Four: Lost
Quillsh had driven Lawliet to pick up a car he'd already picked out from in the paper. He'd expected it to be nice, considering the price, albeit a vague number, Lawliet had told him… He'd never expected a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spyer in black.
"Even with your bank account, there's no way you can afford this," Quillsh whispered to him.
"I'm not buying it, Watari. I'm just renting it."
"Can I help you boys today?" The owner of the car exited his house, another posh mansion similar to Cosette's, if not a bit more modern.
"Saw your ad in the paper. Lending out your car for 10,000."
"A night," The man replied with a grin. "It was my brother's idea. He said guys would pay good money to be seen in a good looking car, but not all guys can afford to buy one."
"You don't seem to be hurting for money," Quillsh said quietly, looking at the house rather than the red-headed gentlemen who probably needed the car to get a lady's attention.
Lawliet laughed at this. Creepy and uncomfortable as it was, it was only made more so by the fact that no one had said anything to warrant such a sound. Lawliet glanced at the man. "You're in debt up to your eyeballs, aren't you?"
The man's face reddened substantially. The car probably had a lot to do with it.
"In the future, you'll want to come down off of your price if you expect anyone to rent your car. I'm also assuming of course, that you have a tracking device inside of it, so that no one could take it and never come back, correct?"
"Of course. That car is my life," The man chuckled a bit.
"How sad for you," Lawliet replied flatly, back to his stoic, weird self. Quillsh covered a chuckle with a cough. The man's face reddened more.
"Well, all right then," Lawliet shrugged after walking around the car a few times. "I'll rent it from you. No problem. I'll pay you an extra 2,000, as long as you don't ask any questions and forget that you saw us. Also, I'll return it to you the next morning in the same condition I'm taking it in."
The man stared at the two of them, turning his eyes back and forth from one to the other. He wanted to ask what exactly it was being used for, but questions would nullify his 2,000.
"Well… I'll need to see your driver's license."
Lawliet dug a fake license out of his pocket and handed it to him. "I assure you that I'm nearly eighteen. I'm just short because I'm part Japanese."
Lawliet's forgeries were perfection, so there was no way for the man to question otherwise, and since Lawliet paid cash up front, there was nothing he could do. Quillsh took him for a gambling man, though he didn't seem nearly as lucky as a certain Poker Alice the two of them had encountered before. Lawliet knew where to find what he needed, that was for sure.
"I'll see you back at home," He said to Quillsh, hopping into the car. Quillsh couldn't help but notice his eyes light up just a bit when he turned on the engine. Wammy wasn't normally an avid fan of cars, but the purr of the engine did sound very nice. He would have liked to have a car like that one day.
"Bye!" Lawliet waved, putting the car into gear and tearing out of the driveway. The man was horrified at the speed he'd taken off at, but there was nothing that could be done now that he was gone.
"Well…" Quillsh straightened his jacket, nodded to the man, and turned away. "Have a nice day."
By the time Lawliet arrived at the party, the sun had gone down. The old mansion was lit up gloriously with hanging lanterns. Extension cords hung over the stone walls surrounding the place, and noise erupted loudly from within. There were so many cars that Lawliet had trouble finding a place to put his car. He settled with placing it underneath a canopy of tree branches, hidden from view in the darkness but still close enough t hat he could make a quick getaway if necessary.
As he got out, he found himself cringing. The black leather boots he'd purchased were horribly uncomfortable. He'd chosen to wear all black so that he might be considered one of the children that Brandon had mentioned earlier in the day as the type of people he appeared to associate with. It was odd how the woman in the store had actually found his hair more appealing when it was even messier than usual, and he was disgusted with the amount of product she'd put in it. The fact that people spent that much money for clothing and hairstyles and cool cars and jewelry and so many pointless things… it was all around sickening. He gritted his teeth and decided to bare it, since he'd already come so far. The glory of solving the case would be satisfying enough to wipe away the nasty feeling all over his body.
The music was far too loud and definitely not the kind of music Lawliet would listen to. It was synthesized and high-pitched and stupid… much like the party guests seemed to be. The teen who was "guarding" the gate to make sure only the in crowd got inside was already passed out from… something. Lawliet did make sure to nonchalantly check his pulse before slipping inside. He'd be fine… most likely.
