Lots of words! Avid readers will wriggle with happiness.
But, if you're like me, you'll just cry and have to read in spurts. :[
I quite like the material in this chapter. I can't say I like how it's expressed/written, but it was fun to write. Because picturing it all…...I really laughed a lot. Haha. It'd be better as a comic (or animated!) rather than as a story...
As always, please correct any grammatical errors or sentences that just sound off. Also, my 'j' key is sticking terribly so if there's a 'j' missing...LET ME KNOW!
Crying because I missed Venus' transit across the sun,
Kelsey
CHAPTER 29: WHO YOU KNOW (AND WHO YOU DON'T)
Back in London, 1 Month Later
Petrolite Industries, Corporate Offices, Ground Floor
"Stabilnon, sir?"
Laura Haris, becoming slightly perturbed as the sun blared into the room and burned into her back, knit her eyebrows together. She felt her skin dampen, a film of sweat coating her back and waist. Standing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows at midday wasn't her idea of a meeting as much as it was her boss'.
A taut smile stretched across the face of Leopold Chancey, who had just handed over a large folder to his employee. Leopold was not the sort of man to spare details, as was apparent by his obsessively sculpted hair and crisp, fresh-pressed oxford and cream blazer. He made it a point to keep his shoes polished, his nails trim, and his face free from stubble of any sort to give off a smooth and fluid impression. Apart from being well-oiled in appearance, his personality was just as slippery.
A light chuckle, half-hearted, airily escaped through his teeth as he clicked his rings together on his fingers, a habit that he had recently picked up, and one that Laura had recently gotten irritated with.
"Judging by your expression, dearest Laura, you've never heard of it," he chortled, referring to the foreign word that she had just questioned. "I'm not surprised. I'll deal with the extensive briefing later, but wouldn't you like to know, it's a cozy little town over in Yankee country. Just along the east coast. Lovely, modest town that it is…" Laura noticed his eyes flash, his interest flaring. "There's oil there, Miss Haris. Oil that I intend for you to dig."
Tucking the folder underneath her arm, Laura remained silent, although the gaze of her employer continued to bore into her. He smirked.
"Haven't you always wanted to go to America?"
"…Not particularly, and not under these circumstances."
"What better circumstances than the opportunity to harness the world's natural energies!" His bright laughter echoed about the large tiled room, his patent leather shoes clicking against the floor as he walked away. Even his stride bothered her, and she rolled her eyes as his white coat-tails fluttered behind him when he turned a corner, shoes continuing their clicking down the hallway.
She opened the folder and scanned it over briefly, slowly walking to move out of the sun's rays and into cool shadows cast by the open room's pillars and giant plants. The whole building's interior was contemporary in design, with straight, neat edges and sterile solid-colored walls. The only colors that broke up the monotony were the deep greens from the foliage that dressed the otherwise empty corners. The flora had been Laura's idea, as she couldn't stand staring all day long at the blank whites and grays that spanned about the rooms and corridors. It appeared to her to be more of a dank tomb rather than clean simplicity.
Her eyes returned to the word in bold at the top. For some reason, she read and reread the title multiple times, as if it wanted to tell her something beyond the individual letters.
"Stabilnon…" she said aloud, blinking. Sucking her teeth, she walked towards her office, intuition gnawing at her voraciously.
Her office was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. She had requested navy blue carpet with white walls and window accents, a monstrous, dark cherry-wood desk, and a perimeter-spanning set of matching wood bookshelves; books and miscellaneous knick-knacks had collected on the shelving units over the years, but all was free from age and dust as if it had been freshly placed only yesterday. Her drive for symmetry split the room equally in half, an imaginary mirror cutting through the middle of the office. Whatever was on the left was also on the right, in the same place, only on the opposite side of the room.
As the sole director of the company's engineering department, it seemed only fitting that she was given a large, expansive room all to herself. Although she spent most of her time actually designing and building elsewhere (even though she did have the computer and the software to do so in the office), the office remained hers to use as she saw fit. She figured the room's size was more a symbol of her seniority and influence in the place rather than out of actual necessity, which gave her a little security. Perhaps the view from the huge windows was symbolic as well, she mused, as she would gaze out daily over the barren grounds, filled with other office structures and whatever else the other buildings contained.
Barren and boring. Life in a nutshell.
But, in the end, she didn't really care one way or the other. All she cared about now was what was hiding underneath the business' façade. There was more to dig than oil. Her proof? It wasn't physical, there was no real proof. Only an acute sense of intuition. And now, the words of a gnarled old maid.
'What am I playing at…'
She walked towards her desk, sighing and running fingers through her hair. The folder fell with a light slap onto the desk's dark, glassy surface, her face reflected murkily. She could barely see it, but she could tell her expression had soured.
"And he just makes things worse… Really, what am I playing at?" she whispered, groaning as she slipped into the oversized swivel chair at the desk and buried her face in her hands. "Need to call him. Need to call him. I can't be drowning in this forever."
With heart-racing dread, she punched in numbers on her desk phone, sneering and rolling her eyes as the connection was being made.
"Professor! I told you, the phone is ringing!"
Slippers plodding, morning paper flying, Professor Layton rushed to the phone on the wall, scolding his apprentice silently with severe eyes as he lifted the receiver from the base.
"I told you that you could answer it, Luke… Hello?"
Luke noticed the color drain from the Professor face, then return. The boy also noted his mouth droop, then pull taut as his cheeks flushed crimson, all within moments. He looked curiously at his mentor, then shrugged.
'He's such a funny man, really…'
Layton turned away from the boy, the phone's cord wrapping around his back. "No, no, I shouldn't have…I mean, well—no, really, I—Laura, honestly, I shouldn't—o-okay, okay, if you insist, apology accepted, but—okay, no more 'but's', I promise," he stammered, resenting the fact that he couldn't get a word in.
'Had she always been so headstrong?'
He had been waiting on word from Laura concerning their investigation, and it had been almost a month with no update. During that time, his dreams had become rather vivid again, haunting him nightly as they had for quite some time, years ago. He had the feeling they wouldn't leave, now that she was back in the picture again.
This particular morning, he woke up before the nightmarish portion of the dream began, and felt as if he had literally just been with his former student, all feelings, emotions, and desires returning as if there'd been no 10-year intermission. To him, the dream might as well have been reality, given the way he felt now. Even during his breakfast and morning tea, he was internally missing and wanting her, wishing she'd call, hoping she'd stop by so he could see her face. But surely, it was the passing fantastical sensations of his dream, and—however realistic—it was merely fleeting emotion attaching itself to him. It would end, definitely; it would fade. It had to. He hoped with every fiber of his body, that it would.
But now, her voice over the phone jarred him, tickling the hunger planted in his sleep. Her words were like a sweet poison, spilling from the ear piece, directly into his head. It didn't matter what she was saying, it only mattered that she kept talking, although her tone was slightly distorted over the electronic communication.
All this, he kept to himself. Surely others wouldn't guess that the calm, pleasantly smiling man with a top-hat was fighting himself beneath the surface? He would keep it that way, he'd resolved.
"Hershel, are you listening to me?" came the frustrated voice from the other end. Layton blinked and smiled stupidly, realizing he wasn't paying any attention.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry, I was just looking at…well, nevermind, yes, I'll be home all day. I don't have class until Tues—"
"Perhaps you should come to the corporate offices today. I can show you around. Then we can get our investigation up and running from there. Leopold is leaving in an hour for Italy, so nobody important is around. Unless you count the defunct corner cameras as important."
"And the janitors," he chuckled.
A defiant laugh on the other side. "I do consider them important. They keep this rat-trap clean to the hilt. I won't stand for anything less. They mean more to me than the CEO."
"Right, right…of course…"
"Well, then?"
Layton beamed. "Well, that's a perfect environment to search in!"
"You were supposed to say 'Oh, Laura, well, somebody important is around the office, as you're important. Since, after all, you're such an integral part of this investigation,' ha ha."
