Archive of Our Own ^beta

With the lights dim, it was hard to imagine someone was still working in the office, but inside—slumped against her chair—was Detective Asuka Tenjoin diligently running through the list of choices that led her to the moment and cursing every single one. It was all her brother’s fault anyways.

She should have known by the way Captain Manjōme smirked as he placed the thin file on her desk that the case would be nearly impossible to solve. The kind of case that kept people up at night from the ‘what ifs.’

Someone entered the apartment of Orlando Murluto, Continental Illinois’s CEO, at 09:30 P.M. Barely an hour later, he was lying on the floor dead. No prints, no descriptions. Nothing but a single glass lying next to his sprawled body.

What else could it be but murder? Of course, her captain would disagree. He wanted it closed as soon as possible and with barely anything to go off of, who could blame him for opting to label it a suicide? It would be so easy for her to agree and move on. But she wouldn’t. And she couldn’t.

Her office door slammed open and she reflexively rolled her eyes. In came her partner Judai Yuki with a spring in his step and no care for the brooding that was happening. He joined the force about a year ago to shadow the detectives but pretty quickly he was dumped on her by her coworkers. He wasn’t rude or pushy or anything seriously bad, but his paperwork was littered with ink blots, spelling mistakes, messy grammar, and all the telltale signs of someone trying to over-inflate the word count along with a string of incorrectly used synonyms suggested by a thesaurus. It was horrifying to read and after a week or two, she told him to stop writing reports entirely. Now, he waited in line for cafés au lait and took pictures of birds while peppering bad jokes into their conversations.
“Good morning, Tenjoin! Whatcha got there?” he asked.
Asuka suppressed a sigh. “Hello, Judai.”
“That a new case or your retirement papers?”
“Neither. They’re for your arrest.”
“God, what have I done this time? I brought you coffee, didn’t I?” he gave the cup in his hand a little shake before passing it to her.
She took a sip: feeling her eyelids lift.
“You sleep at all since the captain gave you that?” he took a seat in the chair with a maroon blanket draped over it, which lay beside the door.
“Yes, unlike someone I know,” raising an eyebrow, she could see no signs of his incessant quest to lay out all the twists and turns of his favourite comic strip, which of course wrapped itself tighter than a mummy. “But anyways, I need a second opinion. Do you think this case is murder or suicide?”
“Well, it can’t be suicide, right? Witness saw someone go into his apartment and then guy’s dead.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, “Good. Then I’ll need Misawa and Sho to run tests on the cup.”
Standing, Judai made another attempt at tailing her like a lost puppy. “I can drop it off for you. You’re busy, right?”
“With what clearance? Just stay here: I’ll be back in a few minutes,” gathering her badge and keys, she closed the door despite Judai’s pouting face.

Was there a time she was ever as excited as him? Even when she first joined the force, she could feel the stares on her back. The whispers. Whatever excitement she felt must have been crushed under the weight of their nitpicking. Constantly, she felt pulled between either supporting Judai or being jealous he didn’t have to go through what she did. She would be a worse person if she did the latter, but only hypocrites would say it was easy to do the former. So instead, she busied herself with looking through the evidence room. Looking through its stacks upon stacks of boxes all crammed onto shelves that rose to touch the ceiling. A Library of Alexandria for humanity’s inhumanity.

Only the height of the sun told her how much time passed as it peeked out from behind a shelf, shining through the thin window. Finally—stuffed into a corner—was the box that held the case’s evidence. She pulled the baggie out and reexamined the cup again. There along the bottom was the rim of some sort of alcohol. There were a couple possibilities if it was poisoned: diethylene glycol, ethylene glycol, lead (2) acetate, or methanol came to mind. Even then, it could have been an accident. It was hardly uncommon for moonshiners to use denatured alcohols or wineries to add chemicals to enhance the taste that just so happened to be poisonous. Ah, but it hardly mattered so long as the case wasn’t just thrown out because it seemed too difficult.

She stood outside the evidence room: her hand hovering over the handle. Patting down her pockets, she realized she would have to return to her office to grab her ID; she would have to deal with Judai’s begging. And she couldn’t just not get the evidence tested. Sighing, she opened the door to her office again only to be accosted with nothing. Judai—lying in the chair—was wrapped up in the blanket to take a nap. Seemed his late, comic book nights finally caught up to him. She slid her shoes across the floor, grabbed her ID from atop her desk, and slinked out of her office like she was never there.

