24

Nairo hunched under her umbrella, the collars of her coat pulled up tight to her face, as she waited. She had been following Manny all morning, and it was starting to wear on her. The theatre director was a surprisingly early starter. He was out of his small rented accommodation above a dressmaker’s in the Goblin quarter before most of the cabs had even started. Despite being a rotund man, he insisted on walking everywhere. His towering height made him easy to follow, at least. He had visited a small patisserie, then a cobbler’s, then a dressmaker’s, before settling in for a midmorning coffee. Nairo had shadowed him every step of the way. She was forced to lurk in alleys and hide behind bushes while she waited for him to conduct his business. So far, nothing had happened that made her soaking wet feet worth it.

Their background check on Manny had provided nothing either. Nairo had Conway run him through the police records, and nothing important had come back. Once, when he was nineteen, he was arrested for drunk and disorderly, and then a couple of years later he had picked up a minor possession charge. Other than that, the man was clean.

Nairo watched him sipping his coffee and felt an uncharacteristic amount of vitriol for him. Maybe it was his stupid hair, all sticking up at odd angles, or his fat wobbly cheeks, or the idiotic little pointed moustache he had. Manny was a literal mountain of a Human. He had to be over six and a half feet tall and so fat that his arms and legs looked disproportionately small. As did his feet. They were almost comically small, and he insisted on wearing shiny loafers that click clacked with his every step. Even the way he sipped his coffee made Nairo want to punch him. He was drinking from a tiny cup, taking exaggerated sips, with his pinky finger sticking straight out. He was like a caricature, but of what Nairo wasn’t sure. Despite her distaste for the man, he hadn’t yet done anything that might suggest he was up to something.

Manny waved the waiter over with a flamboyant gesture and then exchanged some words before giving out a little piggy snort. He dropped a coin on the table and blew a kiss to the staff behind the counter before exiting the shop. Nairo sank back into the shadows of the alley she was lurking in, thankful for the grey skies and dreary rain. Fortunately, Manny’s size and the fact that he was carrying a bright pink umbrella, made him easy to follow from an inconspicuous distance. He stopped and hailed a cab. Nairo quickly ran across the street and hailed her own cab.

“Where to marm?” The sopping wet driver asked.

“Follow that cab!” Nairo said, hopping in, glad to be out of the rain.

Manny’s cab made its way up the arterial broadways of the boroughs and into the city proper. It took about twenty minutes to fight through the sluggish traffic before he was dropped outside the Valderia Bank. Nairo’s heart skipped a beat when she alighted from her own cab and looked up at the imposing white stone building. She hadn’t been back here since their last case, when she had still been a copper. Nairo watched Manny waddle up the steps to the bank. She looked across the street and saw a small cafe with covered outside seating. She crossed the road, ordered a black coffee, and watched the bank.

An hour passed. Nairo had drunk two coffees and reread all of her notes from the case. Finally, just as the rain eased up, she saw Manny come storming out of the bank. Nairo flitted back across the street just in time to see Manny hail a cab.

“The Umbry theatre!” he barked in his oddly squeaky voice.

He had a thunderous look on his face. His round cheeks were bright red and spittle flecked his rubbery lips. He lumbered into the cab and rode away. Nairo hesitated. What had got him so angry? She looked up at the bank and then the retreating cab. Chances were if he was going to the theatre, he would be there for some time. She could pop into the bank and then follow him after. Nairo skipped up the steps and walked into the bustling bank. Life had returned to the bank since the last time she had visited. People had short memories, and the bank had worked hard to repair its reputation after losing a priceless Diamond and having to fire their previous manager for being a degenerate gambler. Nairo walked across the lobby and looked around. No one out here seemed to have witnessed a shouting match, so she had to assume Manny had been in a private room somewhere.

“Sergeant!” A bubby voice called to her.

Nairo turned around to see a young blonde secretary with a beaming smile sitting behind the main desk.

