The Loose Thread

Felix paused outside the door to The Merrow, taking a moment to uncharacteristically straighten his collar. Friends. He had to make friends with Dominic-no, Annette. Friends called each other by their first names.

Didn't they?

He needed a cigarette to deal with this.

Oh, come on. This wasn't hard. He'd watched Sylvain charm and allure so many people-if Sylvain could do it, so could he. Sylvain had nothing he didn't have, save good looks and a distinct lack of shame. Theoretically, neither of those should be the deciding factor in a friendship.

After a deep breath, he opened the door, batting at the dangling fish nets as he entered. A chorus of cheerful voices called the usual welcome!, though they sobered when they recognized who he was. "Manuela!" Dorothea called into the back. "One of the police officers is back!"

The shop was full today, which made sense as it was a Saturday. Most of the faces Felix remembered from the interviews were either behind the counter or coming in and out of the kitchen, and a few new faces were present as well. One of the new faces was behind the cash register. As Felix approached, he realized she was the girl with the braid he'd spoken to on his first visit to the cafe-the one who told him that mermaids were Garreg Mach's 'thing'. She recognized him too, for her eyes narrowed as he neared. "Do you want to order something, or are you just here to talk to Manuela," she asked, face stony.

"Just Manuela," Felix replied.

The girl's green eyes were suspicious, but not completely cold. "Then stand over there, please, so other customers can place their orders."

Felix stepped to the side, feeling off-kilter without Sylvain at his side. Sylvain was good at smoothing these sorts of interactions into something that felt almost natural. After a couple of minutes, Manuela came out from the back room and waved at him. "Detective Fraldarius, was it?" She asked, smiling at him. "Here today without your other half?"

Sylvain would have something clever to say here. Felix did not. "Yes," he finally said. "I understand your full staff is here today. I was hoping to talk to the ones we weren't able to talk to the other day."

Manuela sighed. "All business, aren't you? Well, I'm alright with it, but only if you keep them brief. It's our busiest day of the week and I need all my little sailors on deck."

"I'll keep them as brief as I can."

"Oh, and...you may have a little trouble with one of them." Manuela lowered her voice. "Bernadetta is a sweet girl, but she has anxiety and...well, she may not be as cooperative as the others."

Felix frowned. "When you say trouble...is she violent?"

"No, no," Manuela laughed, touching a hand lightly to Felix's shoulder. "Not that sort of trouble. Truth be told, when she heard you were here, she locked herself in the ladies' room. When she gets like that...there's little that can be done. I can fuss at her until my voice is hoarse, but it won't change a thing."

"I see." Felix noted the name on a pad of paper. "We'll save her for last, then."

"Actually, I'd rather you try to talk to her first so she'll come out and tend the garnishes. If you don't, I have no doubt she'll stay in the restroom until you leave."

Wanting to argue but finding no cause to, Felix reluctantly agreed. "Can you keep everyone out of the women's bathroom for a few minutes?"

Manuela winked at him, slow and fluttering. "Leave it to me."

—

After a deep sigh and an eye roll, Felix knocked on the door to the women's restroom. "Bernadetta Varley? Are you in there?" A terrified squeak was his only reply, so he knocked again. "This is Detective Fraldarius with the Faerghus Provincial Police. I'm not going to hurt you, so could you please come out so I can ask you a few questions?"

Nothing.

"Miss Varley, I'm not here to hurt you. I only want to ask you some simple questions. Please come out."

Nothing.

Irritated, Felix knocked a third time. "Miss Varley, if you don't come out, I'm going to be forced to enter the restroom. I'd rather not do that. "

"No!" A thin, reedy voice shrilled. "No, no, don't come in! Why would you ask Bernie questions? Bernie doesn't know anything!"

"Anything about what?"

"A-about anything!"

So this was the 'trouble' the manager had been talking about. Not for the last time, Felix wished he'd brought Sylvain. Sympathy wasn't a trait Felix actively cultivated, and someone must have ripped out the part of his police manual that discussed how to coax anxious waitresses out of bathrooms. Looking back, he found a few of The Merrow's staff members watching him, which made him more eager to be done with this. "Listen. Neither of us want a scene. If you come out and answer one question, I'll leave you be."

