3rd Chapter, sorry it's so long, it was really hard to find an appropriate place to end. Also, sorry if the ending is a litte abrupt, I really wanted to get out another chapter. A little more adherent to the actual book than the last few chapters... would you guys mind if I added some totally non-canon stuff into here? I'm thinking of having L walk in while B and Naomi are at maybe the second scene (maybe the first scene). Something to distance this a little farther from the actual book. I'll try and make it fit. Somehow. Would you guys mind that or...?
As always, review are appreciated, and I would really like to know if you think the idea of L walking in is a good one.
Chapter 3
B stood back up, cocked his head and gazed at the puzzled looking Naomi Misora, then handed her a card he had made for himself. He had made it look fake on purpose. He wanted to be just suspicious enough so that Naomi would want to stay near him, but innocent enough to not be subject to intense observation. It was a delicate balance to uphold.
He then walked out of the room and sat down on one of the sofas in the living room. He brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Naomi, looking perplexed, wary, and somewhat annoyed, followed and sat on a couch opposite him. "Ryuzaki…" Naomi mused. "Rue Ryuzaki, right?"
"Yes. Rue Ryuzaki," said B matter-of-factly. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and nibbled on it absent-mindedly. He hid a grin as he watched Naomi's face as she read the blatantly fake business card. I can tell what you're thinking, Naomi. You think that I'm just a bumbling, childish fool who couldn't solve his way out of a closet. He suppressed the urge to giggle. Her voice suddenly broke the awkward silence (although it was much more awkward for Naomi than B). "According to… this… you're a detective?"
"Yes, I am."
"You mean… a private detective."
"No, that term would not be very accurate." He shifted slightly in his seat and raised one hand, palm up. "I feel the word 'private' carries with it an excess of neurotic egotism… you might say I am an unprivate detective – a detective without ego." He placed his hand back on his knee.
"I see…" she said, uncomfortable. B let out a small laugh through his nose when he watched as Naomi delicately placed the card on the table, as far away from her as possible. "So, Ryuzaki… let me ask again, what exactly were you doing down there?"
"Same as you. Investigating," B deadpanned, unblinking. When Naomi's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, he expanded his story. "I was hired by the parents of this house's owner – by Mr. Bridesmaid's parents, and am currently conducting an investigation into the killings. It seemed to me that you were here for much the same reason, Misora."
Naomi was silent. B could guess what she was thinking. Wondering how you can ditch me when you still don't know how much of your conversation with dear little Lawliet I heard? You won't leave me, Naomi, you're far too cautious, and it's quite likely you're curious too… surely I'm an oddity that merits observation? "Yes… I'm also a detective," Misora replied after the short, gauche silence. Too carefully. Took too long in answering as well. You're not simply a detective, are you? Probably FBI. "I can't tell you who I'm working for, but I've been asked to investigate in secret. To find out who killed Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash…"
"Have you? Then we can cooperate!" B interrupted gaily. A slight smirk graced Naomi's face. "Uh huh…. so, Ryuzaki. Ah, did you find anything under the bed that might prove useful to the case? I assume you were looking for something the killer might have left behind, but…"
"No, nothing of the sort. I heard someone come into the house, so I decided to hide and monitor the situation. After a while it became clear that you were not a dangerous character, so I emerged."
"A dangerous character?"
"Yes. For example, the killer himself, coming back to get something he forgot. If that were the case, then what a chance! But apparently my hopes were in vain. " It was a perfect excuse. Not perfect as in airtight, but perfect as in it was believable yet suspiciously simple. Thus, giving Naomi even more of a reason to keep an eye on this suspicious character. "However, instead I have been lucky enough to meet you, so it was not a total write off. This is not a novel or a comic book, so there is no reason for fellow detectives to despise each other. What do you say, Misora? Will you agree to an exchange of information?" he inquired, knowing full well she would refuse.
"No. Thank you for the offer, but I must refuse. I have a duty to keep things secret. I'm sure you have your secrets too."
More than you'll ever know. "I don't."
