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StaindedGlass: Lucy is alive, now the mystery begins!
Action!
I decided that I'd need a clear head for the day's work. I dreamed for two hours about Lucy Heartfilia. The dream had five or six variations, but the meaning was always the same. She was just beyond my reach. As soon as I came close, she floated off into space. Or ran away. Or locked a door. Each time I came to, I cursed myself for letting a dream hold me in such horror. As time passed and I struggled from dream to dream, the real incidents of the night became less real than my nightmares. Each time I woke, cold and sweating, I believed more firmly that I had dreamed of finding her in the apartment and that Lucy was still dead.
When Mira called, I jumped as if an explosive lacrima had gone off under my bed. I let it continue to ring, until it stopped. She must have given up on me. Exhausted, my head aching, I swore never to drink wine again. The return of Lucy Heartfilia seemed so unreal that I wondered if I had ever actually considered reporting it to the Council. I stared hard at real things, the steel tubes of the chairs and writing desk, the brown curtains at the windows, the chimneys across the street. Then I saw a spot of red. This brought me out of bed with a leap. It was the stain of lip rouge on my jacket. I don't think I've ever been so grateful in my life to have seen a stain on my coat. How it got there seemed inconsequential in that moment, I knew she was alive. It wasn't a dream.
As I reached for the communications lacrima, I remembered that I had told her not to answer it. She was probably sleeping anyway, and wouldn't have been pleased if a thoughtless mug called her at that hour.
I went to my office at the guild, wrote out my report, sealed and filed all copies. Then I went in to see my grandfather.
Every morning I had gone into his office to report on the Lucy Heartfilia case and every day he had said the same thing.
"Stick to the case a little longer, my boy, and maybe you'll find that murder's big enough for your talents. And it will do my soul good to know we found justice for her.
His cheeks were like purple plums today. I wanted to squash them with my fists. We represented opposing interests, I wanted to lead the guild into a level of power and economic status, my grandfather wanted to keep this place the way it was, a sinking money pit and whose reputation was known for being more destructive than actually capable of doing a job it's been assigned.
As I walked into his office, I heard Gran Doma's voice over the lacrima. My grandfather was at least pleasant.
"Well hello my boy, have any new news?"
Gran Doma however gave me the usual razzberry. Before I could say a word he started: "Do you know what this case is costing? I've had a memo sent to your office. You'd better step on it or I'll have to assign someone to the case who knows how to handle homicide."
"You might have thought of that in the beginning," I said, because I wasn't going to let him know that I hadn't been on to his tactics. He had been waiting all along to show me up by letting me work until I'd hit a dead end and then handing the case to one of his favorites.
"What have you to say? Another of those minute-and-a-half reports, huh?" Doma said with barely concealed disdain.
"You needn't worry about our not getting Lucy Heartfilia's murderer," I said. "That part of the case is completed."
"What do you mean? You've got him?" He looked disappointed. Laxus rolled his eyes at that,he would be upset that I'm capable of doing my job.
"Lucy Heartfilia isn't dead."
Gran Doma's eyes popped like golf balls.
"She's in her apartment now. I had Bickslow on guard until eight this morning, then Freed came on. No one knows of this yet." Out of the corner of my eye I saw my grandfather get all teary eyed. "She's alive?" He asked, trying to choke down a sob.
Gran Doma pointed at his head. "Perhaps I ought to get in touch with Bellevue. Psychopathic Ward."
"Oh! Shut up Doma! Let my grand kid speak!" Makarov said, exasperated with the man.
I smirked internally at my grandfather telling Doma to fuck off. I told them briefly what had happened. Although the heat wave was over and there was a chill in the air, my grandfather fanned himself with both hands.
"Who murdered the other girl?" My grandfather asked.
"I don't know yet." Laxus said.
"What does Miss Heartfilia have to say about it?" Doma asked.
"I've reported everything that she told me." Laxus shrugged.
"Do you think she knows anything she hasn't told you?" My grandfather asked in a grave tone.
