Chapter Text
The door to Logico's house swung open with all the force of a gentle breeze in an empty field. Sheer exhaustion radiated from the body of the great deductive, trudging through the door and collapsing in a heap onto the sofa with a sigh and resigned pride. Another case solved, another culprit locked away. For how long? Logico gave it two days, the police force was incompetent at best and actively breaking murderers out at worst.
Not to worry, he could already hear Irratino say in response, they'd likely relapse and kill again. That's what always happened. How many times had he been at the scene of Dame Obsidian's crimes, watching the officers cuff her and put her in their car only to see her freely walking the next day, a new mystery novel about to make its debut? Too many times. Which is to say more than zero. Just one would be bad, but he had lost count after the fifth time.
At least this latest one wasn't related to her. It was a fairly standard mystery, one of the guards at the cinema had been killed and the suspect was caught in an obvious lie. All just as the film he and Irratino were due to see was approaching its slot. Luckily, the murder had skipped past the trailers and 3 minutes of company logos. For a Midnight Movie, it was alright. Slight criticism: the twist was so predictable, he got the killer as soon as the body appeared on screen. He had squeezed Irratino's hand to let him know just as the inspector had squeezed his in return. Once again, they had tied. Once again, they were reminded of how they were a perfect match. Even if Logico disbelieved his magicks and marots and maybe even his affection towards the deductive…
Oh, speak of the devil…
Logico felt the bounce of the sofa accommodate Irratino sitting beside him, head resting on his shoulder, the welling worries draining in an instant. For a brief second, Logico allowed himself to relax back into him, and for that brief second the world was good. The moon hung low outside, and after the loud and chaotic finale of the film and the whirring of sirens from outside the theatre (both from the crime at the cinema and on the road heading to who-knows-where), they were both ready for a night in with no other great events to contend with. The quiet between them was blissful, with no need for stray words or excessive actions. Just a simple, calming break from the chaos.
Irratino got up first, quick to change into something more comfortable, following whatever esoteric madness made him so fine to Logico, leaving the deductive all alone. He didn't want to move. Even as the brim of his hat tipped further down his face, and the label of his jacket scratched at his side, he didn't want to do anything more than rest.
He could've fallen asleep there, perfectly content, when piercing screech of his phone cut through the silence like the nothingness it was..
A call? Logico thought, At this hour? He looked at the number. Unfamiliar… how odd.
In his best "I am absolutely not planning on heading to bed right now, it's only 8PM" voice, he answered with a "Hello, Deductive Logico speaking."
An equally unfamiliar voice, rather cold and clipped. "May I speak to Pewter?"
Logico froze at the name. Pewter. Who would… Why would anyone want to call him? Or call him that? He thought the name was dead and discarded. Pewter should be, at least, officially.
"Hello?" The stranger asked, a twinge of annoyance coming through. "May I speak to Pewter?"
"Um, yeah, sorry. I didn't expect to hear that name again." Logico cleared his throat. He paused for a moment, debating the lie of telling the voice that Pewter had died a long time ago or perhaps that they had the wrong number, before conceding. "That's not my name, not anymore. Please, call me Logico."
"I see. Logico." He could hear rustling of paper and the scribbling of pen, as the person sighed. "What an odd name…"
"Pardon?"
"Never mind." Silence. "Are you sitting down?"
"Yes… why?"
"This news might be distressing towards you, Pew- I'm sorry, Logico. You see, we found a body-"
"I see those everyday at work." Logico cut in, perhaps a little more curt than he would've liked, but at this point he was getting annoyed. First they call him by that name, the one he had so eagerly shed, and now they were wasting his time?
"That's not what I mean. We need you to identify the body. We have a hunch, but we don't have anyone else to do it."
"What do you mean?"
"You're his only next of kin." A pause. Did the voice expect a response? Logico racked his head, trying to work out if he should talk or not, ask who he needed to identify and if it was really necessary. The voice sighed, not out of resignation or anger, but guilt and sorrow. It piped up, clearly tired of waiting on Logico to make the right move.
