. . .
“'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'”
–Lewis carol
. . .
“Hey, are you seeing this?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No I mean, Val look, what’s going on over there?”
Looking away from the road, I followed Pearl’s finger pointing somewhere on my left, somewhere outside.
My gaze lingered on the tiny, bright blue gemstones gleaming so prettily against her hand for a moment or two before I looked (and it was all because she was now forcefully making my head turn) … only to let out a low whistle, suddenly very much intrigued.
Bright-yellow tapes, uniformed cops loitering around, looking vaguely disturbed–well, would you look at that–who would have thought there is a crime scene happening here. You don’t get that much scoop in the city these days, that’s for sure, so I’m pretty surprised that some action is happening in this humble seaside.
Eyes gleaming, I hurriedly unbuckled the seatbelt. A golden platter of opportunity is literally presented to me after all, why the hell would I turn it away?
Only an idiot does that.
…What?
HEY!
For your information, I’m not being nosy here! I’m an investigative journalist, you see–even though I’m kind of in the middle of a holiday leave–so looking around crime scenes is practically a second instinct to me.
There’s a difference.
“Honey, you park somewhere and wait for me a bit,” I told my fiancé as I hastily got out of the car, a grin crawling at my face, “I’ll just… have a little look-see.”
She rolled her eyes, “I can see where this is going…”
“Oh, come on, pretty please? Did you know you’re also looking extra pretty and sweet today? And I swear I’ll be real quick,” I wheedled. She only stared at me, unimpressed, “I promise!”
“Ugh, fine… five minutes!”
My eyes widened, “Ten! MAKE IT TEN!”
“You’re impossible,” she groaned.
“I love you too honey, byeeee!”
There were already a lot of passers-by lingering around by the seashore even before I arrived, looking just as perturbed as the authorities (this is a small town after all, it’s relatively peaceful here. And anyone pretty much knows everyone) while they shook their head, murmuring amongst one another while the police officers that had been stationed around the beach looked quite preoccupied as they talked or settled with watching the forensics busying themselves with the… the victim.
Oh.
Oh, what the hell.
I couldn’t really help it, can I? I’m a moth drawn to the flame, after all–because one moment, I was standing side by side with the other passers-by, looking almost like a hapless onlooker like the rest of them… but the next thing they know, I was ducking right over the yellow tape the same way I’ve done a countless times in the city but when I came to, my shoes were already close to the puddle of still-damp blood streaked so brightly against the sand. It’s a good thing the waves haven’t washed it off.
What the fuck this guy even did to be murdered so… so gruesomely like this? What, did he piss off the wrong dude, had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd or something? Or was it the classic vengeful lover route? The guy had practically been slaughtered like an animal.
It could have been sheer bad luck for all we know... but I think whoever killed him must have really, really hated his guts.
But then again, I couldn’t be too sure.
The possibilities are endless at this point. And his body had been fucked up real bad even in death, after all.
The victim looks like he was somewhere in his late thirties (or early forties, never be too sure with looks these days), dressed in what seemed to be like semi-formal clothes–must be an office worker or a rich tourist just cozying about for the holidays or something–and from the bits and pieces I managed to get from all around me, a pair of fishermen seems to have somehow found him entangled within their fishing nets while they were hauling up what was supposed to be their catch just this morning.
And the sharks or the other fishies must have done a good number with him for god only knows how long he had been floating about at sea too… because his body was already bloated when they somehow gotten a hold of his corpse, clothes shredded here and there without any sort of identification to be found in his person–and if there were, I think it had been purposefully removed–gray, wrinkled skin marred with what I can only guess as various injuries littered all over him that could be sustained from a knife (or any sort of blade, really) and an expression of pure hopelessness and agony etched into his face, even in death.
It looked like he had died a slow, painful death you wouldn’t wish on anyone… not even if it’s your worst enemy.
There’s just something fishy–okay sorry, sorry, bad pun I know, that was really mean of me–about this. I don’t know, I’m no real detective here but I’ve been watching some good ones work closely on a case when I was on the city. You’re bound to pick up some things from the best here and there…
But the fact that they actually found him tied up in some sort of chains, left to be lost at sea, like some sort of offering… I don’t know, I could be wrong but it just rubs me off the wrong way.
This case doesn’t feel like a typical homicide.
It feels more like a satanic ritual gone wrong to me.
Huh, now that I think about it, there’s even a possibility that he could have been still alive when he was thrown like live bait to the sea.
I shuddered at the thought.
Well, fuck.
What a terrible way to go.