People were everywhere. It was so crowded that Lawliet had to squeeze his way between them as he tried to act natural. His mind was screaming in horror at the amount of body contact he was forced to endure as he moved, and he was sure that his eyes were darting around as though someone had fired a gun. No one gave him a second glance, assuming that he must have been tripping on something. He was hoping to find fellow 'trippers' in the hopes of discovering more clues for his case.
Once out of the yard and inside the house, the music was, for the moment, a dull roar, and there weren't nearly as many people. He was sure he'd hit the jackpot when he'd stepped inside and found a very unfortunate individual snorting cocaine off of one of the stairs. Just as he was about to start investigating, he was grabbed by the wrist. Turning, he discovered Brandon, already very drunk and more holding onto him to stay standing than to make his presence known.
"Christopher!" He slurred jovially. "Welcome to… Hi there!"
Lawliet stared at him blankly. "Yes, hello."
There was a bit of small talk between them, mostly from Brandon. Lawliet couldn't understand much of what he was saying so he just nodded and smiled mostly, and it worked effectively until he had apparently agreed to let Brandon drag him off somewhere in the opposite direction of his investigation… back outside.
The discomfort he'd felt before was even worse when Brandon had hold of his wrist, dragging him along. He couldn't turn the way he wanted or really do anything. Not being in control was his absolute worst feeling.
"Here, Chris, h-here," Brandon laughed, handing him a cup of beer. "Down the hatch," He told him and then drank out of his own glass.
Lawliet tried to force a smile, but only the left corner of his mouth ticked. There were people dancing everywhere, now to the music of a very amateur band up on the makeshift stage. One girl bumped into Lawliet, causing him to spill half of his drink on himself.
It's all right… It'll just make this damned shirt easier to burn later… He thought, grimacing.
Brandon collapsed before his eyes at that moment, flopping right into one of the fold out chairs. "I miss George, man… He was… was… so… great, man… Just the best…"
"Really…" Lawliet hunched next to his chair, biting down on his thumb. "What made him so great?"
"He just…" He explained, staring glassy eyed off into the distance. "He was just… so fun, you know? Like a kid… and so brave."
Lawliet's gazed flattened when he realized what a waste of time it was to talk to him. "I'm uh…" He poured out his drink behind him. "I'm going to get another beer."
"Okay…" Brandon mumbled, barely conscious.
Just when Lawliet thought he was in the clear, once again, he found himself being touched, this time on the shoulder. A girl in all black and tall boots stood before him, face mercilessly slathered with black eye shadow and red lipstick. Her dyed black hair was pulled back tight on her head, hanging in a rather lifeless ponytail. Her clothing gave away how adult she was trying to be and how bad she was at doing it. He would have placed her age at thirteen, no higher.
"Hey, you're pretty handsome, you know? You should be dancing with someone," She said, and her voice sounded like a bad impersonation of an adult. He would have felt more flattered that she'd complimented his looks if, first of all, looks mattered so little to him, second, he didn't feel like a fool, and third, she wasn't as plastered as she was.
"Sorry, I'm not interested in dancing. Two left feet, you know," He responded, but she didn't let go of him as he tried to turn away.
"Oh, come on. One dance won't kill you. Please? No one else will dance with me!" She whined, tugging on his sleeve with her black-nailed fingers.
"That doesn't really sound like my problem."
"My ex-boyfriend is here. I want to make him jealous. Won't you please just dance with me, just for one song?"
"Leave me alone!" He complained, pulling his arm out of her reach.
And then she started bawling as though her puppy had died. Suddenly, all eyes were upon him and the girl, and he was terrified that his cover may end up blown with people actually paying attention to him now. He sighed inwardly and grabbed the girl harshly and started awkwardly dancing with her. The crowd seemed to forget about him almost instantly.
"So, I haven't seen you around here before, honey. You new? I'm Morgan by the way."
"Ah… just passing through really. My father, you know… and ah… I'm Christopher. Say, Morgan, you wouldn't happen to know who I need to go to… so that I can um… score something…?" He had no idea how he was supposed to behave or speak. If the party hadn't been so soon, he would have had more time to do a little research on teenage slang and mannerisms. All that time he'd been forced to spend buying clothes could have been used for much more useful information.
