Chapter 2

Part 2: Interrogation

"We have a few things to ask you."

I swallow hard. So not Black Order people, but human police. It feels like a cold quiet has settled over the place, sharper and more intense than the staring strangers outside.

I nod, and take slow, even steps to the bar. I select the tupperware marked Extra Bold Coffee and careful measure a scoop into the grinder. It whirs for a few seconds, and then I sift the crushed beans into the filter and pour hot water from the kettle, watching the dark liquid stream through the fine grits of coffee beans.

I want the process to take longer. The presence of the detectives is somehow bigger than the two men should have…something in the atmosphere—like a loud, shrieking noise behind the regular sounds of the shop.

I steam the milk along with a ball of loose-leaf tea until it turns a warm tan color. I stall for time, pouring both drinks into cups, and carefully arranging the napkin and spoons. For myself, I bring only a thermos bottle of hot oolong tea.

The detectives are seated quietly at the table, Link with a notebook and pen pulled out, while Park idly fingers his phone. It's an older model, with scuffed corners and a thin scratch down one side. Park slides it into his pocket as I set down the tray.

Park nods his thanks, and takes a small sip of the hot liquid. Link simply moves his closer to him, but doesn't move to take a sip. I unscrew the top of my thermos, and pour myself a bit of tea, hoping that they will be finished with me before I can finish the cup.

Park clears his throat, and leans back into his chair. "So, you been working at this café long?"

"For a while, yes." At Links severe look, I add, "A year or so."

"Do you get much business?"

"I can't say that we do a lot, but we get by." I smile, but don't offer much more than that.

"I see." Park taps a finger on the table. "So, you ever consider getting a second job? Or does your gig at the church pay well?"

Ah. They've already looked in on my background. Fear and cold speculation compete in my mind, the first urging me to answer anything so long as it keeps me out of trouble, and the later counseling calculated vagaries. They'll tell me what they're after in their own time.

If I know what they're looking for or not, I'll figure it out before they even ask me outright. I doubt they're much for playing a subtle hand.

"The church? I play the piano for some services, but otherwise I'm just a volunteer. But no, I don't really need a second job. Family takes good care of me." Watches me, one might say.

"So without another job, where would that put you yesterday night?" Park ducks his chin so that he has to look up at me. A perfect interrogation face with all of his wrinkles and down-turned lips.

"Well, let's see." I answer brightly, taking a short breath and casting my own eyes to the ceiling. I've practiced that look…the one that emphasizes my youth, and makes it look like I'm incapable of thinking of anything bigger than weekend plans or café menus. "I got off work at six, and I went straight to the church. I played the piano at the Moon Viewing Ceremony, but I left at midnight." Simple.

"Where did you go after the ceremony then?" Park lifts both eyebrows, tilting his head to show attention.

His grave expression lends a seriousness to the situation. Seriousness that I ruin by blowing on my tea and tossing my head back. "Well," I draw out the word, imitating Road's childish tones. "I went home. I went to sleep." I smile widely, and look at Link. "Is the tea not to your liking, Mr. Link?"

Link stops in his note-taking and shakes his head. "It's fine, Mr. walker."

"But you haven't tried it," I point out, forcing my brows to knit, and my mouth to pout. Actually, I feel cornered.

"I'm letting it cool." Link answers, his tone bland.

"So you don't have an alibi for after midnight, then."

Allen… the lights seem to flicker, and the sense of cold vanishes. Instead, a warm breeze ruffles my hair, and envelops me like an embrace. That voice…

"Alibi? So you investigating me? What for?" I decide to play dumb. Let them tell me the details of the murder case everyone has been going on about.

"Surely you've heard the news…word has been on the street since before we even sent the first responding officer, so I'm told." He leans forward, shoulders hunched and cramped looking.

"People don't talk to me so much." I admit slowly.

Ah, well they wouldn't. A low, humorless chuckle sounds behind my ears. I look around, expecting to find a figure leaning over the bar, or perhaps hiding in the shadows.

"Have you seen this man before?" Park nods to Link, who pulls a black file out of his briefcase. He selects a photo, careful not to show anything else in the file.

