Defective Detective
Part II: Dun-Dun-Dun-Duunn…
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"I'm a bit curious as to how you managed to hold all that water in your hat," Anita remarked, running a hand through her slightly tangled curling hair and straightening the bodice of her dress. Lobo had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and, though she didn't know the eccentric group of people, Secret was positive that she did not want to know why.
"Subspace pocket," she answered simply, fixing her hat back over her head. At the stares she was receiving, she slapped herself in the face. "Wrong era?"
"No kidding," Cissie grinned, an arm hung over "Archduke Ferdinand's" shoulder. ("Archduke Ferdinand" being a tied-up Bart.)
"Are we done yet?" Timothy sighed, fixing each with a deadly stare. "Good. Now, Anita, I need to ask you some questions, all right?" He waited a bit for a reply and he heard "yes" just as a nameless extra finished mopping up the water. "Miss Secret here has received two notes from a killer. Her parents were both murdered after the first note and we have reason to suspect she herself is the next target."
Cue lightning/thunder/orchestra music.
"Have you heard any gossip lately that could be relevant to Miss Secret's case? Seen anyone suspicious?"
Anita chewed thoughtfully on her lip, propping her chin up in her hand, elbows placed on the slippery-wet counter. "Maybe," she finally said, slowly. "There was a man here yesterday: dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair." Secret's face paled in a sort of sickly fright. "Rather arrogant fellow, too. Called himself 'Harm.' He watched Cissie and I like a hawk 'til Lobo and Bart showed up for an afternoon drink." She shuddered, and there was soft, eerie music playing from somewhere: a violin slowly etching out a cruel melody. "He gave me the willies."
Does anybody else hear that music?, Timothy wondered briefly before his analytical mind began to efficiently note details. "How about you, Cissie?" he inquired.
"Same thing," was her response, "except that I saw him smiling at the newspapers he had with him. I think he was reading obituaries." Secret gripped the counter tightly enough so that her knuckles were white, lips drawn into tense lines. Not Billy…not again, not now.
Lobo downed his drink quickly, not so much as flinching as the fiery liquid made its way down his throat. Setting his glass down, he turned to Timothy. "I seen 'im before," he stated indifferently. All heads swiveled to him. "Guy was arrested a coupla years for murder. Name's Billy, but 'e call hisself Harm."
The lights in the bar flickered in true ominous fashion as yet another flash of lightning and roll of thunder occurred, followed by the orchestra music. Timothy's left eye started twitching and he clamped a hand over it. "I swear," he hissed in a strangled voice, "so help me God, if that happens ONE MORE TIME…"
To spite him, the lightning/thunder/orchestra music combo ignited once more.
Whipping his revolver out of the holster hanging off his belt, Timothy moved to lunge towards the door. Secret grabbed his arm before he could actually complete the act of violence (by the time she managed to catch his arm, he had already fired a shot, hitting an off-screen cellist – the mourning lasted for a whole second before he was replaced), accidentally being tugged off her stool. Her skirt and overcoat flared up mortifyingly.
Bart's mouth dropped open and Cissie's hand fisted, trembling dangerously as she restrained herself from slugging the all-but-drooling man. Anita, having no such self-restraints, slapped a grinning Lobo across the face, a frown curving her lips downward. "Pig," she scowled at him.
"Thank-you," he returned, smiling.
