A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading and the reviews. Sorry for the late update again. This is just to let you know that I'll certainly be working on this story to its completion, though perhaps updates will be less regular since I'm soon starting another internship. Hopefully you'll all still hang in there as well.
Chapter 10: The Cold Trail
As far as Feuilly is concerned he is made for dealing with the heat of warm bodies and not with paper. 'This is not the first time that the police blotters have yielded little but drivel,' he reminds himself as he surveys what few photocopied pages he has been able to glean from his visit to the downtown police precinct, which are little more than a laundry list of vandalism, brawls, and the occasional burglary or mauling. 'So much for the theory of the Difunto gang moving on to higher crime,' he notes as he carefully tucks the documents away in his bag and leans against the still locked door of his friend's office.
After a few moments Feuilly hears the strong cadence of footsteps in the hallway, but when he turns to greet this newcomer he finds himself faced with another familiar but more unwelcome face. "Hello Montparnasse. This isn't the time for a social visit," Feuilly says.
"Who says I'm interested?" Montparnasse retorts coolly. He reaches over to try the doorknob and chuckles as he shakes his head. "I see Eponine finally wised up and learned to lock the door."
"She's not careless," Feuilly mutters. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Montparnasse bring out a small metal pick from his pocket. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Getting us a cooler place to sit. It's sweltering out here," Montparnasse replies even as the lock opens with a barely audible 'click'. He pushes the door open. "After you."
"Eponine is going to kill you for this-" Feuilly warns but it doesn't stop Montparnasse from sauntering into the office and sitting down in the most comfortable chair there. "You can't just break and enter people's workplaces!"
"The lock is perfectly fine," Montparnasse says, waving in the direction of the door. He leans back in the desk chair and puts his feet on the tabletop. "Don't squawk about it."
Feuilly grits his teeth at this display of arrogance. "If you have something useful, then say it now."
"Come on, nothing comes for free," Montparnasse taunts. "Have you forgotten?"
"Not for a minute," Feuilly mutters, marching over now with every intention of pulling Montparnasse out of his seat. He is halfway there when he catches that telltale flash of metal in the conman's hand."I'm calling security," he warns.
Montparnasse sneers as he crosses his legs. "They used to say you could take down any of those guards with a flick of your wrist."
"Who's they?"
"Those downtown fellows. Difunto."
Feuilly feels his blood run cold at the mention of this gang, tough perhaps this shouldn't surprise him entirely given what he knows of Montparnasse's connections. "Since when?"
"Since not," Montparnasse said. "I don't hang around with people who can't shoot straight."
"So what are you doing, giving them up?" Feuilly demands. "That's dangerous, traitorous and stupid."
Montparnasse twirls the blade in his hand. "I know that there is no way that Eponine will venture to investigate the gang herself. You boys like keeping your hands clean. Consider this my doing you all a very big favor."
"It's not a favor with your style of negotiation," Feuilly shoots back. "If I were you—"
A knock sounds on the door. "Feuilly? Who helped you get in?" Eponine calls.
Montparnasse laughs and leans back in the seat, putting his hands behind his head. "Are you seriously going to thank him instead of me, Ponine?"
In a moment Eponine walks into the office, and scowls when she sees that her seat is occupied. "Get your dirty shoes off my desk, Montparnasse. You'd better have a good reason for turning up here," she says as she puts her hands akimbo.
"You'll be thanking me in a minute, dear," Montparnasse says. He waves at Enjolras, who is just a pace behind Eponine. "Nice seeing you again, Attorney."
Enjolras looks Montparnasse over and crosses his arms. "Should I remind you of what transpired the last time you turned up here?"
For a moment Montparnasse appears to blanch but he simply holds up a hand and gets to his feet in order to let Eponine have the chair. "You could have just asked for information. This time I am most willing to give it."
Feuilly pauses when he sees Andrew Ffoulkes and Percy Blakeney enter the office, followed by Marguerite and Bahorel. "He appears to know something about the Difunto gang, Chief," he announces, directing his words to Enjolras.
"Isn't that one of the downtown syndicates?" Marguerite asks sceptically.
Eponine nods. "Never thought you'd run around with small fry," she says to Montparnasse.
"Ah, we are still of the same mind," Montparnasse replies. "Anyone who has a brain in that crew has moved on to deeper water."
"But not out of the area. The police blotter on them is still active," Feuilly points out in an undertone.
"Please. Those are the ones who don't have the balls to do more than break a few windows," Montparnasse says. "You've been turning over stones in the wrong place."
"Prove it," Enjolras challenges.
Percy whistles as he rubs his hands together. "That's a pretty demmed unfriendly way of asking."
"We're trying to work here, Blakeney," Enjolras says tersely over his shoulder.