I said: "Miss Heartfilia was suffering from shock after she heard that her friend had been killed. She wasn't able to talk a lot."
He snorted. "What do you think of her Laxus, now that you've met, upset she didn't take your offer and be your woman?" My grandfather said, wiggling his eyebrows. Doma and I both glared at my grandfather. "I'm glad to see your grief over Lucy is so short lived."
I also added: "I'm going to question her this morning. I also intend to surprise several people who think she is dead. It would be better if this were kept out of the newspapers until I've had time to work out my plans."
"Team Natsu is not going to be happy about this." Makarov warned.
"I know, but I plan on surprising them soon." Laxus shrugged.
It was strictly Front Page even for the Times, and a coast-to-coast hook-up on the news broadcasts. We had to keep this secret for now, for Lucy's safety.
He said: "This changes the case, you know. There is no corpus delicti. We'll have to investigate the death of the other girl. I'm wondering, Dreyar . . ."
"I wondered, too," I said. "You'll find it all in my report. A sealed copy has been sent to the Council's office and you'll find yours on your secretary's desk. Jiji, here's yours." I handed my grandfather his copy. He nodded, and grabbed his glasses. I was surprised he was actually going to read, getting my grandfather to look at paperwork was like pulling teeth.
I looked back to Doma. "And I don't want to be relieved. You assigned me to the case in the beginning and I'm sticking until it's finished. We don't know if the killer is going to come back and kill Lucy, or if the target was the girl." I shouted and pounded on the desk, knowing that a man is most easily intimidated by his own methods. "And if one word of this gets into the papers before I've given the green light, there'll be hell to pay around here Monday when the Council is fully assembled."
I left the office before Doma could respond.
My next order of business dealt with the only other person I told about Lucy's return. That was Jake Mooney. Jake was a tall, sad-faced man from a small town called Providence, known among the boys as the Clam. Once a reporter wrote, "Mooney maintained a clam-like silence," and it got Jake so angry that he's lived up to the name ever since. By the time I came out of my grandfather's office, Jake had met me at the guild and was waiting for me. I used him as an informant from time to time, because of his ability to keep his mouth shut. SInce I had Freed watching over Lucy's building I needed someone I could trust doing this, while Bickslow slept. He had already done what I asked him and got a list of the photographers for whom Diane Redfern posed for.
"Go and see these fellows," I said. "Get what you can on her. Look over her room. Don't tell anyone she's dead."
He nodded.
"I want all the papers and letters you find in her room. And be sure to ask the landlady what kind of men she knew. She might have picked up some boyfriends who played with sawed-off shotguns."
The communications lacrima rang in my office. I excused myself and went to answer it. It was Mrs. Treadwell. She wanted me to come to her house right away.
"There's something I ought to tell you, Mr. Dreyar. I'd intended going back to the country today: there was nothing more I could do for poor Lucy, was there? My lawyers are going to take care of her things. But now something has happened . . ."
"All right, I'll be there, Mrs. Treadwell."
As I drove up Park Avenue, I decided to keep Mrs. Treadwell waiting while I saw Lucy. I would have to get in touch with Lucy's team soon. They were at least all late sleepers and didn't arrive at the guild early thank God. It gave me time to think about how I would handle them.
Lucy had promised to stay in the apartment and keep away from the telephone, and I knew there was no fresh food in the house. I drove around to Third Avenue, bought milk, cream, butter, eggs, and bread.
Freed was on guard at the door. His eyes bulged at the sight of the groceries, but he evidently thought I'd set up housekeeping. I don't blame him for looking at me like I lost a few marbles.
I had the key in my pocket. But before I entered, I called a warning.
She came out of the kitchen. "I'm glad you didn't ring the bell," she said. "Since you told me about the murder—" she shuddered and looked at the spot where the body had fallen "—I'm afraid of every stray sound."
