CHAPTER THREE

The Other

"He's not half bad at writing," Sylvain mused as he riffled through one of the notebooks on Ashe's desk. His voice was an appropriate volume, yet it somehow fell flat in the apartment, like the space knew to whom it belonged and resented the intrusion of outsiders.

The former living spaces of the dead always felt this way-felt hollow, unwelcoming. If Felix were a superstitious man, he'd take this feeling as an omen, but he was a man of evidence and reason, and so pushed such thoughts aside. Ubert was probably alive, based on the available evidence thus far. He didn't care either way, he told himself. His job was to find the truth, whatever that truth may be, and shine the cold spotlight of justice on it. Getting involved in the feelings and lives of the investigated was a mistake; a rookie one.

Be that as it may, even he hated when a case switched from missing persons to homicide investigation.

When Felix didn't answer, Sylvain continued speaking, mostly to himself. "I'm three pages in and I already want to find this guy just so he'll continue the story."

"I didn't know you could read," Felix muttered, running his gloved hands along the bottoms of the drawer in the bedside table to check for false bottoms. When that proved fruitless, he ran his hands along the baseboards in the bedroom, pushing a plushy amaranth-colored chair out of his way.

"Ha ha," Sylvain shot back. "There's more than stories in these notebooks. I'm going to check the files and see if they recorded all of the lists and notes he wrote in the margins." Captain Edelgard had emptied the apartment as she'd promised in order to give the provincial officers time to search it thoroughly, so Sylvain's footsteps echoed in the still air as he left the room.

Felix abandoned the baseboards, flopping into the plush chair and frowning. Nothing. They'd found nothing, or at least nothing new. Contrary to his expectations, the GMPD had done an excellent job of cataloguing the flat and everything inside. Captain Edelgard ran a tight ship, and her officers, though few in number and inexperienced, were efficient. What are we missing? He pondered, staring at the patterns in the wood of the bedside table. There's always a weak spot...a loose thread to pull that will unravel the whole case. He usually found the loose thread faster than this, especially when the case was already halfway investigated before he even arrived. Having little to go on made him irritable, as did this uncomfortable chair. The legs must be uneven, or the cushion poorly constructed, because it was impossible to sit in without his hips being at a slant.

He rose and followed where Sylvain had gone, and found his partner cross-legged on the floor of what passed as a tiny living space. Kneeling, Felix picked up one of the documents strewn about and scanned the words. "This says there were five notebooks catalogued during initial investigation of the space. Does that match with what you found?"

Sylvain nodded. "Yes. Five notebooks, one sketch pad, a pile of receipts from various places he'd shopped, and some maps of the area he'd either brought or printed out." He reached into a box and brought out a stack of wrinkled papers. "Look at these maps and tell me what you think."

Felix took the papers and thumbed through them, his forehead wrinkling. "What are these places he's circled?"

"That's what I wanted to know," Sylvain replied, looking over Felix's shoulder. "They're labeled with little numbers as you can see, and there's a key on the last page."

Flipping to the last page, Felix found a small list written in a tidy, square handwriting. Each number corresponded with a different… "Cat breeds?" He asked, reading and rereading the list. "Riegan tabby, Edmundion, Galatea brown...these are cat breeds."

"Really?" Sylvain pulled the paper from Felix's hands. "I couldn't tell; I'm more of a dog person. He must have had a reason to make something like this. Is there a large stray population in Garreg Mach?"

"Not that I've noticed," Felix said, thinking back on various trips across the town. The few cats he'd seen outdoors had looked sleek and well-fed, likely from stealing fish from local fishermen's baskets. "He's written a time beside one of them." He pointed at one of the circles, beside which a small clock was drawn, the minute hand at twelve and the hour hand pointing at five.

Sylvain squinted at the doodle. "Five o'clock...AM or PM?"

"How should I know?" Felix growled, not relishing the obvious next step. "We should stake out the circled area at both times and see if he was pointing us toward anything meaningful. Take a picture of it with your phone."

Groaning, Sylvain pulled out his cell phone and snapped a shot. "Five AM? My beauty sleep…"

"If you wanted beauty sleep you shouldn't have joined law enforcement." Felix picked a stack of receipts out of the box and sorted through them. "Most of these are for food, but there's one here from a theatre for two movie tickets."

