Chapter 87

Oswald snaps the lock on Liza's apartment door with ease, putting his lockpick back into his wallet, which he slips into the folds of his suit. Waddling into the apartment and closing the door behind him, he immediately begins rifling through her things. Papers, mail...anything that could denounce her. He puts down the stack of papers, before picking up a framed picture of Liza and Don Falcone standing on a shelf next to a Court of Owls statue.

"Liza, Liza...what are you up to?" he asks aloud, his voice low. Looking down at the picture, he smiles, he'll find out.

Searching through her purse, he finds nothing. Huh...nothing in the purse. Think...where does one hide their secrets? He grasps onto the lapel of his jacket, and stops...of course, in her clothes!

Marching over to her bed, he grabs the nightshirt sitting on the edge. Outside of his mother and Trixie, he doesn't get to explore women in a...close, and personal manner. Her night garment piques his interest.

On impulse, he sniffs the shirt, something he does with Trixie's clothes often. But her nightshirt doesn't smell anything like Trixie, no...no, this scent is more artificial, and yet...familiar.

He makes his way to her vanity, where several bottles of perfume line the countertop. Recognizing a bottle immediately, he picks it up and sniffs it, taking time to inhale its scent, and going back to compare it with the scent of the nightshirt. Yes…

"Hmph, lilacs," he chuckles to himself. And who else uses this particular scent?

Exiting the apartment with her nightshirt in hand, Oswald closes the door just in time to hear a pair of high heels ascending the stairs. He stumbles up the next flight, as Liza makes her way to her apartment. Unlocking the door and stepping in, she's completely unaware of the man perched just on the next flight of stairs, peering down at her.

Liza closes the door to her apartment, and her eyes immediately fall upon her bag, which has been left open. Stepping over to examine it, she looks down to find its contents have been rifled through, with everything strewn out of place. An uneasy feeling in her stomach, she glances over at the bed to find that her nightshirt is missing from where she'd left it this morning.

She swings open her door as the sound of distant footsteps grow fainter along the apartment hallway. From the bottom of the stairs, Oswald's smile grows into a sickening grin. He'll be back, after all, he now knows Fish's secret...

Opening the basement door in the GCPD precinct, I slowly descend the stairs to Ed's workshop. There, Ed looks down at his workbench, tearing apart what appears to be some sort of circular contraption.

"...Ed…?"

The mechanical noises surrounding his work stop, and he straightens himself, before turning around, "Natalie...what a surprise."

"Ed, I have to apologize, how I acted was way out of line, I...I have no excuses. I'm sorry," I mutter, sitting down in a nearby wooden chair.

"What worries me is that there's clearly something troubling you that I have not been made aware of," he clarifies, sitting in the chair adjacent, "I want full transparency with you Nat...no more secrets."

Could I tell him I'm the Trickstress? How would Ed react? After all, he's one of my oldest friends, he wouldn't turn me in to the cops, even though they're just upstairs. I trust him...so what's keeping me from revealing my secret? Well...it took Oswald and Barbara finding out for themselves before I'd admit, maybe the same goes for Ed.

"You're right, I have been...troubled lately," I confess.

He smiles, "So you do admit to facing difficulties? Good, riddles are my specialty, leave the mysteries to me."

Ed's smile suddenly disappears, as he reaches out his hand, "Let me see it."

"Uhm...okay, it's practically gone but...okay."

I roll up my sleeve and show him the almost nonexistent scar from where Oswald stabbed me. Taking my hand, Ed traces the scar with his finger, "Coming in at an angle almost parallel to your own arm...a cut roughly five inches in length and a quarter-inch in depth, any deeper and this would've cut into your blood vessels. Nat...this could've been a highly dangerous injury!"

"I've been through worse," I shrug off.

"Who would want to perpetuate damage upon you?" he questions.

I give him a knowing stare, "...we could be here all day."

"Nat, I'm just...I'm highly concerned. Where did this happen? At your apartment?"

I nod, and he purses his lips, "...I knew it wasn't safe there. You should stay with me, at least until whoever's hurting you stops looking for you there."

"Ed, no, I'll be fine, trust me," I assure him.

He pauses, and takes my other hand, "Then...just one night. Just so I can have peace of mind."

"Alright."

He pulls me into a tight hug, "Thank you."

We separate, Ed maintaining a pressed smile, "Well, this should be fun. We haven't had a sleepover since we were young."

I smile, "That's true. Should I bring a sleeping bag?"

"Just...meet me after work. Don't worry, we'll just...as they say…'wing it'," Ed puts his long hands up to make quotation marks, his wide smile unwavering.

Ringing the doorbell of Don Falcone's mansion, I'm more nervous than ever. What if he realizes I'm one of Fish's dancers? Or worse yet, the Trickstress?

Falcone answers the door, and smiles, "Ah, yes, Liza's friend from women's school. I never caught your name young lady, what is it?"

"Trixie," I mutter, keeping my head low and my smile polite.

"And Trixie...are those lemon squares?" he asks, pointing to the ceramic plate in my hands.

I look down, slightly surprised by his question, "Oh, yes, I baked them for our tea. Would you like one?"

He nods, before taking one off of the top, "Of course. But please, step in first."

I step into the mansion, where Don Falcone closes the door, and Liza steps out from the kitchen, "Oh, there you are Trixie!"

I smile, as I set down the plate on an end table to embrace Liza.

We turn around to see Don Falcone already helping himself to a lemon square on the plate, swallowing his first bite, "Mmm...excellent."

I try to hide my reaction, for a top mob boss, Falcone certainly is trusting. I would have figured he'd have one of us eat a lemon bar before he did.

He takes the plate and starts carrying it to the kitchen, "I've been teaching Liza some of my mother's recipes. You two should trade cooking tips."

Liza grins, as we follow him into the kitchen, "Yeah, that...that would be great, actually."

"Well, I'll leave you two ladies be," Falcone excuses himself, setting down the plate of lemon squares on the kitchen breakfast bar before stepping out of the room.

The moment Don Falcone is out of the room, Liza grabs me by both shoulders, "Trixie, you have to help me!"

"Liza...what's wrong?"

She takes me over to the breakfast bar, and sits us down on two of the stools, "Penguin, your boyfriend? He came to my apartment today...he knows I work for Fish."

I gasp, although, considering Oswald, I have no right to be surprised, "No…"

"And threatened that unless I start reporting to him...well, he'll kill me," with her head down, Liza chuckles, "wow Trixie, you really have a way with picking guys, don't you?"

"It's a work in progress," I mumble, "so...what are you going to do?"

"I was thinking you could tell Fish about Oswald. You know, clear my name should things go south. I'll try to keep things under wraps for as long as I can, but as soon as I give the signal, you head straight to Fish, got that?" she instructs.

I nod my head, "Yeah, I got you."

Liza slumps back into her seat, "Oh, thank goodness. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I...I just, I feel like a pawn in someone else's game. Don't you ever get that feeling?"

All the time.

"Of course Liza. But the point is to not think about those sort of things. We play the hand we're dealt, that's all we can do," I tell her.

She pauses, looking down, "I know but...it does seem like a dour way of looking at things, doesn't it?"

I look up at her, "Well...what would you suggest?"