I look at the man in the photograph. He looks to be in his thirties or so, lean and probably fit. His hair is dark, and his features unremarkable. I don't recognize him. I almost feel relieved.

"I've never seen him before."

"Go ahead and take another look. Look closely," Park suggests, waving his hand in friendly invitation. But his eyes are harsh.

I glance down again, looking at the man's eyes. I shake my head. "I really don't know him."

"You've been placed on the scene, Allen Walker." Park barks, his voice brash.

"It has to be a mistake—I don't even know where that man lives!"

"Out of the district." Park slaps the tabletop. Link takes a sip of his tea. "A civilian, murdered on the outskirts of the Quartered Districts. No fucking way it's a mistake, chump." He grimaces, and stands up. "In that area, some Noah would stand out like a sore thumb."

I sip my oolong tea. I suppose it makes sense— it explains the intensity, if not the investigation. But I wasn't there.

"Look at yourself, that white hair, that scar." He brings his meaty hand down on my head. "A Noah? One like that? There's only you!" His words make my head ring after the cuffing.

The store bell chimes, discordant in the situation. Tyki stands in the door, silhouetted by the afternoon light. His footsteps sound heavy and firm in the sudden silence, stopping some distance from where I sit.

He looks at me oddly, like he's seeing something…something dangerous.

Tyki Mikk.

"What are you two inspectors doing here, questioning a minor without so much as a witness?" Tyki's voice isn't so much hard as it's disapproving. He's using his high-collar voice, and his height and standing position gives him further leverage still. He uses it to tower over them.

A warm breeze sweeps itself around me, and I give a tiny sigh, my eyes fluttering. Behind closed lids, I can almost see a figure. The smile appears first- like a Cheshire cat- flickering into existence. Next I see long and graceful hands, and a wisp of dark hair surrounding a familiar face, but the eyes... The eyes are closed or hidden from me.

"Allen, Allen, Allen. You walked right into that...you shouldn't have come to work today. As easy to find as a sheep to pen..." His smile is listless.

I rub my temple.

"We're simply enquiring about his alibi. Nothing at this stage is something you'd need a lawyer for." The older detective replies scornfully. He obviously doesn't think much of Tyki.

"Bullshit. You're trying to bully him into admitting something stupid so you can get some sort of racist warrant."

The noise filters through my mind, distracting me. I can see the man, Tyki and Park, and the junior detective all at once, but following what they're saying is more difficult. If they'd just stay still, it'd be a lot easier.

The man walks out of the shadow and into my line of sight. He is tall, graceful, and completely unknown to me.

"Who are you?" I feel strangely disconnected as I ask this. Crazy people talk to themselves. but I push that thought away; I'm not talking to me... There's someone else here.

In answer, the figure pulls a golden sphere out of the air. With teeth bared, it opens, and a light the color of distilled honey seeps out. A score of music, a glimpse of the golden sphere in the middle. The notes look like rough bits of iron hammered into a ring, like uneven spokes in a clock.

I take in my surprise with a sharp breathe. I haven't seen Tim since….since years before. Before Cross 'lost' him.

Time returns to me.

"Did you say something?" Link asks.

I shake my head numbly in the detective's direction, and examine his braid to keep myself occupied.

"I don't have anything to hide," I say slowly, my eyes flitting back to the figure. The music notes have folded back into Tim, and I remember its teeth are hidden behind that smooth surface, and the music itself becomes wings. It's good to see him again.

"Don't all Noah have something to hide?" the voice is musical, I realize, and the eyes have a tinge of sharpness to them.

Link motions in my direction. "So you have an alibi up until midnight." he says reasonably. "If the autopsy shows the time of death before midnight, you're not a suspect." I don't know what to make of this guy.

I shrug. "I thought they didn't accept family alibis..." I mumble into my cup. I ignore the words of the musician.

Link fixes me with a disapproving frown. He looks over his notebook with an expression of severity. With a stiff back and tense shoulders, he looks like he's meant for the army, not the police. "I don't think you were there." He says into his cup. Then he shakes his head, almost as though he's talking to himself.

Or maybe he just wants someone to listen to his own logic. Being a junior investigator, I doubt he often gets the opportunity. "I don't think you did it."

