by A Clarkson
He moved to kneel before her and wrapped her in his arms as she cried. When her sobs quieted he took her hands in his, pulling them from her face, and gently blotting her tears with a handkerchief.
“Whoever you become is who they wanted you to be, Ira. They wanted to prepare you for life, and the best thing you can do now to honour them, is live.”
Ira stared into his eyes, a frantic energy clear in her gaze as she leaned forward and kissed him. He returned her kiss for a moment, before gently pulling away, and touching his forehead to hers.
***
It had not been a gentle touching of lips, but an urgent and desperate plea for an escape from reality.
Sensing why he had pulled away, Ira closed her eyes and pushed her head firmly against his as she whispered desperately, “Please, I just want to forget. Just for a moment.”
Magnus moved back to look her fully in the eyes, “I’m sorry Ira, but then you will also forget me, and I don’t want that.” Bringing her hand to his chest, he laid her palm flat against his heart as he said, “This will keep. I can wait.”
Frustrated, hurt, and embarrassed at his rejection, Ira pulled away. Why couldn't he just give her this? Why couldn't he help her replace the pain with another feeling, even if only for a moment?
They were saved from any further discussion by the sound of feet approaching on the stairs. Quickly drying her face, Ira rose from the bed just as Pete was led in by two of Magnus’ men.
Seeing Ira’s red eyes, Pete glared at Magnus. “It was cruel to make her come here.”
Ira glanced between them in surprise, “Do you two know each other?”
Magnus’ returning smile at Pete was all teeth, the jaguar’s feral smile. “Only professional acquaintances.”
Pete did not look pleased to find himself escorted from his Spy HQ by Magnus’ men. When you are in the business of staying invisible, you don't appreciate when someone sees you. Ira knew Pete had technically been invited to join Magnus for a talk, but when you are ‘invited’ by two large men with weapons on their belts, you tend to accept. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for having his hackles raised. She just didn’t really have the energy to care.
Pete’s frown turned into a downright glare when his eyes shifted to Ira. “I thought I told you to stay away from these guys,” he growled.
Magnus looked suddenly bemused, “You did? Why?”
“Because you’re trouble. You’re nothing but thugs and con-artists selling cooked up shit from labs down south,” Pete said, staring daggers at the men now guarding the door.
Pete really did live up to his nickname of The Kid as he stood in the doorway between Magnus’ men, his lanky frame drowning in oversized hand-me-downs, a stark contrast to the two soldiers in their well fitted uniforms and well groomed appearance. Pete looked like a kid who had been dragged to the headmaster for a scolding.
Ira sighed. Magnus would never take him seriously. “Cool it Pete, or you’ll offend these nice new friends of mine.”
Magnus was still looking amused, clearly not in the slightest bit offended. “How am I any more trouble than your crowd? From what I hear, you regularly try to recruit Ms Valverna into your family’s operation. Does your concern for her wellbeing not extend to your own associates?”
Pete arched a disbelieving brow toward Ira, hurt flashing across his face.
“Pete, I asked you to come here because I need to know who is running around this city murdering people.”
Magnus looked at her in surprise, guess he wasn’t expecting her to just dive right in.
Pete glanced between the two of them. “What does he have to do with it?”
Ira shot him a glare, “You know exactly why I asked you here so cut the bullshit. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what has happened, and why I am working with them, so just tell me what I need to know.”
Pete’s eyes flashed with apology. “I’m sorry about Bill and Clarisse Ira,” he said softly. “They were good people.”
Ira turned away. She couldn't see the sympathy in his eyes and keep her shit together.
She knew he was tossing up what he should charge for information they so desperately wanted. Trading in secrets was a selfish business.
“Look, I wouldn’t normally share this with you, but Ira is my friend...” he paused, and glanced at her with another look of apology, though this one was weighed with guilt, and didn’t make Ira’s gut churn with grief. He sighed, “Or, at least she was a long time ago.”
Pete shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “This whole situation is seriously messed up. People aren’t talking about it, they’re all too scared. It stinks of money and power.”
Ira thought for a moment. “Is there anyone we can speak to? Anyone who may be able to tell us about the victims?”
“Maybe,” Pete said cautiously, looking at Magnus speculatively.
Magnus raised a brow at him in question. “I’m listening.”
“I can get you an interview with Maurene Pierce’s maid for sure. The girl likes to talk and will happily do so for some spare cash and a free dinner.” He paused for a moment in thought, then slowly added, “and I may even be able to convince David’s manager to talk to you, though he’s a contrary bastard so no promises there.”
“You sure the maid is worth talking to?” Ira asked.
Pete nodded with a smirk, “Oh yeah. Nosey bitch is on my payroll. She’ll know something.”
Chapter 10
The Gossip
Pete told them to be at Flor’s bar the following evening. Ira wasn't sure what the meeting cost Magnus, but whatever it was he had paid it, and the following night they found themselves sitting at a booth in the back of Flor’s waiting for a young woman named Suzie to join them.
Eventually Suzie arrived. She was young, probably not yet twenty, and pretty with a coquettish air that suggested she knew how to use her looks to her best advantage. She was boisterous and friendly and by the time she reached their table had greeted several other patrons.