"We believe the body is that of your father."
Him.
The room's temperature dropped immediately, blurring from view. It took every muscle in Logico's body to not drop the phone, each one burning away trying desperately to keep him from freezing over. His eyes unfocused, everything in the room becoming a blur.
He… was dead?
Now, this might sound like he was upset. He was, but not about his father being dead.
"I refuse to see him again."
Even if it was a misunderstanding, another man murdered in his place, to be the one to to confirm your own father's death was far too intimate for someone who should've been cut out as soon as possible. He hadn't moved miles away, changed his name, reworked his entire frame of mind, gone through everything at deduction college, met the one, moved on all for nothing. For it all to lead to the point of him being the one to declare his death. To Logico, he had died as soon as he was kicked out.
The cessation of his heartbeat and brain stem was just the formalities.
And Logico did not care for formalities. Nor did he care much for revenge anymore. He was content at leaving it at the phone call.
The operator on the other end, though, had different plans. In between his circling thoughts, the faint murmur of someone talking on the line to someone else in the room was ever present, before handing the call over. More than that, once heard clearly this voice was familiar. One who Logico was surprised to hear, given the middle man.
"Logico?"
"Officer Copper?"
"Oh wow, it really is you. Didn't realise you came from Blackthorne."
"Copper, I have seen you arrest people for their murders there. Twice."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I knew you came from here. Anyway, that's not the point. You're a detective, right?"
"Deductive, actually…"
"Ah, tomayto tomahto. Lookie here, we have a murder. You're a detective deductive whatective, what-of-it. You come here and solve the crime, and we'll give you a reward. Sound good?"
It was a deception, obviously. The first thing she would do was pull him aside and make him see his father's corpse. But the reward…
"What kind of reward?" He couldn't help but ask.
"Oh, you know. What you're owed as part of the will. And lots of money on top of it."
Ack, his one weakness: Money. Ignoring the will (Logico was certain there was no will that man would make, let alone one bearing his name), the idea of money had always tantalised him. Perhaps it was the town's own struggle for money bleeding through to his upbringing, or perhaps the idea of trying to match Irratino's wealth, but money had always been attractive to him. If he earns next week's meals through his father's death, then it would be the only good thing he'd ever done.
Logico knew the scales were stacked, and in part resignation, part greed clouding his rationality, he nodded. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow." With a click, the phone was turned off, leaving him staring into the black mirror.
Easy as per always… he was tempted to throw it at the wall in disgust and frustration. Watch it crack against the bookcase or perhaps the desk, shattering against the tiles on the ground rendering it useless and malformed. To never be used again.
That old life, that deadbeat town, that… him, surely Logico wasn't going to actually do it, right? Could he even do it, stand in the place where his father once stood and declare someone guilty of the only crime he would be ecstatic to play out himself? Surely they should receive the reward, not him. Right?
Maybe that was going too far. But even with the money, could he face it all? Logico hadn't noticed when he stood up, nor when he had began pacing the room. But now, pacing around in circles was the only thing stopping him from losing his mind.
"So, another case tomorrow?" The voice behind him came with a jump from the deductive. He hadn't noticed Irratino re-entering the room, taking his place on the sofa and watching his partner make a fool of himself. He didn't wait for Logico to answer, before eagerly springing up. "Well, where is it? I need to consult the marot, maybe double check the horoscopes, oh! And I can't forget trying to see if I can finally lucid dream that-"
"No… just, stop." Logico hadn't the energy to argue, nor the ability to refuse his delight. Someone needed to be happy, and god forbid if it wasn't the nicest person he knew.
Irratino tiled his head, puzzle washing over his pretty face. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, just… tired. We've got quite the drive tomorrow."
He could only hope the nightmares wouldn't crush his soul this time around.