The Professor was taken aback. "I…."
"I'm just kidding," she said hurriedly, hiding her irritation. He was so sensitive nowadays, it was hard not to be annoyed. "Anyway, you should be here, waiting at a pair of side doors around 3 o'clock. The side entrance is easy to spot. Near a large hedge, visible from the front courtyard. A tall birch tree is by it, surely you know what a birch tree is? I'll let you in from there, as there's no traffic whatsoever that way. No one should spot you. Can you do that?"
He looked over at Luke, winking at him. It was enough to get the boy to race to the coat hook, grab a coat, and pull on his shoes, all as if he could actually hear the other end of the conversation. "Luke and I can do that. Flora is out with Rosa for the afternoon, but Luke and I will join in your company."
"Very well. See you soon."
"Bye—" He merely blinked at the click on the other end, signaling that she'd terminated the call. "Guess she wasn't in the mood for chatting..."
With a light whoop, Luke jumped into the air. "Alright, Professor! Back in business! What's our plan of action now?"
"Well, nothing quite yet, Luke," Layton laughed, impressed with the boy's eagerness. "We're going to Laura's workplace to search for clues. It's a professional place, so you must be on your best behavior, even if no one is around. Actually, it's of utmost importance even if no one is present in case you are recorded on camera… Actually, she said 'defunct' cameras, so…"
Luke nodded, pulling on his cap. "Professor, you just worry about yourself, and I can take care of myself!"
'That's one of us,' the Professor grumbled quietly under his breath, nervous at venturing to the company. Not for the first time, he was uneasy with seeing Laura. She had been more nippy and irritable than usual, but his dreams as of late were erasing all that, showing his student in a more appealing light. Too appealing.
'I'm just going to keep my mouth shut about anything related to us…'
Tossing a brown, silk top hat into Layton's lap, Luke grinned broadly and marched right out of the flat, through the front door.
"Come on, Professor! Last one to the offices has to take over Rosa's chores for a week!"
As much as the Professor looked out for his maid's well-being, he had no desire to alleviate her potential work load by taking on any of the cleaning chores himself. Particularly in the realm of dusting out his archaeology study, arduous task that it was.
"No way am I taking on that task…Luke, my boy, wait up! I haven't even changed out of my robe!"
Groaning, he flew to his bedroom, wishing he had the energy of his apprentice. God knew he needed it.
The pair arrived at the company a little before 3 o'clock. Layton parked the car in a side parking lot that was literally empty. The Laytonmobile sat on the heated asphalt, lonely, as they walked away.
"We'll be back, Laytonmobile!" Luke called at it, waving solemnly as they walked away.
"It'll be quite alright, Luke."
They approached a dark set of glass doors and looked around, soon spotting the side entrance. It opened before the two reached the few front steps.
"Right on time, I'm impressed." Laura smiled wryly, holding open the door for them. "Now then, off to my humble…accommodations."
They walked along the dimly lit halls and up two stair cases.
"Where's the elevator…?" the Professor wheezed, to which Laura snorted in response.
"The place wasn't built for a fat man."
'Here we go…the girl with a track record for insults…'
The place had an eerie energy about it. Everything was still, but something was waiting. Work was to be done, yet everyone was gone.
"I must ask, Laura, where is everyone?" Layton ventured to question, recovering from the stairs.
"It's a sort of holiday, as Leopold puts it. The day the oil operations were handed over to him. Everyone has the day off."
"Did he ever mention why the company was handed over to him?"
She shook her head, eyes fixed on Luke running ahead of them. "Nope. Nothing. Haven't I told you, I know very little?" she giggled, waving the question off. "Anyway, it is what it is. Oh, here's my office. Luke, come back here, this is our destination!"
Luke had a hard time containing his excitement as they entered Laura's office. Books upon books, trinkets and bobbles all about the shelves. It was too much for one little boy to handle. His hands reached towards the shelves, but the Professor admonished him on the side ("A gentleman never touches things that aren't his.")
"How do you keep it so clean?" Luke asked, half in observation, half in genuine wonder.
"The Professor never told you about my obsessive-compulsiveness?"
"He hasn't really told me much about you at all, now that I think about it…" With discerning eyes, he looked over at the Professor, who was admiring the finish on the desk. Layton hadn't been intently listening, but heard enough to warrant a slight shiver over his skin. He didn't want to bring up anything, especially now.
"Ah, well, I told you she was my student. That's…about…really…all you really need to know, I suppose…" he stuttered, trying to find something else to latch his interest onto. He made sure to avert his eyes from Laura's, unsure (and afraid) of what her eyes would make him feel. Had he met his gaze with hers, he would have been more reassured that she was experiencing the same awkward embarrassment, the same limbo that he was trapped in. But he worked his attention upon a particularly ornate compass that sat like a paper weight atop the desk.
Laura snorted, breaking out of her own contemplative world. "Yeah, and Professor Layton was the most boring professor I had the misfortune to study under. When all you think about is rocks, your brain turns into one."
She chuckled along with Luke, both of them covering their mouths as Layton turned to face them, an incensed growl seething through his teeth.
"Laura Haris, if this is just going to be—"
"—of course, I wasn't any good in his class, so I had to be tutored. Every day, his office."
"Whoa, really? I thought you were pretty smart though," Luke said, astonished.
"Yeah, well, dusty artifacts aren't my forte. But of course, we rarely talked about any of that. He's much more interesting when you get to talk about everything else under the sun, everything except archaeology." She crossed her arms and smiled smugly, triumphant. She was certain that the Professor was expecting further insults, given his blatant surprise. He stared with puzzled eyes.
"Um…"
"Be sure to listen to the Professor, Luke," she said airily as she walked around her desk, refusing to look Layton in the face. "He teaches you things you never thought you'd find important. He's more interesting than he looks."
Luke began talking with Laura after she finished her lectured opinion, the Professor looking up at her briefly, then returning his attention back to his reflection in the desk. Tossing her ending snub aside, he couldn't quite figure out why she'd talked him up, out of the blue. It was particularly uncanny, considering they hadn't spoken to each other on neutral terms since back in Italy, around a month ago. And that was prior to their argument in the hotel room.
After several moments of thinking to himself, he smiled, a familiar warmth coursing through his veins. It felt good, whatever it was that was sending positive sparks over his skin, throughout his body. It was foreign, old, but good, all the same.
All of a sudden, Laura's eyebrows furrowed, as if working out a puzzle or a finicky math problem, She walked about the room, looking upward at a slight angle towards the ceiling, or perhaps at the very topmost book shelves. Layton watched her circle the room, then poke her head out into the hallway. He frowned at how curious she was behaving. Luke seemed to be thinking likewise, as he looked at the Professor with a confused expression.
"Laura, whatever are you doing? Is something wrong?" the boy asked, although hesitantly.
"I thought he'd be around here by now, but I suppose he's outside…" She cupped her hands around her mouth and inhaled sharply. "Carbite!" she bellowed clearly, startling both the Professor and Luke.
"Laura Haris, what in the world was that for?" Layton shouted, barely keeping himself from jumping out of his skin.
Stopping after the one call, she tilted her head to one side, apparently not hearing the question. She walked out of the office, not bothering to check if the others were even following or not, and called out again. Layton held onto his hat and jogged down the dim hallway, carpet muffling each of his and Luke's footfalls as they ran.
"Who are you looking for? Is there something I should know about? Laurie? Laura!"
They descended the stairs and continued through a maze of cubicles and closed office doors before dashing through the thick metal door that Laura had just ran through, exiting into a wide outdoor space, walled off at the perimeter. Several metal fences were aligned perpendicularly along the wall at regular intervals, giving the appearance of an outdoor jail, the cells barricaded with chain-link gates. Laura stood in the middle of the clearing, her hands on her hips as she fleetingly scanned the premises. With a frustrated sigh, the Professor caught up with her, Luke rushing up behind.
