“I’m not telling you anything.” Frank paused to think about this. “Not like last time though, can’t hurt me here.”
The small chair beneath Grugg cried out as it strained underneath the cyclops while he tried to get comfortable. “Huh?”. He had forgotten he would have to hang his jacket somewhere after he had taken it off and held it awkwardly, looking for somewhere to stow it.
“I said I am not telling you anything.” Said through clenched teeth; the wait for the Detective had already seemed to have grated on the bandit leader’s nerves.
“Oh. Will be short interrogation then.” Grugg grinned and dropped his folded jacket on the floor next to his chair and hoped that Claudia would never find out.
[Want me to start feeding you things to bring up?]
The Detective nodded, flexing out his arms and twisting his wrists to loosen them up in an effort to mask his confirmation to the hat-bound wizard. He paused briefly before continuing, as Bart led him along with the key points.
“Previously, you had admitted to being a Nightshade boss, correct?”
“I don’t remember saying that.” Frank turned his head away from the cyclops and probably would have crossed his arms had they not been restrained with the magic-nullifying shackles behind his back.
“Grugg has witnesses. Assistant, Bar-man, and probably some of your men that got beat up.”
The Nightshade boss grunted but said nothing, still staring at the wall. His jaw was clenched, and he looked annoyed despite his air of disinterest.
[Looks like he wants to give us the silent treatment, and we can’t really pin the bar fight on him. So we’ll have to go with some heavier-hitting questions to shake him up.]
Grugg cleared his throat as the wizard switched their line on enquiry. “What was Frank doing under stinky warehouse?”
“It’s my new holiday home.” The sarcasm was sharp, but blunted by the dense skull of the Detective, who turned his head quizzically and nodded.
Rustling around in his sack, the cyclops brought out a small object. The sound of the small stone being placed on the table filled the otherwise silent room, and Grugg pushed the Message Stone closer to the suspect. “Who does this call?”
The Nightshade leader took a quick side glance at the object before looking away again. “Just calls my ma; she wanted to make sure I was settling in fine.”
Grugg leaned his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his palms. “Huh. Is Franks ma big gambler?” The question seemed innocent enough, and sure enough, was delivered with a smile. But the furrowed brow on the bandit was enough to know the fish was biting.
“What?”
“Oh, is just your ma has odd name…” The Detective let the end of the sentence drag out, not wanting to fill the gap with anything but the man’s discomfort and anxiety.
“Y-you are talking nonsense again. I think that should be the end of the questions; you are obviously just wasting my time, not to mention the good Captain’s resources where he could be-”
With the grin fading from his face, Grugg withdrew a folded envelope from the sack, and in an effort to stop Frank’s slew of excuses, he slapped it down on the table. The cyclops kept his hand on top of the creased paper and glared coldly at the detainee.
“What-what, that’s… that’s not anything. You couldn’t have…” The Shadow of Helpart gulped, visually uncomfortable in his own skin as he started to sweat.
“Grugg is good Detective, and Frank has loose lips. And drawers.”
The man practically jumped in his chair and tried to squirm away. “Uh, uh, Captain? I’m done with question time now. Let me out!” His panicked cries towards the emotionless mirror on the wall drew no response.
The cyclops sighed and shook his head, a theatric advised by the wizard, but effective nonetheless. “Imagine, Frank, if Don Kean had eyes or ears in this room. Boss is nosey everywhere, right?” He paused for the man to nod his fearful agreement. “Imagine, Frank, if Grugg reads out this letter and other Nightshade bosses hear.”
If it were possible for the bandit to be any paler, he would have to be a literal ghost. And judging by the reaction to the implication that the cyclops had been alluding to - being a ghost would probably be a lot preferable to the alternative. He was clammy and tongue-tied, and his imagination was running much further than he was capable of currently.
Grugg savored the power just words had, although part of him realized that this was still a threat, just a little more clever than his usual shtick. He would have definitely flubbed this up without Bart guiding him, but now that the Nightshade boss had taken the bait, he needed to be reeled in. So that he could be clobbered with something heavy, as was the cyclops experience of fishing. Figuratively clobber him anyway, unfortunately.
“Maybe Grugg can keep this to himself,” he smoothly started pulling the envelope towards his sack before stopping. “If…”
“If w-what?” Frank’s eyes darted wildly, trying to seek out the answer, a get-away-free-from-consequences card.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The Detective bit his tongue to avoid saying anything silly unprompted before gathering his composition. “Have to help Grugg and the good Captain with some questions. Honest answers only.”
“And you’ll keep me safe?”
“Sure.” The Detective shrugged, not knowing if that was a thing he could offer. If the Nightshade leader didn’t want the letter getting out, he wasn’t sure if he would answer some of the wizard-provided questions. But the man might also just be too worried and comply.
“Okay, then… I will cooperate.” Frank’s head hung in resignation as the sweat from his brow dripped onto his lap.
“Question one. Explain Shadow to Grugg.”
[That’s not what I said - that isn’t even a question.]
“Oh, err. It’s a Shade that is under my control, magically. I ‘lent’ it to Reggie to make you think he was the boss so that I could hide out for a bit. I can use it to teleport occasionally, but it doesn’t last long either in bright light or if it is away from me for too long.”