"I think I like his style better. Snappy," Montparnasse says, gesturing to Percy's expensive looking suit. "You ought to take a few hints from him, Attorney Enjolras."
The lawyer fixes Montparnasse with a glare. "Enough. What have you got?"
Montparnasse brings a flashdrive out of his pocket, dangling it by a small piece of cord. "You don't need to give this back; I won it in a raffle."
"I've got this one-and a good antivirus program," Bahorel says as he steps forward and snatches the gadget out of Montparnasse's hand.
Enjolras holds up a hand. "Anything more?"
Montparnasse looks around and fixes his gaze on Marguerite. "This will get unpleasant. Eponine is used to it; she cuts people up for a living but you don't look the sort."
"If it's a little blood, well then I'm a woman and used to it," Marguerite replies with a charming smile.
Montparnasse whistles as he brings out a piece of paper from his pocket. "Fished out of a river this morning. As to why she's photographed, well I'm not the sickest person in this city," he mutters as he throws the picture onto the desk. "You know this one?"
Marguerite pales as she picks up the photo. "It's Charlotte." She is nearly shaking as she looks at Percy and Andrew. "We were too late."
Feuilly feels his stomach lurch even as he turns his eyes away from that bloated, gruesome visage captured on paper. It's no time to let on that he's never been good with these scenes, despite his extensive experience in community work. "Did you at least take her to the morgue or a funeral home?" he manages to ask Montparnasse.
"At least to a place to lie in," Montparnasse replies, scrawling an address down and handing it to Percy.
"Wait, do you have news of another girl?" Andrew blurts out. He brings out his phone and opens up a video captured there. "There. Her," he says when he freezes the footage and points to the slightly blurred image of a teenage girl with short, slightly dishevelled hair, fleeing from an old woman's outstretched hand.
Percy shakes his head when he looks at the picture. "Same ticket booth trick. Poor child."
"I have no news of that one," Montparnasse drawls. "That ticket booth trick is going to disappear fast. I'd quit combing the ports if I were you."
"Where do we start then?" Andrew asks.
"Do I look like a mindreader to you?" Montparnasse asks sourly.
"Is this all the information you have to volunteer? You may no longer have the opportunity to do so when we establish what the Difunto gang's part is with these recent events," Enjolras says as he levels a serious look at Montparnasse.
"It's all in the files," Montparnasse says, waving at the flashdrive that Bahorel is still holding. "What do you want, a guided tour throughout their territory?"
"We'll let you know," Enjolras replies. "Does anyone else have any questions for him?"
"The fact that he's here after so many reversals is fishy. How did you know to come here?" Eponine chimes in.
"Please. I've known you for years, and your husband here has a reputation for the difficult. Besides, I know which groups like looking for the missing. Fine shepherds you all will be," Montparnasse says, glancing as well at Andrew and the two Blakeneys. He smiles wryly at Eponine. "The old man sends his regards. He's walking again."
Eponine nods. "Good. Stay out of trouble, Montparnasse."
"Remember your manners next time," Feuilly mutters as he steps aside to let Montparnasse leave the room. He grits his teeth when he sees Eponine let out a breath of relief while Bahorel rubs his temples. "What happened the last time he came here?" he asks Enjolras.
"I simply made it clear that considering his ambiguous records, he is hardly in any position to be striking any deal," Enjolras deadpans.
It is all that Feuilly can do not to look at Eponine then, for he knows that whatever leverage Enjolras has on Montparnasse is tied to this woman's past. "At least he's proving to be useful."
"Like making a weapon out of a cobra. You'd better hope it doesn't turn tail and bite," Bahorel remarks.
"So we lost one girl, and there's another still out there," Marguerite whispers. "She could be anywhere in this city, or even out of this city by now."
"She escaped at her supposed drop off point, but she might have been picked up anyway down the road," Enjolras points out. "When we pinpoint the women who were crowding her at the dock house, we may be able to find her as well."
"Assuming they were even women," Percy jokes. "They look goodly disguised."
Feuilly winces, already anticipating more hours of reviewing musters and CCTV footage. "Are you sure about that?"
"It is the only lead we have. Montparnasse is right in saying that the ticket booth MO will be closed after what happened today," Eponine says glumly.
"Once busted, always rusted," Blakeney concurs.
Enjolras nods grimly. "All the same we'd better start looking." He is silent for a few moments, clearly pondering what their next move ought to be. "Unfortunately we will have to dredge the river. There may be others."
'Not just from this city,' Feuilly realizes. He grips the doorjamb if only to hide the shudder that courses through him. "How then, are we going to find anyone who is alive?"
"Finding someone else who will talk," Enjolras replies seriously. "I know what they say about forensics, but the truth is dead men don't really tell any tales."