"Whatever was that about? Could you please tell me what you're doing? Who's 'Carbite'?"
"Well, it's actually 'Carbonite,' but 'Carbite' is his nickname. There's no special reason or anything really, no namesake, unless you really have an appreciation for chemistry, but…oh who bothers with that." She yelled out once more, her eyes looking about. "He's gotta be here somewhere."
"You told me this place was empty…"
With a frustrated whine and a glowering look, Laura rolled her eyes. "It is! Now, enough with the questions! I can't hear with you chit-chatting!"
Luke shrugged when Layton looked over at him, feeling insulted.
"Maybe it's someone who's shy?" the boy suggested timidly. "Or…a ghost."
The Professor wasn't convinced.
"Nonsense!" Layton grumbled. "This is just outrageous. A wild goose chase, by the looks of it! Laura, I demand that you—"
With a quick flutter and change in the sun's unwavering light, a medium sized shadow had formed on the ground, unbeknownst to the Professor. Luke spotted it and tugged on Layton's suit coat.
"Um…Professor?"
"Not now, Luke, I'm trying to—"
"Duck!"
"'Duck'? No, I said 'wild goose chase', Luke. It's not to be taken literally, it's—" Glancing over his shoulder, the Professor barely had time to notice something very fast coming in at him from above. "What the devil—"
With a startled (and, although he wouldn't admit it, frightened) collapse to the ground, he barely avoided a painful and injurious collision with some large bird that had swooped down with a whoosh, the air rushing past his ears. As Layton dropped to his knees, his hat seemed as if it had suspended itself in midair, and in the split second between leaving his head and before gravity took hold, the bird flew just between his scalp and the hat's brim. Luke giggled as the top hat fell down and unceremoniously covered the Professor's eyes at a cockeyed angle.
With a graceful flap and a croak, the large black bird took its place on Laura's outstretched arm, rubbing its enormous beak against her hand. "There you are, Carbite. You gave me a scare!"
"Gave you a scare?" Luke said with slight exasperation, trying to assist the Professor to his feet. "It almost crashed into the Professor's face! Oh my, would you look at that…"
Brushing himself off, Layton stood quickly, thanked the boy, and gasped.
"Good heavens, is that a…"
"Toucan? Indeed," Laura said proudly, allowing the tropical bird to hold fast to her arm with its talons. It scaled her limb with ease as if it were any actual limb in a tree. "This is Carbite. He's a Keel-Billed toucan."
"A toucan?" Luke shrieked, half with delight, half with complete disbelief. He thought it was rather out of place, to have such a rare and exotic bird in such a drab locale. Its beak vibrantly contrasted with the grays and browns of the company building's exterior, the rainbow of colors definitely speaking louder than the bird itself. "What's that doing here?"
"Yes, I suppose it's odd he's here without his friends." Laura cupped her fingers around her mouth once more, smiling. "Ready or not, here I come!"
In a flurry of color and noisy excitement, a small flock of birds of all different species came out of the surrounding trees and fluttered and fanned its way to the young woman, many of the group's members vying to get a spot on her bent, outstretched arms. After shaking off his surprise and amazement, Layton did a quick headcount and counted no less than 15 different birds chittering and chattering, some squawking rather loudly as Laura crooned to them affectionately.
"There, there, you wild crazies, let's not get out of control…"
"Where in the world did all these birds come from?" Professor Layton said quietly, walking towards the flock slowly as Luke followed cautiously from behind.
Laura bit her cheek inside her mouth, thinking. "Well, the cockatoos are from Australia, but—"
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I just meant—"
"NOT DAD."
A few of the larger birds let out ear-piercing screeches as the Professor approached. They tossed their heads about and spread their wings, opening their beaks menacingly as they hissed. Laura grimaced as their beating wings ruffled her hair and their cries continued.
"Ouch, guys, that's loud…" she said, wincing.
"NOT DAD, NOT DAD!" they squawked, their bird-like cackling echoing throughout the courtyard. Their pitches increased and they flapped their wings, hissing in protest until the Professor backed himself up a couple of metres. Their fluttering waned and the squealing decreased considerably when they could tell that the top hat had moved back a favorable distance.
"I wonder why they're saying that," Luke wondered aloud, scratching his chin as he stood next to Layton. "'Not dad'? Are they talking to you, Professor? I wonder if they call Laura anything."
"If you mean 'Mama', then yes, they do," Laura stated proudly. "Although, I can't say I've heard them say anything about 'Dad', and especially not any 'Not Dad's'". She turned her attention back to the birds, some of whom landed gracefully to the ground and were walking about stiffly on their thick, taloned feet. They looked up and over at her at different moments, croaking and chittering small sounds and words amongst themselves. "Anyway, let me introduce you. These guys are my company while working here. I allow them complete freedom of my office, as well as out here in the yards. They are particularly fond of me, so they won't leave the area."
Layton nodded slowly, still not comprehending. "Why are they here in the first place? It's hardly the most…appealing of places for a flock of exotic birds."
"Well, Leopold supposedly bought them all a couple of years ago, one at a time, because he liked looking at them. The thing is, he never took care of them, and they started to show signs of neglect." She gingerly lured a large blue parrot to herself, lifting up its wings to reveal a very emaciated chest plate. "He's gaining some of his weight back, but he's still a bit small. But anyway, Leopold is their owner. Maybe that's why they didn't take to you? Calling you 'Not Dad'? You aren't their 'Dad': Leopold is."
"It just seems a bit odd that they'd take to calling their owner 'Dad' and the man never cares for them," Layton protested carefully, trying not to appear as if he was challenging Laura's information.
"I see your point, but parrots and birds of this type bond easily. And they are extremely intelligent, and they have excellent memories." Laura petted several of the birds affectionately, fishing into her pocket for something. She pulled out several treats from a small container that resembled a medicine bottle. "Maybe that's what they remember from Leopold, who they bonded with initially. Maybe they hold on to that scarce bit of affection from their owner? I don't know, it's my only theory. I don't know anything about their history."
"Perhaps…"
Luke stepped forward after a couple of minutes of watching Laura interact with the birds and hesitantly sat down on his heels, attempting to get closer to the flock's level. He shivered with nervousness when a large macaw climbed up his arm and began playing with his hat. He called out angrily when it began to chew holes into it.
"Hey! Back off now!"
Professor Layton was hardly aware of the birds' shenanigans as he tried organizing all of the information contained in his mind. Well, at least the pertinent information.
"And you're sure that they are Leopold's?"
"As far as I know. Leopold allowed me to be their primary caretaker. And they won't separate from me now. These birds bond like you wouldn't believe."
Layton hummed his agreement. "I just thought it would be more appropriate for Edward Chancey II to be the owner of such fine birds," he reasoned. "He was a seasoned aviculturalist. It was his side hobby. As he is the co-owner, it seems more apt that he would own such creatures. You're sure these are Leopold's?"
Laura stood and stared at Layton with a curiously surprised expression, almost questioning what she'd heard. "Really? Well, I merely assumed they were Leopold's, as he's a bit flamboyant like that, just going on random shopping sprees for needless things. I never knew any better. I mean, I just listened to what he told me, and he said they were his. He's the only one I see around with a ton of cash to blow, so…it's not strange to figure they were his property. These are expensive birds after all. This one, for instance, reaches prices of over £8,000…"
"Edward Senior would have the money to purchase them as well, no doubt in my mind," the Professor continued with his theory. "But…I really don't think he is of the personality to leave them unattended, unfed, so…perhaps they really are Leopold's."
"Regardless, they are really friendly and happy now!" Luke called out from underneath a sea of large birds that had claimed the boy as their new favorite perch. "They think I'm a tree or something! Although I have to keep my hat out of reach…"
Luke laughed to himself as Laura smiled, but she was off in another world. She looked over at the Professor, also lost in thought over something. He shook his head and looked up.