The first time she visited the lab remained with her even after several years. Not because of the building or the analysis tools—those were surprisingly lackluster—but rather the two lab technicians she had met. Through some strange magic of the universe, they were always the ones she got.

Sho Marufuji wasn’t especially accomplished, but his passion and determination made up for any confidence he lacked. Most of the time. Asuka observed on a couple occasions whenever he made a mistake the way his shoulders sagged and his head lowered. It was hard to make conversation with him then as he peppered his sentences with self-deprecating remarks as if it was comedy. Really though, it made her—sad was too strong a word—uncomfortable maybe? The only polite outcome was to say some platitude about how it wasn’t true, but no matter how true it was, more often than not people kept going on their deprecating ways which just created this awkward horrible cycle where no one got anywhere.
…
But other than that, she liked him well enough even if they weren’t especially close.

Then there was Daichi Misawa. With a keen knack for the sciences, he balanced Sho out and helped him if he ever made mistakes. Surprisingly, he turned promotions down: preferring to remain among the stacks of reports, the litany of evidence that found its way to his hands to be thought over, and the analyses deduced from what seemed the most inconsequential of details.

Now that they were past the awkward stage of getting to know each other and their rhythm of conversation, they fell straight into work.
“What have you got there?” Misawa pointed with his pen towards the baggie she held.
“A cup found near the victim’s body. I think it might be poisoned,” Asuka replied.
After putting on a pair of gloves, he extended his hand.
He looked like he was holding handfuls of sand and any moment it would slip through his fingers. He called Sho over and told him some instructions. Sho took the bag and ran off deeper into the room.
“Well, we’ll do everything we can.”
“If you can, I need the results as soon as possible,” she replied.
“Ah,” he nodded, “sure thing.”
Leaning against the counter, she asked, “How have things been since the last case?”
Misawa laughed and her stomach twisted into knots.
“Did the captain say something?”
“He said a lot of things but we still have our jobs, so I call it a win-win,” he replied.
She groaned. “I knew it was a bad idea.”
“But you also knew we were the only ones able and willing.”
“That’s true.”
Sho trotted over from the back giving a wave.
“Should be done in two days,” he told her.
“Perfect. By then, I should have made some headway.” She gave a knock on the counter as she stood up. “Well, good to see you two.”
“You too. Don’t work yourself too hard!” Sho said.
“Don’t be a stranger either,” Misawa added.
She gave a nod then left. They couldn’t see it, but a wide smile placed itself on her face.

That smile dimmed as she anticipated being bombarded with questions from Judai or him talking at her about something that happened at the deli, but, again, nothing came. He now sat quietly on the chair reading a comic. She almost felt the urge to walk back out to not disturb him, but then she remembered it was her office and she had work to do. Settling into her office chair, she pulled the file towards herself and began looking through the victim’s history.

Orlando Murluto wasn’t unique in any way: not many victims are. He graduated from the University of Chicago with backing from a football scholarship before moving on to the business school. From there, he got a job at Continental Illinois and worked his way up to CEO through sheer gumption and charisma. If he was a character, she would call his life clichéd. There was an undercurrent to all this, however. Reports of fraud, connections to organized crime. It was quite possible he lived a double life.

With that preliminary background check out of the way, Asuka grabbed her notebook and wrote in it her first impressions: consisting of possible avenues of investigation and information she’d need to gather. She was most interested in his finances. If there was an organized crime connection or fraud, they’d be most useful at showing her. The force had their own contact in organized crime, but she wanted to leave that as a last resort.
“Judai?”
Lowering his comic, he looked up at her. “Hmm?”
“Have you heard anything about the victim?”
“Nah, not yet, but I’ll let you know,” and with that, he went back to reading.
She nodded. Looking through his finances it was!

“This is too much,” Asuka leaned back with a sigh. Over the past few hours, what began as one stack of paper slowly accumulated into numerous stacks all spread around her desk: so many that she could bury herself under them. It had gotten to a point where she had to ask Judai to help sort through all of them and organize them into piles.
“Where should I put this one? The unrelated or disturbing pile?” he asked.
They hadn’t found anything disturbing as in crime, but boy did Orlando like the sea. He had a whole tacky room in his mansion themed around it. How anyone could spend that much money on such a room was disturbing.
“A new third pile: unrelentingly boring,” she replied.
“Coming from you, it must be horrible.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Let me see,” he snatched the paper from her. After skimming over the page, he took a moment to read it again and stick his tongue out. “Ugh! A class on paint drying? How low can this guy go?”
“Alright, you’ve had your fun. We agree, this is obviously a front for something?”
“Definitely.”
“I think I even arrested a gang in the area.”
“Well, what a happy coincidence. The area must be up for grabs.”
“Or he really was watching paint dry. I should pay them a visit.”
“Look here, extra money,” he tapped a nearby file.
She scanned her eyes across it and nodded. “Looks like we’re on to something. Want to come along?”
“You know I always do!” he beamed.