"…Of course you do. You're a detective."
Technically, I'm a serial killer, but I can't very well tell her that, can I? "Oh? Then I do. But it seems to me that solving this case must take precedence…" the lies slid out of his mouth as easily as milk pouring from a carton. "Very well, Misora. How about this: I will provide you with all the information I have in return for nothing." How you like that deal, Misora?
"Eh…? Uh, I couldn't possibly."
"Please. Ultimately, it does not matter if I solve the case or you do. My client's wishes are to see the case solved, and only to see it solved. If you possess a sharper mind than my own (ha! Not likely), then telling you everything will be more effective."
B could see the suspicion reflected in Naomi's eyes. Just like he had planned, of course. Everything was according to his plan… "You may decide if you wish to give any of your information to me afterward. So, first, there's this." B reached his hand into his jean's pocket and found the crossword he had made. He drew it out and handed it to Naomi, who remarked, "This is…"
"Oh? You knew about it?"
"Uh no… not directly…" she seemed flustered. Obviously she knew about it, L would have told her. Of course, she couldn't exactly come out and say that.
"Allow me to explain," he said as if he was talking to a child. "Last month, on the twenty-second of July, this crossword was sent to LAPD by an unknown sender. Apparently, nobody could solve it, but if you were able to solve this puzzle, it would give you the address of the house. Presumably it was a sort of warning from the killer to the police and to society in general. A declaration of war, one might say."
"I see. Still… you're sure the answer shows this address."
"Yes. Feel free to keep it and solve it at your leisure if you doubt me." That's be fun to see. "Either way, killers that send warnings are generally looking for attention, assuming they do not have some larger purpose. And the Wara Ningyo and locked room aspects of the case fit that profile. So it seems there is a very good chance of some other message… or something like a message, being left at the scene. Do you agree, Misora?"
From the impressed air that came over her, B assumed that L had reached those same conclusions. Of course, B had figured that. Well, time for a snack. "Err, excuse me," he said, and planted both feet on the ground, then stood. He slipped out of the room silently, both to get his precious jam and also to let Naomi sort out her feelings. As he walked over to the fridge, he hummed a little tune, stopped, and adjusted the pitch just slightly. He opened the fridge and grinned. There you are. He reached in and grabbed the jar. He considered eating in the kitchen and not with Naomi, but he decided it'd be more comfortable to sit on the sofa. He didn't care overmuch what Naomi thought about his strange diet, but it would be interesting to watch her reactions.
Ambling back into the room without bothering to close the refridgerator door, he plopped onto the sofa and began the arduous task of opening the jam jar.
"What's with the jam?"
"Oh, this is mine. I brought it here with me and put it there to keep it cold. It's time for lunch."
"Lunch?"
B grunted slightly and broke the seal with a final twist. Grinning, he dug three fingers into the jar then stuck them into his mouth, using his tongue to lick off every little bit. He took his fingers out then stared at Naomi, his hand hovering above the jar. "Mmm? Something the matter, Misora?"
"Y-you have strange eating habits," she stammered. Really, are you that disturbed that you stammer? Most people are so limited…
"Do I? I don't think so."
This time, he only dug two fingers into the jar, and quickly sucked the jam off. "When I start thinking, I get a craving for sweets. If I want to work well, jam is essential. Sugar is good for the brain."
"Hunh…"
B quickly finished off the jar by first spooning handfuls into his mouth and then slurping directly from the jar. He then licked the jam that had leaked onto the outside.
"Sorry for the delay."
"Oh… not at all."
"I have more jam in the refrigerator, would you like some?"
"N-no thanks," Naomi said with one of the fakest smiles B had ever seen. B was slightly disappointed, but not at all surprised.
"Okay." He licked the remaining stickiness from his fingers and stood. "So, Misora, let's go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Obviously, to continue our investigation of the scene, Misora."
