research scientist? Fascinating! I’ll wager there are scientists who like to think of themselves as detectives too. Much more romantic. Detectives searching through layers of data for clues. Scientists in the lab searching for answers and the detective out in the foggy streets searching for—” He took a long sip from his glass. “—answers as well. So, tell me about yourself. Tell me about your case.”
“Why don’t you tell me about my case instead,” I said evenly. It was not a question. I needed to regain the power, to not be cowed by his demeanor or liquor or even the pistol, though I’d not actually been threatened with a handgun in years. They’re fabulously illegal. Extremely rare. The bullets alone cost a fortune, no less.
“What could I tell you? I obviously have no need of increased wealth. I want for nothing, really, other than perhaps a few more days of blue skies.” He smiled a coy, reptilian little grin at me. His eyes flashed. I could have smashed my glass against his teeth if he’d held my gaze a second longer than he did. He looked away, his eyes drifting around his home. “So why would I take silly little things from a silly little place?”
“You wouldn’t. That’s part of the whole mystery here. See what I find the most … oh, not suspicious, of course … intriguing question, if you will, is why are you there in the first place?”
“Working for Edward, you mean?”
“You know that’s what I mean. Cut the shit. I came here for answers. I’ve known you were dirty since I first laid eyes on you, Watley. Rich, fat, and happy—I didn’t expect that, and it doesn’t make sense. Yet. But what does make sense to me is that a wealthy man needlessly working a dead end job likely has just as much reason to steal as a poor, desperate man in the same place.” I knocked back the last of my liquor and rose, stepping around the coffee table that separated us. I got between him and the gun, glancing over at it to let him see I knew my options.
“Mr. Vale, please…”
“Drop the polite shit! How did you know my first name? Talk fast or this fine cut crystal is in your forehead!” I wrapped my fingers tightly around the highball glass and raised it slightly, near his eyes. Calm as a lazy river. He almost looked melancholy, disappointed by my aggression.
“You really know much less even than you think you do. You really should practice more tact.” He was looking past me into space. Watley idly raised one hand as if about to wave or gesture and then sighed, studying his fingernails before looking up at me.
Then it hit me—we weren’t alone. He hadn’t been looking into space at all. The dark hallway … he’d said something about “keeping it the two of us” when he’d first revealed the revolver earlier … calm when tacitly threatened with it. And then, as Watley sighed again and my thoughts began to race, I realized something else: The music had stopped. Shit.
I stepped away from him and calmly set my glass down on the coffee table. I sat back down on the couch. Forced a smile.
“I guess I can leave the streets outside when I step into this parlor, hmm?”
“One would hope so.” His eyes were cold.
“Tell me, Watley, I was under the impression you had a wife, children. Where are they?”
“I don’t spend all my time in the—” He paused, shifting slightly in his chair. “—in this residence. I have many.”
“Must be nice.”
He didn’t answer, and I racked my brain to keep the conversation going long enough to make a smooth exit.
“What did you do pre-fog?”
“I gathered wealth about me. Many things. I did many things, and I gathered a life around me.”
“Okay … I won’t pry. In fact, I’ll go. I don’t get you. I don’t get this—” I waved my hand around at the room. “—but I suppose it’s true: Why would you rob a little guy like Eddie? No reason for it when you don’t need wealth or items.”
“Stay awhile. Let’s hear
“Why don’t you tell me about my case instead,” I said evenly. It was not a question. I needed to regain the power, to not be cowed by his demeanor or liquor or even the pistol, though I’d not actually been threatened with a handgun in years. They’re fabulously illegal. Extremely rare. The bullets alone cost a fortune, no less.
“What could I tell you? I obviously have no need of increased wealth. I want for nothing, really, other than perhaps a few more days of blue skies.” He smiled a coy, reptilian little grin at me. His eyes flashed. I could have smashed my glass against his teeth if he’d held my gaze a second longer than he did. He looked away, his eyes drifting around his home. “So why would I take silly little things from a silly little place?”
“You wouldn’t. That’s part of the whole mystery here. See what I find the most … oh, not suspicious, of course … intriguing question, if you will, is why are you there in the first place?”
“Working for Edward, you mean?”
“You know that’s what I mean. Cut the shit. I came here for answers. I’ve known you were dirty since I first laid eyes on you, Watley. Rich, fat, and happy—I didn’t expect that, and it doesn’t make sense. Yet. But what does make sense to me is that a wealthy man needlessly working a dead end job likely has just as much reason to steal as a poor, desperate man in the same place.” I knocked back the last of my liquor and rose, stepping around the coffee table that separated us. I got between him and the gun, glancing over at it to let him see I knew my options.
“Mr. Vale, please…”
“Drop the polite shit! How did you know my first name? Talk fast or this fine cut crystal is in your forehead!” I wrapped my fingers tightly around the highball glass and raised it slightly, near his eyes. Calm as a lazy river. He almost looked melancholy, disappointed by my aggression.
“You really know much less even than you think you do. You really should practice more tact.” He was looking past me into space. Watley idly raised one hand as if about to wave or gesture and then sighed, studying his fingernails before looking up at me.
Then it hit me—we weren’t alone. He hadn’t been looking into space at all. The dark hallway … he’d said something about “keeping it the two of us” when he’d first revealed the revolver earlier … calm when tacitly threatened with it. And then, as Watley sighed again and my thoughts began to race, I realized something else: The music had stopped. Shit.
I stepped away from him and calmly set my glass down on the coffee table. I sat back down on the couch. Forced a smile.
“I guess I can leave the streets outside when I step into this parlor, hmm?”
“One would hope so.” His eyes were cold.
“Tell me, Watley, I was under the impression you had a wife, children. Where are they?”
“I don’t spend all my time in the—” He paused, shifting slightly in his chair. “—in this residence. I have many.”
“Must be nice.”
He didn’t answer, and I racked my brain to keep the conversation going long enough to make a smooth exit.
“What did you do pre-fog?”
“I gathered wealth about me. Many things. I did many things, and I gathered a life around me.”
“Okay … I won’t pry. In fact, I’ll go. I don’t get you. I don’t get this—” I waved my hand around at the room. “—but I suppose it’s true: Why would you rob a little guy like Eddie? No reason for it when you don’t need wealth or items.”
“Stay awhile. Let’s hear
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