Millionaires were like unicorns to Asuka: incredibly rare and incredibly rarer to see. Additionally, there were only a few places she expected to see one and even then, they were never the places she went. Which made it even more strange the location of this investment of Orlando’s. It was one of the poorer neighbourhoods the city pretended didn’t exist; people were left to live nearly in a landfill as trash collection was directed to other areas. The neighbourhood had been redlined several decades before, which led to its current state. It was kind—perhaps even charitable—of Orlando to invest in a business in the area. But why paint? It just made him look suspicious.

Before entering the building, Judai pulled out his bulky instant-camera and hung it proudly around his neck, a wide grin sneaking up his face.
“It’s been a while since I’ve pulled out this baby,” he said.
“Just remember to develop them correctly this time,” her voice was tinged with exasperation as she opened the door.
Judai followed in after her complaining. “That was one time!”
“No, four.”
A scoff. “Right.”

The lobby was sparsely decorated except for a few chairs and pamphlets about the business, which really was about paint. The rest of the lobby was dedicated to showcasing paint swatches and job opportunities. The business’s existence made a little more sense at least. Behind the check-out desk was a mousy man in a two-piece suit: his jacket and bowler hat discarded on a nearby coat rack. His wide, skittish eyes darted around the room as they approached him.
“I’m sorry, but we just closed,” he said as he crumpled in on himself.
“Yes, sorry for keeping you here longer. We’re with Chicago Police,” she fished her badge out from under her suit vest. “Detective Tenjoin. We have reason to believe that a victim was here before they died. We’d like to take a look around.”
“Oh, I see,” he came out from behind the desk and led them towards a door, which led to the back.

There were way more doors than they thought; the building looked a lot smaller on the outside. In one room, there was a staff lounge filled with a mini kitchen, a table and chairs, and an old couch whose cushions sloped towards the crevices. In another was the washrooms. Another still led to a warehouse of paint cans and forklifts. But despite how impressive the square footage was, they had only ever come across one other employee. Sure, they came in as it closed, but did one person really close as the janitor got to work? Asuka and Judai agreed: something was wrong.
“Did you find a timesheet anywhere?” Asuka asked him.
“Well…” he scratched his neck, “maybe?”
He walked down the corridor in wide strides before stopping at a mahogany time clock. All Asuka could think was how outdated it was; time clocks had gotten much smaller than this armoire. It nearly touched the ceiling and covered the whole wall with its accompanying shelves of timesheets.
“Zero clue how to use this,” Judai said.
Asuka chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty old,” she walked up to a shelf and began looking through the stacks upon stacks upon stacks. After what felt like an eternity, she found the sheet for the day and sighed. Only two people still hadn’t punched out: Marcel Burbinon and Fred Moretti.

Moretti. She knew that name from somewhere.

Shaking that thought off for later, she pulled out the timesheet for the day Orlando died. A few more people were on shift but again the clerk and janitor stayed the latest. It was starting to look like that was just how their business operated.
“Did you see any CCTV cameras outside?” Asuka asked.
“Think so.”
“Then that just leaves finding their finances. I’ll do that, you grab the footage.”
He nodded. “Call if anything happens.”
“You too.”

The whole situation was bothering her. Why would Orlando set up something so suspicious? The location, the business, the classes: everything was screaming at her that it was a front. Then there was the matter of where she heard Moretti before; he must have a gang connection.
She tripped. Flailing her arms around wildly, she steadied herself and turned around. A figure dashed towards the back door. Sighing, she ran after him brandishing her baton.

When she caught up, he was about to climb the fence. She called to him and he froze. After tightening the hood around his head, he slotted his foot into the grooves of the fence and jumped it. Asuka followed, but by the time she climbed over the fence, he had disappeared into the streets. She kicked a pebble.
“Judai, how are things on your end?” she asked into the walkie-talkie she pulled from around her waist.
“Well, can definitely confirm our guy was here. Don’t have any sound though,” he replied.
“That’s fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“You found their finances already?”
The finances! She almost forgot.
“Right, give me five minutes.”