The words fell like a waterfall, seemingly now over-eager to provide as much information as he possibly could. Grugg felt that the wizard would find it all much more interesting than he did, but it did explain some of the weirdness over the attack on Gregor, and Frank’s hideout under the warehouse. Satisfied enough, he relented over to the questions Bart had.
“Question two. Did you kill Bart? Er, Barth-Barthélemy Béraud?” The long form of the wizard's name tumbled awkwardly from his mouth, accents and all. He was getting a little better at it, though.
Frank paused momentarily, with a glance towards the held envelope. “No… I was supposed to, though, but it looks like he had some accident on the mountain. I had borrowed a couple of Don Kean’s men to track him down.”
The cyclops screwed his nose up, nodding at the tale. For certain, he had been the accident that befell the now hat-bound arcane user. He had a small hope that it was at least a quicker and more painless death than poisoning would have been. Instead, all he could remember was the brief crunch of… no, he shook his head and focused on the voice directing him.
“Why was very smart wizard’s death declared poison then?”
“I… was stupid. The boss told me what to do; if it came out he died naturally, then I would get no reward for it.” The Nightshade leader looked dejected now and slunk back in his chair, head still low.
“But why have to kill very nice, friendly Bart?”
Frank shrugged, his restraints rattling behind him against the chair. “All I know is what is in that letter. Just a nose the boss wanted me to snip off.”
“So, don’t know who killed Harlan?”
“Never heard the name before, no. If it was a Nightshade, then it wasn’t one from this area.”
[That is unfortunate. I was hoping for sure for a better connection.]
“Can you tell Grugg where boss is?” he enquired as he tapped the envelope.
“I’ve never met them in person,” the bandit closed his eyes and sighed, “Don Kean or one of the others might know. I was never trusted or seen as important enough.”
[It looks like we will have to go through the other underlings to get to Blackjack. We should find out about the other three from him.]
“Five little bosses in Helpart, remember?” Grugg recalled the previous information dump from the thug back at the tavern. “Who are other three?”
“Each of us had a different role to play in the overall organization. For example, I deal with smuggling and contraband. Don Kean is information and spying. The others I have not met and only know their codenames.” He let out another deep sigh as he resigned himself to fully outing his former associates. “There’s Silverfang, who is in charge of infiltrating the town's institutions and putting Nightshade puppets in. Also Gravestone, he runs some underground activities, racketeering, and illegal gambling - all the money makers. The last is Dogman, he is reasonably new, and they never told me what he does; I was starting to assume he would be replacing me…” He trailed off, glancing at the mirrored wall.
[Gravestone sounds like it is Harold. To think that miserable old codger is a Nightshade agent…]
Grugg was too busy trying not to laugh at the name Dogman. He could easily imagine that on a tavern sign, with a picture of a man with a dog’s head. Or a dog with a man’s head, hah! But then, if there were ratfolk like Gregor, maybe there were dogfolk in the world too. They probably wouldn’t nickname themselves Dogman though; that would be way too obvious.
“You’re going to keep me safe, right?” Frank pleaded. “There could be operatives in this Guard headquarters.”
It had at some point crossed Grugg’s mind that the Captain could be a Nightshade boss… and with his small tusks, Silverfang could almost fit… But on the other hand, the Captain had given him the badge, and if he almost died to the Shadow gang the other night, then he was pretty dedicated to his cover. In fairness, he was a hairs width away from assuming anyone was a Nightshade boss except for himself, Gregor, and Claudia.
[I don’t think I have anything further to ask. I am pretty burned out from the experience, if I am honest. It gives us a base to plan from in our meet-up tomorrow, though.]
Grugg nodded at Bart, which Frank took as confirmation of his question.
[We should hand over our evidence to the Captain, or at least the poison bottle and envelope.]
The Detective stood as he scooped his jacket off the floor, the chair grinding against the hard wood but relieved to be free of the weight of the cyclops. “No further questions.” He leaned down close to the man, his large eye level with Frank's. “For now.”
As he approached the door, it unlocked for him, with Patson appearing as it swung open. With a nod, he allowed the cyclops to pass before locking it behind them both. Back in the observation room, the Captain was leaned back in his chair with a wide grin on his face.
“Well done, Detective. To think you had not done that before, it was most impressive. May I?” He gestured towards the sack containing the evidence.
Grugg passed him the letter, which the half-orc read with wide eyes. Wanu took extra time, in silence, to read it thoroughly a second time to make sure he absorbed all the information. The Detective looked over through the mirror at Frank, who had his head down on the table.
[He is deep in it no matter what he did. A target is on his back, and I do hope they can keep him safe here.]
“This is… interesting,” the Captain finally announced, “We knew of these persons of interest, but their names were never alluded to. And now we know all five operatives, the area boss, and even this Lord X - silly name, by the way - who may be the head honcho of the whole outfit.”
“One of them is Dogman.” Grugg reiterated, fully knowing the Captain had heard everything.
“You’ll have to come to my office, Detective; we have some things to discuss.” Wanu got to his feet with a minor grunt and led the way to the door.
“Oh, and Patson,” he continued, turning back to the Guard. “Cast Frank into the Abyss.”