We met in Fold’s new apartment – and office, as it turned out. The second bedroom of his apartment was instead decorated with all the trappings of a regular private investigator’s office.
Fold had a very colorful taste. His old apartment had ice cream-patterned wallpaper on all his walls and flower arrangements everywhere. This one was very much the same and yet, the moment I stepped into the office, all hint of that stopped abruptly. Instead of bright, contrasting colors, it was all maroons, dark reds, and mahogany. Sensible bookshelves filled with thick tomes, and a dark fuzzy carpet swamping the whole place. The sharp scent of tobacco lingered over everything, even though he had never smoked.
I had been relegated to the client’s straight-backed chair, while Fold stood and stared at the singular mirror we had in the office, blocked by a set of blinds he had only just installed.
“So…” I hummed, watching him continue staring at the mirror. Almost even through it.
“Yeah?” He asked, backing away from the mirror and flicking the blinds shut.
“You’re the expert here.” I reminded him, “What’s the usual process for this?”
He let out a breath of air, languid and slow as he sauntered back to his spinning leather chair, “Well, we’ve got many leads to tackle.” He explained, “And the strongest one is the bite marks.”
Right. The bitemarks. Who could forget? Celina Minto’s leg had not only been chewed off but had also been gnawed all over by whatever creature had gotten to her.
“The body has been taken to the morgue.” I pointed out, feeling vaguely sick.
A swish and click of the drawer opening and a bunch of papers rustled as they were pulled out and spread across the desk. Photographs of the body, from every angle imaginable.
“I don’t think that that’s going to be a problem.” He crowed, “This will be enough to get us a match on whatever the creature is. And if I’m right, there isn’t going to be a match because it’s the glass that’s taking chunks out of people.”
Red flags immediately. Fold’s bias was obvious to anyone who looked, which was a problem because he was the one who had the experience and knew the protocols of this field. I certainly had no idea what was happening here and didn’t know how to make sure he stayed impartial the whole way through.
If I called it out, though, the contentiousness between us would rise, and he might ditch me altogether.
“Careful, buddy, your verification bias is showing.” I offered instead with a smirk. A small itch to test the waters.
He rolled his eyes, “Just putting it out there.” He shook his head, “But if you don’t trust my process, you can take over comparing the bite imprints yourself.”
Ah, fuck, he was offended and was now hanging me out to dry.
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked, trying to play off my frustration.
He held up a textbook, “Look at pictures on book. Compare with pictures. Find a match.”
Huh, that didn’t sound so difficult.
Fold gave me a book on bite analysis, showing me how to pick out the different teeth marks from each side of the mouth, pointing out each tooth’s imprint left on skin. I had to get out the tracing paper and charcoal to graph out the key points and pin them against the textbook.
It was a pretty expansive textbook, ranging from reptiles to mammals. Even fish. I didn’t think that the monster in the hallways was a fish, but the idea of a fish swimming through the air was funny enough to make me consider it as an option.
Snakes had only two puncture holes in their bites, which had them solidly off the table. Geese, on the other hand, were totally probable, because they had teeth on their tongues in a similar fashion to how Celina’s body had been gnawed on.
Bitemark matching was easy, but it was a lengthy process. I ended up slaving away at the desk until golden hour. Then I had to keep working through it. It was only halfway through that it occurred to me that maybe Fold had done this on purpose. He may have wanted me to make sure that the bite match was unbiased so that he could skip out on the grunt work. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Well played, Fold, well played.
There wasn’t any point in putting up a fight about this. I had been the one to offer to take up the job in the first place, and stopping now to argue about roles would only lower productivity.
I had been intending to work through the night after grabbing dinner, but then the office door swung open. Fold shuffled into the room and hurried around to shove scattered evidence and photographs into discrete drawers and cupboards.
The pile of photographs I was working on were swept away too, tracing paper and all.
“Hey!” I snapped, clutching the bitemark book towards me, “What’s your deal?”
“There’s a client.” He explained hurriedly, “Come on, we can’t keep her waiting, I need real money.”