A baby detective, I mentally dub him. Private eye...baby eye? but that doesn't have the right ring to it.

"Why do you think that?"

Link's eyes bore into me, his high brows making it look like he smells something unpleasant. "The witness wasn't reliable..." he shakes his head, and his braid wags behind him. "I doubt there were any Noah on the scene at all."

I nod slowly, noncommittal. I wonder if it's a ploy to get me to trust him—to open up and reveal some information, or if he's just playing a familiar role. Good cop, bad cop. My eyes flick to Detective Park, considering. But then again, Howard Link is young and fresh enough to possibly work on his own a bit. To take a leap of faith.

Link stands up and moves to the left, moving subtly to stand to the left of the other detective. Link's a full beat ahead of Park, who hasn't seemed to realize his time here is about to end.

"If you want to talk to young Allen here, it will need to be official, recorded, and with a lawyer." Tyki is saying, pushing the bigger detective towards the door. Tyki only needs to push with the ends of his fingertips; he's that much stronger than him. He smiles coolly, ever polite, even when he's pushing you out on your ass.

The younger detective gives me a nod, and is out by his own accord.

Tyki's eyes bore into me. "So," he leans against the wall next to the door. "Did you have a good conversation with the inquisitors?" His has a crooked smile even when he's serious, Tyki. He reminds me of an easy-going repairman with an assistant professor's attitude- at times in control over the students, at times watching the chaos, and then bowing to the other professors when he feels like it.

"Not really," I sigh, and rub my temple again. I glance over to my thermos bottle, wondering if the oolong tea will help my headache. I stretch, gently pulling the tight muscles in my shoulder and hands.

"Find out who you were talking to, then?"

My eyes snap to him. Tyki smiles again, his voice low like song. "Who were you talking to, Allen Walker?"

He always did seem to know more than he let on.

I lick my lips, briefly considering denying anything.

Of all people, Tyki Mikk would know. He knows you're lying even when you don't.

"No one, Tyki." I shake my head, a soft smile taking over my features.

"Who are you?" Tyki repeats my question from earlier, tasting each syllable as though it were a foreign language. He cocks his head, his smile nothing more than a memory.

"The Musician." I whisper. Somehow, saying it aloud brings it all together, suddenly makes more sense. Of course. Who else could I be speaking to? I steal a glance to where I saw the music, but only see a wide smile lacking a face. But I thought I recognized it early…so familiar, and yet I can't quite…

Tyki's laugh is sharp and hallow. "Allen," he shakes his head, and moves closer with the easy grace of a predator. "You are the Musician."

"Yes, I know." My own voice is quiet. "I know."

Tyki purses his lips. "As long as that's clear." He coughs. His eyes slide over to where the detectives just were. "Allen—" his voice does not waver, "you weren't there." His voice is strong and steady, sure and convincing.

I don't believe him.

Or do I?

"No Noah was there, then," I mutter.

Tyki shrugs, his smile coming back. "Indeed, it must be so." His large, long fingered hand brushes at his wavy hair. "All were asleep or at worship." His voice is rich with irony.

I bite my lip again, wondering. Where does my musician fit in, and why would someone say a Noah was there?

Of course, it could be plain stupidity. The witness might just hate Noah.

How can you know?

I smile at Tyki and nod, hoping to seem the happy, obedient child. "Of course."

I'll have to go and look for myself…see if there's anything to be learned from a dead man's place.

"Make me some chamomile tea, then?" Tyki smiles, all white teeth. "I could use a little sanctuary like this right now."

I nod, my thoughts swept away into tidy corners. With enough patience, I can learn something about the murder. Remind myself that I wasn't there.

Probably.

I settle back into the morning routine, and all the while, I can feel Tyki's eyes on me. I think about what he's saying. We can wait for the conflict to find us…or we can go out and find it first.

At last, I give in and hum. Tyki smiles from his table, and his rich baritone urges the melody into a full song. It's nice, really. I can almost forget the smile that faded away, the man that no one else can see.

I can only wait so long. Then, I think, it's time to go.

tbc...

do you guys prefer shorter and frequent updates or longer chapters? (not much of a response around here...but I will try and ask anyways. )