The casino had not been kind to Apollo’s patience, he had wandered around, inspecting every worker there. He had interviewed the janitors and the maids, the technicians and the card dealers. He had gone up all fifty damn steps in search for the people who did not know anything or want anything. And when he came out of his giant chase, tired and drowsy, with fifty pages of worthless notes, he had decided finally that it was true: the murderer must have been someone on the VIP floors. Someone who could kill a witch. Then? If that was true, there were few suspects left.

It must have been one of the family members.

Dion and Apollo both walked into the main hall room of the VIP floor, with the sprawl of paths and stairs of labyrinth design in front of them. They walked up a fleet of stairs to the left, only to look down center of the room. Below them, a golden statue of a globe with Atlas below and the pain of burden clear on his permanent face.

They came to a set of silver doors, opening slowly, as if in wait.

[i]Fancy elevator.

One elevator of many that had been organized in a stretch, all leading to different areas and all with their particular limitations. Dion flashed his onyx keycard with the sticky-note pasted on it it reading, ‘To Lil’ sis’. The elevator turned on, the lights brought to life. The doors closed behind them. With the sun on their back, within this enclosure, they could feel the magnified heat. It made Apollo's wrist cuffs sweaty.

The elevator zoomed up. There were no stops or pauses or doors in between point a, the VIP floor and point B, the near rooftop of the casino.

"What do you think she’s like?” Dion asked.

“Hopefully? Sane.” He scratched his hands.

“What about Annie?”

“What about her?”

“Turnus told us that she’s hiding something from us. About why she left the family business, and why she doesn’t want to be associated and about why she avoids them all.”

“We’ll get to her later,” Apollo said. “We can’t really piss her off just yet especially when she’s so useful.”

Dion nodded his head.

Apollo smirked.

“Annie?” He said. “That’s cute. I thought you had a girlfriend waiting at home?”

“It’s...just what her mom called her. It’s a lot easier to say than A-e-naya.”

“Right,” Apollo smiled, looking away from Dion, who coughed nervously into a balled up fist.

The doors opened. A small tunnel. Paneled, green colored mesh lined the walls and ceilings. A greenhouse, humid. The sweat collected on the back of his neck.

"If these fuckers really wanted to garden so badly, why'd they decide to live in a damn desert," Apollo said. "It really says something about a human being, to be so spiteful as to defile nature itself."

Dion looked at him. Stared, really.

“They’re just tulips…”

He wiped his face with a rag in his pocket. The ceiling was slanted, the top of the skyscraper seemed sliced in half, leading to a pointy end. Only a floor was higher above this one, Salome’s room. The tint of pink wisterias flashed in the distance. Apollo approached the greenhouse walls, he could see the floor. His stomach turned.

Apollo rubbed his fingers along the glass of the building. It was sleek, wet from dew and the sprays of water mist that shot out from rubber hoses that ran along the floor. They made their way to the center, where large flower pots sat in a circle. Near a watering can and a white table, the woman sat on her stiff chair. Dion entertained himself, rubbing petals and stems. Apollo walked up to the woman. She breastfed a small child, her long and curly dark hair covered both her breast and the baby. It touched the grass.

"Mrs. Luanne Wolfe?" Apollo asked. It felt like the primroses and honeysuckle flowers turned to glare at them. Open-eye'd, blossomed into hostility. But not just them, the baby and the mother too, everyone, turned to stare and gawk at him. His skin felt sensitive along his arms, his hairs rose.

The girl turned, her thin eyes looking up to him lazily.

"Yes?" She answered back in a tone that Apollo could only describe as, understanding and critical. She looked hostile, though tried to hide it behind a forced dullness. Her arm shook.

His tongue made a complete round, lubricating his dry mouth. The air was thick with mist, the humidity made his clothes stick.

"We're here to discuss your father’s death.”

She said nothing, waited.

“I thought I’d begin with how you feel about him. Or felt. I’ve gotten a lot of mixed opinions about your father, I’m just trying to figure out what kind of man he was. Was he a drunk? Militant? Reckless?” he folded his legs. “Then we can move on to alibis and so on.”

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"He was exactly how you'd expect a busy father to be. Companies don’t build themselves, after all. He’d say that all the time, at least." She said. “I don’t know what kind of man my siblings are talking about. But father has always been...distant. It’s hard for me to believe anyone would hate him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there was no man to hate. There was no man in our lives. How do you hate someone who you don’t even know? I mean, honestly, hate them. Sincerely, hate them.”She said. “Maybe if I got to him I would give you a better reason for the contempt others shared, but to me, dad was always just a stranger. Calling him dad, in itself, is rather strange.”

“I’d say that’s a reason to hate him. The feeling of loss perhaps? Don’t you think so?”

“No.” She said. “I understood why he was gone, and I’m thankful for what he gave me. If anything, all I am is thankful. He was a good man, a bad father. At least, to me.”

Apollo took out his journal. He flipped through pages, going through the interviews. His lips opened to retaliate, question. But behind her, the weaning mother, there was movement. Luanne scrunched her eyes and looked back, shocked. Below, on Apollo’s notes, the messy picture was drawn by Dion. Jezebel Wolfe. She matched the description. Short, freckled, bob cut, dirty blonde.

"The sister. That’s good, we can get you both now-" Apollo stood, hands out, pen limp in between his fingers.

"I know who you are," Jezebel said. “I could smell you two miles away, the dogs you are.”

“Well, that’s not kind.” Dion smiled. Apollo folded his hand into a fist.

