07 Aug 2000
Ok, here's part three. Once again, darkness ensues, but I'm hoping for a happy ending... eventually. 9_9
Trowa sighed, laying the flute gently back in its case without having played a note on it. It wasn't right... somehow, his music was all tied up in memories of Quatre, the two elements woven inextricably together in his heart. Zechs merely raised an eyebrow, then rose in one smoothly elegant motion and headed for the kitchen of his immaculate apartment. For two weeks now, the former Lightning Count had allowed Trowa to camp out on his couch... but it was past time for him to move on. It wasn't that his welcome had worn thin - in fact, Zechs seemed to prefer having another person in the place, even if that person did nothing to fill the silence. No, it wasn't that at all. What it boiled down to was that Quatre deserved better.
He says three little words to me, and I fall apart. I wonder what he thinks of me now... Trowa mused glumly. A knock on the door brought green eyes back into sharp focus, and Trowa went to answer it, grateful for the interruption.
"Wufei."
"Trowa Barton, you are needed," Wufei said, and invited himself inside. "You, too... Zechs," he added stiffly, and Trowa turned to see that the tall blond had come out to see who was at the door.
"It's a little early for a social call," Zechs said with a slightly wry smile. Chang Wufei would never have darkened his door for anything short of an emergency, and they all knew it. "Would you care for some breakfast? You can talk while we prepare it."
Wufei grudgingly accepted the invitation, though he was practically ready to jump out of his skin in impatience.
"Scrambled eggs," Zechs promised. "They'll be ready in five minutes."
"There you go, my little sweetheart," Mel said, combing his fingers through the boy's smoothly gleaming brown curls. "All clean. It's almost a shame to cover you up, but just think how pretty you'll look in all these new clothes! Now, what should we try on first?" Heero smiled vapidly up at nothing, motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and the occasional blinking of his wide blue eyes.
"What do you mean, you can't help me?" Duo snarled, just barely restraining the urge to scream. "A man's life is at stake!"
"I'm sorry, sir," the pathology assistant answered, drawing herself up stiffly to her full height. To Duo's dismay, he had never really hit his long-awaited growth spurt, and he was very conscious of it now as the woman towered over his 5'5" frame. "There is no way to determine what kind of champagne the victims drank. I wish we could be of more assistance..."
"So do I," Duo muttered, grudgingly breaking off his hostile glare. "Shit. Well, please let me know if you discover anything new."
"Of course, Mr. Maxwell," the woman agreed, stifling the urge to roll her eyes. There was nothing new to be learned from the bodies; they had already been examined, to the minutest detail, by several different experts, none of whom had discovered anything new.
Duo sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you, it's just... the guy's a friend of mine."
"I'm sorry," the woman said, "I'll go over the reports again, but I really don't think I'll discover anything the experts missed - I'm only an assistant."
"Still... thanks," Duo answered. "Say, what's your name?"
"Dr. Stevenson."
"Ah. And your first name?"
"Dr."
"Right," Duo said, then grinned irrepressibly as he fished a slightly battered business card out of his pocket. "Look, this here's my comm number. Please call me right away if you find anything. And don't let anyone know you have the number; I wouldn't want anyone to get jealous."
Dr. Stevenson took the card with a wry grin, and watched as the young man winked broadly at her and then left at a half-run, his braid trailing behind him. For all his bravado, he was clearly terrified for the sake of this current victim.
"Good luck, Mr. Maxwell," she said. She had a feeling he was going to need it.
"Any luck with the clothes?" Wufei's voice rang out in the early- morning quiet of the office. In a few hours, the surrounding offices would be filled with people who worked regular hours, and the silence would be chased away by the hum of voices, the ringing and beeping of communication equipment, the clatter of keyboards... But for now, the office was eerily quiet, and the sound of a spoken word in the tomb-like silence sent a chill down Quatre's spine. The Winner heir looked up from the stack of papers, rubbing his eyes wearily, and froze.
"We're here to help," Zechs said softly, and Trowa nodded, avoiding Quatre's wounded eyes.
Quatre cleared his throat, willing the icy pain in his heart to fade. Now was not the time to be worrying about himself. "No luck so far," he said at last. "As far as I can tell, none of the stores has sold clothing of this type in bulk."
"So we find the stores where the outfits have been sold, and track down the buyers of the outfits," Duo said from the doorway. "Maybe our killer has bought one outfit from every store in town."