"You mean pot?" She questioned, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He noted how her eyes were such an ugly, murky brown.
"I… think I'd like to find something a little more… stimulating," He responded, choosing his words as carefully as possible. He was fortunate to speak to her, since she obviously wasn't too familiar with how she was supposed to act with the party-goers either.
"Oh… well, there's lots of stuff being passed around. The second floor's got pretty much everything being handed out, and there are some guys in the attic who sit around and smoke crack… and I've never seen them, but there's apparently this one guy who lives in the woods who has this crazy shit."
Now we're in business! He thought eyes lighting up. "Crazy shit?"
"Yeah, some kids have gotten pretty wasted on it or something. There was this one guy, Brandon, who got so high on the stuff that he disappeared for four days. His parents assumed he ran away and figured he'd come back when he got hungry, at least, that's what I was told. He's back at school now, so I guess he's okay."
He was pretty sure the Brandon she spoke of, and the one he had been conversing with earlier that day were one and the same. He wouldn't be much to talk to, not now, if he was even conscious… However, it did prove his earlier theory that Brandon was keeping secrets… and with Brandon's loyalty to George, it was very possible that George and he were into the same narcotics.
As the song ended, Morgan laced her arms around his neck and leaned against his chest. "Surely you wanna dance another song, right?"
"Not a chance," Lawliet removed her arms from his neck slowly and stepped away. "Go dance with your ex-boyfriend. I have to go pick something up."
And he left her alone on the dance floor…
Quillsh had hidden his identity behind a hat, a mask, and a trench coat. Lawliet had installed a voice changer into the mask for him so that he could act as L's messenger without being in true danger.
He wasn't sure how he felt about using the mystery drug on another person, whether they were on death row or not. The police officers didn't seem to feel too comfortable about it either, but they respected L's reputation, money, and cooperation far too much to question him.
The inmate was a gruff gentleman, a few years younger than Wammy himself. Lawliet had had the police cut a deal with him: test the drug, and you'll be taken off of death row. There were many takers, but one guard decided on the older man, since he didn't have too many years left to live anyway.
"So…" The man said from behind glass as they set him at a table. Wammy was watching, along with two guards and the warden. They all exchanged awkward glances. "So, all I have to do is test this, and… and I'll go free…"
"That's all you have to do," The warden said into the microphone.
"No… no tricks, right? I mean, this won't kill me, will it?"
They all glanced at each other again and unanimously decided not to answer.
The man cracked his knuckles nervously and stared down at the line prepared for him. The odds were, for him, 50/50 should he live or die from the drug. The odds of him dying tomorrow if he didn't test it were 100%. It didn't take him too long to decide what option was the better one, and he snorted the line.
For a short time that seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. No one spoke or moved.
And then…
The man behind glass laughed. It was small at first, a giggle, but it quickly built up into uproarious laughter. He was on his feet, climbing on the table, falling off, laughing, waving his arms… It was disturbingly odd until Quillsh, being experienced in noticing this type of behavior back at the orphanage said, "He's… playing. He's playing as if he were a child."
The man ran to the glass, made faces at them, asked if anyone wanted to play with him. Quillsh made note of the brightness in his eyes, eerie, almost as though they were glowing.
"Where are you?" The warden asked into the microphone, as Quillsh had instructed before the test had begun. "Can you describe it to us?"
The man sat Indian-style on the table, grinning. "It's really pretty."
"Is it? It's not bare walls and glass?"
"Huh? Oh… no, no… I can't really tell. There are fairies everywhere!"
"Fairies?" They all exchanged glances.
"Yes, fairies! Red ones, yellow ones, green ones, blue ones! They're really pretty. Oh… oh, their clearing away… Yes, it is a room with glass and walls… but everything's so pretty… It's like everything's covered with glitter. I like it a lot. I can play in here. I just wish I had someone to play with."
"He's barking mad…" One of the guards said, stunned.
"He's just high," the other guard said. "What the hell did that stuff do?"
Quillsh said nothing. It seems to be some sort of hallucinogen. Once it activates, the user becomes childlike and bombarded with illusions. It brings the user astounding joy, and they seem to forget what has become of them… almost like their real selves have been… lost…
Evening ended. Time rolled by… Two o'clock, three, four… At five-thirty-two, Lawliet finally returned, smelling greatly of beer, marijuana, and body odor.
