Originally this would have been the first instance/use of On Every Street in the story, but then it turned out that Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 were stupidly short, so I combined them because the only reason I split them up in the first place was song lyrics. And I had thought I’d have more to say about it by now.
Dang, how is Mark Knopfler so good at music?
Chapter 2: Planet of New Orleans
Chapter 3: Calling Elvis
Calling Elvis – is anybody home
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Did he leave the building
Or can he come to the phone
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Well tell him I was calling just to wish him well
Let me leave my number – Heartbreak Hotel
Oh Love Me Tender, Baby Don’t Be Cruel
Return to Sender, Treat Me Like a Fool
Calling Elvis – is anybody home
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Did he leave the building
Or can he come to the phone
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Why don’t you go get him, I’m his biggest fan
You gotta tell him he’s still the man
Long distance baby, so far from home
Don’t you think maybe you could put him on
Well tell him I was calling just to wish him well
Let me leave my number – Heartbreak Hotel
Oh Love Me Tender, Baby Don’t Be Cruel
Return to Sender, Treat Me Like a Fool
Calling Elvis – is anybody home
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Did he leave the building
Or can he come to the phone
Calling Elvis – I’m here all alone
Her search for the assassin was still at all of the dead ends. There was no way to put out wanted posters on “a pretty man – (blond, dark-skinned, possibly elfin)” whom only Leliana had seen, or at least only Leliana had noticed. And even with Sten Hildreth’s more coherent testimony suggesting that Cailan’s murderer might have entered through the window – and the police team had gone back and found evidence that this was the case – all they had now was “a pretty man who climbs well”. They might not even be the same person. Assuming that they were would only narrow her vision, possibly make her miss the real culprit.
She shared her woes with Feddic down in Photography over a coffee – large, hot, black – in the HQ cafe and received an understanding nod. “Aye, not much to do when your suspect leaves no witnesses and no fingerprints. I understand the traces on the outside of the house weren’t much help?”
“No. I thought we might be able to find his shoe size but no luck…”
“Enhancement?” Feddic’s son piped up.
She smiled kindly at him. “Not today, Sandal. But thank you.”
“I’d like to see the person who could scale that wall without a rope,” Feddic said contemplatively, then lowered his voice. “You know what the rumours have been saying, right?”
“That it’s one of the Crows?” She nodded. “I’m starting to believe them. Who else could pull this off? And with enough money… the Crows will take care of anyone for enough money.” Not to mention if any of their witnesses had been bribed, they’d have to start from square one.
The Crows were a mafia-like organization no one liked to talk about. Based in far-off Antiva, they had their agents throughout all of Thedas. They managed all kinds of dirty work, but normally their assassins kept to their own organization as ‘cleaners’. Someone must have forked over a lot of money indeed to take on an outside target who had little or nothing to do with the Crows.
That she knew of. But it wasn’t her business to audit Theirin Inc., and if it was necessary to be done, someone else would do it. Especially since there was no proof that the assassin was a Crow. Believing the rumour too much could bring their attention down on her in unwanted ways. If she wasn’t already in danger simply for being the chief investigator on this case while the rumour existed regardless of her believing in it.
That was her lot as a police detective, to be in danger. Her mother hated it, and her father wasn’t happy about it either, but it was her choice, and she understood the risk of living this life.
She finished her coffee and stood. “Better get back upstairs. Who knows what Alistair’s gotten up to without me.”
“See you, Detective.”
“…and then my uncle says, he says “you should marry Anora and become head of Theirin Inc., it’s been in the family for generations,” but I don’t want to marry Anora, she’s too cold for me, and besides, that would be the most awkward thing I could ever imagine, marrying my brother’s widow, and also, I don’t want to be a businessman, yuck! I’m a policeman. And yeah, there’s been a Theirin running Theirin Inc. ever since its founding, obviously, but seriously Anora was the one running the company for the last few years and Cailan was the one just standing around looking pretty. Tradition and sentiment be damned. She’ll be fine…”
Alistair was rambling on about his problems when the door opened and Morrigan Black walked in, dressed in indigo and fuchsia festooned with black lace, still with that dramatic eyeshadow, with an elegant hat on her head and folded parasol in her hand with her purse. Parasols were so old-fashioned now. Elizabeth stood to greet her, and both women ignored Alistair’s whistle of admiration. “Miss Black, what can I do for you?”
“I think today it’s what can I do for you,” Miss Black said, smiling mysteriously, and handed her a scrap of paper. On it was written a phone number in pencil.
Elizabeth looked up to see Miss Black was already halfway out of the room again. “Wait, Miss Black, I don’t understand. Whose number is this? Why are you giving it to me?”
“I choose not to answer at this time,” Miss Black said coolly. “Figure it out on your own.”
“Hey, now, that’s not very helpful,” Alistair said, frowning.
“On the contrary. I’ve been very helpful. But I’m not going to do your job for you.”
“Doing our jobs for us is one thing, but it’s another thing to hand us something that may or may not be evidence- Miss Black?”
The door closed behind her.
“Want me to go after her?” Alistair said, irritation colouring his face and voice. “That was rude. She just swooped in and swooped out again.”
“No, she won’t give us anything more. Forget about it.”
“But damn, she was a looker. What a doll.”
“Yes, she is… That’s Miss Black for you,” Elizabeth said absently. She turned the scrap over, but there was nothing else on it. “I’m going to take the paper to be analyzed; copy the number and see if you can find out who it belongs to before I need to phone it.”