“Well, well, well,” Wallace drawled, slinging an arm over my shoulder like a freaking jack-in-the-box, “Look what the tide brought in. So the little saint finally comes to the good ole seaside!”
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I muttered, dryly.
“And shouldn’t you be getting hitched or something?” he retorted, before looking around, almost a bit incredulous, “Wait. Did you seriously brought future Mrs. Saint out here too?!”
Internally, I groaned.
Seriously, fuck that nickname.
“No, just me,” I grumbled, shrugging off his arm.
Like hell I’m bringing in Pearl to see this.
“Then why the hell are you in here? Dude, no offense, but seriously, stay out of the line. You’re not supposed to be inside the yellow line, you know. Those are like, meant to keep you out.”
“Why not,” I whined but my older cousin only began to pull me away from the gruesome crime scene by the scruff of my hoodie like a troublesome kitten, “…wait, no! No, no, no, Wall–! Wait please just let me look for a few more seconds, and then I’ll be out of your hair real quick! I’LL EVEN GET YOU COFFEE!”
“No.”
“Oh, come on, man! Gimme five minutes!”
“You don’t know how to count. I definitely know what five minutes really means to you, Valiant,” he muttered, but I can already detect a hint of a smile in his voice, “So, no. Not happening.”
I’m not short or skinny by any means but let me tell you something: Wallace Bridger has always been built like a bouncer. Ever since we were kids, he literally stands a head or so taller than me; as if I stood a chance… so I only crossed my arms petulantly, allowing him to drag me backwards at this point.
I scowled, “Tch, it’s not even like I’m disrupting police work.”
“Your very presence is a disruption,” he pointed out.
“Hey, I’m just being a concerned citizen here!”
Wallace snorted, tugging at my hoodie rather sharply making me gag, “Last time I checked, concerned citizens don’t go around being nosy,”
“Excuse you I was so not being nosy!” I thrashed a bit in his grip, like a fish flopping uselessly fresh out of water, “Look, I just really wanna write an article or something about my hometown, okay? For fuck’s sake, that’s kind of my job here and… oh, shit, wait–at least let me take down some fucking notes, damn it!”
* * * * *
It wasn’t even ten minutes or so before Wallace had decided the best course of action to deal with me is to kindly drop me off by Bon Apetit’s (that’s where Pearl had decided to hang around to wait in, seeing as my car had been parked there), promising to come swing by to meet his future in-law for real.
Then, he had to leave.
Because, you know, he’s still on-duty.
Admittedly, I was a little bit annoyed for the lost chance. That was some good shit back there after all, just imagine the story I could have had made! But noooo–my jackass of a cousin had to be oh-so professional again. Hmph, no matter, I’ll make him talk over dinner sometime later.
Knowing Wallace, he wouldn’t be able to really keep his mouth shut once Pearl was the one asking him.
Now that’s a plan.
Smirking, I made my way inside.
The little bell twinkled above me.
…well, some things just never changed.
Bon Appetit’s was a cozy family diner that the mayor’s family (or rather, his wife’s family) owns, one that was just by the other side of the road. And if you’re feeling up for it, it was even walking distance from the shore.
I should know, I’ve lived around the area since I was a little kid but after Dad died (heart attack’s a real bitch), Mom suddenly packed me up out of nowhere and sent me to a boarding school in the city before I even get to start the first year of junior high, never had the chance to come back to stay again too especially after she died. I was only ever around because of Wallace’s folks, good people those are for sure.
Sometimes I get to hang for a few days, for the holidays or the rarer summer trips. I didn’t mind, not really. My life was now on the city; after all, it’s where I have my job, where I met my girl…
As I went in, looking around for a particular redhead, I noticed some vaguely familiar faces I think I’ve seen back then, once or twice when I had been way younger but never get to talk to, some were not so familiar, but I think most of them were all regulars around here because as soon as I’ve stepped in, I’m getting those creepy ass looks all over again. An annoying mix of irritation and a judging, sidelong stare.
One that clearly says: you’re not welcome here.
I know that look.
The older ones had always given me that look ever since Mom made me pack up my bags and leave, after all.
…Even though I still came back.
You see, around these parts, you were either a born as one of the locals or treated as an outsider. But I suppose even though I was born in this place, I am now leaning on the latter.
And speaking of outsiders, I immediately noticed a foreigner–definitely sure the lady’s Asian, maybe Chinese or Japanese? –sitting by herself on a lone corner of the restaurant. Even when she’s seated, I can still tell she’s taller than any women I’ve ever seen.