“Isabelle,” Nairo said with a smile of her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Sergeant!”

“Please call me Sally, I’m not with the police anymore.”

Isabelle had assisted them in their missing Diamond case. She had worked for the previous bank manager Zimeon De Woolf and had been crucial in helping them to try and locate him.

“Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t because of that missing Diamond thing,” Isabelle said, lowering her voice and looking around.

“Only partly,” Nairo answered. “How have you been?”

“Good. I got a promotion to senior secretary.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks. Do you have an account with us?”

“Oh, I’m here on a case, actually.”

“I thought you weren’t with the police anymore?”

“I’m not. I’m a private investigator now.”

“Oh wow, with that other guy, what was his name…”

“Ridley. Yes, we’re partners.”

“Amazing!” Isabelle said, flashing her another award-winning smile.

“In fact, you might be able to assist me, if that’s okay?”

“Anything for you, Sar… Sally.”

“That man that just walked out of here. The large guy with the silly hair.”

“Oh Mr. Litteragi,” Isabelle said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, him. Could you tell me what he was doing here?”

“Oh… I don’t know Sally, that is kind of confidential.”

“You don’t have to give me details, just a jist of what it was about.”

Isabelle scrunched up her lips and nose and then looked around to make sure no one was listening.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“He was meeting with Ms. Maple, she’s head of debt management,” Isabelle whispered.

“He has loans out with the bank?”

“Lots,” Isabelle mouthed the word.

“And he’s behind?”

Isabelle nodded.

“He comes in, maybe once a month, with all these big stories and plans about how his troupe is going to hit the big time. The bank entertained him while he was doing all of those big tours, but then the gold never appeared. And now Lana LaRue has passed…” She paused and looked to the heavens. “The bank is recalling all of his debts.”

“And that means?”

“He could lose everything.”

Nairo nodded thoughtfully.

“One last question, do you know how long he’s had these loans for?” Nairo asked.

“Oh gosh, I don’t have access to that sort of information, but he's been coming in since I started working here."

"And the bank have let him get away with it for that long?" Nairo asked.

"Mr. Litteragi is a well known man, and a lot of people have either stepped in for him or made assurances on his behalf. But when payday arrives, he never turns up.”

“Thank you Isabelle, you’ve been really helpful.”

“My pleasure, Sally. Say hi to Ridley for me.”

“I will do.”

*

“Did she say hi or like… hi?”

“She said hi, Ridley.”

“Do you think I’ve got a shot?”

Nairo paused and gave this some serious thought.

“No, she’s out of your league.”

“Says you.” Ridley pouted and went back to his work.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all day while I’ve been drowning out in the rain following that mountain of gloop?” Nairo said, looking at the random screwed up pieces of paper with scribbles all over them.

Ridley rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“These are the dates we found at Quinn's,” Ridley said.

“I can see that,” Nairo replied as she hung up her dripping coat and tousled her wet hair.

“And these are the dates from LaRue’s last tour,” he said, pointing at another scrap of paper.

“Right?”

“They don’t make sense.”

“Why?”

“Because, LaRue wasn’t in Valderia for half of these.”

Nairo bent over the desk and looked at the scribble dates.

“This half she was,” Ridley said. “But the second lot of dates, she was on tour.”

“And I’m guessing Quinn didn’t make a quick intercity tour to meet her.”

“Fat chance, Quinn didn’t even like going up North, let alone leaving the city.”

“And you’re sure these dates are meeting times?” Nairo asked.

“They have to be. Quinn kept records of every meeting with clients, except those pages were ripped out of his diary, remember?”

Nairo nodded.

“So why else would he have those exact missing months stashed away unless they were important meetings?”

“Makes sense,” Nairo said, pulling Quinn’s diary towards her and thumbing through until she reached the missing dates. “It looks like they match up. So who was Quinn meeting if it wasn’t Lana LaRue about her stalker?”

“Remember what Eliza told us?” Ridley said. “Quinn came to Lana. What if this case he was working in these missing months made him think that Lana was in danger?”

