Author's Notes:  So a promise is a promise, just don't expect this rapid update pattern to continue after this chapter.  Hopefully, I'll still be able to update somewhat regularly, maybe two weeks to a month. *shrug*  Finals are coming up and then I'm doing a workshop for my column so I'm going to be busy.  But I'll try to get these chapters out, though with the other unfinished stories to write for, it may seem a little erratic.

Arigatou to chibicherry, KanbiAme, FlameSolo, The Great One (*cringes* gomen), KittyNeko,  Rhea (aw, get some sleep), lozza-pilgrim (um, Thanksgiving was this week here in the US.  As for Sakura, she's cut off from communication but I'm thinking of having a chapter in her POV), Missy-chan, Kirika (a lot of questions…hopefully I'll put out the answers soon), bishounen lovah, japanfan (*hides under a rock* I fulfilled my promise)

Disclaimer:  So I was walking down the street thinking 'I don't own CCS' and then in a poof of purple magic dust, it was true.

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom

Chapter 14:  Mrs. Peacock

I will kill the person that invented ties, that is if he isn't dead already.  The opera surrounds me, high society fitted in suits and tuxedos and silk gowns and all bits of bright jewels.  Tomoeda at its best apparently. 

It's a strange thing that Tomoeda has an opera house; it's not as if this is a huge city.  Certainly not big enough to deserve this hulking building, moulded with all the money the city could spare, thick bright patterned carpets, walls bulging with textured wallpaper, chandeliers and sturdy soft furniture.  The perfect setting for the formal and informal alike, all chatting animatedly about the upcoming arias, the brilliant direction, the scenery. 

It's different for us, myself and Yamakazi, strolling almost unobtrusively around the lobby, weaving between socialites and opera connoisseurs, keens eyes searching for the one that doesn't belong.  There're thousands of people here, all amazingly similar, obscuring.  Everyone camouflages so well, like zebras, the mess of stripes hiding where one ends and the other begins. Even Fujitaka and Touya are hidden well, only a few feet off from me, but unrecognizable at momentary glance.  Suited and dressed up like the rest of us, one of the faceless crowd.

I watch Touya and almost start to regret asking for his help.  He just stands there glaring at every man that passes him, and I can almost see his mind ready to snap and pounce on the next person, accusing him of kidnapping his sister.  Thankfully, Yukito returns to his side, offering something to eat he got.  From where he got it I'll never know, but at least he has Touya suitably distracted.

I sag in relief; the last thing I need is Mizuki to hear about this arrangement.  I'm quite fond of my head thank you very much.  Overhead the 15 minute warning chimes and the flood of silk and jewels starts to make its way into the theatre, albeit very slowly.  I signal Yamakazi to head to the other side of the hall as I settle into a corner on this side.  Just lean back, act nonchalant, carefully watch everyone that passes by, scrutinize for a minute and eliminate.  Too old, women, too short. 

"Detective Li?"

I turn quickly to hush whoever called me, to protect my cover.  But I stop short, coming face to face with Tomoyo Daidouji bedecked in a gown I'm sure from out of the latest fashion magazines.  Attached to her arm to my dismay is Hiragisawa smiling for all purposes like the cat that swallowed the bird.  "Daidouji, what are you doing here?"

She looks horrified momentarily.  "What?  You think that I'd refused to do anything to help find Sakura?"  I open my mouth but find myself immediately cut off.  "And don't give me that you're a woman crap; I've had enough from Touya.  Me and Chiharu will find the kidnapper; just watch us."

I blink.  "Chiharu?  Mihara Chiharu?  The waitress?"  Daidouji nods and points over the crowd to the young woman in green, standing along in a sea of groups.  Every now and then, she takes a shrewd glance around before pretending to go back to consult the program.  It's amateurish and obvious, but maybe that's my professional eye.  Suddenly, there's movement behind her and I swallow a bitter mouthful of air.  It figures that Yamakazi's priorities are so ass backwards.  Girls first, duty second apparently.  "Mihara doesn't have a boyfriend, does she?"

Daidouji quirks her eyebrow.  "Are you interested, Officer Li?"

I grimace with the look of relish on her boyfriend's face.  "No, but I'd rather not have Yamakazi stagger out of here with a black eye."  And that's what he'll get if he doesn't stop flirting with Mihara and get back to duty.

Daidouji laughs.  "Oh, is that man the other officer?  He does seem very interested in Chiharu, doesn't he?"

"He's interested in every girl he sees."  I turn away hastily and stalk off towards Yamakazi, currently absorbed into one of his big stories I'm sure.  His hands are gesturing in big ridiculous movements; must be one of the complicated ones. 

As I approach, the girl rolls her eyes and sighs.  "That's nice, but I have something else to do."

He reaches out to keep her from leaving, but I intercept his hand and give a hard squeeze under the guise of a handshake.  I fake a smile and play my part.  "Why, Takashi, long time no see."

Chiharu seems to sigh in relief and quickly departs.  When she's out of earshot, I crush Yamakazi's hand and hiss at him.  "You're on duty; this is important.  Keep your eye on suspicious characters and off pretty girls."

He smiles disarmingly and nods, rubbing his hand.  "Sure, Syaoran.  It's all good.  But she is pretty isn't she?"

I shake my head in exasperation, just as the final warning bell goes over.  The rest of the stragglers, including Sakura's family and friends, head off into the theater.  I start off towards my post, but turn back to warn Yamakazi.  Kami-sama knows I need his undivided attention tonight.  "Don't get distracted.  I don't think Mizuki will buy the girl excuse if you screw up."

He mock salutes.  "Sure Syaoran.  Don't get yourself in a twist.  I'll be the bestest police officer ever."