He could hear her breathing hard behind the bathroom door, and she whined in the back of her throat before answering. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"It has to be a real promise. Like a pinky promise. B-but I don't want to touch you! Oh goddess, why did I say that? Stupid Bernie! No touching!"

A scene where he kicked open the door and possibly set the restaurant on fire flashed through Felix's mind, but he breathed it away. "I promise on my word as a police officer and as a man."

After another moment of silence, the bathroom door opened slowly and a small woman with short purple hair peered out through the crack. Her hair was disheveled, like she'd been pulling at it, and her eyes were wide with fear. For an instant, Felix thought she might be the woman Lorenz had described in his story, but this Bernadetta was pale to the point of translucence and childlike in figure, and the only thing under her eyes were dark circles like bruises.

She scowled at him and he remembered what he was doing. He had promised only one question, so he needed to make it as comprehensive as possible. "You have to make your answer long enough to satisfy me," he told her. "A one word answer won't count."

Her scowl deepened into a furious pout, but she nodded. He reached for his notepad, but dropped his hands when she flinched. No notepad, then; chances were low she'd give him anything worth writing down anyway. "Do you know anything about the disappearance of Ashe Ubert, one of your customers here?"

She blinked, big grey eyes flickering between his face and the group of her coworkers behind him. Her hands tightened on the door and she shook her head. "No, I don't know anything about it. I didn't talk to him much because I-I don't like people, but I heard he's a nice guy and...um…!" Her eyes closed tightly, like she was in pain. "I-I hope you find him! There!"

Felix watched her tremble, feeling both annoyed and oddly guilty. "Did-"

"No!" She screeched, eyes flying open to glare at him. "You said one question!"

Nodding, Felix stepped back from the door. "You're right. I appreciate your cooperation and...you're free to go."

She hesitated as if unsure if he truly meant what he said, then the door snapped closed and Felix heard her breath a sigh of relief. A set of footsteps approached him from behind, and the girl Annette had called Mercy nudged him aside, putting a hand to the bathroom door. "You did a good job, Bernie! Now how about that cake I promised?"

"Cake?" Bernadetta's voice immediately calmed, even sounding hopeful through the door. "...what flavor?"

"Peach current. And there's whipped cream!"

"...alright. T-tell Manuela I'll be in the kitchen in a few minutes."

Mercedes turned around and smiled at the officer. "She's a smart girl; you just have to know how to motivate her properly."

"Do you have time for a short interview?" Felix asked, though he already felt drained as if Bernadetta's anxiety had sapped his strength instead of her own.

"No, I have to go warm up Bernie's cake, but I can come get you when I'm finished." Her smile left no room for argument.

Felix nodded. There were others to talk to.

"How about me?" An unfamiliar voice offered. Felix turned to see who had spoken; it was a tall young man leaning against the wall with a friendly smirk. "I've got a few minutes."

—

"Claude von Riegan," the man said, leaning back in his chair, entirely at ease. His bright green eyes were merry, but their uncanny sharpness reminded Felix of Lysithea von Cordelia from the previous round of interviews.

"What's your job here?"

"Jack of all trades. Toilet unclogger. Blender fixer. Bubble waffle sampler. Hilda motivator. Professional creep scarer-awayer." Claude shrugged. "I was technically hired as a handyman, but you name it and I've probably done it."

"You scare away a lot of creeps?"

"Nah, not that many. Sometimes if one of the girls gets a bad feeling about a customer they'll have me stay with them while they lock up."

"Is it strange being the only man working with a staff of all women?"

Claude shook his head, laughing a little. "Not at all. Men and women...we're all just people. The ones who see women as a different breed are the ones who have a hard time understanding them."

Felix shifted in his seat. This man was as calm as if he were on his own sofa watching television, but in Felix's experience, the calmest interviewees were the ones who were practiced liars. "Did you know Ashe Ubert well?"

