Chapter Seven: A Brief Meeting
Watson's POV
Sunday passed without incident. Holmes stayed in his room, and I went for a walk and borrowed Zeke's speed boat and went out in the ocean to practice driving. I improved a bit, much to my joy, so now I could drive fairly well. At least, I didn't crash into anything. Zeke was out on his fishing boat and saw me go by. I don't think his laughing was an insult.
Monday, however, was an interesting experience. I still hadn't received a letter from Ace, so I was always carefully avoiding my room to give her time to leave something. Classes, however, I dreaded. I had Holmes in every single class, and what was worse, I sat next to him every single class.
I scowled at him, he scowled at me. Our tension crackled. Students scooted their desks away. It was like a match of wits, except without speaking. Whoever looked away first lost. Every single class, he looked away first.
Finally, after our last class, I stalked away from him, my head held high. I heard him pause, and then his footsteps quickened. Towards me. The wrong way for him to go. I continued to walk, ignoring him.
"Watson!" he called after me. I ignored him. It was his own fault. He refused- adamantly refused- to take up Kline's case. If she died, it would be his fault.
"Watson, listen to me. Jenny!"
I knew he was desperate if he was using my first name. I reacted to that. I turned and stared coolly at him.
"I told you already, Holmes. We're over. For good. No turning back. Now leave me alone. I'm hoping to catch Ace in my room."
He really had no good answer to that. I heard him spluttering behind me, but he didn't come after me again. I was glad. I guess a part of me was sad, but I was too angry at him to be upset. I wanted Kline back, and she was my first priority. Then Christine. She was somewhere in St. Ives, and it probably wouldn't take me long to find her. I knew Christine pretty well.
Kline, however, would be tough. Marie was nuts, and nuts people are harder to track. If I could keep Ace down long enough I might be able to find her, though. I just needed to find the assassin. That might prove even harder than finding Kline.
So far, all of my detective work was about missing persons. Rather dull. If Holmes had been helping me, he would already have a plan of attack and where to look and-
No. I wasn't thinking about him. He had refused her. He had refused me. Like I had told him, we were over. If I kept telling myself that, then maybe I would actually believe it. Then maybe the pain would go away, and maybe I could live a normal life. Get a real boyfriend who took me to the movies and to the mall. Get real friends whose main priority was boys, shopping, and how I felt. Not criminals, not murder, not anything except themselves and me.
I realized dimly that I was crying. I brushed the tears away angrily. I shouldn't be crying. I wanted this, more than anything else in the world. I just wanted to be normal for once. I wanted to be just a normal girl who had a cute boyfriend and really cool friends. At the same time, I knew it couldn't happen. I still wanted to be friends with Christine and Kline, after all. If I was still friends with them, then I would still be involved with crime and death and blackmail and arson and thievery.
I reached my room and pressed my ear up against the door, listening. There was no sounds coming from my room. I couldn't even tell if the window was open. Sighing darkly, I shoved the door open. My room still looked the same. Nothing was moved. But the window was open. I had left it closed that morning. I smiled and rushed over to my bed, slamming the door shut behind me.
The envelope lay on my bed, looking as innocent as possible. As innocent as a black envelope can get, anyway. In neat, script writing, my name was on the envelope. I carefully opened the envelope, excited and scared at the same time. The familiar silver ink met my eyes and I began reading.
So the lady has some claws after all? Quite a shocking bit of information, actually. I would have imagined Miss Watson as a trembling little pussycat, not a growling tiger. It seems I was somewhat wrong. Alas, I shall just have to move on. If you so desperately want information on your little Amanda, I would highly suggest you talk to me in person. Did you not know that these letters can be intercepted? After all, what would Marie do to me if she found out I was communicating with you and the great Sherlock Holmes? Tsk, tsk, Miss Watson. Do you ever think things through? I can see why you are forced to work with that man. He just keeps you around to make himself look good. His brilliance, your naivety... a perfect combination. Find me, Miss Watson, and I will tell you what I need. If you meet me at the cemetery tonight, I will speak to you, albeit briefly. I offer this only because you will never catch me. No weapons, and I don't want that obnoxious Holmes boy coming with you, either. A very fond farewell to you, Miss Watson. I've grown to enjoy this letters to you.