"Two?"

Felix took a picture of the receipt. "Two tickets to the same movie. Who was he close enough with to see movies?" It was a rhetorical question, but Sylvain shrugged anyway. After a moment, Felix pulled out another receipt. "Garreg Mach Jewelers. This says he spent one hundred and twenty-two G on a necklace. Check the inventory for any necklaces found." He flipped back to older receipts. "Some of these show two meals on one tab. Maybe the picture we have is old, but Ubert didn't look large enough to be eating two meals."

Sylvain made a noise in this throat. "He has a girlfriend."

"He has someone," Felix agreed. "A girlfriend. A boyfriend. A string of lovers. We need to-ah." He pulled out a receipt and showed it to Sylvain. It was from a local movie rental place and showed the rental of two DVDs-The Duchess Bride and The Smallest Mermaid. Both men turned their heads to the television, and then to the old DVD player sitting on a shelf beneath it. Felix drew in a breath, looking around at the flat as if for the first time. "Someone else was here."

—

An ornate clock on a nearby wall struck three o'clock, and a gold-filigree bird popped out of a tiny door below the clock face to squawk thrice at the room. "I didn't know cuckoo clocks were still a thing," Sylvain said, watching the little bird retreat back into its hiding place. "This whole place looks like my grandmother's sitting room." He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. "Smells like it, too, except with less gin."

A group of older ladies playing cards at a nearby table turned to frown at Sylvain, and he winked roguishly back. Felix rolled his eyes. "Stop attracting attention."

"Us existing here is attracting attention," Sylvain replied, jerking his head towards the rest of the room. "I thought we were meeting a man in his late twenties. What are we doing in an old hen house like this?"

"This is where he wanted to meet." Felix looked around, realizing his partner was right. They were the only men in the vintage tea room, and quite possibly the only people under fifty years old. This, combined with what he'd been told during the Merrow interviews made him most curious as to what sort of character they were about to meet.

Sylvain examined the napkins, which were embroidered with fleur-de-lis. "Maybe this place is a front for a human trafficking circle. Or maybe all these ladies are retired assassins." The older women were looking at him again, but this time with interest instead of irritation. He smiled easily, and they tittered amongst themselves. "Definitely assassins," he whispered across the table to Felix.

Felix checked his watch again, but looked up when the bell above the entrance door rang and a man stepped into the shop. He was tall and so thin he might be described as gaunt, but he carried himself the way one might expect the prince of a small country to-with shoulders back and spine straight. A chorus of voices rose when he entered, and some of the shop's patrons waved. "Lorenz! Come join us for a game of canasta!" One woman called.

Another woman stood, nearly tripping over her purse in her excitement. "No, no, come join us! Ange brought madeleines!"

"They taste like her cat made them," another woman said, her silver hair piled atop her head and secured with a jeweled pin. "If you come over here I'll get a pot of rose tea and a plate of those little biscuits with the jam you like!"

"Ladies, ladies, please," Lorenz replied, holding up his hands. "Sadly I am here for business today, not pleasure." The women grumbled, a few throwing glances at Felix and Sylvain. "Let me finish my meeting and then perhaps I will have time for a game or two."

He wound his way around the tables, stopping in front of the one at which the officers were sitting. "You must be Mr. Lorenz Gloucester," Sylvain said, standing and extending his hand.

"That I am," Lorenz replied, taking Sylvain's hand delicately. "I daresay it was an...unexpected honor to be called for an interview by the Provincial Police. Where shall I sit?"

"Anywhere is fine," Felix said, indicating the two empty chairs at the table.

After a moment of consideration, Lorenz seated himself in the chair closest to the detective, then folded his hands and looked from one of the officers' faces to the other. "Which one of you did I have the pleasure of speaking to on the phone?"

Sylvain raised his hand. "Right here."

Lorenz looked him over, a wrinkle appearing in his forehead. "You sounded different on the phone, I must admit. I expected someone older." He shrugged, lifting a hand and signaling for the wait staff. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We need to ask you a few questions about an alleged incident that occurred at the end of April of this year," Felix said. "Are you familiar with the local cafe The Merrow?"