Right. Of course. I didn’t realize that he freelanced for people who weren’t police, but it made sense. I vacated the client chair and retreated to the corner of the office right next to the mirror. A quick escape if needed.
“Right, I’m bringing her in.” Fold announced, ducking back into the wider apartment. Seconds later, he opened the door wide, letting in a young woman with curly brown hair braided underneath a straw hat.
She tottered over to the client’s chair and sat down heavily, hands clutched together in her lap. Fold sat down across from her, but she determinedly avoided his gaze. That immediately led her to catch sight of me in the corner, with the bite encyclopedia clutched to my chest.
“Oh, I didn’t realize there was going to be a witness…” She murmured, covering her face in a panic.
“I can leave if you want.” I offered immediately, “Just here to help in another case, so it’s no big deal.”
“No, no, I’m alright with this.” She assured, “This is preferable, actually.”
Fold and I exchanged glances. What exactly was this girl involved in? We couldn’t afford another in-depth investigation. We waited for the girl to continue, but she remained silent.
“Well, anytime now.” I prompted her.
“Give her time, Maddy.” Fold shook his head, “This kind of thing is traumatic. She’ll come around soon.”
“My name is Riley Minto.” She announced, her voice soft and quivering, “I’m sure you recognize the name from the newspapers. Or already ongoing investigations.”
I didn’t know whether it was better that she was from the Celina case or not. The challenge of another case had sounded appealing, but I could take another piece in the puzzle. Especially a puzzle in the form of a forthcoming witness.
“Riley? You must be the sister.” Fold pointed out, straightening up in his chair as he pulled out another notebook.
“Yeah, I am.” She agreed, grimacing uncomfortably, “Her younger sister.”
Her. We didn’t need to say the name of Celina Minto. The bright, short flame who had left her mark all over the history of Medley’s theater and had met a tragic end. She hung over all of us, an uncomfortable specter that formed the epicenter of this case.
“I know you two helped find the body.” Riley continued, her quiet voice slowly gaining more and more confidence, “I couldn’t find any concrete connection between you, but now that you’re both here, that theory is pretty much fact. You must already be working on the investigation, so tell me how I can help.”
Fold cleared his throat, “Listen, Ms. Minto, we appreciate this, but why aren’t you going to the police with this?”
“They aren’t listening.” Riley sulked, slumping further into her chair, “Kept on shuffling me along and trying to get me to identify people who might ‘pose a threat’ to her or whatever, but that isn’t the way it played out!”
“Well, how did it play out?” I asked, hypotheses and theories bouncing around my head faster and faster with every second.
“Here’s the thing. My sister is such a sweetheart that sometimes it makes me sick.” Her voice broke a little, “Was a sweetheart. She’s gone now.” The girl pulled off her hat as proper sobs spilled out.
“Shhh, okay.” Fold agreed, tapping on the desk in a soothing pattern, “We understand. This won’t go unsolved, I swear it.”
“What I’m trying to say is that no one despised her.” Riley managed out through her tears, “There aren’t any enemies. Any stalkers. Any wronged parties left in her wake. Looking for any is simply wasting valuable time and resources!”
I had heard as much from the early-on investigations, but I hadn’t quite believed it. Surely no one could be that likeable? But no, it seemed she truly was a paragon unlike any other. I had never seen a person like that in real life. They seemed to only exist to meet a sympathetic end. Which… had happened here. Big whoop.
This didn’t feel real to me. I wasn’t the person who dealt with this sort of thing. I was the one who sat and read the story on the newspapers as it unfolded.
“We knew that already.” Fold explained to her gently, completely different from the Fold who had been laughing carelessly in front of a disembodied foot, “Is there anything you do have to add?”
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Riley nodded hurriedly, “Celina and I were very close. She talked to me every day until she… couldn’t anymore. I think I was on the phone right before she died.”
That made me sit up and pay attention, “What were you talking about? Did you hear any bit of the altercation with the beast?”
“No, I didn’t.” She frowned, “But it did get cut short because of her mentioning some sort of reporter being in the room.”
