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"There's going to be another hit tonight."
"Selling out a colleague? Or is it another hit by you?" Inference placed down his tea cup.
"You're the detective." Recluse smiled, taking another sip of his green tea. He took a moment to savour the flowery taste of the tea. "But I look forward to seeing your deductions once again." The cafe was quiet. Empty. Even in the busy city the cafe was a silent island.
Inference scoffed, but he's grown to expect this. It was the usual routine for the detective and the hitman he was relentlessly pursuing. Their strange little game.
"You assume that we'll be meeting back here."
"Have I been wrong?" Recluse smiled.
"Not yet."
Recluse took another amused sip of his tea. The gun was heavy in his pocket.
The rain pittered on his umbrella. The smoke he breathed out danced in the wind before vanishing. Police swarmed the place. Recluse watched from the top of the roof tops.
Maybe he was growing cocky, but those police never grew close to catching his tail.
But he wasn't focused on them. His gaze narrowed down at the new face in the crowd. Dressed in blue, his hat covered his face.
Detective Inference.
He wore a monocle that didn't pair too well with his hat. He tilted his cane forward. Was he lame in a leg or was it for show? He had been in a war according to the street whisperd.
The smoke swirled around as Recluse admired the new face from afar. Seemed he had finally racked up some infamy to have such a famous detective at his crime scene.
He was too far above to see what they were saying, and he shouldn't try to find out. He walked away from the edge. It had been risky staying here, and he wouldn't have stayed, but the client wanted to 'see for himself'. He was in the lower levels
Still. He had a feeling. Recluse glanced back, as Inference turned his face away from the sky.
Recluse hadn't expected his next meeting with the detective to occur a few days later.
Inference had stood among the crowd. Still in a bustling swarm.
Recluse had spotted him, but he had pretended he hadn't. He wasn't going to give himself away that easily after all. The detective was blatantly obvious.
He was the only one staring at him.
Recluse let the crowd carry him away. Once he felt that piercing gaze was gone, he turned his focus upon the small slip of paper with the target's name. He lifted up his lighter and burned the paper into ash.
A hand grabbed his arm as the ash blew away. The detective glared up at him with that piercing gaze.
"Recluse."
He knew his name. Recluse was almost surprised, but that should be a simple task for such a great detective as him, no?
Recluse closed the lighter. He looked upon the fiery eyes of the detective. Eyes burning for the truth. Determination. Eyes that made Recluse go:
"Do I know you?"
"I know you." A sharp response. He pulled Recluse closer towards him. Recluse could feel his breath against the bandages covering his eyes. "Rank street murder. That was you."
"Is this an arrest?"
Inference stared directly into Recluse's bandages, before his grip loosened upon Recluse's fist. Those determined eyes looked away in embarrassment.
"No." He forced himself to admit. He finally let go of Recluse's hand. "There's a cafe over by New Street. Follow me."
"Follow you? Is this a strange form of arrest or interrogation the police are now doing?"
"I'm a private detective. Not a policeman."
"But you're working with the police are you not?"
"For this case."
"Why should I go with you?"
"I'll pay."
There was something… charming about the bluntness. The detective had no lure to make Recluse do as he wished, yet why would he want to bring his prime suspect to a cafe…
He knew it was a risk. Likely there was a trap there. Some officers were lying in wait. Going there was a fool's errand.
But something nagged at him… what if he truly had no officers. Just him alone. The detective had a small reputation for being unpredictable- there had been a story where the detective defended a woman in trial- and proved the supposed victim was alive before bringing them out to testify!
"There's a better cafe in a different block. I could show you the way."
Test. Recluse was not going to a secondary location he had not scouted beforehand. If this detective truly wished and wanted to go with a cafe with Recluse with no other intentions, he'd say-
"Lead the way."
Recluse stood still for a moment? Had he misheard? Inference stood waiting, his hand resting upon the same cane he had brought with him that day.
The detective almost smirked. His face may have a near permanent frown, but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.
"This way." Recluse said after a moment. Maybe he was as unpredictable as they say. "It's never busy there, but that's what makes it ideal."
"Do you go there often?"
"I go everywhere often."
"You must have a lot of free time."
Recluse smiled. "My work requires me to be very active."
Inference's hat covered his face in shadow.
Perhaps a bit too much, but not enough to convict him. If pushed, Recluse had prepared a legal answer to what 'work' required him to move around so much. If needed.
He guided him to the cafe, and the waiter showed them to a quiet secluded table. Recluse let Inference sit down first. The waiter gave a look to Recluse while Inference's gaze was averted. The hitman returned the look with a finger against his lips.
"It's an order when you're ready. You go up to the counter, tell the waiter what you want and they bring it to you." Recluse sat down opposite Inference.