Walking into the lobby again, she tried to not look too upset—she found their finances after all—but it must’ve been obvious because Judai’s smile immediately faltered when he saw her.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There was a runner and he got away.”
“Seriously? And you’re sure you’re fine? No injuries?”
“Yes, yes,” she swatted him away. “Is the receptionist still here?”
“Yeah, hasn’t moved.”
“Good. I have some questions for him.”
As if on cue, he met eyes with her.
“The janitor left…” he clasped his hands.
“I noticed. He tripped me before running off. Do you know why?” Asuka crossed her arms.
“Well, Fred you see is an ex-convict. Of course cops would make him skittish.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
“Not you specifically. You’ve seen the place: surely you know how things are.”
“But running just makes him look more suspicious.”
“Everything we do is suspicious.”
He had been so nervous before that his tone now—so sure and full of conviction—shocked her into a daze. It wasn’t even that she disagreed with him—quite the contrary. She knew the system was broken—she experienced it first hand with her brother—but she was trying to change it from within. To be so effortlessly lumped in with the corrupted struck her through the heart. How could she be seen as one of the bad ones?
“Listen, bud. Say what you want, explain it in whatever way covers your hide, but something’s not right with this place,” Judai cut in.
“In what way?” his gaze was level, controlled.
“Why in the world would a millionaire open a paint store here? Why in the world would he go to a paint drying class? Why is that even offered?”
“So, that’s what this is about? Always gangs with you types.” He took a breath in. “I guess it never crossed your minds that people here could use a job or even paint for that matter?”
“That’s-”
“When you visit a pizzeria, do you assume it’s run by the mob?”
“Well, no.”
“But any Italian on the street is, yeah?”
What was there to even say? Because he was right. Just earlier, she agreed with tabloid gossip about Orlando for that very reason.
“You should leave.”
Asuka nodded her head as she chewed at her cheek. They didn’t need to be told twice.

“Wow, was not expecting that to happen,” Judai said before taking a sip of his coffee: extra sugar of course.
They had found a little café near their police station and decided to use it as an opportunity to clear their heads.
Asuka stirred hers while absentmindedly staring off into traffic.
“Hey, you don’t think he’s right, do you?”
She sighed. “Well, can’t say I disagree. I never even thought Orlando was innocent,” she took a sip.
“I mean, me neither. It’s just-he didn’t need to say it like that,” he chuckled.
“I’m glad he did. It makes me wonder if I’m going about this the right way.”
“About what?”
“Police reform. Maybe I’m just part of the problem.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re not out there making bad arrests.”
“For every good thing I do, there are hundreds of thousands of other cops abusing their power. And they get away with it! Me being one of the good ones doesn’t change anything about how policing works. I’m an anomaly.”
He thought for a moment taking a long sip. “Guess I never thought of it like that.”
“Sorry, I just-I want to be doing the right thing.”
“I know. That’s what I like most about you,” he beamed. “I mean, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think there was an injustice.”
“Do you think it’s possible?”
He took a long sip. “I don’t know. All I know is there’s a lot wrong in the world.”
“Yeah.”
A silence fell over them for a moment.
Then, “Judai, why did you join the force?”
He looked up at her raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you so curious all of a sudden?”
“Just humour me, would you?” hoping to avoid any follow-ups, she took a sip.
“Guess for the moral reasons? I wanted to help people. Wasn’t any big, dramatic moment just saw the people around me suffering and thought I could do something about it.”
Asuka smiled. “I think that’s very admirable.”
“Oh, c’mon, you must have an even more goody-two-shoes reason.”
“Not really. My brother, he was framed and I thought I could do something by making sure it never happened again. It’s maybe more idealized but not as self-less.”
“That’s not the way I see it.”
“Well, thank you,” she took another sip: this time hoping it would hide her blush.
“So, what’s the plan now?”
“No idea. Unless, you get a tip.”
“We can always ask Dan…”
“No.”
“Oh, c’mon, Tenjoin.”
“You know I hate him.”
“But he could know something!”
She sighed. “Fine, fine.”

The interrogation room was a strange place. For some, it served as their battleground, where they could show off their intellectual prowess. For others—especially Asuka—it presented itself as a daunting task. Her colleagues called her the “interrogation legend” through smirks and barely concealed laughter. She had never gotten a confession from a single suspect. But she couldn’t have much choice in where she met Dan: they had to keep his cover. He went undercover about five years ago to help keep tabs on Marlucius and his gang. They were a lesser offshoot of the mob that attempted to have the same presence but at each turn was marred by in-fighting and poor decision-making. A strange part of her sighed like a scolding mother whenever she arrested one of them. Some of them were young—around fourteen—and under their hollow cheeks and vulgar tongues, she could see the children they were before desperation set in. And some bit of that child wanted to break free.

