Golden Cats.

One of the most popular bars in the city. It was our go-to spot to unwind, with a mix of alcohol and nearly naked women—though that part didn’t exactly appeal to Jane. She was more about the drinks. I’d heard she had a rough past, but now she was doing better, keeping it to just a couple of beers a week. On the other hand, James was a different story—half a dozen whiskeys couldn’t even faze him.

The bar was a neon spectacle. At the far end was a cylindrical platform encased in glass, projecting a hologram of a woman dancing on a pole. The Golden Cats didn’t have windows or even traditional light bulbs; the only illumination came from a massive holographic tree in the center of the room. Its glowing blue and pink branches shimmered with startling realism, swaying with the faintest breeze caused by passing patrons. Leaves would occasionally drift down, dissolving before they hit the floor. That tree always stirred something in me—a strange, unplaceable nostalgia.

“Dead man talking,” James muttered, swirling his beer. “Crazy world.”

“Right?” Jane exhaled a puff of smoke, nodding. “What a weirdo that Jacob is… was.”

We were seated at a table near the hologram tree, close enough to feel its faint hum. James and Leo nursed glasses of West Antapolis Red, a bitter beer, while I sipped on cherry vodka. Jane had opted out of drinking, settling instead for her usual cigarette.

The square table bore its fair share of history—scratched messages like ‘X was here!’ or ‘Suck a cock, cuck!’ stood out among the scrawls. These were remnants of the bar’s earlier days, before the current owner, a no-nonsense Frenchwoman, took over. Nowadays, even an accidental scratch could get you booted out… or worse.

“Still can’t get over that laptop exploding,” Leo said, shaking his head. “What kind of paranoid lunatic rigs their laptop like that?”

“A desperate one,” Jane replied, taking another drag. “But it’s not just him. The forensics team barely touched the thing. That message wouldn’t have triggered if they’d actually done their jobs. Feels like sabotage.”

“What can we do?” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. “Not much.”

“Exactly,” she muttered, blowing out smoke. “Not much.”

Behind me, the bar counters stretched along the wall in a reverse ‘U’ shape. They were made entirely of reinforced glass, styled like an aquarium. Inside, fish swam aimlessly, illuminated by soft blue lights that did little to brighten the room but made for a striking display. I’d once seen those counters withstand a shotgun blast at point-blank range—this place didn’t mess around.

“So,” James began, furrowing his brow, “we figured out what the glue was for. But what about the wine?”

“Yeah,” Leo chimed in. “You said his hand smelled like wine too, right?”

I nodded. “His girlfriend said he didn’t drink, though.”

“The autopsy will tell us if he had alcohol in his system,” Jane added. “We’ll know by tomorrow.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, interrupting the conversation. I pulled it out to see my mom’s name on the screen. She was probably wondering why I wasn’t home yet—I’d forgotten to tell her about the new case. She was an ex-cop, though. I knew she’d understand.

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“Hey, Mom,” I answered. “What’s up?”

“Cratehalaña! Why aren’t you home yet?”

“New case,” I explained. “It’s that guy—the one ripping out hearts and heads.”

“God punish him,” she muttered. “Where are you? I hear music.”

“Golden Cats,” I replied. “Leo, James, and Jane are with me.”

“Say hi to them for me,” she said.

“Mom says hi, guys,” I relayed, taking a sip of my drink. “You’re okay, right? Taking your meds?”

“Yes, Cratehalaña. I’m fine,” she assured me. “When will you be home?”

“An hour, maybe. Not sure.”

“I’ll be waiting. Let me know if anything happens, okay?”

“Yup,” I said. “See you.”

After hanging up, Jane flicked ash from her cigarette and leaned forward. “Hey, weren’t you talking about getting your mom an eye implant? Whatever happened with that?”

“The price went up,” I said, setting my phone down. “I could afford one now, but it’d be low-quality. I’m saving for Jiruha implants—they’re supposed to be the best.”

My phone rang again. Thinking it was my mom, I grabbed it, but the name on the screen made my stomach drop—Helion. He never called this late unless it was something important. James, Leo, and Jane perked up as they noticed the name, their expressions shifting to alert curiosity. I hesitated, already sensing bad news was one tap away.

“Cap?” I answered, putting the phone on speaker.

“C,” Helion’s voice came through, tense and clipped. “We’ve got problems.”

“What is it?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Jacob’s brother is refusing to allow the autopsy,” he said.

“Refusing? Why?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” Helion replied. “I sent you his address. Look, I can’t officially tell you to ‘pressure’ or ‘force’ him, but…”

“I understand,” I interrupted, nodding. “We’ll handle it. I’ll call you back when we know more.”

“Appreciate it. Good luck,” he said before the line disconnected.

I stared at my half-finished cherry vodka, the weight of the situation settling in. We needed that autopsy. If Jacob’s brother refused, it could only mean one of two things: he had something to hide, or he was caught up in some religious nonsense. Either way, we had to intervene. Without the autopsy, we’d have no answers—no way to confirm if the wine was in Jacob’s system, or whether his heart and head were removed before or after death.

James shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath. Leo leaned back, rubbing his eyes. Jane lit another cigarette, the glow briefly illuminating her exhausted expression.

I caught myself fantasizing about going home—eating a warm meal, taking a long bath, and collapsing into bed. But now, we were headed straight into more chaos.

“Fuck his brother,” James muttered darkly. “Bet he’s the murderer. Let’s just bring him in.”

Jane groaned, resting her head on the table. “I was this close to passing out in bed. Now we have to deal with this asshole?”

“Where’s his house?” Leo asked, turning to me. “Cap sent you the details, right?”

I checked the message on my phone. “Yeah… he works as a security guard at a—wait. A wine factory?”

All three of them sat upright, their eyes widening.

“Wine factory?” Leo repeated, incredulous.

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “The smell on Jacob’s hand... it makes sense now. We might find more than just his brother there.”

“Then let’s go,” James said, standing up and tossing some bills onto the table.

Leo grabbed his coat, muttering, “This better not be another dead end.”