Tall and porcelain-pale skin that looked very out of place here with narrowed, dark eyes gazing over at her lethal-looking fingernails with mild interest, like she was bored way out of her mind or had other better things to do than being here. I would have considered her pretty but (Pearl would kill me so please don’t tell her) she was also kind of scary looking… her date must have stood her up or something.
I must have been staring for far too long that it became obvious because the woman suddenly looked up and met my gaze. I tried to look away as naturally as I can but she just smiled a thin, tight-lipped smile so I inclined my head in slight greeting, just to be polite.
“Val!”
Luckily, my girl saves the day.
Spotting Pearl on the other side, I hurriedly made my way over to her and slid down on the booth next to my fiancé.
“What are you having?” I asked, kissing her cheek.
She snorted, pushing and squishing my face away from her. Hahahahah–okay, ouch, “Quit it. We’re in public. So what’s the scoop?”
“Homicide, some guy they fished out of water.”
“Oh,” Pearl made a face at that. Unlike me, she didn’t really have the stomach for the gory details. Wall was right to worry about me bringing her in along the crime scene, “You think a serial killer’s on the loose?”
I snorted, “Here? Highly unlikely,”
“Do you… do you think you know who the victim was?” Pearl asked, now looking a bit worried as she peered up at me through her coffee mug.
“… I haven’t really thought of that.”
“What?”
I barely hid a wince at her sharp tone.
To be honest, it slipped right out of my mind all about the victim being a real, formerly alive person (that happens sometimes and in my defense, in my line of job you have to develop this kind of thick skin to move forward or you’ll risk losing your marbles with every case where someone fucking dies) because here I was being a world-class jerk, just thinking all about the story–and not to mention, the money–I could make out of someone’s gruesome death.
Well, fuck.
…No wonder Wallace didn’t even want me to be there.
“I mean no, I don’t think so,” I answered, carefully so as not to set her off even further, “I couldn’t even recognize his face–and to be fair, none of us really do because …well–anyway, I didn’t even catch the name. Looks like an office worker or something though. Doesn’t really looked like someone from around here.”
“I see,” Pearl mumbled, looking down worriedly.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Then it hit me.
Oh.
Oh, right.
Like the victim, Pearl wasn’t even from around here too. She didn’t even know that the place existed before I even brought her along here with me. And she’s… she’s more of an outsider than I could ever be. Shit. No wonder she’s asking if there’s a serial killer on the loose…
I immediately tried to change the subject.
“Hey, have you tried their pasta?”
She raised an eyebrow, “No, I haven’t.”
“Well, you’re missing out because–”
“Criss-Cross saint, is that you?”
Jolting, we both looked up.
And sure enough, it’s one of those faces I haven’t seen in a really, really long time. Ten years, give or take. And quite frankly, I think I could make do for another more decade.
…just kidding, of course.
“Bobby!” I cheered, playfully punching his shoulder with a grin, “Holy shit, man, is that really you?! What the fuck did you do to your face?”
…Because sure enough, the moron has some sort of tribal tattoos running all over his once perfectly tanned skin in proud, bold lines creating intricate shapes. Stark, black inks making him look like some sort of gang or tribe member you’ll see in films.
“What’s with that look, man?” he snickered, his tattoos warping as though with a life of its own and his entire face crinkled in mirth, “The ladies love it!”
I snorted, “As if!”
“Well, at least you ditch your lame-ass haircut.”
“Screw you!”
“Boys, please,” Pearl said, her voice ringing over us sharply, her lips curling into a light frown. But when I turned to pout at her, I can see her pretty gray eyes were shining brightly in amusement at my expense, “…as much as I love watching this heartfelt reunion of yours, I believe an introduction is in order?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, “Baby, this is Bobby–”
“You can call me Rob, baby– “
I mock-glared at him, “That’s Pearl to you, jackass.”
My gaze may have been playful, but Bobby must have sensed that I wasn’t fooling around when I said it because his eyes widened in silent understanding right before they travelled back to Pearl’s face… then landing on her ring gleaming so prettily against the light.
There was a pause for a beat or two.
“Oh, FUCK ME!” he screeched.
Pearl jolted back at that.
I gave him a dry look, “I’d rather not,”
“Lady is this guy blackmailing you?!” he screeched, practically crawling up on the counter just to grab Pearl by the shoulders, not even fighting the shit-eating grin that was already on his face. I stifled a tired groan, “Just tell me and I’ll beat his sorry ass for you! Free of charge! What the hell did a pretty girl like you see in this boring bozo anyway?!”
I elbowed him in the gut.
“Fuck off, man,” I grumbled, “You’re making a scene!”
Laughing, Bobby leaned away from Pearl with a final pat on the shoulder who now looked equal parts confused, horrified and embarrassed for herself and this idiot because people are now looking over us at the racket.