Was it a set-up? Who could Miss Black possibly be setting her up for? Had she commissioned the murder and was selling out her assassin? If it was a Crow job, they wouldn’t possibly stand for that; that would place Miss Black in ridiculous amounts of danger. That would be stupid, and Miss Black was far from stupid.
So – if Miss Black was against her, how and why? Was Elizabeth close to some discovery that was best left alone? Would the phone number set in motion events ending swiftly in her death? She didn’t feel close to any discoveries, but even if she did, she wouldn’t stop, no matter the danger. Cowardice was a poor trait in a public servant of the law.
If she was for her, why would she not answer any of her questions? She had something of her own to hide, that much was evident. But what could it be? Was it that Miss Black had met someone who knew something, and was choosing to distance herself for her own safety? Plausible deniability? Did this even have anything to do with the case? Of course it must; Miss Black wouldn’t waste her time like that.
The paper was not terribly helpful as a clue; there were not many fingerprints left on it, and they were only of Elizabeth’s and Miss Black’s, anyway. The paper itself was a relatively expensive note-paper of a kind sold in little pads; it was possible it was from Miss Black’s purse. She asked someone to check if the Theirin mansion had paper that matched anyway, although it was probably useless information. The pencil used was an ordinary pencil. The handwriting was not Miss Black’s, from which Elizabeth had to conclude that whoever had written it down had been wearing gloves. Which was not uncommon, certainly not with the weather as cool and misty as the fall had been, so that was not much help either. Miss Black herself had been wearing gloves when she handed it to Elizabeth.
All these little frustrating facts which might or might not be clues, things that would only make sense once she had more pieces to the puzzle.
Alistair had no promising news when he returned from his errand either; the phone number was unlisted. There was only one thing left to do to learn more.
She had a smoke while staring at the number, trying to gather herself before steeling herself to dial the number. Alistair had one too, leaning against the desk in an effort to not pace.
When it was burned down to the filter, she put it out, blew out one last smoky sigh, and picked up the phone.
Her pulse accelerated as the phone rang, as she waited with bated breath for someone to pick up. Alistair was standing hunched over the end of the desk, trying to be close enough to hear the other end while still being far enough to give her breathing room; he was still as stone, his eyes fixed on the handset.
A click. Someone had picked up. “Hello?”
An Antivan accent, male, dry. “Hello. This is Detective Elizabeth Cousland of the DPF and I’m afraid I have no idea who I’m calling.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and when the man spoke again, it was slow and cautious. She didn’t blame him. It was an exceedingly unusual situation, enough to confuse and alarm anyone. “My name is Zev. What can I do for you, Detective?”
That wasn’t much help. She took a deep breath. “I’m looking for any information you can give me on the Theirin murder. I will be frank with you, Mr. Zev – my investigation is at such a dead end I’m reduced to cold-calling mysterious numbers given to me without explanation but with the implication that I would learn something if I called. So… can you help me? …Please?”
Another long silence, with a muted sound that implied the person on the other end was pacing. “I… may be able to help you, yes. But first I have to know that I can trust you.”
She stiffened. This was no mere witness. She looked up at Alistair, saw his face was as grim as her own. But she had to go along with it. She needed anything he could give her. “What would you like, then? If you are in danger from reprisal for giving information-”
A low chuckle echoed through the speaker. “No, that’s not quite it. I have to know that I can trust you.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, then.”
“Let’s start simple, then. I will meet you at a certain time and place, and you will come alone, and I will come alone, and then we shall see where to go from there, yes?”
Now it was her turn to hesitate. What he was suggesting was foolishness for her – she could very easily be walking straight into a trap, and her government-issued sidearm wouldn’t necessarily be able to get her out of it. “You want me to trust you, to know if you can trust me.”
“That’s it exactly.” When she paused for further thought, he spoke up again. “If you choose not to, I won’t hold it against you, but you will not be learning whatever it is that I know. I am not giving you a choice on this. No negotiation. And you need what I know, don’t you?”
“Please don’t strongarm the police, Mr. Zev,” she said politely.
He gave another chuckle. “For you and your lovely voice, my dear Detective, I will forbear. Do you accept?”
She sighed. “Yes. What is the time and place?”
“First send away your partner who’s listening in.”
“What!?” Alistair yelped, retreating out the door. “How did he know?” He closed it behind him reluctantly.
“Lucky guess,” the man said. “Now, don’t write this down. Can’t be having you followed for your evidence trail, can we? I’ll meet you in the alley behind Goldanna’s Laundromat, near Market Square, at 7:30 tomorrow night.”
“I know where that is,” she said. It wasn’t in a good part of town, that was for sure. “I’ll be there. Alone.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, and then the line went dead.
She hung up slowly, and saw Alistair’s shadow illuminated in the fogged glass window. “You can come back in, now.”
“You’re going to do it?” Alistair demanded.
She nodded.
“It could be a trap. In fact, it probably is a trap. It’s definitely a trap. You really shouldn’t be doing this alone.”
“I know. But I have to do it.”
“Oh come on. Send me instead. I’ll go alone, like he wants. I’m as good at getting out of sticky situations as you are, and I’m more expendable.”
She made a face at the idea that Alistair was expendable. “No, you are not. And besides, he’s expecting me. I have to honour the deal. He probably doesn’t want more people to know about his involvement than necessary. I can’t exactly call back and change it.”
Alistair sighed. “I guess you can’t. I really don’t like it, Elizabeth.”
“I know. And if it goes south, you can tell me “I told you so” all day long.”
He perked up. “Can I? Really? I never get to do that!”
“Really,” she said, and smiled. “But I have to believe it won’t. Even if I’m planning as if it will.”
“Well… be safe as you can, all right? We need you around here.”
“Understood,” she said.