A reporter. Very interesting. Was the beast a shapeshifter? Or was this human an accomplice? We needed more information on their appearance, their mannerisms, some sort of way to nail down who this was meant to be. Maybe came in using a press pass or pretending to be part of the production crew.
Worst of all, another possibility presented itself to me. This person might be a reflection-hopper, and thus proving the supporters of Action 210 right. Reflection-hopping was dangerous, and many people used it for unsavory reasons, but that didn’t warrant a conclusive ban! Not only was it impractical, but also short-sighted. And a high-profile case like this would only fuel the flames of discourse. The reporter couldn’t be a reflection-hopper. It would mean the end of all my career prospects.
Guess I wasn’t as unbiased in this situation as I had thought. Even though I had gotten mad at Fold for pushing his mirror-eating theory constantly, I found that I might even prefer that outcome over this one.
“I think I need some space.” I burst out, standing up quickly.
“Of course.” Fold nodded, backing away to give me room to leave, “Grab some dinner and head home, will you? Call me before you go to sleep, and I’ll catch you up on any imperative information.”
“Isn’t she part of this firm?” Riley frowned, “I can’t believe you’re just letting her slack off like this.”
“Listen, the name of the agency is ‘Maximillian Investigates’, not ‘Maximillian and Gardner’. She doesn’t have a single hour of training for this job.” Fold brushed off, “Just tell me everything, and I’ll know what to do with it.”
Riley frowned but acquiesced.
“You’ll be okay.” I assured her, “Fold’s considered to be the best of the best, according to the Commissioner of Medley Police Department.”
“That doesn’t really comfort me, given my recent experiences.” Riley muttered, “Also… Fold?”
“Because he lives in Kingsfold Arch.” I explained.
“So do three thousand other people but whatever floats your boat.” Riley sighed, “Go eat, ma’am, sorry to keep you here with dumb questions.”
“Yeah, okay.” I spared her a parting wave before pulling up the blinds on the mirror and ducking inside.
The hallways used to be a study on contrasts. On experiences that were constantly at war. I would wander through them, watching the slivers of daily life filtering through, feeling completely isolated from them all, and yet connected at the same time.
Now, though? They only felt isolating. Creamy beige from the posters covering up most of the mirrors, except from a few angles here and there. It was dull and boring and compared to the kaleidoscope of color it had been before? It was terrifying.
I barely made it five minutes before I dove back out through a mirror set up on a tight corner. My favorite noodle shop was only a block away, so in the end it all worked out.
“A number 2 chicken stir-fry, please.” I offered to the cashier, dumping crumpled paper bills onto the counter, avoiding their gaze determinedly.
“Give us five minutes, ma’am.” They agreed. I was just about to shuffle away to a table at the back when a familiar voice sounded from right behind me.
“Uh… could I have the vegetarian noodle bowl?”
I froze on the spot, waiting for the purchase to go through before turning on the spot to meet the familiar stranger. There was a young man directly behind me, wearing a rumpled and unbuttoned suit. It took me a second to recognize him. Dave, the fireman from the recovery of Celina Minto’s corpse.
“Woah, sorry about that.” Dave chuckled, backing away to give me more space, “I didn’t mean… Maddy? Dude, where’ve you been this whole time? You never called me!”
“You gave me your number?” I blinked, trying to remember when that had happened.
“Yeah, scribbled it on the tag of that shock blanket I gave you. Didn’t you read it?”
“I didn’t even see it.” I professed. His face fell immediately.
“Ugh, should’ve realized how ridiculous that was!” He complained, “And here I was trying not to be overbearing and desperate.”
“We could catch up now, if you’ve got nothing better to do.” I offered. He lit up.
“I- I’d like that. These past few days have been… hectic.”
“You, too?” I groaned, slumping onto the seat at the very back, “I’ve been working a whole second job completely unpaid. It’s awful. What’s the department saddling you with?”
“Fire.” He explained blandly, “Just fire. Everywhere. Arson rates have risen dramatically, and they’re politically charged, too, so now the media is involved. I’m a lot of things, but camera-ready isn’t one of them, so it’s exceptionally trying in my case.”