Dan never had those moments. In fact, he fell into the role of mobster a little too well. Sometimes he’d mess up, get too into it, and a brawl would break out. Often in the very interrogation room they found themselves in now. But other than that, he was an alright guy with a simple life: few friends, hardly any family, a shabby apartment somewhere. He sat across from her cross-legged and leaned back.
“Never thought you’d wanna talk to me, Tenjoin,” he said. “Who let you outta the evidence room?”
“Got any more jokes?” she crossed her arms.
“It’s either that or things get real boring in here. I spend my whole day with gangsters, not exactly what I wanna talk about when I get away.”
“Maybe another time. I’ve been asked to look into the death of Orlando Murluto. Do you know anything about it?”
He scoffed. “It’s old drama now, but Orlando hooked up with Marlucius’s girlfriend. Marlucius was pissed about it at the time, but it looked like he got over it.”
“Were they involved any further?”
“Just say what you mean.”
“Did they work together?”
“For a time, but you must’ve guessed that already. There was another incident—talks of betrayal—and well, Marlucius couldn’t just let it slide.”
“I don’t suppose you could provide evidence that would actually help the case? I can’t just use your word,” she said.
“Then keep an eye on the post box. I’ll send ya something real pretty.”
Soon, their time together came to a close and he left.
She slid a hand down her face as she let out a groan.
“Will this really work out?” Judai asked as he took a step into the room.
“It sort of has to.”

Returning to her office the next day, the last thing she expected to see was Captain Manjōme standing in it with his back to the door.
“Captain, what brings you here?” she asked.
“I thought I should check in on your progress, Detective,” he replied as he sat in one of the arm chairs.
Asuka remained standing.
“Yes, of course. Judai Yuki and I have been investigating Orlando Murluto’s death. We have a lead that connects him to Marlucius’s gang and have sent evidence for analysis.”
“As expected, you’re on top of things.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But always so formal. We’ve been to dinners and parties…”
She pursed her lips. “Yes, well, I’m busy at the moment. That conversation will have to wait.”
He laughed. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Keep me updated,” standing, he gave her a nod and smile before leaving the office.
Once she heard the click of the door, she sighed.

So many complicated feelings rose in Asuka’s chest when around the captain. He was the youngest son of a family seemingly destined to control the world; his brothers were both at high-ranking positions in the government and stock market respectively just as their parents were. Yet, here was Captain Manjōme when he should’ve been the Right Honourable Manjōme. How relatable his situation would be if he were of the same class. Title differences like that barely registered with people like her, but those feelings of inadequacy were painfully familiar. Perhaps sensing this kindred spirit, he invited her to work engagements despite her unpopularity. He was nice if not a little vain but she hated how obviously he wore his crush on his sleeve. He respected her boundaries but he could never shake it from his gaze. The last thing she wanted was him to confess. It was a powder keg sat near an open flame and she could only hope for rain.

It was a little past one when Judai finally poked his head into her office. He crept into the room as she slowly raised her head with a scowl firmly planted on her face.
“Where were you?” she asked flatly.
“I know, I know, sorry. I had an exam and there was a delay with transit-oh! But I got you coffee,” he shook the cup in his hand.
“For a class?” she took the cup and gave him a nod. That scowl had vanished like an apparition.
“Yeah, sociology.”
“Really now?”
“Hey! I had to retake it OK?”
“Oh, and we wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”
As he pouted, she replied to him more seriously.
“I’m actually very impressed. A little jealous even.”
As he sat in his usual armchair, he asked, “Well, if you went back to school, what would you aim for?”
“Education. I had planned on it but, well, life got in the way.”
“No-nonsense-Tenjoin a teacher, eh? Those kids would drive you crazy!”
“Maybe a little. Is it really that weird?”
“Nah, serious ain’t all you are.”
“Well…” she gestured for him to continue.
“If I say too much, your head will get bigger.”
She stifled a laugh. “I like my big head, thank you very much.”
“So, any news on the results?”
“Misawa said they would be in around today. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Seriously?! Tenjoin, are you feeling OK?”
“Judai…” she frowned.
“Well, course I’ll come but why the change of heart?”
Taking a sip, she said, “You wanted to so badly before.”
“I still do! I just-it’s weird’s all.”
She glanced towards the clock above her door before standing up. “We should get going.”
He nodded with his hands tucked in his pant pockets.

