by K. C. Finn
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” says a snarky voice from above.
Scrambling to his feet, Cae shoots the owner of the expensive shoes a venomous look.
“What were you doing in there, Redd?” He grumbles at the conman.
“Looking for someone to get me my jacket back,” he answers simply, pushing a greying lock of hair back from his forehead, “it ought to be back from the cleaners by now, don’t you think?” Redd flashes his perfect smile.
Cae’s blue eyes narrow on the handsome, smug face. “How long have you been in there?” He presses.
“Two minutes,” Redd asks with a quirked brow, “Why? Are you fixing to frame me up for something, detective?” The weasel raises his hand quickly in faux apology. “Oh sorry, that’s former detective, isn’t it? I forgot, you’re an underling here now.”
Cae can feel his blood rising, the pressure making the ruined skin beneath his black clothes ache with heat. He grits his teeth together, the urge to punch Redd Richmond squarely in his stupid face rising with every passing second.
“Well I’ll be off then, got to go throw some money at these tables,” the older man says with a casual smile, though there’s something in his glittering green eyes that suggests he knows he has wound Cae up a touch too far this time. Redd Richmond slinks away quickly in his immaculate shoes, and as Cae once again turns to enter the VIP Lounge he finds the stunning visage of Zerafina Xiao watching him with interest.
“Lady Locke’s not going to be happy that you keep aggravating our best customers,” she warns, but her painted black lips are smiling.
“I’ll stop when he stops aggravating me,” Cae promises, knowing that such a day will never come. Zerafina’s smile widens.
“You’ll come out to watch my show later, won’t you?” She asks, her tiny, lithe form snaking towards the young detective. She raises a slender fingertip, tracing Cae’s jaw. “Just for a minute or two?”
He tries his best to consider this and ignore the touch at the same time, which proves to be not as easy a feat as it should be. It’s almost a sure thing that the VIPs will clear out of the lounge to watch Zerafina anyway, so he nods a little shakily.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he adds in a low tone.
The little woman slinks past him then, her fingertip ghosting the rest of his torso as she passes. Cae finds that rather a different kind of heat is suddenly tormenting his skin.
17.
It transpires that not all the VIPs are quite so eager to watch the magnificent Zerafina Xiao perform as Cae is. In fact there are a variety of disappointed faces when Cae ushers the last few people out of the lounge and gives a quick nod to the security boys that the room is clear. With minutes to go before the oriental illusionist begins her display, Cae arrives at the stage-side just as the lights begin to dim. He gives the double doors of the lounge a furtive look, satisfied that all is well.
Behind the shimmering black curtains, a glimpse of the magician’s lithe body tells Cae that she’s preparing the necessary concoctions from her ornate trinket box for the night’s display. As the music begins and Zerafina takes her place, the usual polite applause breaks out amongst the gathered patrons. The young detective finds himself clapping just a shade louder than most while Zerafina’s dark eyes survey her crowd. Though she smiles thinly, there is something all too disappointed in her face.
Much of the show is similar to the feats of mystery and sleight of hand that Cae has seen her excel in before, but this time an amusing segment in the middle of the programme sees a volunteer join her on stage. The older man is subjected to a fanciful display with a yard of silk, during which his face is obscured for just a moment. Zerafina promises her victim is entering a new state of enlightenment and a moment later the gent is pouring out the most embarrassing personal information about himself and his wife, causing huge applause and raucous laughs from the evermore engaged crowd. Cae suspects to himself that a sprinkle of TRUTH is to blame, and though he feels a little bad for the volunteer, a smile still creeps onto his lips.
As the illusions and humour draw to a close, Cae readies himself for the elegant spectacle that is Zerafina’s big finish. Music building to a crescendo, the temptress takes her usual position with her back to the audience, ready to take flight into the high rafters of the casino and disappear without a trace. Cae notes the tiny but familiar movement as Zerafina tips the fingertip full of LIFT onto her lips. She turns to the crowd, expecting to rise, but her usual satisfied smile suddenly contorts into an ungodly shape.