"I more knew of him than knew him," Claude explained. "I'm not usually asked to work with customers, so most of what I knew about him came from what my coworkers said. He seemed like a really decent guy from what I heard, so it's a shame he's missing."

"Did you ever overhear anything suspicious about him?"

"Yeah, I heard a lot of dangerous plots from the girls." Claude grinned when Felix's attention sharpened. "Plots to get him on the beach so they could see him in a swimsuit. No murder plots, though, sorry."

Felix clenched his jaw. "You have a lot of guts to be so glib with a detective in an active investigation."

Halfway truly remorseful and halfway even more amused, Claude put his hands together in apology. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're just so serious; I couldn't help it. You're like a cop on TV, you know? I kind of expected you to pull out a flashlight and shine it in my face and grill me about the speeding ticket I got when I was sixteen. I'll be serious from now on, I promise."

The twinkle in Claude's eyes did not support his promise, but Felix pushed on. "How about Lorenz Gloucester? Do you know anything about him?"

"Ah, right. Lorenz. He's definitely a problem. He and Ferdinand are probably why I was hired in the first place."

"Go on."

"He's one of those guys I was talking about earlier-the ones that see women as aliens or some different species. He comes in and tries to hit on the girls-usually Dorothea and Ingrid-even when they've made it clear they're not interested. Since they hired me, they just give me a call when he shows up and I get him to leave."

"How do you do that?"

Claude winked at Felix. "Easy. I hit on him even more aggressively than he hits on them. Works every time."

Felix thought of Lorenz and nearly smiled at the thought. "Do you think Gloucester has the capacity to hurt someone?"

"That's...a good question." Claude sat forward, a strange expression crossing his face. "Truthfully, I don't know. He's a strange guy. But you'd think that if he was going to snap on anyone, he'd snap on me."

"Have you ever worried that he might?"

"No way. I can hold my own in a fight." Claude's smirk was back.

Had he been in many fights to know this? "One last question." Felix also sat forward, lowering his voice. "Has anything at The Merrow ever felt...off to you?"

A long, heavy silence followed the question, and Claude seemed to be evaluating Felix harder than ever. "No," he said finally, leaning back again and throwing his arms behind his head.

Pushing into that hesitation, Felix lowered his voice even further. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah." Claude met his eyes, though his smile was made of wood. "This place? Just a regular cafe."

—

Felix stared into his tea, deep in thought. He'd been close to something, he felt it; something Claude was saying with his eyes, though his mouth spoke reassurances. After the interview, Claude had wished him luck with the investigation, then returned to work. Now he was comfortably occupied with teasing Hilda at the smoothie station, as unrattled as ever.

He'd looked for Mercedes, but Lysithea apologized on her behalf, saying she'd been asked to tend the beach bar while Manuela spoke with a business associate on the phone. Ingrid was available, but Felix decided to have Sylvain finish them another day. The two he'd already done had exhausted his pool of patience. Now he was simply waiting...and thinking.

"You called for me?"

Felix looked up to see Annette Dominic-without-a-k-at-the-end standing beside his booth, a serving tray clutched like a shield in her arms and an apprehensive look on her face. "Yes. Sit down." A beat. "Please."

Annette's apprehension deepened, but she slid into the seat across from him, still holding the tray to her chest. "Did you...need something?"

Friends. Friends. Friendly.

"Yes, actually." Felix cleared his throat, wishing he'd practiced his lie more. He disliked lying, even in the service of the greater good. "Believe it or not, I'm a writer, too. It's why I took Ashe Ubert's case-I felt a connection. I've been...writing articles for a travel website for a couple of years now, and I'd like to write one on Garreg Mach."

"Oh," Annette said, her grip on the tray loosening a bit.

"Thing is...I need a local to be my guide around town and show me the scene tourists don't usually experience. I wanted to ask you to be my guide. We'll keep my police work separate, of course." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, placing it on the table. "You can take me around at your pace. I'll pay you well."

