Chapter Text
Yelena. Yelena Belova. Detective. Though, by all official accounts: secretary. The year of 1954 didn’t exactly take kindly to the likes of a woman detective - it was practically unheard of. But the girl was smart. She had a knack for figuring things out, putting the bad guys in jail, and without a shred of credit to her name. She’d solved over forty-two local cases now and the families involved hadn’t a clue of her involvement. When they would come around, she’d sit at the front desk taking calls and puffing on a cigarette. It was a good enough front.
She ran underground, posing as a secretary- secretary to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes to be exact. Also known as her big brother. “Belova” was her professional name (one she hoped to someday use to its full potential) while “Barnes” was the family name. The one James was carrying on. James was a businessman who worked behind the scenes on deals and trading but he was doing his kid sister a favor - standing in as the man so she could do all the real work with these cases. Any other way and the whole operation woulda been shut down. Yelena would have stood out even more as a detective with her accent. Brought to America from Russia when she was ten years old, it was one of the only things she’d held onto. It certainly got her a strange look every now and then but her brother’s clients typically found it “enchanting”, whatever that meant.
The morning of October nineteenth began like any other. The hustle and bustle of those headed to work created colossal jams in the streets. Yelena decided to walk. She arrived in the office first, as she so often did, and began to rustle through the files hidden within her desk. The sight alone was enough to set off her stress headache.
“Quill, Barton, Maximoff…” Yelena muttered, reading the names off of the files as she shuffled them in her hands. All names of people who had hired her (or technically, hired James). Three new cases to sink her teeth into. As she became lost in Maximoff’s alibi, Yelena felt a whack on her head.
She looked up indignantly to see her brother holding a rolled up newspaper just above her head, “Do not hit me with that again, it affects my thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” he retorted, “With what brain?”
James went for another hit but Yelena caught the paper this time. She raised an eyebrow, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who’s the real detective here. You’re just a poster boy.”
She pushed the paper away from her head and returned to reading about Maximoff’s missing brother.
James sat on the side of her desk as he spoke to her. “My goodness. Angry this morning, are we?”
Yelena didn’t look up, “Not angry, just busy.”
James tilted his head at her. He reached out a finger toward her face, “Isn’t twenty-seven a little young to start trying to form worry lines?”
Yelena swatted his hand away before it was able to poke her head, “Don’t you have calls about compost to make or something?”
“Why yes I do,” James confirmed, adjusting his tie, “I’ll be in your office. Hollar if you need me and hey-- lighten up baby sister, you’re stressin' yourself like Dad does.”
And with that, James went into the office behind her and closed the door. Yelena looked over her shoulder. How she wanted to be the one to spend the whole day there. She’d get a hell of a lot more work done on these cases, that was for sure. She turned back around to face forward as she heard the bell on the door jingle. Someone had just come in. As she looked at the man entering, she realized she’d never seen him before. A new case perhaps?
He approached her desk, removing his hat and holding it timidly in his hands. He was tall, unassuming, and handsome. Yelena was good at reading people. Despite his clearly modest nature, there was something instantly alluring about him.
“How do you do?” the man asked at a volume somewhere between regular talk and a whisper, “I’m looking for--”
“Help with a case? You’ve come to the right place, sir,” Yelena set the Maximoff file down.
“I certainly hope so. I looked in all the paper advertisements for someone but I was led here. Sure could use a hand.”
“Well lucky you,” Yelena continued to study the man in front of her and before she knew it, he was the one offering a hand.
“The name’s Robert Reynolds.”
Yelena’s eyes flicked from his hand to his face. No one ever introduced themselves to her here, they only asked to see her brother. Of course, they didn’t realize how much weight her name carried. She took his hand and shook once, “Mr. Barnes will be able to meet with you soon about your case--”
“Well actually, I was hoping to talk to you.”
Yelena let her hand drop back down to her desk. What was this guy’s aim? If this was an ask-out, he was pretty forward about it. He must have recognized the confusion in her face because he quickly began to back track, “I don’t mean that in a strange way. They just say you’re a pretty great detective…you are Yelena Belova, right?”
Yelena’s confusion grew, “Who says that? Who says I am a great detective?”