During the short walk back to the room, he wondered if Naomi would ask him to leave. There was a small chance she would. Of course, he had responses planned, but if he insisted too vehemently on staying it would shed bad light on him. Fortunately, she didn't voice it; it was obvious she wanted him to leave, but it was equally obvious she felt obliged to keep this creep in her sights. When they entered the room, B abruptly dropped to one knee, the placed his hands on the floor and started crawling, his natural dexterity making it a surprisingly easy task. He glanced back, and, seeing Naomi's bewildered expression, couldn't help teasing her. "What are you waiting for, Misora? Join me!"
He almost laughed as Naomi's eyes grew to the size of half-dollars. She shook her head vigorously, causing her hair to spin around her.
"Oh? What a shame."
"B-but Ryuzaki… I don't think there's anything left here to find. I mean, the police already searched it pretty thouroughly…
"But the police overlooked the crossword puzzle. It would not surprise me at all if they overlooked something else in here."
"If you put it that way… but there's just so little to work with. I wish I had a clue to what I was supposed to be looking for – the room's too empty to just rifle through it at random. And the house is too big."
"A clue…?" B stopped mid-crawl, then slowly, deliberately placed his thumb into his mouth and chewed. "What do you think, Misora? When you came in, did you think of anything? Any idea that might help narrow it down?" Wonder if she'll realize I'm asking the exact same question as I did earlier, just different wording.
"Well… yeah but…" She hesitated. "Right… Ryuzaki. As thanks for earlier, rather than a complete exchange of information… have a look at this photograph."
"Photograph?!" He exclaimed jubilantly. He crawled backwards toward Misora then took the picture.
"A picture of the victim…"
B took the picture and a slow grin crept across his face. He looked carefully at the cuts, surprised at how well developed they looked in the photo. The memory of the murder came back but didn't really arouse any sort of emotions from him. It was just something that had to be done. "Well done, Misora!"
"Yes?"
"The news did not mention that the body was cut up like this, which means this photograph is from the police files. I'm impressed that you were able to get your hands on it. You're obviously no ordinary detective," he added.
"…so how did you get hold of the crossword puzzle, Ryuzaki?"
Oh, I just happen to be the one who made it. "That would be my duty to keep secrets," he said, still looking at the photo, somewhat immersed in emotionless memories. That stroke was slightly sloppy… he frowned when he saw a small, jagged edge on one of the incisions. Should have done better.
"I will not ask how you obtained this photograph either, Misora," he said, breaking out of the memories of the murder and turning his attention to Naomi. "But how does this relate to your idea?"
"Yes, well…. I wondered if the message might be on something that isn't in the room anymore, but was in the room at the time. And the most obvious thing that should be here, but isn't…."
Well done, Misora. "Is the room's occupant, Believe Bridesmaid. Clever."
"And if you look at that picture from the right angle… do the wounds look like letters to you? I wondered if it might be some sort of message…."
"Oh?" B made a show of studying the paragraph, jerking his head this way and that. Should I give her another nudge or…? Yes, I think now's a good time. "No, not letters…"
"No…? I thought I was reading too much into it…"
"No, no, Misora," B said, and he inwardly winced when he realized how fast he had retaliated, "I am not denying the entire idea, just a portion of it. These are not letters, but Roman numerals. I is one, II is two, III is three, IV is four, V is five, VI is six, VII is seven, VIII is eight, IX is nine, L is fifty, C is one hundred, D is five hundred, and M is one thousand. So these wounds can be read as 16, 59, 1423, 159, 13, 7, 582, 724, 1001, 40, 51, and 31. It's just a photograph, so I might not be reading them correctly, but there's an eight percent chance that I'm right.
"Percent?"
"However, I'm afraid that doesn't change the situation. Unless we can figure out what those numbers are supposed to mean, it would be dangerous to assume they are a message from the killer. Perhaps they are simply misdirection."
"…excuse me, Ryuzaki," Naomi said, and took a step backward.
B eyed her. "For what?"
"I need to fix my makeup." She abruptly turn away and headed for the second story bathroom.
B smirked.
