Chapter Text
Mikey waved at her, oblivious of the danger they were in as April used every last drop of her acting skills to keep a neutral expression while her mind kept screaming.
Columbo’s attention wasn't focused on her at the moment, seemingly distracted as he kept ranting about the impossible angles the murderer would have to use if he wanted to attack from the window. Still, April couldn't help but tense up, the knowledge that this stranger could just turn around and discover her greatest secret haunting her every thought.
Fortunately, Mikey seemed to finally realize what the problem was. His eyes widened and he waved at her sheepishly in apology, pointing to the right before moving away from the window. Right in time too, because the moment he vanished, Columbo finally turned around.
“Is there a problem, Miss O’Neil?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he looked out the window. “You look worried. Did something happen?”
“Oh, no no,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I’m just feeling a bit under the weather. Sorry if I'm not the best company right now. I had a pretty busy day yesterday. I don't think I will be able to help you to be honest.”
“Ah yes, I remember being young, Miss O’Neil. And I know how parties can be. With teenagers especially... Sometimes they don't understand that not everyone has their energy,” he answered with a low chuckle and a shrug.
April froze.
“What? H-how did you?” She felt herself ask as her heart jumped to her throat.
Once again, Columbo frowned in clear confusion. He tilted his head, falling silent for a moment before shaking his head.
“Frank told me. He says that sometimes you bring these kids home… They're kind of loud and sound very young. He told me they were your cousins? But I saw the mess and I assumed they had to be teenagers, you know? Because of the amount of food and all. Kids that age are like blackholes. I don't know where they put everything.”
The excuse she had told her neighbor to justify sudden turtle visits suddenly jumped at her.
Right. That had been months ago, hadn't it? One of the first times she had invited them over and they still didn't realize how much sound travelled through her apartment walls. She didn't think Frank would remember.
“Yes,” she managed, forcing her body to relax. “My cousins. They're teenagers. Good kids.”
Still frowning, Columbo brought a hand over his mouth, looking away from her and staring at the blessedly empty window in silence.
As the clock kept ticking, Columbo didn't make another move to continue the conversation, seemingly engrossed in his own thoughts.
April had to get Mikey out of here before he started to get twitchy. She wasn't stupid enough to think that Columbo would just leave and she knew that Mikey didn't have enough patience to stay out of this until she fixed it.
Columbo was very smart, that much was clear, and despite the fact that she had every faith in Mikey's ninja abilities, she didn't want to give the detective more things to poke at. Even if Mikey managed to stay hidden the whole time, he wasn't aware of how dangerous the situation really was. Maybe he just assumed Columbo was a relative or a neighbor instead of some kind of… Sherlock Holmes wannabe.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting on a plastic apologetic smile before standing up. “Like I said, I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to leave for a moment to get an aspirin. I won't be long.”
Columbo stood up too, to April's chagrin.
“Ah, you do look a bit pale, Miss. I can get it for you. You should rest. Where is it?” he asked, visibly concerned.
Fortunately, she already had an excuse for that ready to go.
“In the bathroom cabinet. I can get it myself, don't worry and… I was going to take that opportunity to… refresh myself a bit, pour some water on my face or something so you should just wait here. I really won't be long.”
“Of course, of course,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender and shaking his head. “Don't worry about me. Just focus on getting better. I can call the doctor if it's too bad…”
“No, it's fine,” she reassured as she left. “I’ll be back in a second.”
The first thing she did when she entered the bathroom was to lock the door behind her. The second, hide the knife under a few towels she had in her drawers.
When that was done, she tapped the window glass a few times before opening it.
As she expected, Mikey's beaming face greeted her. He opened his mouth but, before he could speak, April managed to cover it, sending an absolutely scathing glare at him, trying to mentally communicate how much she needed him to not speak a word.
One of the advantages of not being one of his brothers was that Mikey didn't immediately try to lick her hand like the unhinged kid he was, and instead tilted his head in confusion.
April stepped back, freeing him before taking a finger to her lips.
Okay, now for the difficult part. How the hell was she going to explain all of this?
Maybe the phone… but, she had left it in her room, probably, and leaving the bathroom would be suspicious. Unconsciously, April's hands moved to pat her pajama pants, looking for a pen which obviously wasn't there.
Her pajamas didn't even have pockets for fuck's sake.
She looked around the room, trying to find something quickly while Mikey let himself in, still looking confused before the bulb lit up in her mind.
She attacked her makeup kit, grabbing her eyeshadow pencil and a piece of toilet paper.
Her eye twitched at every word she scribbled. The knowledge that she was ruining her last (and much too expensive) eyeshadow with every letter heavy on her mind.
Damn it. She had found it on sale last time. When she replaced it it would be like… three times more expensive or she would have to settle for a worse brand that didn't stand up to being dunked on a water torture tank.
Cheap makeup wasn't superhero proof. She would know.
Eventually she finished, settling on a short message that read:
‘Detective not Foot here investigating murder,
leave until I solve I will call'
She offered it to Mikey, who took it, reading it over before breaking into a very elaborate set of those hand signals the kids used during stealth missions.
April still hadn't fully learned it yet and… if it had been Donnie, maybe she would have understood at least the gist of it, but Mikey tended to speak in a very chaotic and rushed way so instead she just sighed, offering him the eyeliner and a piece of toilet paper.