"So we won't be disturbed."
"Not until we order."
Inference looked around the cafe, at the near empty tables, most importantly that the tables that were inhabited were far out of earshot of the two. Then he turned back to Recluse.
"You shot him from the top of the apartment building. Your alibi that you were at a cafe is a lie because I saw you at that building."
As expected. Next time that client requested him for a hit, he'll charge him an extra fee. "Wouldn't seeing me be enough for an arrest? If that is true."
Inference twirled the cane in his hand. "My testimony is all I have. I can't prove you shot the gun, and I can't prove it was you not someone else."
"Then why are you telling me this?"
"To see if I'm correct. Who better to confirm it than the one who committed the crime itself?"
Recluse tilted his head. Then stared upon the detective. A smile curled upon his lips. He chuckled. "But, Detective, wouldn't me saying if you were correct, if it was me who committed the crime, be tantamount to a confession?"
"You won't have to say a word. I'll know."
"Detective's intuition?"
"Call it what you want." He muttered. Inference picked up the menu. "Do you recommend anything?"
"They serve lovely teas here."
"Hm." Inference looked at the menu, his eyes running across the paper. "I'll have a black tea."
One week became two- then five- then more. He had grown quite careless, the detective who had become a regular company in the hitman's weekly life
They were sitting outside in the cafe, under the shade of the cafe umbrella. They both had their regular tea. They didn't even need to tell the waiters their orders due to the frequency of their visits.
A cat had joined their tea party as well, and it loved to sit upon the Detective's lap. Cuddling up against his chest. After his many attempts to shoo it away, evolving to ignoring, to gently petting this cat as he drank his tea.
"He's so happy in your lap."
"I wish he would show his appreciation by not leaving his fur across me." He huffed, but he still gave that cat scratches under his chin. "Next time we should go to a restaurant not too far from here. It's quite nice. Quiet like this place as well."
Recluse chuckled, but he kept his gaze, focused upon the man hidden in the crowd. A man who kept himself covered, and watched his companion. He had been watching Inference since the pair had entered the cafe. With a gaze Recluse did not like.
"Hmm. He seems quite determined to cover you in fur, my dear detective." Recluse stood up and headed over to Inference, gently brushing off some fur on his shoulder. As he did, he leaned down and whispered into Inference's ear:
"You're being followed."
Recluse brushed the last bit of fur off his shoulder. As he moved away, Inference grabbed his tie and pulled him back.
"So are you."
Recluse hovered by Inference's ear, well aware of the eyes looking at him from a distance.
Inference's thumb caressed Recluse's tie as it slid down. The detective's hand had tiny scars. Tiny stories. Recluse wondered if he would hear them one day. Maybe it will be the day they put down their mutual charades.
"Will you give me your real name one day? My dear detective"
Inference lets the silence breath for a moment. "Perhaps on the day I finally have you convicted. When will I have yours?"
"On the day I die perhaps." Recluse chuckled. "I hope we have a long time till then. Say, shall we deal with our unwanted fans?"
Inference nodded. "I'll see you next week."
"I will see you then." Recluse
Recluse made sure the stalker would not disturb them next week, and it seemed the detective had a similar idea.
"Oh." Was Recluse's first word to Inference the following week.
Inference threw out a hat Recluse's stalker had been wearing. Next to the hat Recluse had taken from Inference's stalker.
The pair looked at each other, and Recluse laughed.
Gunshot.
Sirens blare.
The world flashed with light.
There was no pain. There never was as adrenaline pumped through your veins. Recluse expected his hands to tremble as he fired back, but they remained as steady as ever. Maybe that came later.
The man fell to the floor. A hole in his head.
In the empty room Recluse stood with the smoking gun. Blood seeped out onto the withered floorboards, like a new coat of paint. Another flash of light.
You're a liability.
Damned if he is! The detective had been meeting with him for months and had grown no closer!
Memories began to twist and turn in his mind. Placing their hands upon his shoulders as they gently pulled him back out of the present.
He shook them off as he heard a familiar screech. A flash. The shadow of an owl stretches across the room.
A thunder of feet, Recluse dashed to the fire exit near him. Rain pounded on the cold metal with his feet. The black clouds covered the eyes of God. Faint shouts. He kept on running.
He looked up at the sky. For the familiar shape of his friend.
People were shouting. The police had arrived. In the crumbling buildings all looked down at him. Watching him.
Brooke? Where was Brooke? Had she-? No. No. There had only been one shot. One gun shot. He had fired back before there was another. She had been outside. Brooke was fine.
The hit job was fine. Everything had been fine. He was going to be- he leaned against the wall- His lungs burning- his legs screaming- fine.