"I think I'm going to do a bit more investigating. It's bothered me that the elder Edward has barely been mentioned, barely been a part of this investigation, and I find that odd. If he's equal to Leopold, as far as the company ladder is concerned, then he should be just as accessible to you, Laura. Yet you know nothing of him, even less than what you know about Leopold."
"You're right… He's the brains of the place, the strategist. That's about all I know. I talked with him years ago, when I won that's scholarship. That's the only time."
With a nonchalant nod, Layton hummed again. "Hmm. I find that odd…"
"If you want a good place to start, it wouldn't be trying to find him directly. His whereabouts are just as shady as Leopold's. Perhaps visit with some of his former colleagues. Edward Senior's I mean. I know of one here in town but…"
"But what?" the Professor asked, anxiously awaiting an answer. "Surely his friends would know of his whereabouts."
"Well, I'm not sure how good of a friend this bloke is. I know he was asked to be a potential business partner but… I've met him a couple of times, only because...well, that's not important. As to where he's located, all I know is that he's a frequenter of…well, certain unsavory places, if you know my meaning."
"I—oh," Layton groaned. "Please don't say—"
"Yeah. That's just how it goes. I'm not too fond of him. But he's close enough to Mr. Chancey to have been a potential co-owner, so…"
With a deep sigh, Layton shrugged. "Well, it's imperative to get as much information as possible. We'll have to deal with it. Luke, let's head back to the apartment. I need you to help Rosa with chores."
"W-What? But Rosa's out for the afternoon!"
"She'll have returned by now."
"No way, I'm helping out with the investiga—" One pointed look from the Professor was all that the boy needed before closing his mouth, swallowing his disappointment, and nodding in agreement. "Okay…"
Laura groaned as she led the animals to their enclosed outdoor aviary. "I guess it was too much to want a short break from all this… Bye bye, little guys. I'll be back soon. I don't like you free to roam when I'm away."
"They aren't really 'little guys', are they? Anyway, a puzzle never sleeps, and neither does your employer," Layton said. "We need to figure this out posthaste."
"As you say, Holmes," Laura mumbled sarcastically. "But you aren't going to like this guy. Or his tastes. Just brace yourself, that's all I'm saying. Oh boy, I do wish I knew more. I don't want to go this route to obtain information…"
Luke wondered all the way home what the other two were talking about, and decided if it was that badly confusing, he didn't want anything to do with it anyway. Rosa's cookies were calling, and it was enough to force any curiosity out of his mind.
With the boy left behind safely at the Professor's flat, Layton and Laura made their way through the London streets. It was drawing upon early evening, many restaurant goers rushing into their appropriate venues before missing their reservations. Laura led the way down a winding street that more closely resembled a back alley, riddled with overturned rubbish bins and puddles of morning rain in the pavement where potholes hadn't been filled in years. Then, turning a corner, warm reddish light blared at them from many store and establishment signs, their neon tubing tattooed across any eyes that stared for too long.
"What a questionable district," the Professor muttered to himself, scoffing under his breath as he glanced at one of the store fronts. A teasing lingerie peeked out from the display case, several others demonstrated by manikins alongside it. He blushed and hurriedly looked away.
"Indeed." Laura rolled her eyes as they passed several businesses advertising more adult-themed items and wares. A few restaurants were highly marketed towards the more lewd male demographic, offering food served by women practically begging to be objectified by whomever wanted to lay eyes on their 'goods' rather than what was being brought out on the platter. "The venue of champions! Anyway, here it is."
The Professor looked up at the building they'd stopped in front of, an odd expression on his face. "'Siren Song'? 'Gentleman's Club'?"
"Yup. 'Siren Song'. Don't let the name fool you, it's anything but a gentleman's club…"
"I wasn't born yesterday," he grumbled testily.
"And neither were these girls inside. Better watch yourself."
The two were about to open the doors when a familiar croak came from behind a nearby trash can. Laura jumped at the sudden sound, staring wildly at the rubbish bin.
"That sounds a lot like… Carbite, what are you doing here?"
The dark feathered toucan flapped lightly to the top of the metal can, his large beak turning curiously as he cocked his head with an inquisitive look. He ruffled his feathers as Laura hurried to him.
"How on earth did he manage to get out, and follow us all this way?" The Professor couldn't help but laugh at how odd it was to see such an exotic bird in the city, let alone in the district they were currently in. "His beak matches the signage at least…"
"His 'pals' are very good at figuring out locks. Or just plain biting them off…." She collected the bird, curling him up like a large wad of fluffy yarn with a multi-colored, overly large and curved sewing needle poking out. "Here. He should fit nicely under here."
"What? Under my hat?" Before being able to protest further, Laura reached up and stuffed the toucan underneath the silk top hat, pulling it down onto his hair again. "You're going to hurt the thing!"
"Don't you know how toucans sleep? They huddle up in a narrow tree hole, with several—other –birds." She struggled to make sure that the hat fit tightly over the Professor's head, holding it fast against the weakly struggling bird. His beak poked lightly at the sides, little bumps appearing and disappearing as he tested the hat's limits over and over.
"He's clawing up my hair!"
"Oh, your poor wittle hair style is ruined!" Laura moaned, feigning compassion. "Would you shut up? You're balding anyway."
"I am not balding!"
Finally, Carbite stopped scrambling, Layton preparing to wince once more if the talons should scrape against his head. He sighed as Laura's hands left the hat's brim.
"There. He's fine. Just don't make any quick movements, or he might start to get excited."
In a slight moment of panic, Layton gasped. "Is he going to…go on me?"
"Not that, you dolt! He knows better than to defecate outside of his cage. But he'll probably try to get out, and that would be an awkward sight, to say the least. I shouldn't be bringing him along like this, but…it's the only way. Now, step lightly, and try to keep straight."
Stiffly, the Professor stepped through the first set of doors to the club, Laura following behind. She stabbed a finger into his back and hissed for him to loosen up, lest they look suspicious. They approached a blockish shaped bouncer that was manning the entrance. Layton went to tip his hat forward, but stopped after recalling his 'hat'-ed pal.
'This is really going to take some getting used to…'
The gorilla of a man gave an equally primate-like grin. Layton thought about how the brutish man in front of him and the bird beneath his hat would both be better off in some rainforest far away rather than in the heart of London.
"What have we got here. Wow, a real smooth operator." The large man chuckled to himself. "What's with that get-up? Hat 'n all?"
"Where is Polonius?" Laura said dryly, her expression bored. The monkey man shuddered and changed his tone and expression instantly. He stood upright and at attention as if his superior had just entered the foyer without prior notice, making a surprise entrance. Layton looked at him curiously, expecting something else to happen.
"Not where he eats, but where he is eaten," the guard responded with poise, holding his hand out towards the door behind him. Laura immediately walked through, the Professor glancing back and forth from the bouncer to the back of Laura's head, thoroughly confused.
"…Hamlet references?"
"Keep up," Laura called behind her. "Don't get enticed. Rather, don't let them be enticed."
"Whatever do you mean—"
The place was a loud, electronic mess, the music echoing off of the dark walls and floor, bouncing into the ears of whoever wasn't deaf enough yet to still appreciate it. A long drinks bar was lined with dozens of seats, all occupied, each patron awaiting their beverage of choice. Stages were placed around the giant room, a variety of dancers teasing their (predominantly male) audience with whatever sultry performance they had planned and rehearsed.
Laura continued walking through the crowd, pushing ahead when a scantily clad woman confidently walked between her and the Professor, stopping him dead in his tracks with a hand held fast against his chest. He took a step backward in surprise.
"Ma'am, I—"
"Ma'am? Whoo, someone's wrapped up a little too tight. Just as I thought," the woman purred with a devilish smile. She grabbed his hand. "Come back here with me and some of my friends. We'll help you unwind. First 10 minutes complimentary, since you're so cute."