Predictably, Mikey wasn't as careful as April as he wrote, leaving thick black blotches in almost every word. When he had to take another piece of paper because he ran out of room, April took her hands to her head in exasperation and sat on the toilet, trying to look away from the crime being committed against her property.
After what felt like an eternity, she felt a hand poke at her shoulder and took the pieces of paper Mikey offered her.
They were numbered and everything.
‘Hi April! <3 The message thing is kinda cool like secret notes :) Wow, that's a thing then? Are you going to go to jail? We will break you out but if that's the guy we can just beat him up, right? Wait no he's not Foot, nvm. Well, you said that but how do you know he's not? The Foot is very sneaky. Also, you sure he's a detective? Because he looks a bit weird. Not that I know a lot of detectives but I have seen them on tv. I also saw Sherlock on tv and this guy has the trenchcoat but not much else. But that's not a very good series. I prefer House and Donnie says they're both supposed to be the same thing even if I don't see it because one is detectives and the other is like… hospital. Oh I forgot to tell you but I came here because Leo was all like ‘yesterday you left a mess at April's house you need to fix it' and he was serious about it and lectured me and everything and it was boring so I was totally going to do that not just because the lecture though! I also wanted to help you because it wouldn't be cool not to even if I don't like to clean but if you want me to leave I can. But like… I could also plant like, false evidence to make things more difficult. I could use the human disguise and a fake mustache and call the police saying it was me!’
He had also given back her eyeliner which was now… absolutely deformed and almost finished.
She had brought it four days ago.
Maybe it wasn't too late to sell them to the Foot. She knew Saki’s phone number. He could call him right now and leave this mess forever, go to the Bahamas or something and forget all about brain alien invasions suspiciously centered only in New York. She could just relax and drink one of those coconut drinks with a little umbrella.
Instead, she pinched her nose in exasperation. She was about to write a response when the sound of knocking distracted her.
She jumped, ushering Mikey to the window.
“Miss O’Neil? Are you alright?” asked Columbo from the other side of the door.
“Yes, no problem,” she replied as Mikey jumped off the window, hopefully going back home.
“It's just…” the man continued while April rushed to close the window and throw the notes in the toilet before flushing, “you’ve been gone for a bit and you said you’d be right back so I was starting to get worried you might have fainted or something like that but if you’re busy I can go back to the living room…”
April made one last sweep to the room before opening the door.
When she did, she found herself looking at Columbo's apologetic face.
He blinked at her, before shaking his head bashfully.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to rush you. I was just a bit worried.”
“Like I said, it's fine,” she said, leaving the room and walking back towards the living room. “We can go back to the conversation now, if you want. I had some time to think about everything while I was gone. Maybe, maybe the murderer used some sort of… mechanism attached to the wall to throw the knife? It seems a bit convoluted but less impossible than them being able to stick to walls.”
“That's a good idea, yes,” the man grumbled, nodding in agreement. “We should discuss that later but… I was wondering if I could come in?” he asked, pointing towards the bathroom. “I’m afraid that while I was waiting I forgot I had a cigar in my pocket and made a bit of a mess.”
Sure enough, the man’s hands were covered in ash and bits of tobacco.
Wait, if it left his hands like that does that mean that he had a half finished cigar inside his pocket? Just freely bouncing everywhere?
What?
Well, she had made sure that there weren't any clues about their exchange in the bathroom and she couldn't think of anything suspicious there. Since she had concluded that the man was not Foot, she felt confident enough to just leave him on his own as long as there were no stray turtles around the house.
The only suspicious thing she could think of was the knife but… in the very unlikely case he found it, it was just a knife, very different from the one that was used to kill the guy.
Still, she waited in front of the door, hearing the sound of running water before the door opened again. There was a clicking sound that made her almost open it, but just as she was about to do so, Columbo stepped out.
As they walked back to where they were, April started to relax.
She had to think about this logically.
The lack of alibi didn't prove anything by itself and she hadn't been the one to murder the guy. Columbo wouldn't be able to find any proof. Even if things were very shaky on her end, she had a way out. She had to trust it and simply convince this detective that she didn't have the capabilities of ninja killing, which was true! She'd seen Foot ninja casually do quadruple somersaults for no apparent reason and she hadn't been able to do a cartwheel since she was in 10th grade.
Hell, maybe he was interrogating a lot of people around the building since they were very close to the place of the murder (which was the reason why April had found him in the first place).
Yes, that was it. Just keep the turtles away and find a way out. It would be difficult but she could do it.
They sat down on the sofa and the man took out a… very cheap looking cigar out of his pocket. He lifted it towards her, silently asking for permission to light it.
Worse things than smoking had happened inside this apartment so April shrugged, letting him.
He lit it with a match, which went back to his pocket and took a drag of the cigar.
That was kind of nasty. She knew that she had no real room to judge, she regularly entered the sewers voluntarily and had faceplanted on them more than once, but at least she tried to act presentable most of the time.
There was a moment of silence as he puffed out a cloud of smoke and crossed his legs.
“Can I be frank for a moment, Miss O'Neil?” He asked, scratching his forehead with the hand holding the cigar.
At her raised eyebrow and affirmative response, he took another drag.
“I know you were the one who made that call.”