I know that he's always cracks jokes, but he can get the job done when he decides to do it.  I can only hope that this one of those nights.  But all regrets vanish as I slip into a service corridor, heading backstage.

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The orchestra swells as I step out behind a thick fold of curtain, the violins and drums and cymbals crash along the packed backstage area.  Ornately costumed singers and dancers stretch and pace before their great entrance.  Another cymbal crash rings through the air into the depths of the blackness.

Backstage is at once crowded and empty, both alive with activity and dead.  Beyond the preparation area is an expanse of blackness, the audio and light control station swallowed up by the shadows.  Above are catwalks, various technicians walking back and forth, operating the curtains and overseeing the scenery.  In short, the perfect place for not being seen.

While the singers pour themselves into song, I sneak off into the darkness, picking out the odd murky shapes, abandoned costumes, some brooms, not yet used scenery.  A few light bulbs throw feeble light on the metal ladder leading up into the catwalks.  I briefly scan the area around me before I start to haul myself up rung by rung.

The ladder leads a platform, a partial second floor that half circles above the stage.  A path leads down to the light and microphone control booth, a man inside checkerboard lit by the equipment panels' green and blue lights.  I pick the next catwalk over, treading over the metal walkway towards the curtain ropes and sandbags and rolled up scenery backdrops.   A man is hoisting something but stops as he catches sight of me.  "Who are you?"

I flash my badge quickly.  "Officer Li.  I'm just checking some things."

He nods and finishes his job.  "Picked a good place to stop; you can see pretty much the whole backstage from here."

I lean over the rails and find he's right.  To the left is the stage with its yellow glare and parading singers.  Directly underneath is the warm up area bobbing with dancers limbering up.  Beyond to the right are the dim storage areas.  There's another tremendous unexpected blare from the orchestra and something in the darkness shifts.  I strain to see into the dark, make out what exactly is moving, but I can't get a definite image.  I slide a little closer to the ladder, inching into the darkness.  The shape clears up a little, two arms and a head.  Probably a crewman, but the figure doesn't look quite right, struggling with pulling something out a pile of abandoned props.  I creep a little more into the dimness, letting my eyes get accustomed to the dwindling light. It's then that I tense and grip the railing, leaning dangerously forward more to get a better look.

The figure tugs something free, lifting it over his shoulder and for a minute the dim bulb overhead makes it clearer.  It's a coil of rope.

Almost immediately, I burst into a run, pelting down the catwalk, flinging myself at the ladder and half climb, half slide down.  I try desperately to keep my eye on the figure, but it moves quickly after freeing the rope, running past the folds of the thick black curtains and disappearing into the maze of dressing rooms and rehearsal studios.  I jump the last few steps and break into a run after the man. 

It's a strange feeling running backstage.  The music has disappeared and all that remains is my feet slamming against the old polished wood floor.  I can make out another set of footsteps getting closer and I push myself faster, determined to catch the bastard.  As I turn the corner, I slam into him, sending both of us stumbling, skidding into something on the floor and toppling us both over.  A bright burst of purple in my head tells me I've hit my head, but I scrabble up instinctively and pin the other beneath me.  "You're under arrest."

"Get off Syaoran." The voice is familiar and I hiss in a pained breath and focus on the voice, trying to shake my vision clear.  When I can finally make out what's in front of me, I see Yamakazi pinned under my hands, struggling out of my grasp.  "Damn it Syaoran; he's getting away."

That's enough to get me off Yamakazi and running down the hallway, alternate flashes of bright light dancing around my head, but no less slowing me down.  I almost burst frantically through the door at the end of the hall, but find myself suddenly in the lobby, surrounded by thousands of people.  Intermission.  Hope dwindles as I search hard, but there are too many people, all acting the same way, talking, smoking, having a good time.  I head backstage fuming.  "Fuck!"  I stalk back to Yamakazi while to shake off the remaining dazed haze blanketing my brain.

Yamakazi's still on the floor, rubbing his head.  He looks up at me.  "Got him?"

I shake my head no.  "It's intermission; too many people."

He nods in understanding.  "If we didn't fucking collide and trip…"

"Yeah."  I look beyond him to what we tripped over and feel my blood run cold.  A man's body lays stretched out on the ground, the rope uncoiled around his body.  "Shit."

Yamakazi turns around following my gaze and curses softly under his breath.  He slowly slides towards the body and tentatively places two fingers at the wrist.  "Thank god, still alive, just unconscious."

I sigh with him and point towards a pouch on the floor.  "Probably knocked out by that sandbag." 

Yamakazi picks up the bag and frowns gravely.  "Mizuki won't be happy.  A federal agent knocked out and two officers who can't catch one man."

I glare at him and snatch away the rope from on top of the unconscious man.  "Don't remind me."  As I start to coil up the rope, I notice something tied to it.  A note. 

Yamakazi notices it too.  "What does it say?"

I turn the rope up towards the light, careful not to touch the paper.  The neat capitals are as mocking as ever.  "BRAVO!  ENCORE!  ANOTHER CLUE SOLVED.  MAYBE THE NEXT WILL BE A LITTLE TOUGHER.  MR. GREEN IN THE LIBRARY WITH THE LEAD PIPE.  ONE MONTH."  Silence settles around us as the warning bell chimes again and murmuring people return to their seats.  When the music restarts its overture, Yamakazi motions for us to go tell report our discovery.  I nod and follow him, looking down at the rope in my hands, morbidly planning to slip the cord tightly around the bastard's neck when I catch him.

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Author's Note:  Heh, not that good, but eh, it'll do I guess.  Anyway, now I've officially balanced out my updates, two in the past three months.  Hmm…well, sorta.  Anyway, reviews won't you?