Zerafina Xiao drops to the floor. The horrified murmurs of the crowd send a wave of panic through Cae’s body as he watches Mai and a waitress rush to the stage. He is frozen at the sight of Zerafina’s tiny body contracting and writhing in unspeakable agony, foam rising from the corner of her painted lips. But the familiar flash of realisation hits him as he watches in terror. First Lady Locke, then Croop, now Zerafina.
Caecilius Rex turns and bolts for the door to the VIP Lounge.
The security men have rushed away from their position in order to control the chaos around the stage, and so Cae marches into the room with heavy footfalls, panting as he checks things over. Empty. The lavish lounge is deadly silent as the detective steps inside, save for the little paws of Cara, who is attacking the side of her tank to try to gain access to her favourite protector. Cae approaches the plastic tank wall and puts a hand to it. The priceless cat takes comfort in the contact, curling her body up against the imprint of his black glove.
It’s then that the detective spots the marks along the top of the tank. Tiny smudges on the rim of the plastic grab his attention, and as he moves to inspect them he notes blurred finger-marks that suggest someone has recently opened the tank’s lid. Further to this there are tiny chips and breaks in the rim of Cara’s holding pen, and as Cae lifts the tank lid a little he sees the fresh scratches and damage extends inside. Someone has lifted this lid and dropped it down again in haste, someone who has gone against Lady Locke’s order for the gentlest of touches.
No wonder the cat was so glad to see him.
Cae tentatively sets down the tank lid and reaches inside, picking up the small cat with one gloved hand. He holds her against his chest for a moment, surprised to feel the roundness of her stomach. A brief moment sees him wondering how many more little Caras are growing inside, but he lets it pass as his keen eyes roam over the interior of her display space. Nothing has been tampered with inside.
Disentangling her claws from his polo neck sweater, Cae replaces Cara in the tank just as Andre Lutz bursts through the VIP doors. His usually slick hair is a mess and his tanned skin has a thin sheen of sweat. Dark brows furrow accusingly at Cae whilst he replaces the tank lid.
“What are you doing?” He demands.
“My job,” Cae replies in a level tone, “Somebody’s been in here since I left. I suspect whatever has just happened to Zerafina was no accident.” The thought of her foaming lips alerts him suddenly. “Is she alright?” He adds.
Andre nods too many times. “It was a temporary effect,” he answers, “Perhaps a bad powder.”
The right-hand man wrings his hands a little, then offers one out to Cae reluctantly. Cae for his part simply stares at the hand suspiciously, until it falls away again. Andre hangs his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a smaller voice, “I’m finding it hard to run things with Calista in hospital. I ought to try to trust you like she does.”
Cae spares a thought for the lady of the house, his expression softening a little. “How’s her recovery going?” He inquires.
“She woke up a few times today,” Andre explains, and Cae begins to notice the tired, purple marks beneath the usually-handsome man’s eyes. His tanned face is paler than usual, and he stretches out his back with a look that speaks of sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair for hours on end. “I wanted to stay with her tonight, but she told me to come back and run the house.”
The young detective quirks a
brow at the man he had previously suspected of being involved in her attack. It suddenly seems that Andre’s anger is born from panic, and what Cae had thought was a man with a darker purpose may in fact just be a man under pressure.
“You care for her?” Cae pursues the point.
Andre nods sadly. “And she’s going to come back to a ruined business and a stolen cat if I don’t start doing things right here,” he groans.
“Then how about starting to help me?” Cae offers with a small, tolerant smile. This time it is his turn to hold out his hand.
“What do you need?” Andre asks.
18.
When Caecilius Rex arrives at Angelica Lane’s apartment early the next morning, he feels very odd about using her spare keys. His gloved hand is wavering as he fits one little silver key into the shiny lock, and no sooner has he opened the door than he can hear her voice echoing through from her living room.
