Disclaimer: I don't own legal rights to any of the copyrighted Resident Evil stuff in this story.
July 25th.
Sunday afternoon was humid after a night of heavy rain. Leon watched a cherry red 4-door sedan park in the driveway of a little house behind a white picket fence and a mailbox lettered "The Burtons" in perfectly even white letters. A pretty brunette came out the passenger side in her Sunday best, an olive dress with sage buttons and bow and a similarly colored wool hat. She went to the back seat and opened the door, helping two small girls out, one in a red frock, one in blue. The girls' heads barely came up higher than her knees.
Then the driver got out. Standing over six feet tall even with slouched shoulders, the big man gave the impression of a wild animal, a grizzly bear forced into a too small rust colored suit and tie. A tired grizzly with sad, tired eyes. Too tired to shave for at least the past few days, the shaggy stubble adding to his wild animal appearance while doing little to hide his jowls. While he and his wife were distracted trying to corral their rambunctious children, Leon walked up the driveway behind them.
"Mrs. Burton," he said, doffing his fedora. "Ladies."
The girls barely even looked at him, but the big man turned and glared.
"Detective Burton," Leon said, putting the fedora back on and tipping it.
"Kathy, take Moira and Polly inside," Barry said, not taking his eyes off Leon. "I'll be there in a minute."
"Easy, Barry," Leon said. "I come to you in the spirit of fraternity."
"Any fraternity between us ended a long time ago, shamus."
Leon's eye went to the .40 S&W in the holster at Barry's hip.
"You still carry that hand cannon with you everywhere? Even to church?"
"What are you doing at my house, Leon?"
Leon reached for his flask.
"I'm looking for Chris Redfield."
He took a swig and then tilted the flask towards Barry, who pushed it away.
"Chris Redfield is gone."
"Gone? That's all there is to it? It must be a pretty big blow to your reputation, working the missing persons desk when you can't even find your own partner."
Leon was no slouch in the height department himself, but when Barry stopped slouching and stood up as straight as he could, the few inches difference between them became intimidating. Barry got a firm grip on Leon's lapels.
"I haven't slept in three days!" he said. "Just try me, shamus."
"Easy there, big fella," Leon said. "All I'm saying is that if he was my partner…"
"He hasn't reported for duty in over a week," Barry said. "He's not answering his phone. He's not at his apartment. He's not in any hospital I've checked. I've been trying to do my job, take care of a house of three ladies, and still turn this entire city upside down trying to raise him. He's gone. And he's not coming back."
Barry's face was turning as red as the paint on his sedan.
"Maybe he just skipped town?"
"Never," Barry said. "Not the Chris I knew."
"I just need something to tell my client," Leon said. "Her family's in town for the wedding, and if I didn't at least try to talk to his partner…"
"What wedding?"
"Chris'," Leon said. "I'm just trying to give his girl a little bit of closure."
The statement stunned Barry enough for him to finally let go of Leon's jacket.
"What girl?" Barry said.
Leon's hand trembled a little as he brought his flask back up to his lips, relieved to be free of Burton's massive paws.
"He didn't invite his own partner to the wedding?" he said.
"Chris wasn't just my partner," Barry said. "He was my best friend. I'd see him chat ladies up from time to time, sure. Maybe he even took one or two home with him, not that I ever saw it. I wouldn't judge. But if he was getting serious with someone I'd know about it."
"No favorite girl he'd keep going back to at the end of those hard days when the night gets too lonely?"
"There were rumors about him and some lady cop," Barry said. "But Chris always said that relationship was strictly professional."
"I know a cop when I see one," Leon said. "And this lady's no cop. Chinese woman. Says the wedding was happening this week."
"The work took us through Chinatown a time or two," Barry said. "There was a massage parlor Chris seemed partial to, but I wouldn't have thought it was a good place to go looking for a wife."
"What were you two working on when he disappeared?"
"What do you mean?"
"Anyone lost that someone else might not want found?"
Barry slouched and looked tired again.
"Just typical missing person cases," he said. "Runaway teens. Deadbeat husbands. Not like we were looking for anyone whose name you'd recognize."
"You could try me," Leon said. "I know a lot of names."
Barry muttered something under his breath, and then turned and started walking up to his front porch. A few steps away, he looked over his shoulder.
"This Asian woman," he said. "Pretty?"
"Very," Leon replied.
"Good for Chris."
Kathy Burton opened the kitchen window and stuck her head out.
"Barry, dear. Will your friend be joining us for supper?"
"No," Barry said firmly. "He's just leaving."
No need to try to pick the lock of Chris' apartment. The door swung right open as soon as Leon touched the knob.
He'd barely switched on his flashlight before noticing someone else had already turned the place upside down. Drawers opened or completely removed from end tables. Chair cushions torn off and sliced open, the feathers they'd been stuffed with covering the carpet like a summer snow. Picture frames knocked from tables and torn off the wall.
Even before it was ransacked, it would have been sad to look at. Compared to the tranquility of the Burton family's suburban home behind its white picket fence, this was the sad apartment of a man who was alone and saw himself staying that way for the foreseeable future. The cheap apartment of a man who lost a crooked game by playing by the rules as honest people knew them, instead of by the real rules, the secret rules, that served the select few and could have changed the game in his favor.
Still, Leon reflected sadly, when the place was clean, it was actually probably still a lot nicer than his own apartment.
Leon stepped over the broken glass and old photographs by the wall. The first showed a sad looking little boy, about five or six years old with chubby cheeks, holding an infant in his arms. The next was the boy another five years later, still chubby, still sad, but with a happy girl half his age covered in freckles.
