by K. C. Finn
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lady Locke says, patting Andre’s arm. “Look at the state of the poor thing. He’s tired out! I’d know if he was still using powders.”
“Unless they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do,” Cae continues, giving Kendra a quick smile. “Zerafina Xiao has her own stash on ENERGY bottles, you know.”
The elegant proprietor of the House of Cards is suddenly not so ladylike as she bashes Andre’s arm with a hard slapping sound.
“Stealing from our friends!” She accuses.
“And a fat lot of good it did him,” Kendra adds as she puts the pieces together, “because Xiao’s drug stash was tampered with.”
“The ENERGY bottles actually contain SLEEP,” Cae explains.
“I thought this was withdrawal,” Andre mumbles sheepishly, “or a reaction from a bad supply or something.”
“You’re Lady Locke’s right hand man,” Cae continues, “It would make sense for someone to want to slow you down, dull your reactions.”
“Ooh this is terribly interesting,” Redd chimes in. He is reclining in a velvety chair near Cara’s empty tank, running one hand over the fine silky threads of his freshly laundered jacket. “Do go on, Rex.”
“Shut up Redd,” Kendra snaps.
Cae shoots him an irritated look before turning his gaze on the croupier bot.
“Croop, what’s the last thing you remember seeing before you were powered down last week?” He asks.
“I entered the VIP Lounge and I noticed the safe was open sir,” Croop answers plainly, “So I closed it and fed the feline. A person touched the maintenance panel on my back, so I stopped to be attended to.”
“Why would you do that?” Kendra asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“It’s protocol madam,” Croop replies simply, “I assumed I was in need of some adjustment.”
“So you just stopped and let whoever was behind you tamper with your system?” Cae confirms. The robot nods as Lady Locke gives off a sigh.
“Remind me to sue your manufacturer, Croop,” she says with gritted teeth.
“Of course madam,” Croop agrees.
“I assume you’re going somewhere with all of these questions?” Redd interjects again. He has a childlike fascination on his handsome face, as though he is watching a television drama unfolding. He steeps his fingers together, leaning forward. “Do you know who did it?”
“I do now,” Cae answers, even allowing himself a little grin in the conman’s direction.
35.
“So spill,” says Kendra eagerly, “Who am I arresting?” She looks around almost greedily at the four people in front of her.
“Now, now,” Cae replies with a wave of his hand, “I think I’d like to let the culprit sweat it out a little first.” His eyes travel around the thick, velvet-clad walls of the lounge. “Literally, actually,” he adds with a grin.
Cae sits himself down on the arm of a lurid blue chair near to Cara’s tank, his grin fading as his eyes fall upon Mai’s foot sticking out from under the swathe he has covered her with. He feels a pang of guilt at his own smugness.
“Mai’s death wasn’t planned,” he says solemnly, “she just happened to catch the catnapper in the act of grabbing Cara.”
“But she was hit in the head, like I was,” Lady Locke protests.
Cae shakes his head. “Not like you were,” he corrects, “You said it yourself Calista. Whoever hit you knew what they were doing. The right location and pressure to give you a concussion without causing lasting damage. The person who bludgeoned poor Mai did not possess that knowledge.”
“Then who attacked me?” The fine lady questions.
Cae gives her a guilty look. “An associate of The Face, trying to warn you against helping me, I’m afraid.”
Redd sucks in his cheeks loudly. “Ooh that’s not a clever move Calista,” he observes, “I’ve heard that guy is seriously powerful.” He shakes his head until he catches Kendra glaring at him again. “Shutting up now,” he adds quietly.
“But our catnapper couldn’t take advantage of that opportunity,” Cae continues, “Because there were too many people playing poker in this lounge that night. It wouldn’t make sense to create a distraction then.” Cae can see Kendra’s hazel eyes wishing him to get to the point so she can make her arrest, but he resists. “Now Croop’s disablement, that was a proper distraction. It had intent.”
“But the cat wasn’t stolen then,” Andre points out.