Ace the Assassin
I stared at the letter for a few moments, trying to push down the rage I felt. She actually had the nerve to address my partnership with Holmes, and what was more, she insulted it. She insulted me. I could have been furious. I could have destroyed things in my fury. But I couldn't. Not today. I had to harness my anger, and focus on the letter and try to find some clues.
Sitting down at my desk, I spread the letter out over the surface and began searching the letter. First off- Ace was way to cocky for her own good. She made mistakes because of her arrogance. Two- she had a tendency to get off topic just to insult people. Three- she didn't know Holmes and I weren't speaking. Four- she was working against Marie, sort of. She was more independent than she wished Marie to find out. Five- she wanted to meet me, wish could indicate a whole lot of things.
I pursed my lips and then began running my fingers over the letter, trying to figure out what Holmes would do to figure out more things. Nothing else came to me. I pulled my fingers back from the letter, only to discover that they were slightly smudged with silver ink. I grinned and realized that I wasn't so dim-witted as Ace seemed to think. I knew what the smudged ink meant. The letter hadn't been written so long ago. I may not be as smart as Holmes, but I could figure things out too, without his help.
I stood up from my desk, leaving the letter on it, and began pacing the floor. Did I dare meet Ace the Assassin? Just because I couldn't bring weapons didn't mean she couldn't. I might meet her in the cemetery and be shot down immediately. Her letters might just be trying to lure me out. She might be carefully phrasing her letters so that she looks like an independent, when she's really being paid by Marie to kill me. She might have a natural grudge about me and want me dead independently. She might be using me to get to Holmes. She might... she might... she might a huge duck who masquerades as a human to lure out young virgins and take them back as bounty for the duck king!
I don't know where that came from. I really didn't. Well, I did, actually. It was a story that I wrote when I was eight. But I knew that Ace was not a huge duck. I was getting hysterical. And very stupid because of it. I was tired.
I stopped pacing and sat down on my bed, burying my head into my hands. My mind was way too worked up. I need to rest, I needed to lie down. So I did. I buried my head into my pillow and drifted off, welcoming the dreams of fuzzy yellow ducks swimming in a pond as a beautiful girl sat on the water, feeding them serenely. It was perfect.
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I woke sometime after eleven, with the moon high overhead. Yawning, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stretched. My back ached and I heard the bones crack with satisfaction. I need to go see a chiropractor sometime.
Standing up, I glanced down at my clothes. They were bright, cheerful, and would stick out in the dark. They wouldn't do. So I changed into a black turtleneck and jeans and tugged on black combat boots that I had stolen from Kline during the course of the show. I wanted to wear them one last time before I saw her again. I had decided that tonight I would find out where Kline was, even if I had to beat it out of Ace the Assassin. I was ready for this. I was prepared to beat Ace anyway. She had killed Miss Gardens violently. We had found out during classes that the school was being shut down because of Miss Gardens death. I was losing my school. I hated Ace. She was taking away everything. I was ready.
I climbed out the window and went down the path, my eyes not seeing anything. I knew I was in a haze, but I didn't really care either. I wanted to meet Ace and get the information out of her. Then turn her into the police. I wanted to watch her rot in jail. I wanted to see her scream. I wanted to see her bleed. I had no clue why I was being so morbid.
I reached the cemetery quickly enough. It was really close to the church, actually. It wasn't a very large cemetery, predictably. St. Ives wasn't that large, after all. But it did have several rows, not to mention a nice little crypt near the back. I began walking among the rows, looking at the epitaphs and the names on the gravestones. It was creepy being at a graveyard that late at night. Knowing that dead bodies rested underneath your feet, their faces frozen for eternity, their hands and arms only bone and that their remaining skin was stretched tightly over their faces, making them look like they were screaming. I shuddered.
I found Ace at the very back of the cemetery, knelt before one of the gravestones. Her head was bowed, with her limp black hair hanging in her face. She was wearing a black trench coat and in the light of the moon I could see a huge gun positioned on her hip. Sunglasses covered her eyes, weirdly enough. She wore thigh high boots over her pants. If she hadn't been a murderer, I might have admired her. Even though she appeared to be praying in front of the gravestone, she had a sort of feral grace about her. She wasn't pretty, that was for sure, but she looked... skilled. At ease. She scared me.
