Sorry about the long wait! I've had soooo much homework lately, and this
chapter's been sitting half-finished on my hard-drive for over a week! I
made it extra long to make up for the wait. Enjoy! ^_^
Yuvia- I'm glad you like my story! But you're off the money with Simon Langley, I'm telling you now! ^_^
Eliza- Yo! Haven't seen you around in a while! Hope Grad was fun! ^_^ I WANT FREEDOM!!!
Chris- You'd never believe how much trouble those stupid chapter titles give me. ^^;
Soulful sin- ^^; Sorry the confrontation wasn't up to your expectations... I suppose this one won't be either... But bare with me? I'm going in a different direction than most people figured I would, I guess. But I hope you still like it!
Blackheart Syoaran- NO! Don't hate Folsom! **loves Folsom** She's brillinat! ^_^ But you're right, Poor Auggie! I pick on him too much I think... ^^;
________
What on earth was she playing at? That's what was running through Fillmore's head. And whose side was she on, anyway? She wasn't on the bad guy side, since she was working against them, and she wasn't on the good guy side, because she wasn't working with him. Just using him to find her own ends.
Who was he kidding? This girl played by her own rules. Her purpose was to cruise through school and have everything to her own advantage. The only thing that didn't fit with that picture, though, was the fact that she was sticking her nose in some potentially dangerous business. Sure, maybe she could get involved in whatever scheme this was and make some money, but Third was more of a solo girl. Group work wasn't to her taste.
So why was she asking him to look into this Langley kid? Fillmore sighed and shook his head. No matter how many times he went around everything, he only ended up with more questions. Third really was a puzzle. But she didn't act carelessly. She wouldn't have asked him to look up Simon if she hadn't wanted him involved in this. Because she knew he would get involved. No, this was a very calculated move on her part. So two more questions: 'What is the equation?' and 'What is the answer?'.
A shadow fell across his desk. Fillmore looked up from his computer to find Vallejo looking down at him. 'Hard at work. That's nice to see. What'cha doing, Fillmore?'
Fillmore leaned back and stretched. 'Following up a lead.'
Vallejo eyed him skeptically and swiveled the monitor around so he could read it. 'Simon Langley? Exactly where is this lead leading you?'
'I have no clue,' Fillmore replied.
'Fillmore,' Vallejo said, his voice taking on a serious edge, 'We don't have time to be running around chasing science nerds. If Stingray isn't caught soon, Folsom's gonna have this place turned into a cold-cut storage facility.'
'I know,' Fillmore interjected. 'Look, all I was given was a name. Just let me follow it up, and if I can't find a connection, I'll drop it.'
'Fine. Just get on with it already.' Vallejo was rubbing his temples now.
'Thanks man.' Fillmore jumped up and grabbed his jacket. According to the school records, Langley had put in a motion to run a scientific experiment with the school council over 20 times, and it was refused all twenty. The first thing he needed was a copy of that motion. Then he'd talk to Langley.
A few metres from the door to Student Council, Fillmore picked up the sound of Peabody's raised voice. So the guy was still on a power trip. He just never stopped. Fillmore pushed open the door and slid inside unnoticed.
It seemed Peabody was still tearing up the Measuring Tape Guy. Said guy was just ignoring Peabody. Completely. He must've given up reasoning a while ago. Peabody turned his attention to another guy sitting at a desk outside Peabody's office. The nameplate on the desk read Assistant to Mr. Peabody: Freddie Klein.
The assistant fumbled around with a stack of papers that had just come out of the printer and offered them to Peabody, who promptly snatched them out of his hand. Glancing at the papers, he turned a deep shade of red, then stormed into his office. The whole room shuddered at the slamming of the door. Measuring Tape Guy took this as his cue to leave and exited through the door Fillmore had come in.
The assistant went back to typing on his computer, and all in all looked relatively unphased by what had just happened. Fillmore could sense a look of relief behind his eyes, though.
He approached the desk and cleared his throat. The assistant looked up. 'Can I help you?'
'Safety Patrol, Officer Cornelius Fillmore,' he flashed his badge. A flittering look of panic crossed Freddie's face. 'I was wondering if I could get a copy of a motion put in by Simon Langley last month.'