“Well that was the night poor Zerafina was attacked,” Lady Locke counters, “You couldn’t well thieve a priceless animal with all that commotion going on, could you?”
“Actually, you could have,” Cae adds, “It would have been ideal. I was distracted, even the bouncers on the door had gone to help Zerafina. If there was ever a time to steal Cara, it was then.”
“So why didn’t it happen?” Kendra urges, her fingers curling eagerly into fists.
“The real work took place during Croop’s disablement,” Cae explains, “But I didn’t know it had until now. The catnapper scoped out the tank, very clumsily I might add. They opened it up, held Cara, and put her back. They also had a go at cracking your safe, Lady Locke, and apparently they succeeded.”
“Put her back?” Andre repeats, “Why? Where is this ridiculous idea of yours going detective?”
“I’m getting there,” Cae says as a very mild, scratchy echo catches his keen ears. “Don’t panic Andre, I’m not about to accuse you. None of you are the killer, or the catnapper.”
“Well I knew that already,” Redd snarks, “For pity’s sake tell us who is!”
The scratching sound gets louder, accompanied by a very unsettling baying noise. It reverberates into the lavish lounge until everyone can hear it. Lady Locke looks all around her, brown eyes contorted in worry. Redd Richmond raises a greying eyebrow at the increasing volume of the strange sound.
“What the hell is that noise?” Kendra demands with agitation.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Cae begins, “That is the sound of a cat starting to give birth.”
“My babies!” Lady Locke erupts, leaping to her sequined feet.
“But where is it coming from?” Andre asks.
“Allow me,” Cae says, stepping across the room to where Redd sits in front of a velvety wall.
Pulling back the covering, Cae reveals the hidden safe, which he is unsurprised to find is unlocked, even a little ajar. The wailing noise and the scuffling is even louder now as Cae lets the door swing open.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Zerafina the Magnificent - Conjurer and Contortionist!”
Inside the fairly small safe, the compact and tiny form of Zerafina Xiao is twisted into a well-practised shape. The illusionist is wearing her gas mask, ready for a quick escape, but her oriental eyes narrow fiercely on Cae from the dark recesses of the cavity. In the space before her the black, furry form of Cara too is contorted, but also whining louder than ever. Lady Locke picks her up quickly and rushes her over to a more comfortable spot on a chair, whilst Kendra is far more interested in yanking the perpetrator out into the room where she can finally make her arrest.
“Mai wasn’t robbing you,” Cae says to Andre with another sad look at the covered body, “She was framed, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Isn’t that right Miss Xiao?”
Kendra rips the gas mask off the magician’s slim face. She grimaces, hot tears forming below her deep, dark eyes.
“I didn’t want to hurt her,” she protests, “but the dumb bitch saw me. She was running to tell you.”
“That’s as close to an admission of guilt as I need,” Kendra says, quickly snapping a pair of cuffs off her belt. She handles Zerafina’s tiny frame incredibly roughly as she restrains her.
“Keep a tight hold on her,” Cae reminds her, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s practised in getting those cuffs off.”
“Such a shame you’re on the right side of the law, Caecilius,” Zerafina says with her thin-lipped smil
e.
“It is really,” Redd adds, coming to stand beside the arrested woman, “I could use a brain like that in my cons.”
“Any brain would be an improvement on yours,” Kendra retorts with a laugh.
“Witty as always, Chief Nai,” Redd replies with a sneer, “Does that mean I can go now?”
“Not a chance,” Cae interrupts quickly, “this time you’re going to make a proper statement, Redd.”
“Oh very well,” the conman says with a roll of his olive green eyes, “I suppose you’ve rather earned it.”
“Call the station, Cae,” Kendra orders, keeping her eyes trained hard on Zerafina.
“Oh yes!” Yells an excited voice from further afield.
Cae turns to see Lady Locke and Croop huddled over the chair where she set Cara down. The lady turns and in her finely manicured hands sits a soggy black mass of fur that Cae suddenly realises has a tiny face, the mouth of which is moving. And mewing.