"Aw, look, Trix, he's blushing." A second woman caught sight of her 'coworker' reeling in another customer and wanted her share of the catch. "What a gentleman! Look at this hat!" She went to remove it when Layton pulled down on the brim.
"Please, I like to keep this on!" he stuttered helplessly for a second before the woman labeled 'Trix' pulled the poor Professor by the arm and pushed him gruffly into a chair at the edge of a small stage. "Ladies, ladies, please, I really need to—I'm not here for— "
"Nothin' you need to do, sexy," Trix whispered, grabbing Layton by the tie and pulling him slowly forward. His eyes looked about frantically, trying to devise a way out. It was the only time, he would realize later, that his brain had panicked, as if wired to freeze in such a situation rather than wittily wriggle himself free.
"You got eyes, don't you?" the other woman crooned. "That's all you need."
"And a little direction… Come on, mister, loosen up. You're a man like all the rest that come in 'ere. It's in there somewhere... Tell me what you wanna see, handsome."
"No, no, you don't understand—" he tried, his plea strangled in the women's laughter and giggles. He struggled to break free, unwilling to harm the woman in front of him, yet dying to run away somewhere, anywhere without so much skin staring him in the face. She held tightly onto his tie with a vice-like grip, laughing playfully at his plight.
"Aw, since you're so tense, I'll break a little rule, just for you, and calm you down. Must be your first time, poor bloke." She lowered herself into his lap, straddling his waist. Completely floored, Layton madly tried convincing her that he wasn't there for entertainment, merely to meet a correspondent.
"Miss, please, I really can not stand for this. I really…am not…" He tried shaking off her fingers, delicately playing into the hair on the back of his head, as he admittedly began to realize that he'd missed that experience of touch, someone's fingers dancing over his scalp, sending sparks down his spine. It wasn't the person that mattered, merely his memory…whatever memory it was from, he could barely recall vividly, yet somehow, he knew. He stared into space stupidly for a second before snapping back to the reality of the situation. "No, you can't do that!"
"Do what? I haven't done anything yet, you little devil." She gave him an inviting wink and poked him on the nose with one of her fingers. "Come now, let's remove that bothersome hat…"
"No, you can't do—!"
The woman's hand recoiled as she screamed. She had latched her fingers underneath the hat's brim, prepared to remove it, when something poked out and nipped at her finger.
"What the hell?"
The other girl looked at her friend with a concerned expression on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Something just…bit me! From under the hat!"
"What are you talking about, Trix? It's a stupid hat." The girl pulled the hat off by its top and shrieked in horror as the freed Carbite flew straight into her face, his large beak creaking open with every dry croak he uttered. The Professor, hatless and still straddled by the obnoxious stripper, somehow found himself amused, watching in amazement as the bird flew over to the bar. It started at one end and hopped down the length of it, knocking over drinks and startling all who were still sober. Others pointed and laughed, not completely sure at what they were seeing. A true ruckus was born when the bird took to the air again, landing squarely on a dancer's shoulder, frightening her enough to make her faint. Her background-dancing comrades scattered, screaming.
Without warning, a strong tch and a snort somehow sounded above the music.
"I give you an order, and you just ignore it," came a voice from behind the Professor's head, a particularly peeved and irritated tone, icily weaving itself between Layton and the woman still in his lap. The woman stood up quickly as Laura appeared, giving her a threatening look.
"Look, lady, no need to get jealous. That's what he's here for, after all. Had to follow him to the club, did you? You like playing mommy? And what's with the bird?"
"I honestly don't give a shit what he does or wants to do in his spare time. He's not mine. After I'm done with my agenda, you can take 'im. As for the bird, he is mine, so I'd actually like him back."
"No animals in the club, lady!" Trix hissed, her baby voice breaking under duress. "Don't you know how people work here? It's not a zoo!"
Laura looked around. "Hmm. I'd like to disagree on that. Actually, we are here for real conversation and for real work, not some cheap entertainment with you cows." With a quick movement, Laura grabbed the silk top hat from the other woman and plopped it haphazardly onto Layton's head. "Perhaps when you get a real job, you'll understand where I'm coming from. Until then, enjoy those boob sacs before you're 60 and sagging. And perhaps try a bit of self-esteem. It may do wonders for those bedroom eyes of yours."
With a derisive sneer, Laura tugged the Professor's coat and continued on her way, leaving the two strippers gawking and speechless.
Turning on her heels, Laura looked behind at the havoc the jungle bird was causing. Several dancers were still running and screaming, afraid of the bird's formidable-looking beak. "You can take the toucan out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the toucan…" she sighed, a proud smile stretched across her face. "Suppose I need to cancel his fun. Carbite!"
Immediately, the bird glided across the room, landing lightly upon the Professor's shoulder, looking at him happily through dark, beady eyes. Layton smiled amongst the cacophony.
"You saved me there, little fellow. Perhaps you were right to accompany us after all!"
"Don't go getting yourself lost again, please, Hershel. At least, not until we finish this."
They walked away from the disgruntled group of people. Luckily, everyone hadn't paid much attention as to where the toucan had flown, and hadn't caught sight of him joining his owner once more.
"As much as I don't care about what you do, Professor, I still don't want you catching an STD with me around. Seriously, some of those are viral through hand-to-hand contact. I refuse to contract such a belittling disease."
"What? I'd never—I mean, do you honestly think I'd ever mean to come to such a place and do such things? I never want to venture down this street again," he said with a wipe of his brow and adjustment of his hat. "This…is madness, and not a gentleman's anything! 'Gentlemen's club' indeed…"
"I love how the animalistic vibes of this place have killed your eloquence…"
Carbite was tucked safely away under the hat once again, Laura handing him a leftover snack from her pocket before pulling the hat down. They walked through a black, sheer curtain covering an entryway at the end of a long corridor. A man with a chiseled, leering face looked up from his sea of admirers, five or so women feigning to fawn over him. His carefree smile drooped slightly as he summed up who the intruders were.
"Off with you, ladies. Stay tuned though, stay tuned." The man shooed the women away, sitting up and brushing off his trousers. He grinned widely at Laura. "Ah, little Miss Laura. The prodigy. What brings you to these parts? Surely you aren't out of work yet?"
"I wouldn't work here if you paid me every pound in England," Laura said matter of factly, frowning. "That was my answer last time."
"Entertainment then? Don't tell me you're into the fare here?"
"If you're insinuating that I'm a lesbian, then no," she spat hotly, becoming more and more agitated by the man's quiet sniggers. "I have business."
"No need to be so testy!" The man signaled to two surrounding chairs, offering them a seat. He poured himself a cup of whatever alcohol was in the bottle on the table and offered that as well, both Laura and Layton declining. "Business, very good. Strictly business, I like that."
"Hmm."
"Who's your friend?" The man gazed intently at Layton, whose expression had hardened a great deal after his 'adventure' in the prior room. "Surely not the Professor Layton? You have friends in such high places?"
"Are you really so surprised? Indeed, this is Professor Layton." She scoffed as the man reached forward to shake Layton's hand feverishly.
"A pleasure to meet you, mate. The name's Arthur G. Thackman. I've heard of you in many a journal, many a magazine. Academic-wise, I mean. I've cut from that scene since, but… I still have a hoard of respect for a man of the academic world."
The Professor managed to soften his smile a bit. "The pleasure is all mine, my good sir. Please forgive my rudeness. I was…well, in a word accosted prior to joining you, but…" He grimaced uncomfortably as Mr. Thackman laughed.
"Oh, caught by the vixens, were you? You'd be excellent prey, in their eyes. Seems they like a smart boy, even though their own brains aren't much more than parties and sex. But anyway, why are you here, Laura? Surely, it's nothing about the business…is it?"
Laura nodded. "Yes. I don't care if you turned down the opportunity to work for Petrolite. This isn't anything about that. We have other questions."
"What's in it for me?"