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L started with surprise and spilled coffee all over him when the phone rang. Not again… not bothering to clean up his mess, he set down the cup away from his precious laptop. "What is it, Naomi Misora?" he inquired after he connected to the signal.
"Something I need to report."
"Progress in the case? Very fast work." Oh, I pray it's only that… no, if she was being hurt she wouldn't sound so calm.
"No… well, a little. I may have stumbled across a message from the killer."
"Wonderful!"
"But it wasn't me that figured it out." Oh no… "How can I put this… a kind of… mysterious private detective… just showed up."
"I see." No, no, no, this can't be happening… it must be B… well, he obviously has no intention of hurting her, so what could he want? And I can't tell her that he is B, the killer, she'll get afraid, she'll start asking questions, she might slip up and merit B to kill her… no, I just need to let things go their course.
"What should I do? Frankly, I think it's dangerous to take my eyes off him."
"Was he… cool?" The words slipped before L could contain them. What?! What are you thinking? Surely you don't care what she thinks about a serial killer… do you?
"Hunh? No, absolutely not. Creepy and pathetic, and so suspicious that if I weren't on leave, I'd move to arrest him the moment I laid eyes on him." You can't arrest someone for looking strange, Misora… "If I divided everyone in the world into those that would be better off dead and those that wouldn't, there's no doubt in my mind he'd be the former. Such a complete freak that it amazes me he hasn't killed himself."
Well then… she's certainly right that he'd be better off dead. The poor soul. Doesn't matter really, he wouldn't give a wit about her opinion of him, just as soon see her dead… the monster. His fists clenched and he replied, "So, Naomi Misora, your instructions."
"Yes?"
"I imagine you are thinking much the same thing as I am," Oh, not even close, "but let this private detective do what he likes for the moment. Partly because he's a dangerous character to let out of your sight, but more importantly to observe his actions. I believe the credit for the autopsy photograph deductions belong to you more than it does for him, but he is clearly no ordinary person.
"I agree."
"Is he close by?"
"No, I'm alone."
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B stood outside the door, listening and grinning like a lunatic. Little Lawliet, I wonder what you're thinking… you know it's me, and you dread what I'll do to your little secret lover… don't worry, I won't do anything to her. I'll be dead long before her death date. The thought was almost masochistically comforting.
He toned down his grin as the door opened and stared right into Naomi's surprised eyes. Hello.
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L's sign echoed eerily around him. He was actually confused at this point; should he tell Naomi that the one that she's investigating with is the killer?
He stood and walked down the dark, metallic hallway that led out of the underground facility. As he walked, he nibbled on his lip and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, sweeping up any stray cake crumbs that might be hiding. I need to make sure that it actually is B. If it isn't then… then what? The guy would probably just be a nuisance and a hindrance. No, from the description of the man he must be B. Still, can't be too sure. No, you can be too sure if that which you are sure about is false. At that, he decided he would physically go to the house and would try and see if the man really was B. A dangerous move, perhaps, but L had to be sure.
He opened the door after entering the code then stretched as he let the gentle radiance of the sun bathe him in a subtle heat. I really should get out more. He easily jogged through the woods until he hit the trails, then ran along the trails, his sockless ankles starting to chafe and his unexercised muscles starting to burn. It was a nice kind of pain though… the kind of pain that he figured connected him to the real world. The world of people with trivial pursuits and goals; to lose ten pounds, to stay fit, to make a lot of money… how trivial they did seem. Sweat started pouring down his neck, and he was getting winded. After a few more minutes he halted to a complete stop and leaned on his knees, huffing and puffing, his shaggy, black hair hanging in his face, his white shirt stained with sweat. I'm not cut out for this… he found himself wondering why he had just randomly decided to go for an afternoon jog. There was no logical explanation for it. Perhaps logic isn't all there is to life. He straightened and wiped his damp face with his shirt sleeve. He watched as a shirtless, muscular jogger passed him and gave him a disdainful look, seeming to make a show of how fast he could run compared to the winded freak in the middle of the trail. L stared at him, not angry, rather pitying of the man. Little does he realize how meaningless it all is.