Chapter Text
It was 3 A.M.
At least, squinting through heavy, half-lidded eyes, that’s what the clock appeared to say.
Mr. Inference shifted a mostly asleep hand out from under his chin, wincing at the strident crinkle and pop of laminated paper beneath his elbow as he fixed the monocle in front of his left eye. He sighed quietly. It was actually 4 A.M., and he’d been thoroughly beating this completely lead-less missing persons case for over ten hours.
By now the missing woman seemed like a familiar face, given how long he’d had to stare at her picture printed on her case file. Her candid, unsuspecting smile made the pit of his stomach stir uneasily. Giving up after two weeks of work felt like he was giving up on, say, a family friend or a co-worker — someone he wasn’t close with, but someone he still knew.
And that connection made it all the more difficult to look her picture in the eyes.
The detective muttered something under his breath, folding his arm on top of his desk and letting his head fall limp into the crook of his elbow. By now the words on the pages in front of him were warping violently, the aching of his drooping eyelids becoming nothing short of unbearable. Smoke from a half-finished cigar he had lit hours ago wormed into his eyes and made them burn like mad, but he couldn’t sleep. No, not yet, not when this woman’s friends and family were counting on him to bring her home, and he’d be damned if he—
A sudden sharp rapping at the door made his head shoot up in alarm, and the dull slam that followed as it swung open against the wall made his fatigued heart skip a beat.
In the doorway stood a petite blonde woman in a white dress shirt, the street lamps outside the window highlighting her features and bathing her indignant figure in moody yellow light. She boasted vibrant blue eyes that were, at the moment, blown open in emotion; gleaming, freckled cheeks framing her youthful face. And, the detective noted with a sigh, he didn’t need his monocle to see the disdainful frown etched into her lips.
She stood glaring at him reproachfully, boring holes into his forehead until he finally closed the gap between them by meeting her gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly reached for the cigar on the counter, fumbling it between his fingers before clumsily pushing it between his lips.
As if that was the cue she had been waiting for, the young woman suddenly stormed in, thrusting her small body over the desk and snatching the cigar from Inference’s mouth.
Mr. Inference could only watch helplessly as she raised the smoke above his head, and he let out a defeated sigh as he sat back in his chair. “Heavens , Miss Truth,” he murmured, carding a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth it out. His low ponytail was already halfway undone, his vest creased along the front from the hours he had spent leaning forward — he looked like nothing short of a mess, and the sight seemed to fuel the newcomer’s frustration as she glowered down at him.
“It should go without saying that you are to refrain from calling me that unless we are working , Naib, which is the last thing you should be doing at this dreadful hour,” Miss Truth snapped. “I’m quite certain I specifically told you before I left—” she paused, giving the wrist with her watch on it a gratuitous flick, “— Five hours ago that you shouldn’t stress over this case anymore and that you should go home and rest, did I not?”
As she spoke, Naib’s gaze had wandered to the cigar that Miss Truth was holding just out of his reach. At her question he merely grunted, hoisting an arm above his head with some difficulty and flailing it around in a poor attempt to nab his cigar; Miss Truth wasting no time in smacking his hand away. “ Emma,” he groaned petulantly, letting his hand fall back into the table.
Emma held him in a fiery glare. “For goodness’ sake, Naib, the case is already cold!” she exclaimed, leaning over to jam the butt of the cigar into the ashtray, extinguishing it for good. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Naib lifting his head out of his arms, something in her gut stirring as she glimpsed his sullen expression. She looked away, sighing before lowering her voice considerably. She continued matter-of-factly: “That’s right — I’ve already gone and declared it cold to the family. With a burden like that off your shoulders, you really should be thanking me.”
Naib’s expression was unreadable as he continued to gaze at Emma in silence, his sunken eyes fluttering shut at length as he unconsciously began chewing on his bottom lip. Brows knit in frustration, he retreated into his elbow once again, burying his nose into the sleeve of his dress shirt and heaving a labored sigh. It was enough to make Emma’s heart ache a little, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She returned his sigh with a soft exhale of her own.
“Oh, chin up,” Emma said, her expression softening as she set the dead cigar down. She leaned over the desk, gathering the scattered files in her arms and stacking them up neatly. “Your credibility was never at stake. It was an impossible case.”
When Naib didn’t reply, Emma decided it best to drop it. She finished stacking the files into an orderly pile, circling around the desk and filing them on the bookshelf behind him. “Springy’s found himself a wild group of friends, hasn’t he?” she offered in an attempt to break the silence, glancing over her shoulder with a gentle smile. “You should consider driving them to the sweets shop sometime.”
The detective didn’t turn around, not even bothering to open his eyes as his companion spoke. He stifled a yawn. “My brother isn’t a child anymore. He can hail a cab by himself if he needs one,” he grumbled wearily, his voice muffled in his elbow. “And his friends — my word — have you seen that blind friend of his? She owns a motorbike .”
Emma laughed good-naturedly, not bothering to reply as she finished cleaning up the rest of the files on Naib’s desk. About ten minutes passed until the table was totally clear, and one quick dip of her head revealed Naib hadn’t managed to fall asleep yet — he was staring blankly at the wall ahead, likely waiting for fatigue to overtake him. He finally closed his eyes as Emma reached forward to grip his shoulders, slowly digging the pad of her thumbs through the fabric of his shirt and massaging in deliberate circles. He let out a strained hum of relief, reaching over his shoulder to clasp a hand around Emma’s. She smiled, leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek before retreating just behind his ear.
“You know, I didn’t come here just to scold you,” the female detective said softly, giving her thumbs a particularly harsh twist before pulling away to rummage for something in her pocket. Naib’s hiss of pain was long forgotten as soon as he felt the absence of Emma’s hands; a dejected moan escaping his parted lips as he fished for her wrist, catching it in his palm and planting it back on his shoulder. He was quickly rewarded with a smack in the face by a rolled-up sheet of paper in Emma’s other hand.
Before he could even process what had happened - much less ready a retort - Emma had already unfurled the paper, revealing a rather colorful leaflet. He could hardly see what was on it as she waved it in front of his face, straining unsuccessfully to read anything past the blur of red and gold before he finally snatched it out of her hand with a grunt. He squinted at the print, fiddling with his monocle again.
THE GOLDEN ROSE THEATRE TROUPE PRESENTS:
Avery Hopwood’s The Gold Diggers
STARRING:
Ronald of Ness..…………….…………………………. Stephen Lee
Madame Bella ………………………………………... Jerry Lamar
Naib looked up from the poster, meeting Emma’s excited gaze with a raised brow. “...A play,” he said flatly.
“A musical ,” she chirped, plucking the paper from his hands and immediately rolling it back up.
Naib made a face. “Why this all of a sudden?”
“Why not?”
“Emma, you know how terrible I am with sitting through events like these.”
Emma rolled her eyes, giving the detective’s forehead one final smack with the sheet of paper before stuffing it back in her pocket. “Oh, hush. A potential client works at the theatre, so I purchased tickets to see their show.” She snickered at Naib's none too subtle change in posture. “...As a formality of sorts.”
“We’re fortunate we can even afford tickets in times like these,” Naib murmured dully, trailing off as Emma planted another chaste kiss in his hair.
“Get some rest,” Emma cooed, giving his shoulders a squeeze before pulling away. “We have a musical to see tonight.”