'Oh, sure. Just wait while I pull it up... Here it is. Normally I charge 10 cents a page-school policy-but since you're on police business I'll wave the fee.'
'Thanks,' Fillmore took the papers from the assistant. 'See ya round.'
In a change of direction, Fillmore headed over to the science labs. Langley would probably be found there. While he walked, he read through the motion he'd just had printed off.
Supposedly this guy, however much of a science nerd, was violently opposed to animal dissection in schools. He put in repeated motions to have it banned, but with no success. The school felt it beneficial to education that students partake in animal dissections, so Langley was turned down.
Fillmore knocked on the door of the science lab. A small brown-haired boy in a lab coat and goggles answered the door. 'May I help you?'
'Yeah,' Fillmore flashed his badge. 'I'm looking for Simon Langley.'
'Oh. Simon doesn't come to Chemistry Club on Tuesdays.'
'Really? Why not?'
'I don't know. Some other commitment.' 'Hey Elliot!' another goggle-eyed student called from the back of the room.
The brown-haired boy turned around and looked over his shoulder. 'Yeah, what is it?'
'I can't find the hydrochloric acid! You know where it is?'
'I'll be there in a sec,' he turned back to Fillmore. 'Sorry, got to go.'
'No problem. Thanks for your help.'
Fillmore walked with a lagging pace back to HQ. He seemed incredibly off- beat lately; nothing seemed to be working out right. Then again, maybe the answers were staring him right in the face and he just couldn't see it. As he walked past the entrance to the cafeteria, he noticed the Tape Measure Guy back at work. He went over and leaned against the doorway.
'So what was Peabody so happy about?' he asked.
The Tape Measure Guy rolled his eyes. 'Alls I'm supposed to do is measure this space here for the new vending machines. Then this Peabody guy comes over, asks me what I'm doing. I tell him: "I'm measuring for the new vending machines". He says: "What vending machine?", and I say: "The ones I've been told to measure for!". Well, the guy blows his top, sayin' "There are no new vending machines in the budget we planned last week!".'
'And so I'm all, "Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" Then he drags me back to his office and has his assistant print off a copy of the budget. 'O course, there're vending machines. So here I am, where I was two hours ago, doin' a job that shoulda taken five minutes.'
'Tough luck,' Fillmore sympathized. Odd thing about the budget though, Peabody usually had a handle on those sorts of things.
__________
'Dill or BBQ?'
Ingrid's eyes scrapped open, sticky and red with sleep. Her head was pounding. She tried to lift her head off of the pillow, but it just made the room spin. Giving up, she flopped back down.
'You there, Third?'
Oh. So that's what woke her up. She reached out her arm and it blindly landed on her night table. Without re-opening her eyes, she felt around for the walkie-talkie she'd lifted from Fillmore's desk.
'What do you want, Fillmore?'
'I can't decide between Dill or BBQ chips. Help me out,' Fillmore replied.
Ingrid rolled her eyes, or she would've if they were open. 'Not the best choice for breakfast. Why are you bugging me this early, anyway?'
'It's 2:30 in the afternoon! Where are you, Third?'
That was enough to make her eyes open. She shot up, ignoring the pounding in her head, and looking at the clock on her night table. It read 2:37pm. 'Crackers!'
'Sleep in?'
'Shut up, Fillmore,' she growled. Why hadn't her dad or sister woken her up? She jumped out of bed and ran around her room collecting various articles of clothing. Then, reaching down to pick up a pair of socks off the floor – 'Oof!'
'Third, you okay? I heard a crash,' Fillmore's voice came over the walkie- talkie.
Ingrid lay on the floor for a moment, holding her head. The whole room seemed like it was shaking. Slowly, she picked up the walkie-talkie from where it had fallen beside her. 'I think I'm sick,' she said into it.
'The invincible Ingrid Third gets sick!' he sounded scandalized.
She scowled, though he couldn't see her. This wasn't funny. She never got sick. And her head wouldn't stop pounding. And she couldn't think straight... And why was she on the floor? Oh yeah, she'd fallen...
'So, are you going to answer my question anytime soon?' his voice interrupted her swimming thoughts.
'What question was that?'
'Dill or BBQ?'
Her scowl deepened. She didn't like being messed around with like this. It was so juvenile. 'Screw you, Fillmore.' Ingrid then turned off the walkie- talkie and flung it as best she could in her weakened state across the room.