“No I can’t tonight,” she says, and as Cae steps into the bare little hallway he catches sight of her down the other end of it. She is toying with a strand of her blonde locks between her thumb and forefinger as she talks into the phone, and the sight of the usually-suited woman in her pyjamas takes the young detective by surprise. “No I really can’t,” Angelica says again with a giggle. “You’ll have to manage without me.”
At this she turns and catches Cae watching her, and he gives an awkward wave with his one free hand. In the other is Zerafina’s trinket box, which Angelica’s glassy eyes travel over for a moment. “Look I’ll have to go,” she speaks into the receiver, “A friend’s just popped in to see me.” Her expression changes to a glower for a moment as she listens, then she adds “Never mind what friend it is!” in an amusingly outraged tone.
The petite blonde makes her way to where Cae is standing and closes the door behind him, beckoning him to follow her back to the living room. He obeys silently, taking in her figure-hugging camisole and comfy looking trousers as he pads quietly towards the leatherette sofa, sitting down with the box on his lap. Angelica makes a huffy sound into the phone and rolls her eyes at it.
“Alright,” she sighs. “Yes, yes. I will do. Bye love. Bye.” She blows two air kisses into the phone and then hangs up.
“Boyfriend?” Cae asks, and then wishes he hadn’t because the tone has come out far too eager for knowledge.
Angelica shakes her blonde head as she sets down the receiver.
“He wishes,” she replies with a grin. “I’ve given him no encouragement, of course.”
“Of course,” Cae repeats, returning her smile. Angelica comes to stand over him and looks down at the ornate box across his knees.
“Ooh,” she begins jovially, “What’s in the box, detective man?”
“Drugs,” Cae answers simply.
“Oh,” says Angelica flatly. She sits down next to him on the sofa then, clearly disappointed. “You know, most men bring me chocolates, dome-grown flowers, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not most men,” Cae responds as he begins to undo the latch on the trinket box.
“That is becoming rapidly more apparent,” Angelica states, and when Cae looks up he finds her smiling at him once more.
The detective looks back down into the box very quickly as he flips it open, clearing his throat of its rasp. He takes out a few of the white plastic bottles from Zerafina’s container and considers them with his sharp blue eyes. When he looks back to Angelica she too is reading the scrawled labels on the sides of the plastic tubs.
“Zerafina Xiao is a performer down at the House of Cards. Her illusions include the use of some force-altering drugs to enhance the performance,” Cae explains. “But someone’s tampered with her stash.” He hands one of the little containers, the one named LIFT, to Angelica for her inspection. “Instead of floating into the air at the end of her act, Zerafina collapsed into horrific convulsions. I suspect this bottle’s contents have been replaced with PAIN. I believe someone used the brief time she was causing a scene to visit Cara in the VIP Lounge.”
“What about the other bottles?” Angelica presses, “If you know what’s been changed altogether, could it help you find out who did it?”
Cae nods, but he raises a dark eyebrow. “That’s the problem,” he begins. “I have no way to tell what else has been changed. All the powders look the same.” He sets the box down on the coffee table and Angelica starts to take out all the remaining bottles and line them up along the table’s edge. “And I can’t take them to the lab at the station or they’ll want to know where they came from.”
“You can’t get Kendra to sanction it for you?” The blonde queries.
Cae gives her a glaring look. “Oh sure, because me turning up with a box full of drugs is going to look fine and dandy after my previous exploits,” he snarks.
“Right,” Angelica says, still smiling. “Well, I can only think of one way to find out what’s in these bottles.”
“Unfortunately, so can I,” Cae replies.
“I’ll pour us some coffee, and bring extra teaspoons,” Angelica proclaims as she hauls herself up towards the kitchen.
Cae tries the tiniest gram of the PAIN bottle to confirm his suspicions, and the familiar sensation, as though he is burning up from the inside out, hits him for just a few seconds. Angelica puts some crystals from a bottle labelled SLEEP on the tip of her tongue, only to discover that the container has not been tampered with. She stifles a huge yawn as she gulps down her coffee to counteract the effect. Cae hands her a bottle labelled ENERGY in the hope that it will help, only to find that this particular bottle also seems to be filled with SLEEP.