“Don’t really want to hear it from you,” he mused.
Remembering the stunt I just pulled on Wallace earlier, I gave him a half-hearted glare, mentally telling him to please shut the fuck up.
Word really travels fast here.
…Why the hell am I even surprised?
“But seriously man, you getting married?” he feigned a dramatic gasp, eyes exaggeratedly popping wide, “To think we just used to dive and swim around just to scare the fishies–”
I groaned, “Bobby, shut up.”
“No wait, please,” Pearl was the one grinning now, scooting her chair closer to Bobby in a conspiratorial manner. And I have a half in mind to seriously pull her back because I read in a book once that stupidity is said to be contagious, “I want to hear your adventures with mini-Val!”
Bobby grinned right back at her, and I groaned loudly. Aw fuck, not that look, “Well, how about that one time a crab got him real good on the but–”
“OH MY GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I hissed, mortified.
He blinked.
…And then bursted out laughing at my face.
Scowling, I gave him the stink-eye.
I hope he chokes on his spit. Is this guy for real? “Seriously, shouldn’t you be in mourning or something?”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Pearl gave me a what-the-hell look.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
As soon as I said it, I instantly wished I shut my mouth or could have taken them back. Fortunately, Bobby was still the same old happy go lucky dude I’ve known since I was a kid.
“I dunno,” he says, “Still feels like I’ll see my old man on Sundays.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry about him,” Pearl was quick to say, already picking up the pieces, “Your dad… is he–did he–?”
“Kicked the bucket, yeah,” there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes which he hurriedly blinked away, “But he’s like, real old, you know, stage four cancer but died in his sleep. The doctors said it was peaceful at the very least and…” a forced, awkward laugh that got me wincing (and no, it’s not because of the sharp jab on my ribs courtesy of Pearl) “and well, he lived a real long life. At least, he’s no longer in pain.”
“Amen to that, bud,” I raised Pearl’s mug, “To the Mayor. I just still can’t get over the fact that he let you ink up your face though. It looks stupid enough as is.”
He grinned, “Who says he did?”
“Your dad’s the mayor?” Pearl gaped.
“Doesn’t look like it, am I right?” Bobby remarked, gesturing to himself, “I mean me, on my part, supposedly being the mayor’s golden kid and all that.”
No shit, I thought, dryly.
“But then… you’re not following his footsteps?”
He snorted, “Nah, that’s like, my big brother’s job. I’m more of a businessman,” he gestured to the place, “…like this sort of thing, like my dear old ma’s. If Criss-Cross here can get his blood pumping on being a hotshot writer amongst the cops, well, this is where I’m thriving.”
“Real rebel,” I smirked.
“Always,” he winked.
Pearl smiled, gently easing the mug out of my hands before I get to finish her entire coffee. Caught, I pouted at her, “Well, at least you boys are having fun with your work.”
“If we’re gonna do something for a living, we should at least do something we really like and all that, you know,” Bobby remarked… and then he paused, eyes widening, a Cheshire grin soon following, “Oh shit. I sound so smart back there. Did I? DID I?!”
“Ruined the moment,” I snorted.
He threw me a look before smiling at Pearl, “Anyway, where are you lovebirds staying in? Wallace’s place?”
She shook her head, “Actually, we’re on our way to the hotel…”
“Ooh. Rawr,”
“Huh? Wait. No!” Pearl’s face colored at the look in his face and I threw a pepper shaker at Bobby in her defense, “Not like that! We still haven’t dropped our stuff is all. And we didn’t really want to impose on Val’s cousin…”
“Eh, trust me. You guys won’t.”
“Told you so,” I grumbled.
Bobby carried on, “The old hound lives alone since his folks died a few years back. He’ll appreciate the company. Maybe he’ll even see what he’s missing out with you two there, being married to his work and all.”
And with that, Bobby had to excuse himself from us soon enough because the customers had definitely piled up.
No surprise there, its lunchtime.
And we really had to go too.
As we were leaving, I noticed the Chinese (I assumed she’s Chinese) lady still sitting all by herself was now staring at me.
She smiled.
Suddenly feeling embarrassed at my blatant staring earlier, I sheepishly smiled and nodded my head back at her again.
Pearl tapped my cheek, “…Hey, Val?”
I hummed, “Yes, honey?”
“Why does Bobby call you Criss-cross?”
I blinked.
Then I hurriedly walked back to the car.
“Hey! Val, what–? Geez, just say something!”
My face feels like it was going to burn.
Nope.
No way.
Like hell I’m telling her about that.