"You still haven't changed much, have you?" she sighed. She and the Professor looked at each other briefly before returning their eyes on Mr. Thackman. In a glance, Laura transferred the reins over to her former teacher, unsure of how he wanted to handle the situation.
"Well, perhaps the peace of mind knowing that you helped out a friend of yours. That might be in it for you," Layton spoke gravely. "You are a friend of Edward Chancey the Second, are you not?"
Arthur smiled, nodding, almost affectionately. "Yep, I am. We went to the university together. Both got our masters together. Researched together. You could say we were more like brothers. We kept track of one another, always. Lunch every Thursday. I'd do anything for 'im, I would. I helped him out on many an occasion in the past. What's the ol' boy need?"
"Well, actually, Mr. Thackman, we were hoping you'd know yourself, being so close. Have you heard any word from Edward recently?
The man gave a wry grin, staring off to the side. "Can't say I have. Although we were close… I thought maybe I'd made him angry. He wanted me to work for him but…I turned him down. After that, never a word from him. I made several house calls, even calls to the business, the company. Petrolite, you know. Never got a reply, a message in return."
The Professor looked at Laura, trying to find an answer to an unasked question. She shrugged.
"Sir, when was this, when Edward asked you to join the company?"
"Oh boy, this was…whoo, about 8 years ago? Yes, that's right. Supposedly, his brother handed it off to him, but I never knew of why. I never knew much about the details, but that for certain, I know. Anyway, Eddie—that's what I called him by the way; he called me Art—asked me to help him run the place, being an old friend and business manager. Not to mention, I have a pretty decent background in engineering. I wasn't into it, as much as the money enticed me. I couldn't have done a good job in that field, so I did Eddie the favor by not dragging him down with my lack of enthusiasm. After that, I didn't hear much, and after a certain point, nothing at all. I tried about half a year later to get back in touch. I left messages, I went to the company building to try and catch him. Nothing. So, I gave up."
The Professor sat forward, recording every word in his mind. "So you haven't heard anything from or about Edward for over 8 years?"
"That's the hard truth, Hersh."
The Professor barred his teeth against being called 'Hersh,' letting it roll off his shoulders before continuing. "And you know nothing about why the business was so abruptly handed over?
"Someone told me about a relative dying, but it wasn't here in England. Somewhere else. Italy? Yeah. But I never really bothered with that detail." He looked at his fingers, several rings casting small reflections of his unsettling grin. "Anything else? You're just going to interrogate me? Rather trite of Hershel Layton, don't you think?"
"Unfortunately, yes," the Professor said without pause. "Do you know anything about his son, Edward III?"
Mr. Thackman coughed against his beverage glass, not expecting the need to laugh. "Oh sure. That kid? He's a lazy sod. I heard he was shipped to America, attending some fancy engineering graduate school. Others have told me he's working for a construction firm there but…I know better. That boy can't build and think to save his life. Truly a dullard. I can't believe he's Eddie's son."
"Fair enough. Finally, Mr. Thackman, did Edward Senior ever mention a co-owner of Petrolite? Someone working alongside him?"
The man smoothed out his hair, shaking his head as well. "No, no. I was supposed to have that position. That's what he was asking me about. After I turned him down, I'm sure he got someone to do it with him, but…I have no idea who that would be."
"Have you ever heard of the name 'Leopold Chancey'?" Laura interrupted suddenly.
He shook his head. "Can't say I have. Leopold. That's a fancy name…" He cracked his neck, shook his head again as if in disbelief, then stretched his neck muscles. "But really, I don't keep up with that sort of business. I'm sure you could find those who enjoy getting their hands on top company secrets, but…not me. I just know the company is doing a great job with hiking up the prices on oil. What a monopoly! Eddie's made a bitter name for himself… Are we done soon, Sherlock? My friends are waiting for me."
The Professor nodded, wondering at the word 'friends'. "Oh, I'm sure they are. Yes, I am finished. You've been a tremendous help."
"My pleasure, Mr. Layton," Thackman said with an elated smile. "Maybe next time, we can shoot the bull with a few of my friends and a bottle of scotch. Assuming you'll be coming back…"
"Well—"
"It's been a great time, Arthur, but we must be going." Laura stood and smiled curtly. "You've been most helpful, and I'll contact you, should I need anything further. Have a good day."
Thackman chuckled. "As sharp and terse as ever, Miss Laura."
Layton nodded and followed Laura out the way they came in, not looking behind them even though a loud group of girls had returned to their post around Mr. Thackman. He was glad to be out of the man's presence.
"Well, that was a bit of a dud, although it did give us a bit more to work with," the Professor whispered once they'd made it outside the establishment.
"He didn't even know of Leopold. Either he really doesn't pay much attention, or he's hiding something."
"I don't see what use it would be to hide such information, but a possibility, yes."
They walked out of the strange district and continued down a regular city sidewalk. The night was coming on quickly. A large clock on a building said 7:18.
"Wow, I have to head back…" Laura ran her fingers through her hair, staring straight ahead. Layton looked over at her.
"Where are you heading back to?"
"Um…where I'm staying," she replied quickly, shrugging.
They stopped at an intersection, waiting for the traffic light to turn. City lights blinked on and twinkled all around them, the night life yawning as it prepared for the darkness. The Professor looked at Laura inquiringly, arms crossed.
"Your office?"
"What?"
"You're heading back to sleep at your office, are you not?"
She looked away quickly, trying to hide a smile. "How…how did you know?"
He chuckled loudly as they hurried across the street. "Well, it's a bit odd that you'd be at the office on a day when everyone else had a holiday. Also, I noticed your belongings in your office earlier as if you live there, taking from them as you need things."
"Aren't you astute."
"Well, I'd like to think so," he muttered smugly. "Would you like to actually sleep in a real bed? How about you stay over at my flat?"
It was Laura's turn to laugh, and she did it with gusto. "That sounds like some sort of kinky invitation! Staying over at your flat, really! You don't even have any more beds."
"Well, for the sake of your well-being, at least until this is all figured out, you are more than welcome to use my bed, and I can take the sofa. I have plenty of spare sheets, pillows, blankets—"
"I accept," she sang happily, a slight skip to her step, as much as she could muster. "You know, it's been a while since I actually slept in a bed. Back in Italy, I think… You know the day I came to find you, and I stayed in a hotel? That was my resolve breaking. I paid for a night's stay because I hadn't slept in a bed in months."
He looked at her incredulously, as if she had done something terribly wrong in order to hurt him personally. "Laurie, why don't you get a place to live? Surely you're paid? What about your family, their house?"
"Me paying for a place is out of the question. I don't have the money to be paying for rent in downtown London. As for my family…" She looked away from him, cracking her thumbs. "Well, that's a whole other story."
"Well, either way, my place is open to you, as you need it. Feel free to decline the offer, I'm not forcing you."
"Admit it, you just want me to stay over." She giggled as his facial expression hardened, his cheeks red. "I'll just take you up on your offer."
"How is it that you're attacking me one minute, flirting the next…" he mumbled to himself, thankful the traffic was loud enough to cancel his voice out.
They walked back the rest of the way in silence until finally coming upon the public parking lot where they'd left the Laytonmobile. Once inside the vehicle, Laura cried out.
"It's amazing how this car is just the same, untouched by time! The same look, the same smell…"
"Nothing different about the Laytonmobile," the Professor mumbled shyly. He started the engine and was immediately transported back in time, his mind floating as it had when he'd taken her out for her birthday, or when they'd driven to the beach for a picnic. Turning the key seemed to have tossed him back into the past, to a happier time, a more experimental time when he could test the waters, get to know the object of his secret admiration. If he wasn't keeping himself in the present, he just might have leaned over and—
"Hershel?"
He gripped the steering wheel tighter, feeling the car jerk slightly as he was jolted back to the current time.
"Yes?" he croaked, regaining his poise.