“That’s odd,” Angelica comments between yawns.
“Hmm,” Cae nods, “it appears someone didn’t want Zerafina at her most alert for the show tonight.” He thinks back to her brief moment with him alone in the lounge a little earlier in the night. She hadn’t seemed drowsy at all back then. Something about the bottles doesn’t make sense.
Angelica slowly passes Cae another plastic bottle, and as his mind races past all sorts of possibilities and suspicions, he barely notices the label until he’s already taken a few grams onto the tip of his tongue. He looks down at the scrawled label in his gloved hands. TRUTH.
“Well?” Angelica asks groggily, “Is that one what it says it is?”
And Cae knows full well that it is, remembering with mild horror the volunteer on the stage last night who spilled his innermost secrets out all over the place. He hopes that the dose will not be large enough to secure him a similar fate.
“Yes,” he confirms, “it’s not doing anything else. It is TRUTH.”
Angelica sits up from her spot lounging on the sofa, rubbing her eyes to force herself awake a little more. She gulps down the coffee, spying the young detective with her reflective eyes. They flash, taking on the white hue of her minimalist mug for a second.
“In that case,” she begins, “tell me what happened to your mother.”
19.
“I don’t know it all,” Cae begins before he can stop himself from talking, “I think I’ve blocked a lot of it from my memory.” He buries his head in his hands sharply, grimacing. “Don’t ask, Angelica,” he pleads, “please, I don’t want to tell you.”
He feels a light hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Look,” she says somewhere close by, her tone soft but serious, “If you think The Face killed her, and you want me to help you find The Face, then I need to know more than what you’ve told me.” She squeezes his shoulder gently, and he raises his head just a touch. “She was burned, killed by a superacid, that much I know.”
Cae nods heavily into his hands, lowering them and looking away from her.
“It happened in a quarry,” he whispers in a voice filled with sorrow and rage, “it was way outside of town. She…she was looking for my father.” Cae stands up quickly, feeling the cold sweat running down onto the acid-burned skin at the back of his neck. “Please Angelica, stop asking. I can’t do this.”
&nb
sp; The little blonde comes to stand in front of him, raising a hand to his jaw gently. She makes him look at her, deep into her glassy eyes which are rounded into a kinder shape than usual.
“I really want to help you,” she says sadly, offering him a smile, “but I’ll stop. I’ll stop talking altogether until it wears off, if you like.”
And then something happens that hasn’t happened to Caecilius Rex in a very long time. Angelica Lane, on the tips of her toes, plants a soft kiss on his cheek. She rubs his arm briefly with another sad smile, then her pyjama-clad form begins to walk sleepily back to her kitchen, picking up the coffee mugs on the way.
After standing in conflict for several moments, the young detective wonders what has suddenly happened to his countenance that women are being so touchy-feely with him. First the beautiful Zerafina Xiao and her tracing fingertip that ran along his face, and now the lips of the often frosty and business like Angelica Lane have graced his pale cheek. With awkward steps Cae follows the path to the bare, silver kitchen in which the liaison officer now stands.
“My father went missing when I was fifteen,” he continues, startling Angelica as she fills the percolator, “Most people thought he’d been murdered, but my mother insisted he’d been kidnapped.”
A blonde brow rises on Angelica’s pretty face as she mops up the water she’s spilt. “Why would someone want to kidnap your father?”
“They were scientists, my parents,” he says, letting the TRUTH drug do all the work as he focuses on steeling himself against the memories rushing out. “My father would have been a valuable asset to any criminal mastermind’s workforce.”
“So you think he was taken by The Face?” Angelica asks. Cae just nods. “Do you think The Face has still got him?”
“Oh no,” Cae adds quickly with a wave of a gloved hand, “No I can’t imagine he’d still be alive.” The young detective lowers his gaze, watching his reflection in the kitchen’s polished countertop. “I think The Face took whatever he needed from my father and killed him; he was probably dead long before my mother found her way to that quarry.”