She'd just missed a whole day of school, been harassed by a Safety Patrol Officer, fallen ill, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get up off the floor. Today wasn't her day. Good thing she'd slept most of it away. In a way she was kind of glad no one had gotten her up this morning, now.
With great effort, she pushed herself up and staggered back over to her bed. What a waste. She'd had a bunch of things to do today. Check up on Freddie Klein for one thing. He was key in all of this, he had to be. And Simon Langley... Maybe Fillmore had found out some things about him...
Ingrid figured she must have fallen asleep, because she found herself being woken up by the sound of the doorbell. 'Of all days to forget her key,' Ingrid mumbled as she untwisted herself from her blankets and went downstairs to let Ariella in. She was pleased to find that the house wasn't spinning anymore.
Ingrid opened the door, but it wasn't Ariella.
'Ingrid.'
'How'd you get my address?' she snapped.
'I didn't have to hack for it, if that's what you mean. It's kept on file for questioning purposes when you're involved in a crime,' Fillmore replied coolly.
'Why are you here?'
'Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stay out here on the porch?'
Ingrid eyed him warily, then stepped out of the way.
'Thank you,' Fillmore said. 'Feeling better?' he asked after she'd closed the door.
'Will you tell me why you're here now?' she questioned, ignoring his polite inquires.
Fillmore smiled, more to himself than to her. 'You like to get straight to the point, don't you? I brought over the information I found on Simon Langley. Thought you might like a look at it.' He pulled a stack of papers out of his backpack.
'You talk to him?' She took the papers and went into the kitchen, motioning for him to follow.
'No, he's nowhere to be found on Tuesday afternoons, it seems.'
'Likes organic chemistry, does he?'
'Huh?' 'There's a note attached to his transcript, from his science teacher. Says he's very gifted in organic chemistry. Looks like a recommendation for some fancy science program.' Third looked mildly impressed. 'He must be pretty advanced for our grade level.'
'I just can't find a connection between him and the Stingray case,'' Fillmore said, watching for Third's reaction.
'What made you think there was a connection?' Third replied, eyeing him back.
Fillmore hardened. 'Look, my job is a serious one. I don't have time to play games with you, Third. You can't just call me up whenever you feel like it and expect me to do your biding!'
Third turned on him, but in a nonchalant manner, ignoring his tone of voice. 'Talk to Langley, or at least someone who knows him. You've got a motive, here, that would stand up at trial. He's angry with the school for allowing animal dissections. So just talk to him. I guarantee you there's something here, something that doesn't add up.'
Fillmore was tempted to rub his temples, the way Vallejo did when he was upset. But, surprisingly, Third beat him to it. 'Would you mind leaving now?' she asked.
'Still sick?'
She threw him a contemptuous look. 'I could hardly have gotten better in the space of one hour, Fillmore.'
He raised an eyebrow, and she could tell he was making a note of how grouchy she could be when she put her mind to it.
'Sit down,' he instructed.
'Why?'
'You haven't had anything to eat yet, have you? Sit down. I'll put something together. You'll feel better with some food in your stomach.'
Ingrid obeyed, too tired to fight and rather amused. Officer Cornelius Fillmore was in her kitchen making her breakfast. Or, close enough to breakfast, anyway. But her amusement didn't show on her face; it was more of an ironic sort of hilarity anyway.
________
Auggie thumped against the bathroom wall, and the bigger boy pinned him there. On either side he was flanked by two more goons, both massaging their knuckles, waiting to have their turns hitting him. 'Thought you got the message,' the biggest guy said.
'Loud and clear,' Auggie replied, his voice containing a false cheeriness.
'Obviously not loud enough,' and with that another punch connected with Auggie's stomach. The small boy tried to double over in pain, but he was held upright by a firm grip.
'You think this hurts,' the guy snickered. 'We catch you snooping around again, you OR your girl friend, and you'll learn a new meaning of pain.'
The bug guy dropped Auggie and backed off, letting his two 'friends' have goes kicking him while he lay crumpled on the floor.