Then a photograph with the boy in his late teens, finally happy. His broad frame was now muscular and athletic. The girl beside him with all of her freckles, awkward and gangly.
No parents in the picture. One of the few things Leon remembered learning about Chris' personal life was that he'd been an orphan from a young age.
In the next picture Chris looked somber again, even scared, dressed in an army uniform for the first time. Leon had met both him and Barry, not long after, briefly, in Normandy, and then again later, still briefly, as fellow cops.
And then Chris in his police uniform, promoted to the rank of detective, surrounded by several other officers. Leon recognized a few of the people in the photograph. Particularly Barry Burton.
Leon stepped through the first doorway his flashlight beam fell across. Chris' study looked even worse than his parlor. The floor was covered in loose drawers and busted bric-a-brac. Papers were strewn everywhere, and Leon picked them up and arranged them in a neat stack as he examined them. Mostly flyers and receipts. A few short correspondences, the least formal being from the kid sister off at college. He sat the stack of papers down on the desk, took a look at the unremarkable artwork on the wall, and was about to give up and turn around when something on the bookshelf caught his eyes.
There was a row of thick, red leather bound volumes, spines painted with vivid illustrations in shades of blue and tan, but he couldn't make out what the illustrations were supposed to be.
Leon pulled the books off the shelf one by one, making a neat pile on the shelf, then studied the pictures carefully, returning the books one at a time until the combined images formed the image of a naked woman lying on water.
There was a click and a set of books on a higher shelf swung open, revealing a hidden safe.
The only thing inside was a little black notebook. Leon quickly leafed through the pages. They seemed to be filled with names, detailed physical descriptions, and a few hastily scribbled notes in the margins. Some photographs fell out from between the pages.
Leon quickly took the notebook and photos, slipped them into his pocket, and closed the safe door. Before he could turn around, he heard the click of a revolver hammer being drawn back.
"Stay still, dirtbag, or I'll put a hole through you!"
The voice was soft. The tone was harsh.
Leon slowly lifted his empty hands in the air.
"I could have you arrested for breaking and entering," the woman's voice said.
"Door was already open. Worst you could get me on is trespassing. If that."
"What are you doing in my brother's apartment?"
"You must be Claire," Leon said. "It's okay. I'm a detective."
"You're a cop?"
"Used to be. Private detective. License's in my wallet, back pocket if you want to check it."
Footsteps came closer, but stopped on the other side of the desk. The room was bathed in light as Claire switched on a lamp.
"Turn around," Claire said.
"I can't promise when you see my face you won't fall in love."
Claire didn't sound amused.
"Just turn around."
Leon did as she said and, for a moment, was rendered speechless. He'd expected awkward and gawky. But the little sister was all grown up now. Five and a half feet tall and slender, with auburn hair tied back in a messy pony tail. She had the most perfectly round face Leon had ever seen, with full lips, a button nose, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to be staring right through him at the bookshelf he was leaning against. Small strands of the auburn hair hung down around jutting ears. It was hard to believe a brick wall like Chris and someone as lovely as Claire could share the same parents.
She just stared back, her full lips a hard line. She was gripping a snub-nosed, wood gripped 9mm revolver. The six shooter looked almost like a toy.
"Careful with the pea shooter, lady. You're liable to blow someone's pinky off with that."
She gripped it tighter and raised its sights.
"I'm a good shot," Claire said. "Chris taught me. Always told me I'd make a helluva cop."
"Cool it. I believe you," Leon said, hands still raised. "Shouldn't you still be in school? Or are you here for the wedding?"
Like Barry had been, Claire was visibly thrown by the statement. The gun lowered and her grip loosened slightly.
"It's been almost a week since Chris has called or visited," Claire said. "That's not like him. I got worried. What wedding?"
"You're not the first friend or loved one I've talked to surprised Chris didn't send them an invite."
"You're joking?"
"Bride-to-be slipped me 2 C's to find him, so…"
"Who is she? What's her name?"
"Wong."
"Chris never mentioned a Chinese woman. What's her Christian name?"
"I don't think she's that religious."
Claire rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Do you ever give anyone a straight answer for anything, or just dumb wisecracks?"
"I might be more inclined to be cooperative if there wasn't still a loaded piece pointed at me."
Claire looked at the gat in her hand like she'd forgotten it was there and then tucked it in the small of her back.
"She goes by Ada. I'm Leon, by the way."
Claire barely seemed to hear him as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small square of pink paper.
"This was under Chris' pillow, along with the loaded revolver."
"Did you do all this?"
Leon gestured to the mess around them.
"Like this when I got here," Claire said, passing the piece of paper to Leon.
"Chris, Saint Michael Clock Tower Plaza. Wednesday. 9 P.M. - Ada."
There was a lipstick print beneath the signature. Leon recognized the shade of the lipstick and the smell of the perfume.
"I was starting to think Ada was just a figment of my imagination," Leon said.
"My brother's out there somewhere," Claire said. "And I'm gonna find him."
Leon's face became deadly serious.
"Start preparing for the worst, kid. I'm sorry, but Raccoon's a dangerous city. A cop that disappears while walking his beat…"
"I won't believe that," Claire interrupted. "Not without seeing his body."
"Maybe we can help each other," Leon said. "We both want to know what happened to your brother. Two heads are better than…"
"Why do I need your help?" Claire said. "You may be the detective, but I'm the one who found the clue."
"I'm keeping this," Leon said, waving the perfumed note in front of Claire's face before sticking it in his pocket. Then he turned around and left.