"You wouldn't happen to be a nark, would you?" The question was sudden, striking, intensified by Walker's expressionless glare and the dagger in his hand.
Lucille felt the thread of her life turn as thin as hair and as fragile as a bubble. "I would not! Certainly. Never!"
"I see…" Lucille flinched as the dagger spun in the man's hand but instead of harm, it was an offer. "Keep this. If I mess up, you may be a target for helping me even if I die. Better safe than sorry." He ended the statement with a wink and awaited her acceptance.
She took the dagger and nodded in respect, "I'm in your debt."
Walker smiled as he put on a spare coat—one that he didn't wear unless nothing else remained and said, "Let's see what Golden has to say."
•••
Near the Relené Mansion where the murder occurred, stood Golden, his arms stretched with interlocked fingers, drawing a deep yawn while every single muscle of his stretched and relaxed his body.
He looked towards Mason who constantly checked his pocket watch, his boot tapping on the ground melodically.
Seeing that, Golden took on his usual tone of flippancy and broke the silence, "Time, am I right?"
Mason returned a look and replied, "Yes. How lovely that I get to spend my evening with a middle aged man instead of my fiancé."
Golden scoffed and turned to look at the road and blew inside his cupped, trying to find warmth in the cold. "It sure is. I'm getting to spend it with a 'hard boiled' officer instead of someone I asked!"
"Oh I'm sorry your friend is running late, it totally is my fault, isn't it!?" Mason retorted, his tone growing frustrated. The more he talked, the less he could endure.
Golden shook his head, "That's where you're wrong. He is NOT my friend you see, he betrayed the Suites, and I, would never."
"Spare me please." Mason turned his gaze back to the road, the heat of his head prevented him from arguing further a pointless argument.
Golden drew a frustrated breath and whispered, "The only… the only day that I get on time, HE doesn't!"
"And I'm only 23!" His whisper turned into snicker.
23!? No way he's younger than me… Mason reflected on himself, wondering if he'd gotten old over a short period of time. Apparently, he was three years older than Golden, which became more surprising the more he looked at him.
"Hey!" A shout came from across the street, both men looked forward in sync, to see the man of the hour, Walker Soliraine.
At last… I can leave this place. His patience to a boiling point, Mason almost didn't wait for Walker to come across but he contained himself and waited a little longer.
Walker let the horse-driven carriages and automobiles pass before he made his eventual cross. Slicking his hair back as he said, "Kept you waiting, huh?"
"Good evening, Walker." Mason let his watch drop into his coat pocket and greeted.
Walker nodded. "Good evening."
"I believe my post ends here, Mr. Goldenfoo-Golden will let you know of the relevant details, one which you most certainly don't know." The statement ended with a chuckle, the hard shell of being a detective almost cracking.
Mason planted his hat on his chest, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have reports and meetings to make. Goodnight to the two of you."
"Good evening to night… time sure slips between your fingers like your lover's through silk sheets after marriage." Golden commented.
"You can keep your immoral philosophies to your novels, Goodman." Walker chimed in. "I'll have to sit through more of these soon, don't I…?" He finally turned his gaze to Mason and responded, "Goodnight, Officer Wilson."
Mason nodded and walked off but before he got far, he heard footsteps behind him and when he turned around, it was none other than Golden, coming to torment him one last time, or so he thought.
Golden pulled Mason's shoulder and turned both of their backs to the Relené Mansion's walls as he whispered, "Been sensing an eye on you for quite a while now, don't know where it is but I'd be careful if I were you."
Mason was let go afterwards, cautiously observing every single corner of the streets because despite Golden's appearance, his deduction on the crime scene was excellent per Mason's standards as a seasoned officer.
As Golden walks towards his belated companion, he noticed an unfamiliar face beside him. Standing as tall as his shoulders was a blonde girl who wore a regal dark green dress, her hands gloved against the winter cold.
"Who's that, your girl?" Asked the man, staring at Walker then scratched the idea off as he recalled, "Nevermind, you're the other person on the scene. Strands of blonde hair were left on the premises."
"Thought as much." Walker chimed in, "Let's skip all the introductions, I already told her about you."
"I still don't know a thing about her though." Aside from the fact that she seems totally out of sync with her outfit, her skin is red which means she's unable to handle the weather properly and the nervous twitches point towards unfamiliarity. She's definitely a foreigner.
Despite his deductions, Golden would still not mind being proven wrong. In fact, it'd thrill him if he was.
"Fine, but tell me on the way." Golden took the first step forward, knowing there was nothing more to explore in the mansion.
•••
A little later, Walker and Lucille did their best to fill in the curious Golden with everything he needed to know and finally arrived at their destination, A Publishing House in the middle of the Serina District.
Walker tied his loose, messy hair back and looked at the company properly before asking, "Why here?"
"It's Fiona Relené's publishing company, what better place to gather information?" Golden explained.
It made more sense now but he was still confused on what Fiona was to the Relené couple, an aunt or mother? He kept the question to himself, finding it unnecessary to ask. Instead, he switched over and asked something else, "Isn't it a little late to visit? Fiona might not even be here."
Golden shook his head and responded, "No, it's the perfect time. I couldn't care less about Fiona herself, although questioning her would indeed be valuable."
Late in the evening was when most of the employees would leave for home and what better time to complain about work conditions than when being discharged.
Walker didn't dwell on it and moved on since he wasn't that much of a detective, especially compared to Golden, leaving it to him was the best option.
Then without wasting any more time, Golden instructed Walker and Lucille to wait outside as he entered himself, alone and cautious. Having the two of them enter would draw a lot of attention due to them being at the scene and it'd draw attention away from his main purpose of visiting.
The inside of the publishing company was a lot more spacious than he ever imagined and the amount of the printing presses he thought he'd see when entering failed his expectations, it was zero.
"Where'd all the presses go?" He approached the suited man on the counter, his mustache remarkably long.
The man with the mustache who was flipping through the newspaper of what seemed like another company's, stopped his reading and put the paper down as he stood up.
The counter was long and round, could fit at least three more receptionists and had two curved long stairs on each side that led upstairs. Each step of the stairs was as shiny as the reception hall's floor.
"How can I help you?" The receptionist asked, one of his eyebrows twitching up and down which made Golden more weary of his words.
"Nothing much, just here to conduct some interviews, if it's not too much to ask." He reached for his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper, "Here's my journalism certificate." He showed the receptionist the ID, purposefully covering the part that had the picture with his finger and immediately retracted it before he became suspicious.
The man sat back and sighed, picked up the newspaper and flipped again. "Due to the recent incident, many of our workers have been given time off but you'll find some if you go up the stairs and take a right turn."
"I understand, thank you." Golden gave him a nod and climbed up. He made his way to the right without distractions until he heard a conversation brewing behind his back, the left side of the company.
When he turned around, he saw Fiona Relené who wore an elegant dress, far too modern for her age but surprisingly too, she had aged gracefully. The amount of white strands of hair on her head could be counted with fingers.
The night was drawn and this opportunity was of a lifetime as Golden never expected to interrogate, or rather interview the head of the company but more importantly, someone so closely tied to the victim.
Golden styled his hair as best as he could in a rush and approached the lady, trying his best to appear formal rather than casual. "Good evening, your ladyship."
Fiona halted her conversation with who seemed like her butler and turned her eyes to the strange man that came to greet her.
"Evening. Are you a detective?" Her immediate guess left Golden's eyes wide open. It was hard for him to persuade her with anything at that point, the weight of his own shallow disguise downed on him and all he could do was consider his next approach.