“That’s not kind? Are you deserving of kindness, do you think so? You’ve got this whole family fucked up. Everyone blaming everyone. I’ve heard you two, the accusations you’ve made and the presumptions you’ve convicted yourselves to. You’ve got all my brothers blaming each other. Do you know that?”

Luanne stroked her child, which seemed to whimper and murmur at the noise.

"Absolutely. I wouldn’t make an accusation if I wasn’t positive and I am positive." Apollo said. “One of you is a murderer. Maybe two, maybe three. You’re all culpable in my eyes. If you have a problem with that, state your alibi so I can clear your name. Where were you at the time of Thomas Wolfe’s murder?”

There was a face of disgust across Luanne and Dion. There was a face of arrogance, smugness on Apollo.

"I don’t need to give you shit." She put her shoulder on the sitting mother. “And neither do you, Luanne.”

"Oh, you’re giving me something, whether you realize it or not," Apollo said. "A dismissal, especially an angry one like yours, is enough of an answer for me."

“What are you getting at, dog?”

“A hunch. An itch. That’s all.” He said. “I have no further questions for you, Jezebel.”

She looked at him, the short woman. She wore a jean jacket, long pants and white gloves around her hands. There were shades hanging by the neck of the black shirt underneath her jacket.

“Luanne, where were you -”

“Hey, I’m not done here.” Jezebel walked forward, in between Luanne and Apollo now. Dion moved up, chess pieces coming into conflict. A collision, as if in empty space, with an eternal momentum forward. Within moments, Jezebel was standing centimeters away from Apollo.

“Ms. Luanne Wolfe,” Apollo whispered. “I’d appreciate it if you did not interfere with the investigation. We have no further questions for you.”

“My little brother is in sweats with your witch hunts, he can’t sleep or eat. He says you’re both the devil in disguise and I’m inclined to believe.” She said. “It’s unfair of me but my opinion of me was already made, long before I even met you two: you’re savages, here to destroy peace and order. Our father is dead and you’re trying to split us up with nonsense accusations. That’s treason, and I aim to punish that.”

His heart throbbed. His arm hurt. Leaning in, his lips were held inches from her ear. His eyes, seemingly dead. Silence. A spray of mist. Dripping water.

The baby sobbed. The mother cradled.

“If order and peace were built on a lie, were they ever meant to last?” he asked. “I’m sure your brother. No - your brothers - are afraid. I’m sure they have nightmares. Good. Tell them I said that. Tell them that if they want to step up, that they should bring some heat.”

She didn’t afraid. Enflamed, was the better expression. Her lips were colored red, her fingers seem flexed to shoot, like a gunslinger, though she had no gun.

“Go on, run along to the pack. One wolf isn’t enough. Not for the both us, at least.” He felt his heart racing, he felt the pleasure, the joy of the words as the promise escaped him. The thrill of a possible future. He did not know why, only that the second voice was happy, only that he felt ecstatic, as if having spoken a confession of love.

He put his hand against her. She stepped aside.

He looked at Luanne, then Dion, both of whom looked the worst of them all. They were sweating, rubbing it off their foreheads, scratching their necks like nervous addicts.

“Where were you at the time of the murder?”

Even the child stopped suckling.

“You don’t have to!” Jezebel screamed. Luanne hesitated but looked back to Apollo.

“I..I was here, where I’m always at. This garden, taking care of my plants.”

“Do you have any evidence? I noticed there weren’t many cameras on this floor, let alone your rooms.”

“N-no. I don’t let the workers handle my things. They’re too rough.” She brought the infant closer to her chest. “But you know, it would be hard of me to move from this garden to father’s meeting. You took the elevator, you know how long it is.”

“Hmm…” Apollo said. Dion nudged him. “But you’re witches. Häxan’s, what do I know of your capabilities? Unless, of course, you’re not.”

"I-I never gave myself up like my brothers did! I’m innocent, look!” She undid her sleeve, recklessly. But they were clear, pale skin. Nothing but skin. No tattoo, no mark of the witch.

“We’ll still need to cross-examine this alibi,” He said, kneeling and looking her over. The child made a sour face. “But if it’s true then I can take you off the list.”

He stood. Jezebel was close behind.

“I’m not showing you anything,” she said.

“Of course not,”

“Is this all you wanted?”

“Well, I wanted to talk about your father. But...”

“Leave,”

“Right,” He turned and grabbed Apollo’s arm and pulled him towards the elevator.

“Well, we got nothing out of that,” Dion said. “You should really let me talk next time.”

“That’s fine,”

“You look satisfied,”

“Do I?” He walked in a quick pace past the flowers, into the hall, and into the elevator.

“Yes, you’re smiling like an idiot.”

“Didn’t you hear her?” He spoke as if impersonating Luanne, which seemed like mockery. “I never gave myself up, like my brothers.”

Dion pressed the elevator, the ding, the fast momentum of the drop. Inspiration hit him like a hot, glowing light. Right into the stomach.

“She knows,” Dion said.

“Yep. And she’s the weakest of the bunch. Now I don’t think she actually killed the man, I think she has an idea of who did. Or at least, who could have done it.”

“Don't even think about terrorizing her. You are not. Not! Torturing her.”

“What do I look like? An animal?” He asked. “Don't worry. We'll deal with her later, she’ll be a valuable tool to cross verify information.”

“And she's not a tool either. None of them are - well," he paused. "Most of them, at least. That doesn't matter though. They're all grieving. They're hurt and they feel and fear like you and me.”

“I hope they're afraid,” Apollo watched the elevator lights flash against him. “That’d only make our jobs easier. And that’s all that matters, don’t ever forget that.”