________
Next Chapter: Things are getting dangerous! When Ingrid finally stumbles on a connection, will she be safe? And will the relationship forming between her and Fillmore be enough to pull them through the rocky events ahead? To find out, read the next chapter of The Scales Tipped, same bat time, same bat channel! ^_^
Yuvia- I'm glad you like my story! But you're off the money with Simon Langley, I'm telling you now! ^_^
Eliza- Yo! Haven't seen you around in a while! Hope Grad was fun! ^_^ I WANT FREEDOM!!!
Chris- You'd never believe how much trouble those stupid chapter titles give me. ^^;
Soulful sin- ^^; Sorry the confrontation wasn't up to your expectations... I suppose this one won't be either... But bare with me? I'm going in a different direction than most people figured I would, I guess. But I hope you still like it!
Blackheart Syoaran- NO! Don't hate Folsom! **loves Folsom** She's brillinat! ^_^ But you're right, Poor Auggie! I pick on him too much I think... ^^;
________
What on earth was she playing at? That's what was running through Fillmore's head. And whose side was she on, anyway? She wasn't on the bad guy side, since she was working against them, and she wasn't on the good guy side, because she wasn't working with him. Just using him to find her own ends.
Who was he kidding? This girl played by her own rules. Her purpose was to cruise through school and have everything to her own advantage. The only thing that didn't fit with that picture, though, was the fact that she was sticking her nose in some potentially dangerous business. Sure, maybe she could get involved in whatever scheme this was and make some money, but Third was more of a solo girl. Group work wasn't to her taste.
So why was she asking him to look into this Langley kid? Fillmore sighed and shook his head. No matter how many times he went around everything, he only ended up with more questions. Third really was a puzzle. But she didn't act carelessly. She wouldn't have asked him to look up Simon if she hadn't wanted him involved in this. Because she knew he would get involved. No, this was a very calculated move on her part. So two more questions: 'What is the equation?' and 'What is the answer?'.
A shadow fell across his desk. Fillmore looked up from his computer to find Vallejo looking down at him. 'Hard at work. That's nice to see. What'cha doing, Fillmore?'
Fillmore leaned back and stretched. 'Following up a lead.'
Vallejo eyed him skeptically and swiveled the monitor around so he could read it. 'Simon Langley? Exactly where is this lead leading you?'
'I have no clue,' Fillmore replied.
'Fillmore,' Vallejo said, his voice taking on a serious edge, 'We don't have time to be running around chasing science nerds. If Stingray isn't caught soon, Folsom's gonna have this place turned into a cold-cut storage facility.'
'I know,' Fillmore interjected. 'Look, all I was given was a name. Just let me follow it up, and if I can't find a connection, I'll drop it.'
'Fine. Just get on with it already.' Vallejo was rubbing his temples now.
'Thanks man.' Fillmore jumped up and grabbed his jacket. According to the school records, Langley had put in a motion to run a scientific experiment with the school council over 20 times, and it was refused all twenty. The first thing he needed was a copy of that motion. Then he'd talk to Langley.
A few metres from the door to Student Council, Fillmore picked up the sound of Peabody's raised voice. So the guy was still on a power trip. He just never stopped. Fillmore pushed open the door and slid inside unnoticed.
It seemed Peabody was still tearing up the Measuring Tape Guy. Said guy was just ignoring Peabody. Completely. He must've given up reasoning a while ago. Peabody turned his attention to another guy sitting at a desk outside Peabody's office. The nameplate on the desk read Assistant to Mr. Peabody: Freddie Klein.
The assistant fumbled around with a stack of papers that had just come out of the printer and offered them to Peabody, who promptly snatched them out of his hand. Glancing at the papers, he turned a deep shade of red, then stormed into his office. The whole room shuddered at the slamming of the door. Measuring Tape Guy took this as his cue to leave and exited through the door Fillmore had come in.
The assistant went back to typing on his computer, and all in all looked relatively unphased by what had just happened. Fillmore could sense a look of relief behind his eyes, though.
He approached the desk and cleared his throat. The assistant looked up. 'Can I help you?'
'Safety Patrol, Officer Cornelius Fillmore,' he flashed his badge. A flittering look of panic crossed Freddie's face. 'I was wondering if I could get a copy of a motion put in by Simon Langley last month.'
'Oh, sure. Just wait while I pull it up... Here it is. Normally I charge 10 cents a page-school policy-but since you're on police business I'll wave the fee.'