“So he went to warn her?”

“And maybe whoever he was working for didn’t want Lana to be warned?”

“So they killed Quinn?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s possible. Or perhaps he was investigating the same person who killed Lana. I mean, why would a murderer hire Quinn?”

“I dunno,” Ridley said, sitting back and crossing his arms, scowling furiously at the papers. “I wish the old man hadn’t been so paranoid. He could have at least left me a letter or something to explain all this crap.”

“If he hadn’t been so paranoid, he probably wouldn’t have made copies of these dates and hidden them,” Nairo said. “And besides, take it as a compliment; he obviously thought you were smart enough to figure it out.”

“Well at least you can’t disappoint the dead,” Ridley said moodily. “How did you get on?”

“Looks like our boy Manny is in big time debt to Valderia bank,” Nairo said, sitting down on the edge of Ridley’s desk. “He had a meeting with them this morning and he left in a right huff. Isabelle reckons they’re recalling his long standing debts now that LaRue is dead. They don’t think he can maintain the troupe and pay them back.”

“Which throws even more doubt on the idea of him killing her,” Ridley said, still sulking with his arms crossed. “He would have known without her the troupe was bankrupt. And with that much debt… it would be stupid to kill her for any reason.”

“She was leaving. If he found out about it and confronted her and she told him it was true. He could have flown into a rage. Knowing how much debt he has, he could have just snapped,” Nairo said.

“And then what? Carefully planned and staged a murder to look like an overdose?” Ridley said. “When people snap, they usually grab the first heavy thing to hand and go to town.”

“True,” Nairo conceded.

“And besides, if he killed her, why kill Quinn?”

“Maybe Quinn found out?”

“If Quinn found out that fucker would have been in cuffs that day. The only way it makes sense is if Quinn found out, didn’t tell anyone, and then let Manny know that he knew.”

“Blackmail?”

“Quinn wouldn’t do that,” Ridley said darkly.

“Then you’re right, it doesn’t make sense.” Nairo said, sighing. “Just… my gut tells me this guy is no good.”

“Well we already know he’s a scumbag,” Ridley said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”

Nairo flopped into her chair behind her desk and kneaded her eyes.

“We just need something,” Nairo said in frustration. “Some proof that LaRue was murdered, then we could go after him.”

“How are we going to prove that?” Ridley said. “Everyone thinks she OD’d.”

“What if we could prove she was poisoned?” Nario said.

“How?”

“They can test for stuff like that,” Nairo said. “The coroner’s have tests they can do for substances.”

“You think your mate Drake would do that?”

“If I ask nicely,” Nairo replied.

“And gave him a bag of blood.”

“Not the vamp stuff again,” Nairo said, rolling her eyes. “If they haven’t done the autopsy yet, we could get him to screen for any foreign substances.”

“Including Burn?” Ridley asked.

“She wasn’t on Burn.”

“Exactly,” Ridley said. “If we can prove she wasn’t using, that strengthens our argument.”

“Good idea,” Nairo said. “I’ll contact him today.”

“Here, this will make you laugh,” Ridley said, throwing a comm scroll at her.

“What is it?”

“Conway sent another comm after you asked him to run fatty’s name through the records. I told him all about Manny’s proclivities and what he does to the girls so he gave us a name to follow up on.”

Nairo unrolled the scroll.

“Tommy Plumb?” she read. “Who’s that?”

“Some snitch who part times as a pimp and pornographer,” Ridley said.

“And why is that funny?”

“Coz of who’s snitch he is.”

“Who?”

“Your mates.”

“Edgewater and Washbottom?”

Ridley nodded with a grin.

“They’re detectives and now they’ve got snitches? Maybe we were wrong about those two.” Nairo said.

“Not a chance,” Ridley said, hopping up and grabbing his coat. “Come on Sarge, let’s go see the Vampyr then pay the Wally Washbottom's pimp a visit.”