Well, look who decided to come back and read more of my fic!
Disclaimer- Unless I am Victor Hugo incarnate I do not own Les Miserables.
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Chapter 2- When fan-makers are wrongly accused
On his way back to the police Post Javert puzzled over this clue. How was he to be sure these were even the criminal's belongings?
But seeing as they reportedly had been found the morning after the theft, he had to take the senseless nincompoops word for it.
A flute and an incomplete fan?
These weren't very helpful in his investigation but they were clues nevertheless. "Aha!" exclaimed Javert as he abruptly stopped where he was, this being the middle of the Rue Del'Abjace which has recently been turned into the Rue Olsinate due to recent renovations on the Kaleseuorres square near the Rue Del'Amineirr.
He had seen similar fans of this sort before, but where?
After a moments reminiscing he recalled the fan-maker who would sit on the corner of the Rue Del' Asquigymop.
"Yes! The young fan maker who earned a living selling fans for 3 sous each. He must have been on his way home one cold night and felt like a glass of warm milk before going to bed!"
"Hmmph! So it appears the fan-maker felt like a FAN-tastic drink of milk" Javert attempted at a corny police joke.
Without wasting a second he practically sprinted back to his office and filed a report on something-a-ratherer. But it all seemed too simple. I mean he didn't expect much intellect from an orphaned fan maker but...come on!
No-one's stupid enough to leave behind a clue like that. Or perhaps there was an accomplice involved, a flute player?
Javert felt downhearted once again. He always loved a bit of drama and mystery and here he was assigned the most ridiculous case of all! He sighed heavily as he left the small room again and made his way to the Rue Del' Asquigymop.
Upon arriving he found the corner was empty. That is to say no fan-maker to be seen. Javert asked some old crone who was hobbling across the road with a dark mahogany walking stick if she knew about him at all.
"Oh yes! Feuilly is his name" she said conveniently with eyes squinted and looking up at the sky rather than Javert's sexy face (sorry, couldn't help it. Let's try that again)
"Oh yes! Feuilly is his name" she said conveniently with eyes squinted and looking up at the sky rather than Javert's sexy face…...oh just forget it!
"He's an old friend of mine, you know? Used to sell me fans for only two sous. Lovely young man. It's a pity about his parents though." And so she rambled on in this way for a few minutes, ignoring Javert's aggressive interruptions.
"You can find him at the Musain now" she concluded and hobbled off without another word.
Javert didn't exactly know where the Musain was but after some hesitant asking for help from random Parisians he arrived at the Café Musain. His mind was wholly absorbed in the case that he paid no attention to the students remarks about revolution, Robespierre, absinthe and more revolution.
He stood leaning in the doorway, scanning the room for Feuilly.
"Oh shit…" said Enjolras upon noticing the Inspector in the doorway. This caused the other students to fall silent. Not literally of course as that would just be too random.
"Feuilly…...fan-maker" Javert said somewhere between smugly and unsurely "You are under arrest for the theft of monsieur……milk-man"
No one moved or spoke.
"Didn't see that coming" said Courfeyrac as seriously as he could, not taking his eyes off Javert.
"Theft? wh…what theft?" Feuilly finally stammered not quite sure of anything anymore.
"What in Poland is all this about!" cried Bahorel, adopting Feuilly's 'enthrallment' for no apparent reason.
Feuilly was standing still and Javert began advancing upon him. He felt around in his pockets for something, sighed exasperatedly and grabbed him by the worn sleeve.
"I thought you were going to arrest me…with, like handcuffs. Or did you forget them?" Feuilly asked confused and in a sarcastic sort of way.
"………………shut up" muttered Javert
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