"I'd just…like to—"
The car came to a screeching halt as the heavily irritated Carbite finally couldn't take another moment underneath the hat and hopped right down in front of the Professor. It looked up cheerfully at Layton from his lap, the Professor gasping and shuddering from fright.
"You just about killed us all, you mischievous little toucan! Luckily there's no one else on this road but us! Breaking like that…"
"He didn't know any better," Laura said with a smile, unfazed by the surprise. "Can he stay too?"
"I…suppose…so…" He was more interested in what she was going to mention before the feathered assault. "You were saying something—hold on to that bird, please!—but you stopped."
"Oh, it's…not important at all. I'll just…yeah, nevermind."
"No, I'm curious, what were you going to say?"
She absentmindedly stroked the fluffed bird that was now resting in her lap as she stared out of the window, longingly. "Well, I'd just like to say thank you. After all, you're going quite out of your way to help me with all this, and I'm not stupid: I can tell that you aren't in your element, that you're irritated, struggling…conflicted, even. It's not every day I could just contact a long-lost acquaintance and—"
"Acquaintance?" Layton said suddenly, accidentally pushing on the accelerator. He somehow didn't catch himself before speaking, although typically he would have. He couldn't contain himself. Righting wrongs had been a hobby of his for years, and this wrong was immediately grating.
"Er…well, you know…" She strained to view his face out of the corner of her eye. He merely stared forward, careful to keep a constant speed, but she could tell he was wounded. Somehow, she felt guilt.
'Or is that…sympathy?'
"I was hoping maybe for at least a 'friend,' rather than just an acquaintance," he said snappily, his attempt at being polite dashed by his boiling anger. He felt as if he could tear the steering wheel clean off of its mechanism, he was so incensed that he had been lumped into the group of 'acquaintance'.
"Okay…long-lost friend then," she corrected herself, though it was forced. "What happened to your patience? And what does it really matter so much what I call you, Hershel? You're so irritable lately."
He bit his lip, using his silence as an answer and an apology of sorts. They sat in quiet until they arrived at the little flat. A dull light spilled from a set of windows, blending into the night. Both Laura and the Professor exited the car, Layton taking his time to lock up as Laura began to walk towards the staircase to the entrance, still holding Carbite.
"Laura," he called after her sharply. She stopped and turned around, startled.
"What is it?"
He stuffed the keys into his pocket and took a few quick steps to meet up in front of her. "Are you just hiding yourself very well, or am I a complete idiot?"
"You're a complete idiot," she said plainly, using all of her energy to suppress a laugh. The corners of her mouth quivered painfully, wanting to smile.
"Emotional honesty was never your policy. Regardless, I'm…sorry for being so short with you. It's just…well, I think I just need to—you're right, I haven't been as patient as I typically am, but—"
"Hershel, please." She reached her hand out and patted him on the shoulder, resting it there briefly. "Just take my thanks, okay? No hard feelings. I'm really appreciative, really, I am. Worries and stress have been such a prominent part in my life and for the second time, you're helping me break from that."
"Second time?"
"Get your ears checked. I said first time."
"No you most definitely said—"
"Anyway, thanks, okay? You're confusing, but you're also a great asset. I need you for this, or else…well, I don't know what will happen. I'm getting more and more anxious, each day that passes. I feel I'm missing something, something important, and it may be to my—well, our—detriment."
He nodded slowly, staring at his shoes. "Of course."
"Now, can we go in, please?"
Sighing, the Professor hung his head, then grinned. He climbed the staircase quickly and had the door unlocked by the time Laura ascended. He unintentionally placed his hand on her lower back as he ushered her inside, recoiling just as his fingers brushed the fabric of her shirt.
'Old habit…'
Luke ran to the door, sporting a pair of striped pajamas, Flora following closely behind.
"Finally! I waited all night long. Oh my goodness, Carbite! What's he doing here?" Luke yelled out happily. "See Flora, I told you there was a toucan!"
"Oh my!" Laura handed off the bird to the children, who took to playing with him cheerfully in the kitchen, watching him hop and click about on the tile floor. Luke looked up suddenly and ran back to the living room.
"Oh yeah, Professor. Rosa fell asleep."
A little finger pointed towards the couch, where the sleepy Rosa had dozed off, reading The London Times.
"Can't blame her; the paper has gotten boring ever since they took on a particularly strong political agenda," Laura grumbled with minor irritation. "Father hated the papers."
She walked to the kitchen, expressionless, as Luke followed, drilling her with a series of questions. Layton hung up his coat and hat, massaging each of his feet briefly after removing his shoes.
"Ah, poor Rosa, she's certainly underpaid for this position. There, there, Rosa, you're free to go home now," he said softly, gently shaking her awake. She blinked multiple times before staring up into the Professor's smiling face, responding with a resounding hmph!
"Out all hours of the night, parading around and leaving these children to fend for themselves. Hmph! It's just bloomin' outrageous. Who's to cook and watch over the little doves?" she ranted without restraint, struggling to find her shoes. The Professor guided her gingerly to the door. "No guardian, just unheard of, who's to watch 'em?"
"You were, my dear Rosa, and I thank you," Layton answered calmly. "Would you like me to guide you to your flat?"
"Just…just outrageous…."
Taking her obliviousness as an answer, he looked towards the kitchen, signaling to the others he'd be leaving for a bit.
"She's having a bit of trouble…"
Laura nodded, giggling with the children. After about 10 minutes, the Professor returned, chuckling to himself. Only Laura sat at the kitchen table.
"That was a short date."
He shook his head, still grinning. "I do hope she doesn't sleepwalk as well as she sleep-talks." He walked lazily to the table and sat across from his guest. He slumped forward, exhausted. "What an interesting day…"
"To say the least."
"A drink?"
"Not tea."
The Professor poured each of them a glass of milk, fetching himself the kettle for his own tea ("Fine then… I'll make it for myself," he said under his breath.).
Laura took the cup from the Professor, looking into space as if in deep thought. "I'm not sure how much weight to place on Mr. Thackman's answers, but what he said about Mr. Chancey is peculiar," she said softly, placing the glass of milk to her lips. "Thank you."
"Indeed—and you're most welcome. We need to find out more about the history of the company. The thing that's bothering me the most is that no one seems to know about Leopold, even though he seems to be the heart and soul of the operation. Anyone as close to Edward as Arthur Thackman should know a little more, and it's strange that he doesn't."
"Well, he does keep himself shrouded in secrecy, Leopold, I mean. He never shares more than necessary, even with those that he's closely involved, such as myself. Plus, as I told you, most of those closest to him in the beginning no longer work at Petrolite; they were let go. I'm really the only one left on that front."
The Professor got up to fix his tea, returning with a hot cup and a strong sigh to match. "I still have my reservations about this Leopold character, and I don't know why."
"Your intuition?"
"Perhaps. I just wish I had a venue to figure things out conclusively. There's very little to go on, and I want facts." He sipped from his cup, slurping slightly before swallowing. Then, silence.
Laura cleared her throat, the stillness eating at her.
"I don't know if it will amount to anything at all, but I have another project."
Layton looked up at her with interest. "Another project? You mean, a drilling destination?"
"Yes. I don't know how much it would help our investigation, but it's all I have to offer for now. I found out this afternoon, just before you came over." She pulled out a folder from her trusty messenger bag, which she had been carrying around all day, the Professor now noticed. "Confidential information."
Layton frowned. "Oh… I don't suppose I could—" She pushed the yellow folder over to him.
"Like I care? Confidentiality means nothing to me in this case." She allowed him some time to flip through the thick amount of materials inside, not that he would understand all of the jargon. "It's in America."
"Yes, so I see… Stabilnon, South Carolina. Ah, on the coast, lovely. Well, of course, off-shore drilling… I can't say I've ever heard of the place. Petrolite's reach is vast."
Laura snorted. "You have no idea."