"There are five shops," Quatre said. "That'll be a good start. If we split up..."
"Let's do it," Duo interrupted, his violet eyes lit up with a manic gleam - anything was better than sitting on his butt in the office, waiting for news that Heero's body had been found.
"How many people did you say?" Trowa asked, dismayed.
"According to my inventory, we sold seventeen of this shorts outfit, and twenty-one of the little sailor suit - it's been a very popular item this season - and thirteen of the leather..."
"Can you give me a list of the people who bought them?"
"Sir, that kind of information..."
"It's official business," Trowa interrupted, showing the shop owner his Preventer I.D. "Please. I need a list."
"It'll take me a while to put a list together... we usually don't keep that kind of data handy. We keep track of what outfits sell, but I'd have to go through each day's receipts to try and find names, and that'll only work if they paid with credit."
"Please," Trowa said. "It's very important. I'll help."
"You know, there was another man who came in just last week looking for the same outfit," said the owner of "Lisa Love's," smiling invitingly from under her fringe of unnaturally-bright red bangs. "He was almost as tall as you, but not nearly as attractive."
"Uh, thank you," Zechs said uncomfortably.
"Funny thing was, he said he wasn't buying it for a relative or anything... but there was no way he could fit into that tiny suit. I mean, you know, sometimes when people are dieting they buy a small outfit to remind them, you know? But even if that man was nothing but bones, he'd never fit into that thing."
"What did he look like?"
"Tall, like you, built about like you... his hair was lighter than yours, practically white, and he had it in a really short crew-cut. And the way he smiled... well, kinda creepy."
"Do you happen to have a receipt, or anything with his name on it?"
"We don't give out that kind of information... but in your case, I could make an exception."
"Would you, please?"
"If you'll take me out for coffee," the woman answered with a smarmy smirk. Zechs considered his options, then nodded.
"It's a deal. I'll take you out for coffee tomorrow morning."
"Ok, lemme just see here..." the woman muttered, as she began fishing through the pile of receipts kept in a shoe box behind the counter. Zechs forced himself not to tap his foot or indulge in any other jittery activities, but it wasn't easy. How in the world a slap-dash operation like this managed to carry such expensive clothing was beyond him...
"Here ya go. I'll just make you a copy," the woman said, and a few moments later he was holding the precious scrap of paper. "Just don't forget our date tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you at eight o' clock."
"I'll be here." Zechs left, torn between grinning over the slip of paper he held, or sighing in resignation at the thought of his "date" the next morning.
"Heero Yuy, you'd better appreciate what I go through for you," he muttered to himself, then decided on grinning after all, even though his hunch might not play out. He'd just run this copy by Quatre, and see if it sparked any kind of reaction at all.
"Oh, my God, it's HIM!" Quatre gasped, his wide, unfocused eyes staring right through the paper Zechs held out to him. Trowa made an abortive motion towards him, barely reining in the temptation to lay his hands across the blond's tense shoulders. Quatre sensed his presence, and snapped out of the horrified semi-trance.
"Are you sure?" Zechs asked, still holding out the paper in case Quatre wanted a second "look."
"Not sure enough for a warrant..."
"So who the Hell needs warrants?" Duo asked. "Legality's never stopped us before. Let's find out where the guy lives, and pay him a visit."
"Should I even remind you of the kind of trouble this can cause?" Wufei whispered as he and Duo crept toward the house. Duo merely grinned in reply, and recognizing Shinigami's mask, Wufei shuddered. Their target was a cozy little one-story house, with flowers in the yard and cheery red shutters. One would almost expect to see a white picket fence circling it...
Duo snuck up to the closest window, still grinning, and peered cautiously indoors. So far, so good. With motions smooth from years of practice, Duo pulled out his favorite set of picks and went to work. Within two minutes, the lock gave way with a soft little snick. Duo paused, then slowly edged the door open and eased his way in. There was music coming from the front of the house, and Duo signalled to Wufei to follow as he crept indoors.
The hallway was lined with a series of framed pictures. In each of them, a tall, blond man snuggled with a different beautiful teen, smiling proudly while the object of his affections stared blankly at the camera. Duo's heart sank when he saw the last picture in the row - sure enough, there was the man with his happy grin... and sitting next to him was none other than Heero.
End Part Three
Yoiko ^_^v
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