"Ace?" I asked softly. I really did hope I hadn't thought all these nice things about a complete stranger. The woman I thought as Ace didn't look up from her praying, or whatever it was.
"I am. You are Watson," she said with a strange accent. Bulgarian, I realized slowly. That was what the gas station man had said. I nodded.
"That's right. You going to talk to me face to face, or are you going to pray the entire time?" I snapped. Ace crossed herself before standing up, a slight smile playing across her pale features. With her standing I could get a full view of her, and I had to admit, she had an excellent taste in clothing. With the black trench coat, thigh high boots, leather pants and what appeared to be a leather shirt, she looked pretty darn cool. The gun just added to the effect.
"You liked The Matrix, I see," I commented after taking in her whole outfit. Ace grinned that weird, ghastly grin.
"I suppose you could say that. I found it too far fetched, actually, but the stunts and the clothes were very intriguing, to say the least," she said back, her voice very soft and lazy. I shrugged. I had liked that movie a lot. The stunts and the clothes were very cool, and the storyline was just awesome. However, I wasn't there to discuss movies.
"Where's Kline?" I asked quickly. Ace chuckled quietly and moved swiftly. I followed her with my eyes as she sat down on top of a gravestone. If she started reaching for her gun, I was out of there.
"You did not bring your Holmes?" she questioned. I scowled. That wasn't the answer I was looking for.
"Holmes isn't involved with this case anymore," I informed her. Ace looked at me sharply. I thought she looked surprised, but I couldn't tell through her sunglasses or in the poor light.
"He left the case?"
"He doesn't want to find Kline. But I do. Where is she?" I repeated. Ace, however, didn't seem to hear. Her lips were pursed and she was drumming her hand on her lap, the fingers moving swiftly. A deck of cards appeared suddenly in her right hand and she began shuffling.
"This changes things," Ace stated calmly. I scowled.
"It changes nothing. You wanted to meet with me."
"Because I thought you would report back to Sherlock and tell him everything, so he would figure out this case," she said softly. I growled in frustration.
"Listen, Ace, it's great to know that your confidence in my abilities is so lacking, but I can solve this case as well as Holmes can. Now tell me where she is!" I shouted. Ace was at my side in a heartbeat, her hand over my mouth.
"You must be quiet, little one. Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him," she hissed in my ear. I blinked.
"James, chapter one, verse fourteen," I muttered softly. I felt Ace shake her head.
"Twelve, actually. Think about that, Miss Jenny. Think about it's meaning."
"I will," I promised. I noted that she was positioned just behind me. With the darkest scowl, I shoved my elbow back and connected with one of her lower ribs. She released me with a soft 'oof!' and stumbled backwards, clutching her ribs. I spun and slammed her down to the ground, pinning her. I removed her gun from her hip and tossed it aside. Ace stared up at me, her mouth agape in surprise and (was it my imagination?) just a bit of fear.
"I'll think about it's meaning after you tell me where Kline is!" I insisted. Ace didn't move. She didn't tell me. I punched her in the face, as hard as I could. Her head snapped back but she didn't resist. In the dim light I could tell that her face was darkening where I punched her.
"Tell me," I persisted. Ace bit down on her lips in adamant refusal. I shoved my fist into her ribcage. She whimpered but said nothing.
"Tell me! Oh, please, just tell me! Please! That's all I want from you! Please... please tell me," I said, my voice dissolving into tears. I collapsed off to the side of her, allowing her to dive away. She snatched up her huge gun as she rolled to the side and pulled out a silver gun from her trench coat, pointing them both at me as she knelt, one knee folded beneath her.
"I will tell you nothing, little cretin. A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult," she spat. I stared at her through my tears, or more specifically, her guns. Ace stared down at me for a moment, then put her silver gun away and put the big gun back on her hip. With a quick scowl at me, she turned and fled, her coat streaming out behind her. I stared after her. I wanted to follow her, but couldn't.
I must have laid there for a few minutes before someone picked me up and wrapped me in a blanket. They led me away into a small house where they made me a cup of tea. I sipped it for a few minutes before looking to see who my savior was.