Another shout from the distance spurs him to run. Splashes as his feet crash into puddles give him away. He ran into a nearby alley. The rain poured down.
From the sky came his friend. She swirled around him. He held out his arm for her to rest upon, but she refused, instead landing on a nearby drain pipe.
The rain weakened for a moment. Recluse stumbled. The pain that had been numbed made itself known. Screaming. Wailing. Freezing his entire body. Threatening to consume him in darkness. Recluse's hand just managed to grab onto a drain pipe to stabilise himself.
A metallic taste infected his mouth. He put his hand to his side, but didn't bother to pull his hand away. He knew his white gloves would now be stained red with blood. His own blood. Not the blood of others.
Hoots filled the air. Soft and gentle.
"It's going to be fine Brooke." He whispered. He brought himself closer to the owl. "You will be fine. You'll go home, and find a nice mouse I had left for you when we returned, and then you'll rest. You'll be fine."
Brooke hooted again.
"It will stop hurting eventually."
Distant voices. Recluse lowered himself to hide behind nearby bins. Brooke carefully jumped down, making as little noise as she possibly could. She kept by his side. In the cold she was a reassuring warmth.
The police scurried around like rats, squeaking to themselves trying to find him. If they found him here- He'd have to-
Recluse clenched his teeth. The pain searing. He had become so fragile. Could he fight if he was found? Could he even run?
Brooke hooted again. Softly when the relentless noise of the police headed in a different direction.
His vision was starting to grow blurry. Was this where he met death? In this dirty alleyway? Among the broken glasses and the rotting boxes? Scraps of mouldy food…. And leaking trash bins…
Perhaps Inference was correct. They wouldn't meet at the cafe again… such a shame… He had considered trying out the new restaurant he had recommended…
No- He forced himself to his feet once more hearing muffled voices. The police- The metallic taste overwhelmed his mouth. Every step felt a battle but he'd be damned if he let them have the victory of having him die in their custody- No- He won't die- He won't die-!
The alleyway was blocked by a single figure. He held out an ID. A familiar, blank face. Standing there. Inference.
His eyes were firmly locked upon Recluse. "Our game is finally over." There was no smugness in his voice. Instead the cold look of a predator circling a cornered prey. The fox cornered the trapped owl.
Darkness swarmed around Inference. Inference. Inference.
The Great Detective Inference.
Those eyes never changed.
He walked towards Recluse. Cuffs in hand. Cuffs he had saved for Recluse. Recluse began to fall. Those cuffs cluttered to the ground. Metal against stone. His body in Inference's arms.
Inference's voice was muffled. He was yelling something. He muttered something about someone being…shot…? Of course. Recluse had been shot.
He had been shot by a common lackey… How pathetic. He had been so wrapped up in his game with Inference that he had grown careless.
Panic was spread across Inference's face. He was saying something…Oh… Recluse had been so looking forward to their weekly cafe meeting… He loved hearing Inference explain how Recluse had performed his latest hit… Pity… Pity…
Damn it… He really had grown careless…
You're a liability. You'll reveal us all to that detective.
He…
Teardrops fell onto his face.
Inference…
He wished he could have heard Inference laugh.
Recluse smeared blood across Inference's face. Those eyes so cold moments before were wracked with worry. They were such pretty eyes. Eyes. He had never shown Inference his eyes had he? He always kept them covered… Except when someone was about to die.
Someone was going to die.
He didn't want to die.
"I wish… I had been killed by you." He muttered. "Then at least…I could…Know life was yours…"
"Don't Rec-"
"Eli. Eli Clark." Recluse muttered. Inference already knew. He was such a good detective. Hurt. Everything hurt so much. Everything was cold. Inference's touch was cold. Cold hands… warm heart…he wished…
When had he started craving Inference's warmth? When had his own started to beat for the Detective's words? When had he first wished their game of tag would never end?
"Naib Subedar…"
Eli brushed a bloody thumb against Naib's cheek. With fading strength, he guided Naib's face towards his own.
Lip's against lips. Warmth against an infecting coldness. Eli pulled his hand away from Naib's cheek, to let the bandages drop to the muddy concrete.
Naib took his falling hand and threaded their fingers together. As he pulled his lips away, for the first time he saw Eli's eyes. A dull shade of hazy blue. He buried his face into Eli's chest, to muffle his sobs, as he searched for the sound of a heartbeat from a still heart.
"Will you give me any more tips?"
"Isn't one clue enough for a great detective?"
"I'm a detective, not a miracle worker." Inference huffed.
"And you will still figure it out." Recluse smiled.
Inference rolled his eyes, but as he raised his tea cup, Eli saw the smile he hid behind it.