Chapter 2

"Oh, you do remember!" she cried, flinging herself upon them once again. Dawson chuckled with glee, as Basil once more stiffened beneath her hold. She had certainly grown up... His memories of the tiny child with furry ears who constantly clung to him like a flea were proving to be relatively inaccurate. She had matured into a tall, slender, almost refined-looking young mouse, as lovely as any singer at Ratigan's clubs.

"Olivia, my dear—what a lovely thing you've become!" Dawson declared.

She pulled back, one paw lingering on each mouse's arm. "I only wish we could be reunited under better circumstances," she said, voice taking on a somber note. Her eyes turned to Basil, beginning to shine in the same pathetic manner as they had when she was a child. "I'm afraid I must ask for your help again, Basil..."

He shook his head, and slid from beneath her touch. Slowly he migrated back towards the fireplace, bending to lift the pipe from the floor. With the toe of one shoe, he rubbed the ashes into the carpet; a match was drawn from his pocket, the pipe relit, and he began to puff on it quietly.

"I am afraid, Miss Flasherhab, that I am no longer accepting cases."

"Basil!" interjected Dawson, at the same moment that Olivia's eyes began to well with tears again.

"B-but Basil, you're my last hope!" She moved towards him, grabbing hold of his arm with strong paws. "Please, you... you don't understand! I... I need your help!"

He pulled his arm away from her, keeping his gaze fastened on the fire. "I am no longer accepting—"

"My father is dead!" she shouted, one paw smacking against his shoulder. "My father is dead, and you are 'no longer accepting cases'!"

Basil's eyes cut over to her, narrowing with interest. Dawson started forwards, and enfolded her in his arms, as she dissolved into tears once more. "Oh, my dear child," he murmured. "What happened?"

Her arms went around his neck. "They killed him!" she sobbed. "They murdered him!"

"Why would someone murder a toymaker?" Basil inquired quietly.

Olivia shook her head, and drew back from Dawson. She turned, again scrubbing at her eyes, and sniffing roughly. Dawson fished around for his handkerchief, and handed it to her. She politely dabbed at her tears, and returned it to him.

"Daddy wasn't a toymaker anymore," she said, addressing Basil. "After seeing what he could accomplish, the Queen asked him to work for her. Top-secret things and whatnot, I've no idea what he was working on, but he found out something he shouldn't have. There were men... They attacked us on the street! He told me to run, and the men chased me, but I was too fast for them..." Her voice cracked, and she was silent for a long moment as she composed herself. "I heard a gunshot. The men were laughing! They were laughing, Basil! They laughed as he bled to death on the streets!"

She threw herself into his arms, and, stunned, he returned the endearment. Outrage had begun to well up within him, forcing his eyes to narrow even further. His ears began to quiver, his tail to flick back and forth. They had laughed? Laughed, while murdering the rather innocent, genuinely kind Mr. ...Flabergash. Or, whatever.

"Oh, Basil, please!" Her face lifted, and she looked deeply into his eyes. "I... I think I know who did this."

He shook his head, forcing his gaze away from hers. Her eyes were far too captivating, far too good at begging him to take up her cause.

But wouldn't he? What more could he ask for, in a truly good mystery? Political intrigue—murder—betrayal—and Olivia... She had brought him his last greatest case; would it not be too far a leap to assume she would bring him yet another one?

"Now now now, what were you saying, child?" Dawson was intruding on them, and almost reluctantly, Olivia released her hold on Basil and turned to face him. "You think you know who murdered your father?"

She nodded, as she again accepted his handkerchief. "I... I heard a voice, Doctor Dawson. A... a very familiar voice." Her gaze turned to Basil again, who was already pacing back and forth.

"Impossible," he interrupted. "You were in hysterics. There was so much noise... The laughter, the gunshot—there is no way you could have heard..."

Dawson waved a hand at him in dismissal, and then used that hand to turn her face towards him again. "Who did you hear, my child?"

"W-well..." For a moment, she had difficulty refocusing on him. "I... It was before we were attacked, you see... There was no noise.. and then there was a voice, commanding.. something..." She frowned, and glanced at Basil again, who was still paying her little mind.

"I..." She bit her lip, glanced back at Dawson, and then at Basil again. "I heard Ratigan."

Basil froze mid-step, head whipping towards her. For just a moment, the old spark was ignited in his eyes, dancing with the blaze of adventure. Almost immediately, however, it was choked out, and he looked away from her with a vicious shake of the head. "No, no. Impossible. Not even a rat could survive that fall..."

Olivia turned away from Dawson and grabbed hold of Basil's arm again. "I could never forget that voice, Basil—I heard that voice in my nightmares for years after... after..." She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to suppress her tears. "Basil, it was Ratigan. He's.. He's... He killed my father, Basil! Please! You have to help me! I... I think they might come after me, next! They think I know his secret, Basil!"

He attempted to pat her shoulder for comfort, though he imagined he was not truly accomplishing much in the way of help. After a moment, he could no longer resist; he asked, "Well.. do you?"

There was a telltale moment of hesitation, before quickly she shook her head. "No, no—of course not! He.. would not have endangered me, by telling me such a thing."

Basil stared at her for a long moment, but she kept her gaze concentrated on purity. He sighed. "No. Of course not."

Mrs. Judson bustled in, paused for a moment when she saw Basil and Olivia caught in a half-embrace, and then flushed and gave a quiet laugh. "Who is our guest, then? Or have you still not been polite enough to ask?"

Dawson turned towards her with a little smile, and gestured towards Olivia. "May I present, Mrs. Judson, our old friend: Olivia Flaversham!"

Flaversham! That was it. Basil made a note to keep it in mind, though he almost consciously knew that note would soon flutter out the proverbial window and into oblivion.

"Olivia!" Mrs. Judson cried, rushing forward and swooping the girl into a tight squeeze. "Oh, how lovely to see you again!"

"Her father's been murdered," Basil interjected, turning to puff on his pipe—and finding, with a frown, that it had gone out. He tipped it over and knocked out its contents onto the floor.

"Oh, dear, I'm so—Mr. Basil, please!" Mrs. Judson rushed forward, producing a brush and dustpan from seemingly nowhere, and scooping up the mess.

He ignored her, continuing to pace and merely stepping over her whenever his path brought him past her. "Now. My dear."

Olivia daintily stepped around Mrs. Judson, to present herself before him.

"It is impossible that you heard Ratigan's voice."

"But—"

"Ah, ah!" He held up one paw, to beg silence. "It is impossible. You say you would know that voice, because you had heard it in your nightmares—this is exactly why I believe you to be mistaken."

"But—!"

"No!" That paw pressed the air, and he gave her a stern frown. "Hear me out."

Sulkily, she nodded.

"You heard that voice in your nightmares for years—you associate it with a childhood trauma—your mind would, therefore, quickly warp any voice from the dark, commanding the death of you and your father. I imagine you thought it to be Ratigan's voice after the incident, rather than at the moment you heard it?"

"Well, I—"

"Just as I thought." The pipe slid back between his lips, and he began to gnaw on its stem thoughtfully. After a long moment, he nodded. "Alright, my dear—I will take your case!"

The sullen mood she had taken on in response to his former words disappeared almost immediately. "Oh, Basil, thank you!" She started forwards.

Both paws now flew up, and while still gripping the pipe between his teeth, he said, "On one condition!" One paw removed the pipe. "You must stop hugging me."