Lorenz nodded. "I am."

"Do you recall an incident where you were interacting with one of the female staff members and were told to stop by this man?" Felix held his hand out to his partner, but Sylvain was still trying to work out if Lorenz's age comment was a compliment or an insult. Mentally growling, Felix took the file from Sylvain's lap and pulled out the photo of Ashe, holding it up so Lorenz could see it.

Lorenz stared at the photo, and Felix could see the wheels turning in his head, though his face was impassive. After a long silence, Lorenz met Felix's eyes again, his face lighting up in a recognition that was just a little too forced to be natural. "Ah, yes, I do seem to recall something similar occurring."

"Could you tell us, in your words, what happened?" Felix laid the photo of Ashe down on the table in a place where it was still visible.

"It was a regrettable misunderstanding," Lorenz began, but he was cut off when a waitress appeared at the table. "Could we have a pot of earl grey? With cream, if you would. Thank you."

The waitress looked at Felix, who shook his head, but Sylvain stopped her before she walked away. "You have beignets, right? We'll take three. No, wait, four." The waitress noted his order and he beamed as she returned to the kitchen.

Felix looked at his partner with a scathing expression that asked if he was here in Garreg Mach for an investigation or a culinary tour, but Lorenz spoke again, drawing their attention. "Like I was saying, it was a misunderstanding through and through. If I recall correctly, the cafe was soon to be closing for the day and the staff was watching the clock, so I struck up a conversation with one of the waitresses. My mother has been putting pressure on me for the past year to find a suitable partner and marry, so when I see a lady fair of face I like to find out more about them. This fellow," he indicated Ashe's photo, "didn't seem to think my intentions were pure. I assured him that they indeed were, and that was that."

"Can you give us more details?"

"Details?" Lorenz tilted his head, bemused. "It was a very simple exchange."

The waitress returned, setting a tea tray down in the middle of the table and distributing tea cups. Sylvain reached to pour himself some tea, but Lorenz stopped him, holding out an arm. "Marie," he said, addressing the waitress in a disapproving tone. "This is an old set and the paint is worn. Hardly appropriate for guests."

Felix looked down at the cup in front of him. It was painted with blue roses and seemed unblemished to him, but the waitress quickly cleared the set, stammering apologies. "My apologies, Mr. Gloucester. I'll bring you a new set straight away and-and I'll refresh the kettle so it stays hot."

Lorenz sighed as she hurried away. "I've spoken to management once about their worn tea sets, but it seems I need to broach the subject again," he explained. Barely a minute later the waitress was back with cups painted with dahlias and, after inspecting it, Lorenz nodded. "Acceptable. Oh, and the beignets are out as well. Put it all on my tab, Marie."

"We'll cover the food," Felix said, sitting forward. "We are the ones who asked to meet you."

"That won't do," Lorenz replied with a frown. "I'm happy to pay. On my tab, Marie. Anything to stimulate the local economy."

Felix didn't reply, but didn't take a beignet when the plate was offered to him. Instead, he watched Lorenz eat his with a knife and fork, his long fingers primly staying out of the powdered sugar. "Back to April," he prompted, pushing his cup and saucer aside and moving Ashe's photo into better view.

Lorenz patted his mouth with a napkin. "Yes. April. You wanted details. I'm afraid I have few to give. The lady in question was cleaning tables, I believe, and I happened to be sitting nearby. I approached her and asked her a few questions-"

"What sort of questions?" Felix interrupted.

Lorenz looked down his nose at him, silently chastising his rudeness. "The sort of questions one might ask a potential marriage partner. Her surname, for instance; who her parents are and what they do for a living. Her education level. If she had any history of infertility. If her ambitions in life extended beyond bussing tables."

Sylvain grimaced. "You ask all women these questions?"

"Only ones I find interesting."

"And then what happened?"

"This fellow," Lorenz indicated the photo again, "left his table and interrupted us. He implied that the lady wasn't interested in speaking with me and said I was making a 'nuisance' of myself."

Lorenz and Felix stared at each other, the former wanting the vocalization of some sort of sympathy, and the latter refusing. Sylvain broke the silence, one cheek full of beignet. "Then what?"