Robert looked slightly taken aback, “That’s just the word I've heard around, Miss Belova…”
Yelena rose from her seat. What she lacked in height she made up for in presence. She shook her head, “No, no. There is no word. I am just Mr. Barnes’ secretary. Who is telling you these things?”
Robert’s hand came up to the nape of his neck, “You’re awfully defensive about this whole thing.”
Damn it, he was right. Yelena knew it. She lowered herself back down to her chair, still peering at him. Normally her ability to keep cover was much better than this but the utter shock of someone being onto their true business was seeping through.
“Forgive me, Mr. Reynolds. I believed for a moment you thought of me as a fool.”
Robert’s eyebrows furrowed, “How do you mean?”
Yelena opened the desk of her drawer and produced a small box of cigarettes-- she needed one right now, “To say that I could make a career for myself in detective work.” She lit the cigarette and put it in her mouth as Robert brushed her words aside.
“Why not? The world news says we’re close to space travel and robots are already beginning to revolutionize everything-- why couldn’t you do a little digging around for yourself?”
Yelena considered his words as she blew a ring of smoke. It was the truth. The world was changing, but not fast enough. It didn’t make sense that a machine would be more sought after than her. She was already suspicious of the things anyway, “I suppose I could but who would take me seriously?”
“I would. And I do. I’m simply looking for someone with a good reputation to help me. I can’t exactly pinpoint where the rumor came from but it led me to you.”
Yelena took another drag off her cigarette, many a thought racing through her mind. She had to admit, though, it sure felt nice to have someone believe in her. Her best judgement may have run away as she stood once more, “Well Mr. Reynolds, let’s have a little talk in my office.”
...
Yelena left a little sign on her desk reading “On Break” as she and Robert moved into the back office. James was on the phone, in a seemingly casual conversation. He looked up as he saw the pair enter, “I’ll have to call you back, Lonnie.”
A few more chuckles and he hung up the phone. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and addressed Robert, “Hello sir, go ahead and take a seat. I’m Mr. Barnes. My secretary here will be taking minutes of your account." Bucky gave Yelena an expression that was a little more wide-eyed and obvious than he'd probably intended, as if she needed a reminder to take notes.
“He knows I am the detective, James, and if he hadn’t already he would have figured it out by your little expression there. It just screams ‘she is the one who will be using this information.’”
He frowned and folded his arms, “Well, if you don’t want my help just say so.”
Yelena sighed, softening as she came to sit in the seat across the desk from her brother, “I did not mean that. Of course I want your help. I'm only troubled by how some people figured us out…”
She eyed Robert who was sitting down in the seat next to her. He awkwardly shrugged, “Just going off what the people are sayin'…”
James looked between them, maybe trying to read what both were thinking, but he wasn’t the detective so he didn’t bring any thoughts to light.
Yelena brushed aside what Robert said. The repeat didn’t make it any easier to understand. Better to focus on solving whatever his problem was before tackling that one, “What brings you here, Mr. Reynolds?”
He nodded slightly, preparing himself for a recount, “Well, I’m a schoolteacher. I teach first grade on the Upper East Side and a fellow teacher of mine is missing. Antonia Smith. Has been for three days. Not a trace and what’s weirder is she has no one looking for her. No family. I had to call the police.”
A victim with no family begging for their return. Yelena had seen it a few times before. It was tragic but it definitely made the kind of crimes where someone disappears easier to commit.
“That’s real sad,” James spoke the words they were all thinking out loud.
Robert nodded, “It is. I feel awful. We all saw her go home on Friday and then Monday rolls around and she’s missing in action. My boss tried to call but she wouldn’t pick up. The landlord said she’d be gone since Friday morning. He figured she’d gone on vacation. But…she never came home.”
Yelena tilted her head slightly, “Your boss did not call the police?”
Robert hesitated, “I guess not. Said it was my job.”
James then asked, “Why would it be your job?”
Robert turned to look him in the eyes. Was there a slight hint of tears in their corners? Yelena could see so even from the side. The distress on his face was abundantly clear. “Because,” he took a shaky breath, as if afraid he might be shot on the spot, “I was the last person to see her alive.”