“The second one is out, madam,” Croop observes, and Lady Locke turns quickly back to Cara and her new family.
36.
It’s late in the evening by the time all matters are settled at Dartley Station, when it falls to Cae to escort Redd Richmond out from the interrogation rooms. The two men walk slowly down the brightly lit corridors, though the older man is much lighter in step than the detective.
“It’s nice being a witness instead of a perp,” Redd observes with a jovial grin, “They brought me coffee and everything. I might try it more often.”
“I suppose staying away from crime scenes altogether is out of the question?” Cae asks, even he can’t hold back a small, triumphant smile.
“I don’t look for crime; crime finds me,” Redd explains, “That’s how it happens when you’ve mixed in shady circles for as long as I have.”
“Well you seem to be doing quite well staying out of prison at the moment,” Cae observes.
“Ah,” Redd says, tapping his nose with his index finger, “Have to be. Need to travel soon, can’t afford to get banged up when you’ve got tickets booked.”
Cae gives him a flat look.
“I take it it’s a working holiday, for want of a better word?” He asks suspiciously.
“Now that would be telling,” the conman replies with a grin.
When they reach the grand foyer of the station building Cae catches sight of Kendra rushing between groups of officers, barking orders and waving her arm in her usual dictatorly fashion. The officers scurry away bitterly until Kendra is left alone, leaning on the information desk. She gives Cae a nod across the bright space, which he returns.
“That chief of yours is quite brilliant,” Redd says, adding in a lower tone, “But for pity’s sake don’t ever tell her I said so.”
Cae allows himself another chuckle. “Kendra knows how to run a tight ship,” he agrees, “but it’s hard getting her to wind down, especially after a fortnight like this.”
“I guess she’s just not programmed that way,” quips Redd, “Some people aren’t.”
The use of the word programmed isn’t lost on Cae, but nothing falters in Redd’s handsome grin, so Cae tries not to let his own expression give anything away.
“I guess not,” he says slowly, watching the older man produce from his belt the most expensive-looking gas mask he’s ever seen. “Are those buckles made of gold?” He asks before he can stop himself.
“There’s no need for that disparaging tone,” Redd chides with a smile, “Just because I can afford the best and you can’t, Rex.”
The conman puts on his shiny black mask with a few adjustments.
“Do you need a taxi or something?” Cae asks, his feet itching to get back to Kendra across the foyer and discuss their next move.
“No I’ve got friends picking me up,” Redd replies, “I said I’d wait under the streetlight.”
“Well I hope I don’t see you again for a long time Redd,” Cae chuckles, giving the old trickster a nod.
But Redd shakes his greying head of hair. “Oh I think our paths are more likely to cross than you think, detective.”
Cae’s blue eyes narrow. Redd checks his watch carefully.
“Meaning what exactly?” Cae asks.
“You were great in there today, Rex,” the conman says with a bright and very deliberate change of topic, “It’s fun to watch you working things out. Especially when there’s so many things that you still don’t know.”
He turns to leave then, sauntering out through the air partition and into the night beyond it. Cae watches him cross the road with sprightly steps until he is standing right opposite the building under the streetlight as planned. Redd Richmond stands facing the station, facing Cae in fact, still looking right at him with those mocking green eyes.
“Are we going then?” Kendra asks, arriving at Cae’s side.
“Something’s wrong,” the detective states.
Kendra looks out of the glass doors, following Cae’s gaze to Redd’s spot under the light.
“With him? Don’t get me started,” she guffaws, “Come on.”
But Cae doesn’t move. Something tells him to stay, to watch Redd until he leaves. The conman stands amid thin strands of toxic smoke, his eyes still trained on the building, still trained on Cae. He tears them away for just a moment to check his watch again. Cae can almost be sure that he is smiling under that expensive mask.
“What does he know that I don’t?” He murmurs under his breath.
And then Redd begins to move, slowly at first, bringing his hands up, crooking his elbows. And to Cae’s horror, he starts to applaud.