The sheer child-like glee and wonder that danced across Judai’s face almost made her smile. Almost. She was no-nonsense-Tenjoin after all. She figured if she did, he would just ask her the same questions again. Then it would turn into a frankly embarrassing conversation about feelings and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Besides, he had enough smiles for the both of them.

Sho poked his head out from behind a divider and gave a small “Hey!”
Judai stopped in his tracks. “Have we met before?”
Recognition flashed across his eyes. “Oh! Dr. Banner’s class. I sit in the front row.”
“Yeah! We did a group project together.”
Sho snorted. “We tried to do a group project but someone kept sleeping in.”
“I wasn’t the only one! There was that other guy.”
“But you kept telling us ‘I’ll be there next time for sure.’ Trust was broken that day,” Sho said with an accusatory finger.
Asuka cleared her throat and the two immediately dropped their smiles.
“Right, we’re here on business,” Judai said.
“Oh, the test results! Let me get Misawa.”
They barely had time to respond before he disappeared into the back then just as quickly came out with Misawa, who was holding a small stack of papers.
Handing her a couple pages neatly stapled together, Misawa said, “I think you’ll be happy with what these say.”
She skimmed across the page, flying pass the data, before landing on the conclusion: diethylene glycol. It was poisoned! But next came the tricky part. Was it poisoned before or after the wine was bought? She’d need a list of the wines Murluto bought and some information about the companies’ winemaking. All of it added up to a massive headache for her.
Choosing to think about it more later, Asuka flipped the pages back over and nodded. “Thanks a lot. Great work as always.”
A sigh of relief escaped Sho.
“Well, always glad to hear it,” Misawa replied.
“So, how’s the case looking now?” Judai asked.
She hummed. “More work to do as always.”
“And you wanna get started as soon as possible, I bet.”
“Maybe.”
He laughed. “Right, see you guys later! Nice meeting you.”
“Good luck you two,” Misawa said.
“And let us know if you need anything else!” Sho added.

“Right,” Asuka began once they were back in her office, “I need you to do something for me.”
“Hit me,” Judai said.
“Dan should be sending in his evidence soon and I need you to make sure it gets looked over and put on file. Make notes.”
He opened his mouth to say something but Asuka was ahead of him.
“Yes, I’m lifting your writing ban. But just this once.”
“Seems easy enough.”
“It always does.”
He clicked his tongue. “Right.”
“I’ll be looking into when the wine was poisoned. If all goes well, we should be close to a breakthrough by the end of today.”

She wished she was that close with the case. She still had to figure out who poisoned Murluto’s wine if it was intentional, which meant mountains of paperwork. Then there was finding a wine expert who’d be willing to work with her. And on top of that she was very annoyed she still couldn’t remember where she heard the name Moretti from. Really, she was quite overwhelmed. With only one thing she could get off her plate quickly, she went to the filing room.

It was much more organized than the evidence room: no random boxes opened or bags of evidence shoved into a dark corner. In comparison, there were so many labels here she could cry! Surely some magic was used to keep all the files in the cabinet. There was no other explanation.

Dancing her fingers across the tabs, she finally landed on m. Fred Moretti. Mor. Mor. There! It was relatively small: only a couple pages long with most being taken up by his time in the foster system. She winced at thinking of some of her previous cases. She could guess what it was like. As far as criminals went, Fred Moretti was practically a teddybear. Breaking and entering, trespassing, petty theft. Feeling it a particularly common tangent, Asuka flipped the pages over intending to slide it back into the cabinet and to ultimately forget him, but there under “employment” held a serendipitous occurrence. One which could kill two birds with one stone.