Mildly outraged that no one was remarking on how disgraceful Ashe's assertions had been, Lorenz sniffed. "The lady did not defend me, no doubt astonished into silence by this man's crude behavior, and so I politely excused myself from the shop. I expect any partner of mine to have a little more backbone than to allow someone to malign a gentleman right in front of their eyes." He took a drink of his tea. "It's just as well. I researched her surname later and found nothing of value, so she would have been a poor candidate anyway."

Felix opened the file, flipping through the pages in search of The Merrow's staff roster. "Who was the woman in this story?" He found the page and pulled it out, clicking a pen open with his other hand. "Her name," he said impatiently when Lorenz didn't answer.

"Macneary," Lorenz said. "I'm not sure if it's spelled 'm-c-n' or 'm-a-c-n', though I researched both of them and found nothing."

Sylvain leaned towards Felix, looking down the roster. There were no names even close to that on the page, and the officers exchanged a glance. "What was her first name?"

Lorenz shook his head. "I couldn't tell you; the rude fellow interrupted me before I could find out."

"The staff wears nametags; do you remember if she wore one?"

"I don't recall."

"What did she look like?" Felix asked, readying his pen. They had only interviewed half of The Merrow's staff, but he had an excellent memory for faces.

Cup in hand, Lorenz closed his eyes in thought. "She was lovely. Between five to five and a half feet tall. Medium-brown skin. Long orchid-colored hair tied up in a braid. Hips the right width for childbearing. I would estimate...a B cup."

Sylvain twitched, his face wrinkling in disgust before he could stop it. Pausing writing, Felix glanced at his partner, his own disgust showing only in his eyes. Undisturbed, Lorenz snapped his fingers, opening his eyes. "Yes, I remember now. She had a tattoo under one of her eyes. Usually tattoos entirely disqualify someone from my consideration, but her tattoo seemed to have some significance."

"I see," Felix said, laying his pen down. "A few last questions before we go: how did Ashe Ubert's interruption in your conversation with this woman make you feel?"

A crease of surprise appeared above Lorenz's eyebrows. "How did it make me feel? Well...the way any man who was unfairly slandered in front of others-a lady no less-might feel. Disappointed. Shamed. A little angry, I will admit."

"Angry enough to hurt him?" Sylvain asked, leaning forward.

Lorenz blinked, taken aback. "Of course not. In case you haven't yet surmised, I strive to embody the ideals of gentlemenhood and chivalry. To hurt another person would betray those ideals."

"Anger is a funny thing," Sylvain said, shrugging. "It can persuade even gentlemen into making mistakes. It can blind you, too. One minute you're just chatting, and the next you've got a gun in your hand."

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I have never and would never hurt another person. Ask Mr. Ubert yourself." Lorenz's voice was sharp now, sharper than the short knives in the officers' belts.

"We would, but the thing is…" Felix twined his fingers together, bringing his hands to rest on the table and making deep eye contact with Lorenz. "Ashe Ubert is missing and has been for weeks. "

For the first time, Lorenz's composure cracked, his lips parting in shock. "Missing? I knew he left town, but…"

Sylvain's eyes glinted in the light from the miniature chandelier above the table. "Why would you know that? Were you keeping tabs on him?"

Lorenz had no answer. He stared at Felix for a minute before breaking eye contact and pushing his cup forward on the table. When he spoke, his words were broken with an involuntary hard swallow. "I feel-I feel I may need a lawyer for any further questions."

"Then get one." Felix sat back, picking up Ashe's photo and placing it in the file, then closing the file with a snap. "We may have more questions in the future. For now you're free to go. Keep this information to yourself."

When Lorenz stood, his legs were unsteady, and his princely posture had wilted somewhat. Without another word, he turned and left the shop, ignoring the disappointed cries from the card-playing ladies. Felix and Sylvain looked at each other, a pregnant silence heavy between them. "Get the car," Felix instructed. "I'm going to pay up front. I'd rather not owe him anything."

—

"Okay, so tell me why that guy can estimate women's bra cup sizes," Sylvain burst out once they were both back in the car.

"Because he's a creep," Felix responded, searching the rearview and side mirrors for any sign that Lorenz was still hanging about. "You're bad, but you're nowhere near his level."