She crossed her arms smiling smugly. "I'm sure you're the only detective in the world who'd think of that," she said when I gave her the groceries. "Have you eaten breakfast?" She asked.
"Now that you've reminded me, no." I said shrugging my earphones off and my jacket.
It seemed natural for me to be carrying the groceries and lounging in the kitchen while she cooked. I had thought of that kind of girl, with all those swell clothes and past life as an heiress, and a spirit who was a servant who from her diary was very willing to serve her, would hold herself above housework. But not Lucy. I was pleased by this.
"Should we be elegant and carry it to the other room or folksy and eat in the kitchen?" She smiled.
"Until I was a grown man, I never ate in anything but a kitchen." Laxus shot back.
"Then it's the kitchen," she said. "There's no place like home."
While we were eating, I told her that I had informed Gran Doma of her return and my grandfather.
"Was he startled? I'm more worried about your grandfather by the way."
"Doma threatened to commit me to the Psychopathic Ward. My grandfather cried over it. And then—" I looked straight into her eyes "—Doma asked if I thought you knew anything about that other girl's death."
"And what did you say?" Lucy asked, the fork paused in front of her mouth.
"Listen," I said, "there are going to be a lot of questions asked and you'll probably have to tell a lot more than you'd like about your private life. The more honest you are, the easier it will be for you in the end. I hope you don't mind my telling you this."
"Don't you trust me?" Lucy asked, slightly upset.
I said, "It's my job to suspect everyone."
She looked at me over her coffee cup. "And just what do you suspect me of?" She asked, her demeanor changed. It was more guarded. She looked and sounded like an aristocrat.
I tried to be impersonal. "Why did you lie to Vincent about going to Magnus Lydecker's for dinner that night?"
"So that's what's bothering you?" Lucy asked, still staring at me over her cup.
"You lied, Miss Heartfilia."
"Oh, I'm Miss Heartfilia to you now, Mister Dreyar." Lucy was hurt on the inside but she concealed it under an air of unbotheredness.
"Quit sparring," I said. "Why did you lie?" I must have been glaring pretty hard at her, cause she shrunk back in fear, before collecting herself.
"I'm afraid if I told you the truth, you might not understand."
"Okay," I said. "I'm dumb. I'm a lowly mage. I don't speak English."
"I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings, but—" she drew the knife along the checks in the
red-and-white tablecloth "—it's hardly the sort of thing that one finds on a police blotter. Blotter, isn't that what they call it?"
"Go on," I said.
"You see," she said, "I've been a single woman for a while now."
"It's as clear as mud," I said.
"Men have bachelor dinners," she said. "They get drunk. They go out for a last binge with chorus girls. That, I guess, is what freedom means to them. So they've got to make a splurge before they get married."
I laughed. "Poor Magnus! I bet he wouldn't care very much to be compared with a chorus girl."
She shook her head at that. "Freedom meant something quite different to me, Laxus. Maybe you'll understand. It meant owning myself, possessing all my silly and useless routines, being the sole mistress of my habits. Do I make sense?" She pleaded with him to understand.
"Is that why you said you needed to think about getting back together with Vincent?"
She said: "Get me a cigarette, will you? They're in the living room. I said I would quit, but right now, I think I need to have one."
I got her the cigarettes and lit a cigar for me.
She went on talking. "Freedom meant my privacy. It's not that I want to lead any sort of double life, it's simply that I resent intrusion. Perhaps because I was always used to being asked where I was going and what time I'd be home and always made me feel guilty if I changed my mind. I love doing things impulsively, and I resent it to a point where my spine stiffens and I get gooseflesh if people ask where and what and why." She was like a child, crying to be understood.
"I had a date with Magnus for dinner before I left. It was to be my last night in town before I gave my answer."
"Didn't Vincent resent it?"