Situated on the outskirts of suburbia, it seemed Fred Moretti had carved a nice, little life for himself. Or he knew a particularly skilled gardener. The smell of cut grass hanged in the air and flowers lined the house. She climbed the stairs and paused a moment before his door. She hadn’t thought as far as she should’ve; what would she do if he panicked? Her knuckles rapped against the door and she had to make a decision. The universe must’ve been kind to her that day for a woman in a neatly ironed dress and Mary Jane’s opened the door.
“Hello,” she said.
“Good day, ma’am. I was wondering if Fred was home?”
“Oh, it’s nothing bad, is it?”
“No, no. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Well, alright,” she didn’t sound very convinced. “I’ll go get him.”
Then there he was in a t-shirt and jeans wiping dust off his hands. He stopped: a frown spreading across his face. He reached for the door knob and Asuka flailed her arms around.
“Wait, I’m not here to arrest you!”
He sighed deeply. “2 minutes, that’s all I’ll give you.”
Stepping away from the doorway, he gestured for her to enter his house. She glanced at the shoes and coats that littered the narrow hallway as she walked into the conjoined living room and kitchen. He stepped into the kitchen and pulled out a chipped glass then hesitated with the other.
“Do you want anything?” he asked.
“Oh, no, thank you,” she said as she sat on the broken-in cushion of the sofa.
There were numerous drawings along the walls: a mix of quite good landscapes dotted with fuzzy people and of those with the wobbly lines of a child. The window beside her was open, letting the clothes line poke through into the warm sun and light breeze. The space reminded her of her old apartment that only seemed to get more cramped whenever she took things out: like it was in a state of perpetual, orderly chaos. Moretti returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and sat across from her on an arm chair.
After a sip he asked, “So, what’s it you want?”
“The case I’m working could use some help. I need to know the winemaking process for these companies,” she fished a list from her coat pocket.
“Right, and I’m the obvious choice,” he raised an eyebrow.
“You do have the experience, inspector.”
He grumbled.
“What if I could clear your record?”
“I guess I could think about it, but what if you double cross me?”
“You’re not much a criminal. Why would I?”
Silently, he sat there. It seemed like the longest self-argument waged inside him. This in and of itself wounded her: the hesitation and fear at helping a police officer. She thought of all the boys she arrested, all the ones that should’ve been in school. They were scared then too. She stayed up late wondering what she could do to prevent more boys like them from getting involved with crime. What could she do for men like Fred, who fidgeted in their seats from years of being assumed guilty? What did it matter if she arrested the right people when the root—the cause—of crime spread further and further outward? She closed her eyes; she wished he would stop fidgeting.
“Fine, I’ll look into it for you. But don’t come here again: I’ll come to you,” he finally said.
She nodded. “Yes, of course and thank you.”
He scrutinized the list. “W-what’s your reason for all this?”
“Well, it’s my job.”
“No, I mean deeper than that. You chased after me the other day; you could’ve made up some story and arrested me for assaulting a cop. You didn’t.”
“You didn’t commit a crime. I don’t think it has to be much deeper than that.”
He chuckled. “Well, fine. Your two minutes is up.”
Standing, she nodded.

Once she was further down the road, she looked back. He was looking at her with a furrowed brow. And she almost couldn't believe herself either.

With the question of the wine out of her hands for the time being, she returned to the station to help Judai. Strangely, a smile found its way to her face. She was happy to see him again for once. Her coworkers had loaded him onto her and yet, he wasn’t a burden at all. Now, she might even call him a friend.

Hunched over Asuka’s desk, Judai was so deep in concentration he didn’t notice her walk in. She tapped him on the shoulder, sending him flying into the air.
“Sorry! You weren’t answering,” she explained.
Catching his breath, he let himself sigh. “I just lost twenty years of my life.”
Her eyes drifted off to the side as she cleared her throat. “Well, anyways, how’re things here?”
“This looks promising,” he handed her a newspaper. “Never went to print for obvious reasons but it’s got a couple photos.”
She flipped through its pages before nodding.
“There’s also this testimony.”
“Someone agreed to appear in court?” she looked the name over and nearly dropped the papers: Dan. He must’ve really trusted them. “I guess that just leaves the wine and maybe making an arrest.”
“Yeah, what happens if Orlando wasn’t poisoned?”
“I-I don’t know. It never crossed my mind. I guess we at least tell his family what happened.”
“But would you keep working it if it turned into charging a winery or something?”
“Maybe?” she sighed. “I don’t know.”
He stared at her. “Really?”
“It’s…been a long case. I’m not feeling too great about being a cop.”
He hummed. “I can see what you’re saying.”
“That’s fine, right?”
“Huh? Course. If you need a break, you need a break,” he beamed.
Why had she been so dismissive of him?
“You don’t have to get me coffee anymore; you know that, right?” she glanced away from him.
“I want to. Unless you’re saying you’ll come with me,” he smirked.
She almost took back all the nice things she thought about him. Almost.
“Maybe. My schedule’s a mess.”
“I’m sure we can fit it in.”
She shook her head with a smile.
A knock came from the door. A look at each other then Asuka made her way over and turned the knob.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Someone’s here to see you,” the receptionist said.