“Oh, that’s bad.” I winced, “Even worse than mine, really. Wait, by politically charged, you mean…?” Action 210, the words hung unsaid in the air between them.
Dave looked away and tugged at his collar, “I can’t reveal that classified information.”
“Dude, it’s the fire department.” I complained, “What secrets could you be keeping?”
“Hey, we do important things, too!” Dave argued, “I’ll have you know that firemen see a lot of stuff that could totally bring our current systems of power to its knees if they’re revealed.”
“Ah, so you’re corrupt, too.” I nodded, “Very admirable.”
“That wasn’t the point I was trying to make!” He glared at me, standing up sharply, “Y’know, I’m just going to get my food and leave.”
“No, no, come back!” I cried, following him, “I won’t even make you break any NDAs, just hang out with me for a little while.”
He looked a little conflicted, but eventually he sat back down, “Well, if we’re not going to talk about everything’s that been going on, what are we going to be talking about?”
I shrugged, “Anything. Shoot the breeze. Talk about our common interests- wait, how’s the reflection-hopping going?”
“Is this really the best thing to discuss right now?” Dave asked tiredly, “I don’t know how long I’ll even be allowed to continue doing this without my job being threatened, but I’ve kept up my training anyway. I’m planning to go for my first proper jump in a couple weeks, actually, if the timeline stays consistent.”
“Dude, that’s great!” I clutched my hands to my chest, “The first jump, it’s pretty special.”
“Yeah.” Dave agreed, tracing the wooden spirals on the table with his finger, “But it kind of feels a little less special now. After what happened at the police station, with the entryway.”
Oh, right. Dave had already seen the ethereal prism of the hallways on the day of Celina Minto’s murder. Yet another thing that had been taken by that day. Your first dive into the hallways was meant to be a special occasion, won through every individual’s hard work and effort. Not a cheap shortcut. For once, I felt angered on his behalf.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you earned this, you know?” I assured him, reaching my hand forward to cover his own, “It’s going to be your special day. I’ll make sure of it.”
He snorted, a little perturbed, “If that’s something you want to do, I’m not stopping you.” He paused hesitantly, before blurting out, “Where did you learn reflection-hopping from? A dojo or self-taught like me?”
“My parents taught me.” I replied, “They knew it from… training, I guess? It runs in the family.”
“…Lucky.” He whispered, “I can’t imagine having an entire family ready to back me up in an art like this. All they’ve done is be mostly indifferent, if not outright horrified.”
I couldn’t imagine a life like that. Ever since I was a kid, the spark inside me had been nurtured and encouraged, whether in writing or drawing or taking an impulsive trip to the tallest mountain in the world. That last one had resulted in a panicked grounding and the explanation of what hypothermia was, but in the end, they let me do it, bundled tight with jackets until I was nearly swallowed up by coats.
“What’s this about, anyway?” I asked.
“I know that the first jump is supposed to be special.” He looked down at his feet, “But I’m so separated from the wider reflection-hopping community that I don’t even know how you’re supposed to do for a first jump.”
“Well… for my first jump, we had a little party.” I told him, “After the jump but according to my parents, it was meant to be before, but I just happened to skip that step. Do you want a party?”
“Sure!” Dave agreed immediately.
“Well then, strap in, because we’re throwing you the party of your life!” I patted him on the shoulder.
“Number Two for Madison?” The cashier called out, holding up a bag of takeaway noodles. I got up and quickly took it from them.
“But I need to get home. Get some sleep.” I told Dave, rubbing at my eyes tiredly, “Raincheck it for tomorrow between my rounds and the investigation?”
“Sure, call me this time, will you?” He teased. My face flared red.
----------------------------------------
Even as the death of Celina Minto hung over the city, my job continued. I delivered parcels, bills, mail of every kind. It was grueling work, especially since the post office had started imposing a mandate on restricting reflection-hopping. Apparently due to recipient backlash, they weren’t allowing people to reflection-hop in front of witnesses. We had to keep it subtle. Appear around streetcorners and walk some of the distance.