"Naturally. Wouldn't you? But he was intruding on my life begging for the wedding to be back on." She laughed and showed the tip of her tongue between her lips. "Magnus resented Vincent. But I couldn't help it. I never flirted or urged them on. And I'm fond of Magnus; he's a fussy old maid, but he's been kind to me, very kind. Besides, we've been friends for years. Vincent just had to make the best of it. We're civilized people, we don't try to change each other." She sighed, taking an inhale of the cigarette.
"And Vincent, I suppose, had habits that weren't hundred percent with you?" I asked her, doing the same.
She ignored the question. "On Friday I fully intended to dine with Magnus and take the ten-twenty train. But in the afternoon I changed my mind."
"Why?"
"Why?" she mocked. "That's precisely why I didn't tell him. Because he'd ask why."
I got angry. "You can have your prejudices if you like, and God knows I don't care if you want to make your habits sacred, but this is a murder case. Murder! There must have been some reason why you changed your mind."
"I'm like that."
"Are you?" I asked. "They told me you were a kind woman who thought more of an old friend than to stand by him for the sake of a selfish whim. You're supposed to be generous and considerate. It sounds like a lot of bull to me!"
"Why, Mr. Dreyar, you are a vehement person." She said her eyes changed in and out of Lady Lucy and Lucy of Fairy Tail.
"Please tell me exactly why you changed your mind about having dinner at Magnus's."
"I had a headache." She said in a tone that betrayed her.
"I know. That's what you told him."
"Don't you believe me?"
"Women always have headaches when they don't want to do something. Why did you come back from lunch with such a headache that you phoned Magnus before you took your hat off?"
"Who told you that? How important trifles become when something violent happens!" She walked over to the couch and sat down. I followed. Suddenly she touched my arm with her hand and looked up into my eyes so sweetly that I smiled. We both laughed and the trifles became less important.
She said: "So help me, Laxus, I've told you the truth. I felt so wretched after lunch on Friday, I just couldn't face Magnus's chatter, and I couldn't sit through dinner with Vincent either because he'd have been too pleased at my breaking a date with Magnus. I just had to get away from everybody."
"Why?"
"What a persistent man you are!"
She shivered. The day was cold. Rain beat against the window. The sky was the color of lead.
"Should I make you a fire?" I asked. "I'm not Natsu but-"
"Don't bother." Her voice was cold, too.
I got logs out of the cabinet under the bookshelves and built her a fire regardless, though I could tell the gesture was barely appreciated. She sat at the end of the couch, her knees tucked up, her arms hugging her body. She seemed defenseless.
"There," I said. "You'll be warm soon."
She was silent, ignoring me. Until she finally said: "Please, please, Laxus, believe me. There was no more to it than that. You're not just a detective who sees nothing but surface actions. You're a sensitive man, you react to nuances. So please try to understand, please."
The attack was well-aimed. A man is no stronger than his vanity. If I doubted her, I'd show myself to be nothing more than a crude detective.
"All right," I said, "we'll skip it now. Maybe you saw a ghost at lunch. Maybe your girlfriend said something that reminded you of something else. Hell, everybody gets temperamental once in a while." I shrugged.
She slipped off the couch and ran toward me, her hands extended. "You're a darling, really. I knew that the display you put on at the guild isn't who you really are."
I took her hands. They were soft to touch, but strong underneath. Sucker, I said to myself, and decided to do something about it then and there. My self-respect was involved. I was a powerful mge, a servant of the people, a representative of law and order.
I went to the liquor cabinet. "Ever seen this before?"
It was the bottle with the Three Horses on the label. She answered without the slightest hesitation, "Of course; it's been in the house for weeks."
"This isn't the brand you usually buy, is it? Did you get this from Mosconi's, too?" I asked, leaning into her. She backed away.
She answered in one long unpunctuated sentence. "No no I picked it up one night we were out of Bourbon I had company for dinner and stopped on the way home. I don't remember."
She lied like a goon. I had checked with Monsconi and discovered that on Friday night, between seven and eight, Duke Vincent had stopped at the store, bought the bottle of Three Horses, and, instead of charging it to Miss Heartfilia's account, had paid cash."