Looking down from under the brim of a Chicago Cubs ball cap was Fred clearly nervous about being at the station. He picked at his nails even as he nodded to her.
“Got the info you wanted,” he said. He handed a stack of papers with crumpled corners to her.
“Wow, wasn’t expecting it to be done so soon,” she said looking it over. Finally someone who could make neat notes!
Judai leaned towards her and whispered, “Ain’t he the guy who ran?”
Asuka shot him a look: her mouth flattening into a line. They would talk about it later.
Scratching his neck, Fred replied, “Ah, well, got time’s all.”
If he noticed their exchange, he made no mention and his demeanour showed no change.
“Thank you. You can go; I won’t hold you up for longer.”
He dipped his cap again then left. As he did, Asuka knew she wouldn’t forget Fred Moretti after all.

Tapping his foot, Judai was starting to get tired of waiting for Asuka to stop looking over everything for the millionth time. He finally put an end to it by placing a hand on the papers in her line of sight.
“Tenjoin, it-it’s fine. You’ve looked over it enough.”
She looked up at him. “But have I?”
He scrunched his face in thought. “Knowing you, it might be too much. Look, have you got a lead?”
“Maybe.”
He gave her a look.
“Okay, yes. Yes, I have a lead.”
“Then let’s go follow it! Where to?”
“Just-” she ran a hand over her face, “slow down, okay?”
“What? Was he poisoned poisoned?”
“Yes, but we should contact Orlando’s wife first and tell her."
“What does she know?”
“That her husband’s dead and the police are looking into it really.”
He clicked his tongue. “Typical.”
“That’s fine, right? Because we can-”
Shaking his head, he looked at her with a smile. “Tenjoin, it’s fine. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Yes, the system sucks but it’s not just up to you to fix. You’re not a superhero.”
“I know but-” she stopped. Could she really tell him? “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
His eyebrows furrowed and she almost folded under his gaze. Then, he pulled her into an embrace. All at once, her thoughts swirled in her mind: everything she wanted to say but didn’t because she was too scared of making him worry. Too scared of getting it wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“It’s alright,” his voice was soft. “We’ll do it together. Whatever happens, it’ll be my fault too. We’re partners, right?”
A chuckle. Then another. Soon, she was giggling. “Yes! Why else are you here?”
“Well…”
“What?”
“We’re friends too, right?”
“Yeah, course,” and her grip tightened so he couldn’t take that as sarcasm.
“Ready to finish this then?” he stepped back and placed a hand on his hip. There was that smile of his again.
She nodded and it felt like a promise.

It was going to be hard; she knew. She told herself that on the ride over to the high rises. It didn’t change the flood of emotions that poured from Maggie Murluto, who wept into her handkerchief at the news. Poisoned! her Orlando? She suspected but to be told so upfront? It knocked her right to the ground before they sat her in a chair. As the tears died down, she began to ask questions.
“H-how’d it happen? Why?”
Asuka took a calming breath. “He was taking money from an offshoot of the mob and investing it in upstart businesses in poor neighbourhoods. Your husband was doing a very kind thing,” she reached her hand out and placed it on top of Maggie’s.
She sniffled then nodded. “Thank you. N-no one would tell me anything for days.”
A squeeze. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for all your work. I have a lot of work to do myself.”
“Yes, it’s a shame,” Asuka said as she stood. “Take care of yourself.”
She nodded and what Asuka thought would’ve been a more explosive display of grief, muffled into a silent, ceaseless ache as the door closed behind them.
“We’re committed?” Judai asked.
“Yup. We could very well be on the verge of apprehending the mob.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he sighed.
“Now, now, we worry once we’re at the station. Right now, I need you to help me figure out our report for the captain.”
“Don’t you just tell him everything that happened? Don’t really think you need me for that.”
“Well…”
He raised an eyebrow.
“It’d be nice to get your input is all.”
He smiled. “Alright. So, what’s next after they’re apprehended?”
“I’m thinking of taking a break.”
“A break? You? ”
This guy!
“Yes. It’s about time I got my teaching license, right?”
“Just what’re you thinking?”
“Like I said: I need a break.”
“And where would you be teaching?” he had a feeling it wasn’t at any school.
“All over? I don’t know.”
He squinted.
“Fine, the redlined neighbourhoods.”
“That’s-” he sighed, “you are so stubborn!”
“They need the help!”
Then he laughed. “You never know when to quit. What about your brother?”
“Maybe I could do both,” she said. “You’d help me, wouldn’t you?”
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed again: deeper this time. “Yeah, course.”
And she couldn’t think of a better partner.