'Thanks,' Fillmore took the papers from the assistant. 'See ya round.'
In a change of direction, Fillmore headed over to the science labs. Langley would probably be found there. While he walked, he read through the motion he'd just had printed off.
Supposedly this guy, however much of a science nerd, was violently opposed to animal dissection in schools. He put in repeated motions to have it banned, but with no success. The school felt it beneficial to education that students partake in animal dissections, so Langley was turned down.
Fillmore knocked on the door of the science lab. A small brown-haired boy in a lab coat and goggles answered the door. 'May I help you?'
'Yeah,' Fillmore flashed his badge. 'I'm looking for Simon Langley.'
'Oh. Simon doesn't come to Chemistry Club on Tuesdays.'
'Really? Why not?'
'I don't know. Some other commitment.' 'Hey Elliot!' another goggle-eyed student called from the back of the room.
The brown-haired boy turned around and looked over his shoulder. 'Yeah, what is it?'
'I can't find the hydrochloric acid! You know where it is?'
'I'll be there in a sec,' he turned back to Fillmore. 'Sorry, got to go.'
'No problem. Thanks for your help.'
Fillmore walked with a lagging pace back to HQ. He seemed incredibly off- beat lately; nothing seemed to be working out right. Then again, maybe the answers were staring him right in the face and he just couldn't see it. As he walked past the entrance to the cafeteria, he noticed the Tape Measure Guy back at work. He went over and leaned against the doorway.
'So what was Peabody so happy about?' he asked.
The Tape Measure Guy rolled his eyes. 'Alls I'm supposed to do is measure this space here for the new vending machines. Then this Peabody guy comes over, asks me what I'm doing. I tell him: "I'm measuring for the new vending machines". He says: "What vending machine?", and I say: "The ones I've been told to measure for!". Well, the guy blows his top, sayin' "There are no new vending machines in the budget we planned last week!".'
'And so I'm all, "Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" Then he drags me back to his office and has his assistant print off a copy of the budget. 'O course, there're vending machines. So here I am, where I was two hours ago, doin' a job that shoulda taken five minutes.'
'Tough luck,' Fillmore sympathized. Odd thing about the budget though, Peabody usually had a handle on those sorts of things.
__________
'Dill or BBQ?'
Ingrid's eyes scrapped open, sticky and red with sleep. Her head was pounding. She tried to lift her head off of the pillow, but it just made the room spin. Giving up, she flopped back down.
'You there, Third?'
Oh. So that's what woke her up. She reached out her arm and it blindly landed on her night table. Without re-opening her eyes, she felt around for the walkie-talkie she'd lifted from Fillmore's desk.
'What do you want, Fillmore?'
'I can't decide between Dill or BBQ chips. Help me out,' Fillmore replied.
Ingrid rolled her eyes, or she would've if they were open. 'Not the best choice for breakfast. Why are you bugging me this early, anyway?'
'It's 2:30 in the afternoon! Where are you, Third?'
That was enough to make her eyes open. She shot up, ignoring the pounding in her head, and looking at the clock on her night table. It read 2:37pm. 'Crackers!'
'Sleep in?'
'Shut up, Fillmore,' she growled. Why hadn't her dad or sister woken her up? She jumped out of bed and ran around her room collecting various articles of clothing. Then, reaching down to pick up a pair of socks off the floor – 'Oof!'
'Third, you okay? I heard a crash,' Fillmore's voice came over the walkie- talkie.
Ingrid lay on the floor for a moment, holding her head. The whole room seemed like it was shaking. Slowly, she picked up the walkie-talkie from where it had fallen beside her. 'I think I'm sick,' she said into it.
'The invincible Ingrid Third gets sick!' he sounded scandalized.
She scowled, though he couldn't see her. This wasn't funny. She never got sick. And her head wouldn't stop pounding. And she couldn't think straight... And why was she on the floor? Oh yeah, she'd fallen...
'So, are you going to answer my question anytime soon?' his voice interrupted her swimming thoughts.
'What question was that?'
'Dill or BBQ?'
Her scowl deepened. She didn't like being messed around with like this. It was so juvenile. 'Screw you, Fillmore.' Ingrid then turned off the walkie- talkie and flung it as best she could in her weakened state across the room.