Sylvain shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Oh no. No." He turned to look at his partner, who had satisfied himself that Lorenz had left. "Don't put me in the same category as him; that's just insulting. I like women's shapes as much as the next guy, but I have never assessed them for 'childbearing' potential."

Felix shifted the car into reverse and began pulling out of the parking lot. "Other than that, what did you think?"

"You mean is he suspicious? Hell yeah, he's suspicious. Is he why Ubert disappeared? I don't know." Sylvain leaned on the car door. "On a scale of one to ten with ten being the most likely, I'd put him killing Ubert outright at a four and Ubert being locked in a creepy dungeon beneath his house at a seven."

Felix said nothing, and the two weighed their own thoughts in silence as they drove. When his ruminations tired him, Sylvain looked out the window and watched the little town whisk past. Garreg Mach was charming. The buildings were worn, but freshly painted in bright colors, and every so often the ocean would be visible through gaps in the shops and offices. People in all stages of life walked the sidewalks, some hurrying as if late to a meeting, some laughing with friends, and some just enjoying the balmy summer sun. This was how it should be; people able to live the sort of life they choose. That was why Sylvain joined the police force-to help make sure people could live happily.

Maybe medical professionals felt this way too. After all, they joined the medical field to help keep people healthy, right? But to be a medical professional means you spend most of your time among the sick and dying. In that same way, being a police officer meant Sylvain spent most of his time facing the ugliness of what humans can do to each other, all while reaching for some amorphous utopia where all were safe and no one hurt.

Insanity. He was insane to think he could find or make such a place. Even so, he had to try. Finding Ashe Ubert would be a good step in that direction. He turned his gaze towards Felix, watching the way his hand gripped the steering wheel. Why did Felix become a detective? He wondered. He'd been Felix's partner for years, but the stoic detective wasn't much for introspective conversation.

"So. What's next?" Sylvain asked.

Felix blinked like he'd been pulled out of deep contemplation, and took a moment to reorient his thoughts. "The weak link at The Merrow-she's the next step. We need to get closer to her. If we can do that, I think she'll give up information without even realizing it."

"Annette Dominic, no 'k' at the end," Sylvain said, smiling at the memory. "I'm on it."

"No, you're not," Felix disagreed. "Like hell I'm letting you lead a mission like that. Next thing I know you'll have her convinced she's in love, then you'll do your usual routine of dazzle-and-dash." Sylvain started to interrupt, but he spoke louder over his words. "No, I'll take the lead on this one."

Sylvain barked out a laugh. "You're going to-you? You've got all the softness of a box of discount staples. How exactly do you intend to cajole information out of anyone? You don't even know how to be friends with me, let alone a woman."

"I've watched you play the fool for years. How hard can it be?"

"How hard can it…" Sylvain closed his eyes, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "Actually, I want to see this. I think this is a great idea."

"I don't care what you think; this is what's going to happen. You focus on looking into Lorenz Gloucester's background and finding the other guy The Merrow staff mentioned-von Aegir."

Sylvain nodded, hiding a smirk beneath his palm. "Great. Let me know when she realizes you have no soul and I'll try to salvage the mess."

Hello again! If there are Americans out there, I hope this helps with the current stress even if only for a moment.
Odds on Ashe being in Lorenz's basement? Anyone?
Like any good mystery, this story is building a bit slowly, but it will pay off. I'm hoping for biweekly updates if possible, though this week has absolutely destroyed my productivity so we will see.

Also I feel like Felix necessarily HAS to be a little OOC in a modern story because he's a little flat in the game (except for his supports with Annette and maybe Bernie. He can't rail about swords and murder and war here so he has to have a little deeper character.

Pixelmancer: Holy shite man, thanks! I'm so glad you're here hanging out with me! You may be very right in saying Sylvain wouldn't be an 'oi' kind of guy. Perhaps that was a bit of my own vernacular sneaking in...alas! I hope you keep following and enjoy where this story is going to go!

Rife Blemme: Thanks! Should a murder mystery be cute...? I seem to be unable to escape writing 'cutely'...but maybe that will just have to be my style haha I hope you have a great day!