I was one of the few reflection-hoppers in the office because when you could teleport to another dimension, people looked for something more glamorous than mail delivery, so out of everyone, I was affected the most. If this kept going, would they expect me to get a vehicle like everyone else? I didn’t have a license for anything. Never even needed one. It was a terrible thing to have to worry about.
By the time I had whittled down my parcel bag to absolutely nothing, the sun had begun falling from its noonday peak. I had to get to Fold’s apartment with no time to spare and work on the investigation. The mirror in the study hadn’t been covered by blinds simply for the aesthetic of it. Those blinds provided a double purpose.
For one, they blocked the view of inside Fold’s office, stopping any spies from eavesdropping, or any so-called mirror monsters from noticing whose office this was meant to be at all. And then, there was the added benefit of it trapping anyone who tried to enter through it. The way the blinds were set up made it so that I couldn’t remove them from this side, no matter how hard I tried. Very effective against enemies, but when it was me, it got old fast.
I rattled the blinds desperately, trying to get the attention of the detective on the other side.
“Hello, Maddy!” Fold grinned the moment he whipped the blinds up, “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Fold.” I greeted, straightening my cap from on top of my head, “You seem to be in good spirits. Riley give us some new leads?”
“Yes, actually!” Fold nodded, taking a heavy sip from the large mug he was carrying, “But that’s not really what I wanted to focus on. According to my informants, Minto’s autopsy report is done.”
“And we have access to that?” I couldn’t help but be surprised. Usually, private investigators working on a case that they had technically (read: very clearly) been dismissed from, wouldn’t be able to see such private data.
“What? Obviously not.” Fold snorted, shaking his head, “That’s why we don’t have it right now.”
“So, your wonderful sources were able to spill some of the details, but not all of them?” I complained, resting my elbows on the table, “What’s even the point of these sources?”
Fold sighed, reaching for a cup of tea resting on his desk. It had gone cold long ago and had left a mug ring on the table, but he took a long draught as if it was the nectar of life. He finally broke off with a relieved gasp and finally answered my question.
“They slip me info when I need it.” He explained, “That way I know where to push and press to get the proper results. Otherwise, it’s just digging blindly and hoping to strike oil.”
His logic was sound, so I nodded along, “Okay, so what next? If you’ve got this whole spy network business going on, it means you have a plan to weasel that report out from somewhere, right?”
“I do, actually.” Fold puffed his chest up, “How okay are you with breaking the law?”
“…You worked for the police.” I had to remind him.
“Only as a freelancer!” He argued, “Once that contract runs out, I don’t owe them shit!”
“Okay, whatever.” I shook my head, “As long as it doesn’t get attributed to me down the line, you can spin this however you want.”
“Great, great, great.” Fold repeated feverishly, riffling through his papers, “Riley’s grabbing it for us.”
My elbows slipped and knocked over a penholder, sending stationery flying everywhere. Fold swore and started cleaning up the pens and markers and pencil shavings. I didn’t care for a second about the mess, staring at him in horror.
“Dude. Why would you make her do that? She doesn’t have anything to do with this!” I knew he was underhanded, but making the girl whose sister just died take the fall for our investigation was another level of low. There was no way it wouldn’t end badly if the girl was caught, and she ratted us out. Also, she didn’t deserve this. That, too.
Fold snorted, “You don’t know anything, do you?”
There was a mirth in his voice that immediately rang alarm bells in my head, “What do you mean?”
“Remember that officer you met at the investigation? Sam Bradley?” He asked, and I immediately remembered the trigger-happy Officer Sam from the Medley National Theater. Nothing could have prepared me for the bomb he dropped next, “Riley and Sam used to date!”
“Oh my God.” I whispered, sitting down heavily, “You’re just here for the drama, aren’t you?”
“…Maybe?” Fold shrugged, giggling hysterically.
I glared at him, “Dude. We’re here to solve a murder and find a monster. Not to start a real-life soap opera.”
“Why not both?” He replied with a beatific smile. I could’ve punched him.