"Lawliet," Quillsh couldn't help but call him by name as he got out of his chair and made his way over to the boy. "Are you all right?"
Lawliet was already stripping of his clothing, even while standing in the room. It appeared that he'd abandoned the shoes he'd been wearing on the way home. "Get me something to wear," He mumbled.
Quillsh vanished to Lawliet's bedroom to retrieve some clothing, and by the time he'd returned, he found him in a bath, scrubbing himself down quite heavily. "What did you find out?" He asked, voice still somewhat distant as he tried to rid himself of the body contact he'd been forced to endure.
"I have a page of notes for you, sitting on your bed, L, sir," Wammy responded.
"Good," He replied.
"What did you find out?"
"George has been getting his stash from some mysterious person who deals out of the woods, apparently. This drug has allowed people to disappear for days."
"Is that all?"
"It really doesn't seem like a lot, does it…" Lawliet murmured, and Quillsh realized that he must have been disappointed in himself. "There was one thing, after I went back in the house though…"
"Really?"
"Yes… I saw a boy staring at me through the window. His hair was wild, but I couldn't see what he was wearing. He was probably around George's age, maybe a year older, but it was so dim… I had a feeling, so I gave chase, but he laughed at me and ran away. My boots got stuck in the mud, and I had to return without them. The boy climbed and swung from the trees."
"Bizarre…"
"He may have just been tripping… he wasn't much different from the other animals I'd come across…" He shivered and started scrubbing again. "But…"
"You had a feeling."
"Yes."
"So, we have a mysterious wonder drug, and a boy who thinks he's Tarzan, swinging from the trees, and a dead teenager. What's the connection?"
"I don't know, and I'm beginning not to care," Lawliet groaned before taking a deep breath and diving under his bath water to wash the suds from his hair.
"Miss Cosette would certainly care, don't you think?"
Lawliet hung his arms over the side of the tub. "Not particularly. She didn't seem to interested in him. I believe Miss Cosette's only true family is the one that she's lost."
"Surely though, she'd be impressed were you able to figure it out, right?"
"Probably not."
Quillsh didn't like this. He'd already been working on this case so hard… He didn't want to give up on it now. He felt like they were really onto something… and with all the money Lawliet had already spent, it felt stupid to just turn back on it now.
"Say, Lawliet… this wild boy you saw… You don't think he could be the mysterious dealer from the woods, do you?"
"Oh, most definitely."
"So, why was he looking at you?"
"I don't know, maybe he saw me before at the school."
"Or at Miss Cosette's house, perhaps? You don't think that she's in danger, do you?"
"Her father is the one with the money… Maybe he's running the whole thing," Lawliet said, sounding bored. "Maybe he's manufacturing the drug… or… something…" His eyes lit up just a bit at the prospect.
"Well, why would George have been killed?"
"Bad deal, perhaps?" Lawliet offered. "Maybe George was a warning."
"Maybe."
"I'll need to figure out his business exploits. The problem is that none of this would be in any books, on any computers, probably not even written down. The only thing I can think to do is find out by word of mouth. If I could get someone to tell me what he may have been doing, then maybe…"
"Might I suggest… Miss Cosette?"
"I don't know if I could get her to talk to me…"
"Well, as far as I know, the Altairs are having a business gala for all of their closest friends at the end of the month. Perhaps there, you could speak with her, or one of his associates."
"I'm not one of his associates. There's no way I could get inside."
"Actually, he's invited close friends as well, including me."
Lawliet stared at him for a long time, raccoon eyes wide. "Why… didn't you tell me this before now?"
"I only just received the invitation today… well, technically yesterday."
"I don't know if I can handle another party, Watari."
Quillsh pulled a towel off of the rack and summoned Lawliet to leave the bath before he rubbed himself raw with the soap. "This isn't the same kind of party… and besides, I would need someone to go with. Also, even if you don't find anything, you may still get to see Cosette all dolled up. Maybe she'll even sing."
Lawliet, wrapped up in the oversized towel, blushed a bit. "Perhaps so."
