glared at Sylvain across the table. "Who exactly is paying for this?"

Sylvain shrugged. "Work expense."

"We've got drinks, too," The woman said, placing two glasses in front of the men. "Here is the water, and here is a half-pitcher of the special le-mer-nade." She giggled a little. "Get it? Like—"

"We get it," Felix interrupted. "Very amusing."

His response flustered the woman a little, but she recovered, pulling a chair up to the end of their table. "Now I heard someone hasn't heard the tales of Garreg Mach's murderous mermaids, and I'm here to fix that. Here at The Merrow we pride ourselves on historical—oh, I'm Annette, by the way," she said, stopping herself. "I didn't tell you that before, did I? Silly me!" She turned the chair backwards and straddled it. "How d'you want the story? I've got old fashioned oral tradition, shadow puppet theatre, and an interpretive dance."

"None," Felix replied stonily.

"All of the above!" Sylvain said, cutting across Felix's word.

"None," Felix repeated, more forcefully.

Annette looked from Felix's face to Sylvain's and back again, her smile falling a little. "What my friend is trying to say," Sylvain finally said, kicking Felix in the shin under the table. "is none of the above. He wants you to sing it for us."

Laughter immediately broke out from the other waitresses, who were all listening in with varying degrees of blatancy. Annette's face bloomed as red as her hair and she grimaced. "Yeah, Annie, sing for them," another redheaded girl behind the counter called.

Felix glared at the woman who'd yelled. "What's so funny?"

"I, uh," Annette laughed lightly. "I don't sing. But, seriously, my shadow puppets are killer. I recommend those."

"Anyone can sing," Sylvain protested. "It doesn't have to be Boticelli. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm not," Annette replied. "Really. Just trust me. So what do you say? Shadow puppets? Or if you really want a song, I can get Dorothea..."

Felix, who had poured himself a glass of lemonade while they were talking, took a sip and immediately slammed the glass down. "Is there alcohol in this?"

"Rum, like pirates drink!" Annette informed him cheerfully.

Pouring his glass back in the pitcher, Felix shook his head. "We are on duty, Sylvain. What is wrong with you?" He asked, pouring the other man's glass back in the pitcher as well. Sylvain protested, but Felix pushed the lemonade to the back of the table. "We don't have time for this."

Annette stood up, knitting her fingers together. "I'm sorry; I'll go."

"No, you stay," Felix instructed, tugging on the string around his neck and pulling his badge out from under his shirt. "I'm Detective Fraldarius, this is Officer Gautier, and we need to talk to your staff."

The waitresses and kitchen staff went silent at the counter, and Annette's eyes lingered on the badge before flicking to meet Felix's gaze. "Let me get my manager," she said, her voice higher in pitch than before.

"That would be great," Felix replied, taking a bite of the matcha waffle.

—

"You're telling me you don't find it suspicious at all that the manager didn't have time to interview today?" Felix asked, halting the car at a red light. "She already had 'an appointment'?"

Squinting at his partner, Sylvain folded the employee roster they'd received from the manager, Manuela Casagranda, and stuck it into the case folder. "Normal people have appointments, you know. They go to doctors-"

"She didn't look sick to me."

"They have well-person physicals, they have dentist appointments, they get haircuts, they have meals with friends-have you ever heard of a friend, Felix?"

"No."

Sylvain rolled his eyes. "Turn left here," he instructed, pointing out the windshield. "We can talk to her tomorrow and you can use all your mind tricks to make her confess that she personally murdered Ubert and made him into sausage waffles."

With Sylvain's guidance, Felix pulled into a patch of long, two-story buildings divided into individual flats. The salty smell of the ocean was strong on the hot breeze when Sylvain rolled his window down to peer at the first building. It seemed to be an office; a sign in front read 'The Lizard Extended Stay Suites' and featured a colorful cartoon gecko giving viewers a thumbs-up. "What unit was he in?"

"It was…" Sylvain consulted his notes. "Suite 3213."

They pulled around a bend and parked in front of one of the buildings. Other law enforcement officers were already buzzing about the place, and one of the upper flats was cordoned off with ticker tape. A woman with long, white hair tied up in a bun and sharp eyes approached the car, walkie-talkie in hand. "Names?" She asked curtly, lavender eyes roving over Felix's casual slacks-and-button-down combo and coming to rest on Sylvain's badge, which was peeking out from his khakis.

"Detective Fraldarius," Felix said, sticking a hand out. "Faerghus Provincial Police. You must be Captain von Hresvelg with the Garreg Mach Police Department."

Captain von Hresvelg took his hand firmly, though briefly. "That's right. Captain Edelgard will do fine. I was talking to your Captain Blaiddyd this morning and told him to tell Chief Charon we had things covered here and didn't need support from the Province."

Irritation prickled down Felix's back, but he kept his face set. "I suppose the Chief thought differently."

"I suppose so. And you are?" She looked to Sylvain, who was fixing his hair in the car's side mirror.

"Officer Gautier," he said, taking the captain's hand before she offered it. "I'm Fel-er, Detective Fraldarius' partner. I'm testing to become a detective myself this autumn."

Less than impressed, Edelgard jerked her head. "Let me take you up to Ubert's flat. Hubert!" At her call, a tall, sallow officer raised his head. "You're in charge of crowd control if the media show up."