Annette's eyes hesitated on his worn leather wallet before drifting up to meet his expectant gaze. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let the tray lean forward into her lap. "Wow. Gotta say, you surprised me." Now that the fear had leached from her face, her eyebrows were quirked in curiosity. "It's not a bad offer, and I love Garreg Mach, but...why me? Wouldn't you rather have someone who was born here be your guide?"

"You live here, don't you?"

"I do, but I've only ever worked here during the summer. Out of season I live near Fhirdiad."

She was a summer hire. That was news to him. He'd assumed they were all locals, though such an assumption was foolish in a tourist town. "I'm mostly interested in the summer scene, anyway, so it's not a problem," he said quickly, lest she refer him to someone else. "What do you say?"

"Um…" She hesitated, looking down at his wallet again. "I'm not against the idea. Can I have a couple of days to think it over? I'll have an answer to you by Monday!"

He nodded. "Sure." He had hoped she'd say yes outright, but a 'maybe' was better than a 'no'. "We'll make sure it doesn't interfere with your job here, of course."

"Right. Manuela would drown me if I skipped work for another job," Annette laughed. "Kidding!" She corrected herself with a jolt. "I'm only kidding! Manuela would never do something like that!" She bit her lip, as if punishing herself.

The worry on her face made the corners of Felix's mouth twitch up, but he was able to pull his face into submission before she noticed. This woman is ridiculous, he thought, mentally cursing himself for his involuntary response. Like an anxious child. It would be easy to get information out of her. "This is the booth in which Ubert sat, isn't it?" He asked casually as if Lysithea hadn't already confirmed it.

Annette pulled herself out of her thoughts to ogle him. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I told you; I'm a writer. This booth is perfect for writing."

A softness passed over Annette's features, and she chuckled. "Sorry it's just...Ashe said the same thing."

"He had good instincts," Felix said, looking away. "I thought maybe he would have carved his initials in the wood of the table or something, but I didn't find anything of the sort."

"I don't think he'd do something like that," Annette replied. "He has some funny quirks, but he's too respectful to deface property-especially ours. He saw Ingrid tell off plenty of customers for leaving their trash on the tables or making a mess, so I'm sure he'd want to avoid that possibly happening to him."

"What kind of quirks did he have?" Felix tried to sound light and conversational as if he weren't fishing for information.

Annette thought, putting her fist to her chin. "One time I saw him pull a pencil out from under the booth cushion. I asked him about it and he said he's always hidden things under cushions, even when he was a little boy. After he stopped coming to the cafe, we had to clean out all the story notes he left under the cushion you're sitting on. And, um, he carried a talisman around to ward off ghosts, 'cuz he said he saw a ghost once." Her lips tightened. "I almost asked him to make me one. I hate ghosts and I hate ghost stories."

"Ghost stories are for children," Felix said derisively. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"How would you know?" Annette frowned at him.

"If anyone would be plagued by ghosts, it would be me. I've seen and dealt with enough corpses to fill all your nightmares."

The thought seemed to drain blood from Annette's face. "Don't you think that some people are more sensitive to things like ghosts than others, though? Maybe you don't see them because you can't."

Felix snorted. "With our scientific advancements, there's no excuse for believing in fairy tales and cryptids. If ghosts or pixies or mermaids or abominable snowmen were real, we would have found them by now."

"Maybe...they just don't want to be found. After all, humans tend to trap and kill anything they don't understand." Annette hugged herself. "There's a lot of mysteries we don't have answers to-like if aliens exist, or what happens after you die. I've never seen a ghost, but I'd rather not take the chance. No way, no how!"

Ridiculous, Felix thought again, watching her shiver. "Be scared if you like," he said, crossing his arms. "I take it you won't be taking me on any ghost tours as my guide."

"Absolutely not!" Annette stood, shaking her head, then caught herself. "If...if I take the job, that is. I've got to get back to work now, though. I'll let you know my decision the next time I see you."

She left, and Felix pocketed his wallet again after throwing some bills down on the table for the tea. Something Annette had said had sparked a question in his mind, and it was his job to answer questions.