She'd just missed a whole day of school, been harassed by a Safety Patrol Officer, fallen ill, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get up off the floor. Today wasn't her day. Good thing she'd slept most of it away. In a way she was kind of glad no one had gotten her up this morning, now.
With great effort, she pushed herself up and staggered back over to her bed. What a waste. She'd had a bunch of things to do today. Check up on Freddie Klein for one thing. He was key in all of this, he had to be. And Simon Langley... Maybe Fillmore had found out some things about him...
Ingrid figured she must have fallen asleep, because she found herself being woken up by the sound of the doorbell. 'Of all days to forget her key,' Ingrid mumbled as she untwisted herself from her blankets and went downstairs to let Ariella in. She was pleased to find that the house wasn't spinning anymore.
Ingrid opened the door, but it wasn't Ariella.
'Ingrid.'
'How'd you get my address?' she snapped.
'I didn't have to hack for it, if that's what you mean. It's kept on file for questioning purposes when you're involved in a crime,' Fillmore replied coolly.
'Why are you here?'
'Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stay out here on the porch?'
Ingrid eyed him warily, then stepped out of the way.
'Thank you,' Fillmore said. 'Feeling better?' he asked after she'd closed the door.
'Will you tell me why you're here now?' she questioned, ignoring his polite inquires.
Fillmore smiled, more to himself than to her. 'You like to get straight to the point, don't you? I brought over the information I found on Simon Langley. Thought you might like a look at it.' He pulled a stack of papers out of his backpack.
'You talk to him?' She took the papers and went into the kitchen, motioning for him to follow.
'No, he's nowhere to be found on Tuesday afternoons, it seems.'
'Likes organic chemistry, does he?'
'Huh?' 'There's a note attached to his transcript, from his science teacher. Says he's very gifted in organic chemistry. Looks like a recommendation for some fancy science program.' Third looked mildly impressed. 'He must be pretty advanced for our grade level.'
'I just can't find a connection between him and the Stingray case,'' Fillmore said, watching for Third's reaction.
'What made you think there was a connection?' Third replied, eyeing him back.
Fillmore hardened. 'Look, my job is a serious one. I don't have time to play games with you, Third. You can't just call me up whenever you feel like it and expect me to do your biding!'
Third turned on him, but in a nonchalant manner, ignoring his tone of voice. 'Talk to Langley, or at least someone who knows him. You've got a motive, here, that would stand up at trial. He's angry with the school for allowing animal dissections. So just talk to him. I guarantee you there's something here, something that doesn't add up.'
Fillmore was tempted to rub his temples, the way Vallejo did when he was upset. But, surprisingly, Third beat him to it. 'Would you mind leaving now?' she asked.
'Still sick?'
She threw him a contemptuous look. 'I could hardly have gotten better in the space of one hour, Fillmore.'
He raised an eyebrow, and she could tell he was making a note of how grouchy she could be when she put her mind to it.
'Sit down,' he instructed.
'Why?'
'You haven't had anything to eat yet, have you? Sit down. I'll put something together. You'll feel better with some food in your stomach.'
Ingrid obeyed, too tired to fight and rather amused. Officer Cornelius Fillmore was in her kitchen making her breakfast. Or, close enough to breakfast, anyway. But her amusement didn't show on her face; it was more of an ironic sort of hilarity anyway.
________
Auggie thumped against the bathroom wall, and the bigger boy pinned him there. On either side he was flanked by two more goons, both massaging their knuckles, waiting to have their turns hitting him. 'Thought you got the message,' the biggest guy said.
'Loud and clear,' Auggie replied, his voice containing a false cheeriness.
'Obviously not loud enough,' and with that another punch connected with Auggie's stomach. The small boy tried to double over in pain, but he was held upright by a firm grip.
'You think this hurts,' the guy snickered. 'We catch you snooping around again, you OR your girl friend, and you'll learn a new meaning of pain.'
The bug guy dropped Auggie and backed off, letting his two 'friends' have goes kicking him while he lay crumpled on the floor.
________
Next Chapter: Things are getting dangerous! When Ingrid finally stumbles on a connection, will she be safe? And will the relationship forming between her and Fillmore be enough to pull them through the rocky events ahead? To find out, read the next chapter of The Scales Tipped, same bat time, same bat channel! ^_^