"Understood, Captain," the officer said, nodding once.

"That's Lieutenant von Vestra," Edelgard explained as they climbed the outside stairs to the second floor of the building. Ducking under tape, she led them to a door on the left, numbered 3213. "He is my second in command, so ask him if you have any questions. This is where we understand Ubert has been living during his time in Garreg Mach."

The group stepped into the flat, and Sylvain immediately wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

"A pot of soup was left on the stove, though the burner was turned off." Edelgard led them to the flat's modest kitchen. "We scraped out the rotted fish and spinach for the sake of the odor, but the pot is still where we found it."

"So there's foul play? Someone who means to go missing usually doesn't leave food out," Sylvain said, breathing through his mouth as they neared the empty pot.

Edelgard nodded. "That's what we thought at first, too. It gets stranger, though." She continued past the kitchen and into the bathroom. "His shampoo and body wash are in the tub, and he left a comb, floss, and bottle of cologne on the countertop. His toothbrush is gone, however, as is presumably deodorant and toothpaste. Unless he habitually neglects his personal hygiene and does not own any of these items, they seem to have been taken wherever he went."

Leaving the bathroom, she led them into the flat's one bedroom. The closet was open, and an officer was carefully taking pictures of its contents. Felix narrowed his eyes as he looked around. "There are a lot of empty hangars in that closet. Did you find his luggage?"

"No luggage," Edelgard shook her head. "Did he throw away his suitcase, intending to stay in this extended stay suite for the rest of his life? Doubtful, but possible."

Sylvain watched Felix prowl the edges of the room, wrinkling his brow. "So he packed a bag and left...but didn't know he was leaving? Or was he just too lazy to clean up his supper?"

"He had no car of which we are aware, and the bicycle he used to ride around town is still locked up out front," Edelgard said. "Wherever he was going, he was going on foot."

"What's walking distance from here?" Felix asked.

"Depends on your cardiovascular health," Edelgard replied, smirking. "Over...here we've laid out a map. This 'x' is where we are currently. This circle," she traced a green sharpie circle on the map. "shows where a reasonably healthy individual can walk in fifteen minutes. There's a convenience store, a beach supplies shop, beach access, ice cream shop, and an empty lot where food trucks usually park. This yellow circle shows where said individual can walk in half an hour. Much more here, as we hit the outskirts of downtown and the shopping district."

Looking over her shoulder, Felix noted The Merrow at the edge of the circle. "Finally, this red circle shows where said individual can walk in an hour. As you can see, it encompasses most of the tourist areas, though it doesn't quite reach the edge of town," Edelgard finished. "Garreg Mach is not a large town, but we have plenty of places to hide or be hidden."

"Can I take a picture of this?" Felix asked, pulling out his cell phone.

Edelgard stepped back. "Be my guest."

After snapping a quick photo, Felix motioned to his partner. "If it is alright with you, Captain, I'd like to come back tomorrow afternoon and do a thorough search of the apartment after we interview some witnesses."

"We have a compendium of catalogued evidence over here in this file," Edelgard said, gesturing to a large box.

Felix resisted the urge to snort. "As thorough a job as your officers are sure to have done, I'd like to have a look around with my own eyes."

Edelgard shrugged, her face as composed as Felix's. "Suit yourself. Give me a time and I'll have the officers clear the premises for an hour or so, as long as you agree that any evidence found will be turned over to us and added to our file. No secrets."

"Understood. It's the Province's intention to work cooperatively, not competitively."

"Good." Edelgard smiled, lips tight. "I hope you and your partner enjoy the cottage we secured for your stay as a sign of good will. It's cute." The word 'cute' sounded odd tumbling out of her mouth.

Sylvain leaned into Felix. "Can I ask her where she's staying?" He whispered.

"If you want to become your own missing persons case," Edelgard replied, her smile now smeared with a savage tinge. "I have excellent hearing, by the way."

"He disgusts me, too," Felix said, reaching his hand out to shake Edelgard's again. "Feel free to keep him here when the case is over; we won't miss him."

"We have plenty of problems of our own," Edelgard answered, though her voice had lost its severe edge. "No need for more."

—

The cottage rented for them was cozy, and a door in the middle divided it into two equal portions, each with its own bedroom and bathroom. This was all the better, as Felix knew from many nights in cheap motels that Sylvain talked nonsense in his sleep, and kicked when startled. After he'd showered, put on a pair of clean pajama pants, and had a smoke on the patio, he sat on his bed, antsy.

Though the sheets were recently laundered, they had a sort of dampness to them that made it difficult to run his hands across the folded-over lip. Everything in Garreg Mach had that humid beach feel, but the cottage especially so, possibly due the air conditioning only being turned on an hour before they had checked in.

Felix stood and walked to the window, which he'd left open for fresh air. A palpable wave of humidity was seeping in, causing little droplets of water to bead on the window frame. Outside, he could hear voices from the nearby late-night taco cabana, and someone was humming in the background.

He shut the window firmly, dropping the latch into place. If Ubert was out there right now, he hoped he was someplace dry.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Welcome everyone and thanks for starting this journey with me! I think we're going to have fun.

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