It was Zeke, who was currently staring at me in concern. I tried to smile at him, but instead felt a few tears leak down my face.
"Aw, Jenny, what is it now?" he asked gently, coming around the table and handing me his handkerchief.
"I just lost the chance to find out where one of my best friends is," I sobbed. Zeke didn't ask, bless his soul, merely hugged me and patted my hair gently. I sat and cried into his shoulder for a few minutes before the tears finally stopped and I had the courage to look up at him again.
"How'd you know I was in the cemetery?" I questioned hoarsely. Zeke shrugged.
"I live right next to it. I saw something in the moonlight from my window and looked out. Some girl was running away and there you were, lying among the dead. That isn't a good place for a young girl to be, Jenny," he scolded. I sighed.
"I know. But that was where she asked me to meet her."
"Care to tell old Zeke what is going on?"
I related the whole tale to him, not much caring who found out anymore. I told him how Kline was captured, how Christine had run away, how Marie was behind it all, how Miss Gardens had been killed, how Holmes had abandoned me, the case, and Kline, and how Ace had been my last chance of figuring out where Kline was. Zeke listened patiently and gave me a big hug when I was all done.
"Poor Jenny, having to deal with that all," he said sadly. I sniffled.
"You know what really sucks, Zeke? This stupid case has changed me, too. I've never hit anyone before. I hate violence. But I punched Holmes and I punched Ace twice," I told him. Zeke shook his head.
"It seems to me like both deserved it."
"I'm never going to figure this stupid case out without Holmes! God, he would have figured out how to get information from Ace! All I did was hit her," I wailed, the tears returning with a vengeance. Zeke sighed.
"Maybe you got all the information out of Miss Ace that you could ever need, Jenny. Maybe she told you something without coming out and saying it. You did say that she wasn't exactly working for this Marie. Maybe somebody was watching you, someone who was loyal to Marie. Maybe Ace is being punished right now for talking to you. Look at it from both sides, Jenny, before you hit and hate her. Same for your Holmes. Maybe he just couldn't take it anymore, like your Christine girl. She just dealt with it differently. She ran, but he abandoned. Maybe you're the bravest out of all of them. Keep working Jenny. You'll find your friend eventually," he said soothingly.
"I hate them all," I grumbled. Zeke nodded.
"I'm sure you do, Jenny. You have every right to, right now anyway. But try to understand where they're coming from. They're scared and don't know how to deal with it."
"Ace wasn't scared! She could have told me where Kline was!"
"You're wrong, Jenny. She was so scared of Marie that she couldn't tell you. You said it yourself- Marie is a psychotic murderer. I'd be pretty scared if I were in Ace's position," he commented airily. I sighed but didn't say anything. Zeke just didn't understand. He hadn't been there.
"Thanks for the tea, Zeke. I'm sorry to have woken up you and your wife," I said. I stood up and got ready to leave. Zeke stood also.
"The missus passed on years ago, Jenny. And it's not a problem," he responded calmly. I looked at him sadly.
"I'm sorry, Zeke. How'd she die?"
"We got into a fight and she took herself out to the docks and drowned herself. She didn't know how to deal with it," he informed me. I choked down the tears. Poor Zeke. I hadn't even thought that maybe his wife was dead. Maybe he did know what he was talking about when he said all those things about fear and running away and abandoning people.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. I hugged him tightly around the waist, kissed his whiskery cheek, waved good-bye, and then ran out the door. He waved at me from his window as I ran down the street and back to the school.
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I only got three hours of uninterrupted sleep as it was. The rest was plagued with nightmares. Finally, around six am, I got up for good and sat down at my desk, running over what had happened between Ace and I the night before. The only thing I could figure out through my sleep deprived brain was that the last thing Ace had said to me was another Bible verse, this one being Proverbs, chapter twelve, verse sixteen. Yay for me. I figured something out.
Holmes, of course, would have solved the entire mystery from just that conversation. I could have been jealous, or even upset. But I didn't bother. What Ace didn't know is that she had given me encouragement from the night before. Her little Bible verse about perseverance had struck home, and I wasn't about to go wallowing in pity just yet.
I had a mystery to solve.