When she stopped briefly to greet a young woman at the bar, Suzie gushed about who she had seen that day at the docks, with particular focus on someone named John Wilson. She also became very animated when complaining about the mess that had been left by Mr Brown’s new mistress, and the trouble it would cause. Ira had no idea who either of these men were, but the news clearly excited Suzie’s companion. She finally parted from her friend after sharing in a loud whisper that would be heard by half the room that she was “speaking with some investigators about Ms Pierce’s murder!”
No wonder Pete had been confident this girl was worth speaking to. Suzie was a gossip.
Taking the seat at their booth, Suzie batted her lashes at Magnus, giving him a flirtatious smile Ira was sure men rarely turned down. Ira’s stomach twisted with an emotion she refused to acknowledge and cleared her throat. The sound made Suzie’s eyes flick in Ira's direction, her smile faltering slightly.
That’s right, I’m here too.
“Pete said some investigator from the south wanted to talk to me. But you ain’t no investigator. You’re a slugger.”
Ira just smiled at the girl. Well, probably more sneered than smiled. But she did her best.
“As you know, we wanted to ask you some questions about Maureen Pierce.” Ira began, hoping to use the cover of false professionalism. I am an investigator and I know what I am doing.
“I ain’t telling you nothing.” Suzie said with a hint of derision, managing to look down her nose at Ira even though she was several inches shorter, and seated. “Sluggers can’t be trusted. They’re fighting God's will.”
Ira groaned audibly. Pete hadn’t mentioned that Suzie was a Protester.
The Protester movement emerged from one of many religious groups in the last hundred years who believed that the Drought had been caused by divine intervention. The Protestors looked to the studies of the 20th century that highlighted the harm done by plastics and greenhouse gas emissions t
o the planet and argued that the Drought had been an act of God to cleanse the world of toxic chemicals. They believed humans needed to return to a more natural state of being, and protested the use of any technology and electricity, lobbying for the use of only natural products that came from the Earth.
When the rybrum was first discovered, they argued that it was further proof of their theories, evidence that the land was giving back what had originally been taken away in a cleaner and safer way. The appearance of the slugs caused them to break into two camps, the Naturalists and the Aiders.
The Aiders supported the culling of the slugs, arguing that the continued use and development of rybrum was clearly humanity’s intended path, and that it was our responsibility to aid nature along by protecting the fields from any threats.
The Naturalists became vehement opponents to the Merchant Guild’s efforts to protect the fields. They argued that nature should be unhindered by humans, and that the slugs were nature’s way of showing us that the rybrum was a gift only intended to be used in moderation. They believed the slugs were sent to stop humanity from spiralling into overuse as they had with the fossil fuels, and that the creatures should be allowed to consume the plants unimpeded.
Over the past five years, both camps continued to lobby the Guild, one pushing for greater extermination of the slugs, the other for their protection.
Ira had been forced to deal with both groups on occasion when they would set up protests in the fields. They were a somewhat self-contradictory and occasionally frustrating group, but ultimately harmless. Ira always enjoyed the spectacle they caused when the slugs inevitably came to see what all the noise was about and disrupted their efforts. For a mollusc they were surprisingly curious creatures.
If Suzie had an issue with Ira working as a field guard, she fell into the Naturalist camp.
Turning to flash that dazzling smile at Magnus, wattage on high, Suzie continued, “I’ll talk to you though.”
“Pete also mentioned something about dinner?” she added with another batt of her lashes.
Magnus smiled at her, the charming cat appearing to bask in Suzie’s attention. “Of course, please order whatever you wish.”
Suzie beamed at him until he added, “Ira, would you like anything?”
“She’s staying?” Suzie couldn’t hide her outrage.
Magnus gave her his best, ‘I’m not from here, I don’t understand’ look.
“Of course. She is my local guide and expert.”
“Laying it on a bit thick there, don’t you think?” Ira mumbled to him under her breath.
Suzie ignored her, stating in outrage, “But she’s a slugger!” This seemed to be the sticking point.
Having had enough of this Ira said pointedly, “And thus an expert at killing pests.”
Suzie blanched at the not-so-subtle threat. Heard that did she? Well at least her sluggerish-ness was good for something.
The girl turned pleading eyes on Magnus, a look that clearly usually had the cavalry charging to her rescue.
Magnus merely continued to offer a benign smile of ignorance. Fat load of help he was proving to be.
This wasn't working. Ira knew she needed to get Suzie on side or the girl would march off in a huff with hurt pride. Then they would be no closer to knowing why Maureen was murdered, and out one very valuable informant.
"Pete told us that you may be the only one able to help us." When in doubt, appeal to someone's vanity. "We're desperate for information about Maureen, and nobody knows anything about her."
"I told Pete it was a waste of time and that she wouldn't know anything," Magnus said derisively in Ira’s direction.
Suzie bristled. "Well that shows what you know. I know everything there is to know about Ms Pierce."
Magnus had found the magic words. Suzie could barely speak fast enough to showcase all of her knowledge of Maureen.