"Well, looks quaint and interesting enough." He smiled at her, almost fondly, like he used to, only with a bit more wise of a glance, perhaps. "When do we depart?"
"'W…We'? What do you mean?"
"Well, we're going together, correct?"
"But, I…listen, Hershel. Like I said, I really do appreciate your help, but I really don't feel right dragging you around the world, solving my problems. I thought about this long and hard over the past month, and it's just not right to do that to you, and the children. It's not fair to put that on all of you, and I should have known better. I knew you'd help, no matter what, and I just—"
Luke and Flora barreled into the kitchen, Luke sliding on the tiles with socked feet. He huffed defiantly like a pint-sized bull, Flora right behind him with a concerned look. The toucan gripped the girl's arm like a vise, looking about to see what the commotion was.
"Miss Laura, don't you dare think for a second we'd back down to a challenge! You gave us a puzzle to solve, and it's up to us to help you out!" The boy crossed his arms and glared her down with stubborn eyes.
"Luke's right," Flora piped up softly. "The Professor's the best at solving problems, and yours is no different."
"You're his former student after all! That should hold for something!"
Laura stared into her lap, then up at Professor Layton. She was surprised to find his smile still holding, unwavering despite the children's unexpected entrance.
"Eavesdropping, are we, Luke? Ungentlemanly behavior."
"But, Professor, I—"
"No 'but's' about it, Luke. I commend your concern, above all else." Luke held his breath, then exhaled, surprised and relieved that he wasn't admonished further. Layton turned his attention over to Laura. "Laurie, you have a committed group here, willing to help you out. There's no gain for us, other than to assist you well. After all," she could have sworn that he winked, "that's what a gentleman does."
"And a gentle-lady!" Flora quipped. They all laughed, shocked she'd spoken up so confidently.
"And a gentle-lady," he responded, nodding. "So, what do you say, Laura?"
She sat silent. She'd forgotten friends, and help, and caring. Ten years was a long time to stew, her frustration turning to anger, then to sadness, then to apathy. An apathy that fermented for ten whole, solid years.
And then, an opening. A white piece of paper, that told all that needed to be known.
She glanced up with a bright smile, but looked about the kitchen as if too shy to direct it to any one person. "Well, it's hard to turn you all away… I suppose I'll use your help then, when and where I need it. Thank you, all of you. I suppose I forgot what it's like to have others willing to help, when I've gone so long doing everything myself."
Luke opened his mouth just as Flora clapped her hands together, but the Professor cut both of them off with a loud ahem.
"Anyway, to bed with you, both of you. It's dreadfully late, and past your bed time," he said firmly, waving towards the bedrooms. "And no more listening in."
"Such a killjoy…"
"Luke."
"Going, going!" the boy squealed before scampering off. "…Captain Serious…"
"I was thinking more of 'Major Letdown'," Flora whispered as they left, but just audible to make Laura laugh uncontrollably. The Professor looked at her, confused.
"What's so funny?"
"What they think of you, that's all."
"What'd they say?"
"That your hearing is going, going, gone, old man." She rose from her seat and flashed him a smug grimace as she walked to the sink.
"Now see here, I would have heard them say that—"
"That's the point: you didn't hear anything! Guess your common sense is going too…" She looked over her shoulder as she rinsed out her glass. The Professor leaned his head against his hand, his arm resting on the table, a bored and sarcastic expression making his eyes appear glazed over with feigned annoyance. "Oh my, we'd better have a mediator step in before you're a stubbornly boring vegetable blurting out some equally boring lectures on crusty rocks! You look like you're already fading! Ha ha ha!"
"You're hilarious, absolutely adorable," he grumbled, joining her at the sink.
"I'd like to think so," she retorted, grabbing the dish towel and tossing it atop his head somewhere between him getting lost in thought and hearing Laura laugh again.
He didn't let her know it, but he really meant his words. He felt a bit guilty, saying the truth, but sarcastically expressing it, covering it up. Since when did he lie?
"So, where am I sleeping? Take that towel off your head and help me out," she called, walking away.
After finishing up with the kitchen cleaning, the Professor gathered up some spare bedding and laid it at the end of his bed. Laura groaned.
"I don't have any of my things. Do you have a casual shirt that you could spare as well? Sorry for all this."
"I…might have something," he said, a bit muffled as he dug through his closet. "Aha, here you go."
Laura caught the familiar article—the sweater he'd lent her during that fateful rugby game, when she started feeling things foreign and taboo—in her hands, rubbing the material with trembling fingers.
"A sweater?"
"I know that fits you just fine. A bit larger than needed, but it's good enough. Do you need anything else?"
The bridge of her nose got hot, that all too recognizable sensation before uncontrollable sadness invades the mind. She (metaphorically) grabbed her wits by the horns, screaming at herself to wake up and shake her head.
"I…" She felt him look at her in earnest, wanting an answer. "I guess not."
"Is Carbite safe with the children?"
"Oh yes, he's…just fine, he's fine."
"Well, let's get these switched." The Professor reached for the new, clean sheets, ready to switch out the bedding, when Laura smacked at his hand.
"No!"
He recoiled, looking at her strangely. "Is there…a problem?"
"Don't make…yourself do any more than you have to… I'll have no trouble changing them." She picked up the spare sheets herself and held them close to her. "I'll just do it myself, okay?"
With a quick, curious glance, Layton nodded. "As you wish… If you need anything, I'll be right out in the living area."
"Okay."
"…have a good night, Laura."
"L…Likewise…" She smiled to let him know it was all well, but he still gave her a concerned look as he tucked through the door.
The door was shut. She waited until his footfalls were no more, and the lamp switch was pulled from outside the room ("Are these walls really that thin…?"). Quickly, she removed her dress and shirt and pulled the thick sweater over herself. She'd worn it before and bawled all over it. She didn't even remember washing and giving it back, but apparently, she had. And he somehow remembered. But now…it was just her. Her and…
She threw herself on the bed, stretching her legs, rubbing her curled toes against the cool cotton sheets. She buried her face into the Professor's pillow, breathing in deeply as she hugged it. It was something along the lines of intimate, sleeping in another's bed, even without the other person in it. The personal scent left behind was enough.
"Oh God… It's like, an instant aphrodisiac. So many memories associated with that scent…Perhaps too many…why am I admitting all this?" She moved around the bed, enveloping her body in the loose sheet. His delicate yet unique scent entered her brain as much as it did her nose, that strange mix of herbs, spices, and maybe aftershave? She didn't care, it was something masculine; she'd never smelled it on any woman she'd been around.
"I really look like an idiot, but…"
'but no one else has that scent, no one. Nobody at all.'
She smiled stupidly, finally reaching out towards the night stand to tug on the lamp's chain. Her mind continued relishing the fabric's intoxicating smells. Finally, a night of settled sleep.
"I can finally sleep in a normal bed, and…hmm heh heh, I've never felt this calm in years…"
'If I had control, I'd never leave this place. Ever.'
She felt tears form at her eyes, a nagging sense of reality pelting at her from within. The truth was, she really didn't know anything anymore, who was around her, what they intended, how they felt. An emotional roller coaster, or perhaps more like someone playing her like a paddle ball, as she came awfully close to finding stability a few times, but she just had to bounce back and recover when things turned sour.
The truth was, she couldn't be honest with herself, nor those she cared most about, and one of the things that was causing it, was herself.
"I just…trust is…well…"
'I won't be hurt again. I will not be hurt again. I'm not playing the game.'
She wasn't typically the sort to revel in the ephemeral, but she gripped the pillow firmly, even for just one night, and sighed against it, the smell catching hold of her falling into sleep, wishing her off well as she drifted into even more turbulent nightmares.
END.
Enter Carbite, the best bird in the world. He's featured on my Deviantart account, if you're so curious (delete the spaces; links don't work for me...): 008kenichijoui . deviantart . com
REVIEW, CHILDREN. More to come soon.