Three solitary claps.
Now Cae can see the outline of the man applauding at the quarry, hear Flash Morgan’s voice telling him that there was someone right under his nose all this time, and he knows the reason that Redd Richmond was never on the list as a contact of The Face.
“Cae…” Kendra begins, her voice sounding shocked.
“It’s him.”
Cae wrestles to get his mask off his belt as he races for the door, but in the same moment that he gets it loose, a small three-wheeled van that he recognises pulls up outside Dartley Station, blocking his view of Richmond for just a moment. But the van doesn’t stop, rather it careers on with its back doors flying open and Redd takes a well-practised leap into the back of the little space. As Cae flounders helplessly to the glass foyer doors, Redd Richmond even has time to give a little wave before he slams the van doors shut, leaving Cae with one final impression of his wicked, grinning green eyes over his mask.
Those eyes. Those big, green eyes falling on him, mocking him, giving away their secret for months and he couldn’t see it.
37.
It’s hard to take in the details of his surroundings in his state of shock, but Cae is trying his best to appreciate being in Kendra’s house for the very first time. The layout is a mirror image of his own home which is strangely off-putting; it makes him want to constantly take the wrong turning into the wall. Instead of heading for the living space, Kendra leads him up the stairs. He walks with slow strides, still trying carefully not to exacerbate the weakness in his limbs, past what he assumes must be the bathroom and her bedroom.
Where the box-room office space is in Cae’s home, he is not surprised to find that Kendra has installed a home gym. She is certainly creative with her usage of space; the young detective wouldn’t have previously thought it were possible to fit so many pieces of equipment into one little room. Kendra points him into a plastic chair in the corner next to a folding treadmill, where he settles slowly, finding himself staring at the lino on the floor, thinking of green eyes and applause.
“We’ll get him,” Kendra promises.
She has said it before, but it still renews his faith a little every time she makes the vow. Cae looks up at the sound of creaking, finding Kendra throwing open the cupboards at the other end of the room. The ex-soldier starts to toss various things out of the storage unit onto the floor. The space is
so little between them that the objects are soon piling at Cae’s feet; he inspects various files and albums from a distance. Some of the official stamps and labels catch his eye.
“Lachrymosa Military Base,” he reads.
“I think it’s our next stop, don’t you?” Kendra asks without looking back at him.
The thought of travel daunts Cae; he’s hardly left Dartley since his mother died. But if an exploration of Lachrymosa might lead him to apprehend The Face on his own turf, then it’s one adventure he’s not going to be able to turn down.
“I’m glad I’ve got you to guide me,” he says gently.
“Damn right you are,” Kendra adds in a much louder tone, “Okay that’s all of it.” She turns, spreading her arms in presentation over the pile of stuff on the floor. “Memories of Lachrymosa. Where do you want to start?”
As a detective, Cae generally doesn’t have a problem rifling through people’s personal effects, but there is something different about diving into Kendra’s world like this. Not that she appears to have a problem with it herself; indeed she sits herself down cross legged at one edge of the pile, opening the first thing she can grab. It is a photo album.
“This is all early training,” she says as she flicks through the pages, suddenly dumping the album over her shoulder.
After a few more minutes Cae begins to join her, gingerly taking a forest green file from near his foot. The first few sheets seem to be training schedules, exercise regimes, even a few menus from the base’s canteen. But a lot of them have messages written across the bottom, all in the same writing. Writing which is definitely too looped and fancy to be Kendra’s.
Skip dinner - shooting range?
Free tonight after 10.
Fancy a walk in the morning?
If he didn’t know any better, Cae would say they sounded like they had come from an admirer. It isn’t absurd to assume that Kendra could have had one; indeed a base full of rough, tough military men would surely appreciate a woman who could take care of herself. Cae slips the papers back into the file, taking in a shallow, uncomfortable breath.
“Hey look at this,” Kendra says with a laugh. Cae gladly drops the file and refocuses. She is holding a photo out for him. “That’s when I was made sergeant.”