"She was such a strange woman. She worked all the time, in these tiny labs filled with plants that smelled of old shoes. The smell was terrible and saturated her clothes.” She turned a condescending look on Ira. “Not as bad as you though. I don’t know how you can put up with it.” This last was directed at Magnus. “Anyway,” she continued, “I would spend hours scrubbing her laundry trying to get the stink out."
"She didn't have any friends. Didn't even have a boyfriend!” As though the latter was the greatest of crimes. “She just wasn't very good with people. Always just seemed much happier with her plants."
Shaking her head Suzie continued, “Best thing about her was that amazing apartment. I don’t know where we are gonna host our meetings now. When she went out of town, I would arrange get-togethers for my church at her place. All the plants made it the perfect place to commune with nature, you know?” Sighing Suzie mumbled to herself, “Guess we won't be doing that anymore."
"When was your last meeting?" Ira asked.
Suzie thought for a minute, "Probably a month ago? She went on some long trip and headed down south for almost three weeks. My friends and I hosted a few sessions at her place, but Bazz broke one of her lamps, and I got so nervous she would notice that I didn't let anyone else come over. And now she's gone and died and we can’t use her place anymore!”
“Truly a grave loss,” Magnus agreed in all seriousness. “You may instead have to commune with nature while you are actually in nature.”
Ira barely muffled her snort.
Suzie didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm and just nodded along. “I know! I shouldn’t have worried, Ms Pierce never noticed anything anyway. When she came back she was all gloomy and kept going on and on about how she missed the good old days, and how I shouldn’t waste my youth and blah blah blah.” The girl rolled her eyes dramatically, “God she could be preachy sometimes for someone with no social life. You know?”
Ira wasn’t getting the impression that Suzie had been Maureen’s biggest fan.
What a legacy, Ira thought, to have the only person able to talk about you to a pair of investigators care so little about your death.
Would this be Ira’s fate? With Bill and Clarisse gone, would anyone care if something happened to her? Would her only griever be a bored ten year old who seemed to enjoy her company? And even then, would he simply bemoan the loss of her as an amusing pastime? Much as Suzie now grieved what Maureen’s presence offered?
Ira never thought of herself as a loner. She was friendly with Pete, and Flor, and the odd person at work. But they weren’t friends. And she had been pulling away from Clarisse and Bill, a fact she would regret for the rest of her days. Maybe if she hadn’t been placing such distance between them she would already know who had killed them. Or maybe she would have been at the cottage too. And they would have lived.
She couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t go down that path. Regret would colour everything in her life if she let it.
She needed to be able to keep going. Keep looking forward. Her past would catch up with her soon, and she wouldn’t be able to hide from the pain and grief nipping at her heels for much longer. But for now she needed to push it aside and focus on the one thing that would smooth the jagged edges of her guilt: finding Bill and Clarisse’s killer.
Ira looked at Suzie in exasperation as she tried to wade through the so-far useless information for anything helpful.
“Did she mention any names? People she missed from the good ol’ days? Maybe someone she regretted losing touch with?”
Suzie nodded, “Oh yeah, she talked about some old fling with some guy with a really stupid petname,” she thought for a moment, “Billy? Johnnie? Sammy? Something like that.”
Ira turned to Magnus, could Johnnie be John Pimento?
Suzie looked at the two of them with a bored expression, “Can I get my meal now?”
***
The next morning Ira stood in Maureen Pierce’s penthouse apartment on the eighth floor of one of Valverna’s newest high rises.
When Suzie complained about Maureen spending all of her time with
her plants, Ira expected to find a utilitarian laboratory hidden in some deep dark basement. Instead she found a glorious sun filled room with spectacular views of the surrounding mountains.
The apartment was designed with a large glassed in terrace circling the interior living space. Maureen had converted the terrace into a working laboratory and greenhouse that, due to its height high above the neighbouring buildings, received unobstructed sunlight all day.
Within the living area the room was large and sparse, with only a few pieces of furniture, chosen for practicality and purpose over design. The light that entered the rooms however was tinted with a green hue as it filtered through the leaves, and when combined with the shade offered by the plants, created the sense that you were not standing in a penthouse at all, but in a living room buried deep in the forest, making the space inviting in spite of the barren furnishings.
Suzie hadn’t been wrong when she described the space as good for communing with nature.
Even with it’s soft green light, Ira could no longer look at this space and not think of the cost. How much rybrum had gone into building this feat of technological advancement? How many people had profited by opting to use the fuel for the purpose of building this highrise, rather than sending it to those communities who needed it to feed their children?
Ira shook her head and tried to focus on the task of finding the killer.
Ira and Magnus had already looked through Maureen’s belongings, having sorted through drawers and cupboards in a way that felt like a violation of the woman’s privacy. Maureen never expected that she would not be returning home from the store the night she was killed. She simply headed out after a day in the lab to fetch some groceries for dinner, and was ambushed in a nearby park on her way home. Her body had been found the following morning, carved, sliced, and grotesquely displayed, just like the other victims.
Ira was glad that she hadn’t visited the penthouse before she met Suzie. The young girl was selfish and annoying, but Ira would have truly detested meeting with her now, after having picked apart Maureen Pierce’s life in such an intimate way.