—

Captain Edelgard and Lieutenant von Vestra were outside Ubert's apartment on a conference call when he pulled up, and they eyed him curiously as he climbed the stairs. "I left something in the apartment," he explained over the breezeway lattice. "I'll only be a moment."

Lieutenant von Vestra looked meaningfully at Captain Edelgard, and she opened her mouth, but a voice Felix immediately recognized as Captain Blaiddyd's sounded from the speakerphone in her hand, interrupting her. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes, apologies," Captain Edelgard said quickly. "As I was saying, I don't believe I need to repeat myself for a third time. You know as well as I what's at stake here."

Blaiddyd's voice responded curtly yet politely, but Felix had already slipped away into the apartment. He peeked into each room, finding them empty. Good, he thought, still not sure why he'd lied to Captain Edelgard earlier. For someone who abhorred liars, he'd told an uncomfortable number of untruths today. If he found something, he'd let her know, he told himself. No need to salt a pot that wasn't even boiling.

Once he was satisfied he was alone, he started work on the living room, pulling the cushions up on the couch and loveseat one by one. Aside from a half-eaten bag of peanut M&Ms stashed under one of the loveseat cushions, they were empty. Undaunted, he checked the kitchen, but all the seats were wooden and had no cushions.

He pulled the mattress in the bedroom up, running a hand under it and bending down to peek beneath the springs. Nothing.

Last was the plushy amaranth-colored chair. He lifted the cushion and felt his heart stutter when it revealed a simple leather-bound notebook. A sixth notebook, he thought, staring at it like he'd found Ubert himself curled beneath that cushion. After a moment, he dropped the cushion and fished in his pockets, pulling out a pair of latex gloves. He donned them, then lifted the cushion again and grabbed the notebook, weighing it in his hand before opening it and quickly flipping through the pages. There was a note stuck in the pages, as well as a dried flower and a few other odds and ends that begged for closer examination.

In the kitchen there was a box with plastic bags in which all evidence was to be placed and catalogued. Felix slid the notebook into a large bag and pulled off his gloves, preparing to leave the apartment and alert Captain Edelgard, but his feet stopped before he reached the front door.

Something nudged him from deep within and he stared at the doorknob, bag in hand. He'd told Captain Edelgard-assured her-that he and the Province intended to work cooperatively, that he would turn over all evidence and keep no secrets...yet his intuition stopped him, refusing to let him take another step. The notebook grew heavier and heavier, and he felt that if he dropped it, it would crash to the wooden floor with a boom that would shake all of Garreg Mach.

Almost against his will, his hand slowly tucked the bag into his pocket, smoothing the fabric to where it was only noticeable if closely scrutinized. He would examine it first, then he would, without a doubt, turn it over to the GMPD. After all, if they took it from him now to investigate, he likely wouldn't be able to lay hands on it again for days, if not weeks, while it was processed.

This only made sense. He was a detective, damn it, and he needed access to evidence in order to do his job. Captain Edelgard would understand...and it would be the smallest of untruths to add to his growing list if he told her he'd only just found the notebook tomorrow or the day after. Of course he would wear gloves when he handled it, so as not to spoil the evidence.

Captain Edelgard was still arguing heartily with Captain Blaiddyd when he walked past them, and she barely acknowledged his passing with a jerk of her head, though Lieutenant von Vestra's eyes followed him all the way to his car. The notebook burned a hole in Felix's pocket, but he relished the molten thrill pulsing through his veins.

He'd found the loose thread.

Brad Pitt yells 'what's in the book? WHAT'S IN THE FCKIN BOOK?'
The thing about dopey people like me and Annette is you never expect us to lie and/or you expect us to be shite at it, so you never see it coming. That's our secret weapon.

soojinah: Wahhhh thank you for your lovely lovely comment! I'm so happy you found this story and I hope you continue to enjoy it! I feel like all the Three Houses characters end up transferring very easily to modern times...with perhaps the exception of Felix, hilariously enough. Manuela is especially a very modern woman. She was born for the 21st century. You know, I've never really put a lot of thought into Sylvain/Mercedes but I think it would actually be really wonderful? They're both actually sweet children who need each other to support and love?