Chapter five: A detective is born

Trigger warnings for those who need them

Corpses and death.

Actor director Barnaby Craig blinks at me in confusion “I don’t understand. Are you a policewoman?” he asks at my request to see the dancer’s dressing room.
“No, but I’m good at solving things and I like to try and solve this murder for that poor woman’s sake.” never mind the fact the only mysteries I’ve solved were caught between the covers of books.
This can’t be that much different.
The man’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, his hands resting on his considerable belly. “I can show you to the dressing room but I when the police get here I need you to cooperate with them.”
“Of course. Thank you mister Craig.” I get up to follow him.
My eyes glide to back to Dana who gets up as well and follows silently.
I wonder what she’s thinking.
Does she think I’m being reckless?
Brave?
Foolish?
I’m not even sure what to think myself.
But it’s better to try and fail than not try at all right?
Besides, for the first time since we’ve landed in Venusia I have the feeling I can do something. Something of value that is.
I can be like Antoinette Delarouge, just like I’ve always dreamed.
Dana would have stopped me if she thought I was doing something wrong, right?
We leave the communal dressing room. Turning the corner would get us back towards the stage but instead we follow the long corridor straight ahead. To the left is a heavy black curtain making me wonder whether the stage lays beyond here already. On the right we pass several doors with little brass plaques on then.
“So…what’s a liadro?” I ask carefully.
“They are the dancers and singers hired by the theater full time rather than from performance to performance.”
“I see, how many liadro are there?”
“There are eight, myself included. It’s all we have room for inside this building.”
I hum while fiercely wishing I brought my notebook with me.
I want to write things down.
There are two options here.
Either the person in the snake costume is the same dancer as always. Meaning this case is less about finding out who did it and more about where they have run off to.
Or the person in the costume was someone else entirely.
An intruder in the company, hidden behind the snake’s mask who waited for their time to strike.
They’re two completely different situations.
And the first order of business is finding out which it is.
“Who was meant to be inside the snake costume?” I ask, resigning myself to committing things to memory for now.
“Darren Johnasson.”
“Does mister Johnasson have any reason to hurt-“
“No, none at all. Darren was a kind, gentle man. He could get along with anyone in the company.”
“I see.” That makes it sound like the second possibility is most likely thus far.
Turns out we didn’t have to walk for long as Mister Craig announces “This is the door.” at the third door in the corridor.
I note there’s a towel hanging over the doorknob.
Odd.
He knocks on the door. His face then pulls into a painful grimace “Sorry, force of habit.” He adds, picking the towel off the knob and slinging the it over his arm.
He then opens the door to reveal this case is much bigger than we though.

There’s someone sitting slumped over the make up table.
Even sat-down the back of their head comes up to nearly Dana’s full height. Their face and expression are covered by pale, curly hair that spills onto the tabletop like a frothy waterfall.
They’re wearing simple day-clothes, a pair of copper coloured pants and a black shirt. Around his neck hangs a pale-blue slippery scarf, hastily tied on by the look of it.
It doesn’t fit the colour scheme of the rest of the outfit either.
“Darren?” the director tries carefully. Placing a hand on the person’s shoulder.
There’s nothing, no movements, no sounds.
For an achingly long moment no one speaks, but I suspect we’re all thinking the same thing.
This is a double murder.
Dana walks to the man and gently places two fingers on the man’s wrist. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but he’s dead.”
“Kacaq!” Barnaby exclaims furiously.
I jump, startles by the sound.
He quickly holds up his hands apologetically “Sorry, please excuse me” he says before rushing out the room.
As the door falls closed behind us, the silence of the dead man in our midst becomes even more palpable.
I step towards him and carefully move his hair out of the way unveiling a reddened face stricken with terror.
There’s something uncanny about dead bodies.
Something changes in people the moment they stop being alive.
Their faces have all the elements of an expression but no intent behind them anymore.
The air is too still around them as well.
They’re people-shaped but not really people…?
“Maybe we should leave things as they are until the police gets-“ Dana tries.
“I just want to check something.” I shoot back, untangling the piece of cloth around his neck. Then feel a jolt of victory, uncovering a sharp red line underneath the cloth, standing out like a sore thumb. “Look at this.”
“What do you think?” Dana asks.
“I think this man got strangled to death. But not with the scarf itself, the mark is too thin. I think it’s more likely the scarf was put there to hide it.”
“Do you think this man is the same one who stabbed that woman on stage?””Well, I think this is Darren Johnasson. But as of right now that’s all I’m certain of. The way mister Craig talks of this man makes me think there’s little motive for him to hurt anyone.” I carefully tie the scarf back, then step away to survey the room.
The room itself is roughly four square meters, with space for a vanity table set, two extra chairs set against the wall, a room divider screen and a big wooden chest, presumably for clothes.
Hanging on the room divider there’s an empty clothes hanger.
I bet the snake-costume was hanging there this afternoon.
I kind of wish mister Craig hadn’t just left like that, maybe he could have pointed to things that looked out of place.
Oh well.
So the murderer would have to come in here, kill mister Johnasson, take the costume, stab the woman and then run away.
The question is how they got in?
I walk towards the window on the back end of the room.
It’s not a big window, but if the murderer is a dancer like expected I’m sure they could fit their way through somehow.
I try the handle.
Locked.
Pity.
The door behind me crashes open and I turn, heart jumping up into my throat as a big voice shouts “What’s going on in here!?”
To my surprise the big voice belongs to a man that’s quite short in stature, portly built but with a face that dares you to call him short and suffer the consequences.
“You! Step away from the window.” he demands with stumpy finger pointed in my direction.
I step away from the window. “Oh uh, good evening gentlemen.” I say politely to the man and the handful of police officers arranged in a neat little row behind him.
“Who are you two and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Alice Castella I’m a detective and this is Dana-“
“Never heard of you, out-“ he gestures to the door.
“But-!”
“We were in the audience when the murder happened. It might be a good idea to ask us about our experience.” Dana interjects
The man scoffs, but signals to two officers nonetheless “Menfrey, Talas, take their statements, separately.”
“Yes inspector Bailey.” the men respond in unison.
The man called Talas walks up to Dana “Follow me please.”
“Of course.”
They leave the room together.
I guess that leaves the other one for me?
This policeman has sleeked-back, black hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache combo. His eyes are blue contrasting with the dark which looks quite striking.
“Follow me.” he states shortly.
I kind of want to tell him to leave me to my investigation and not get in the way. But I promised to cooperate so I tell him “lead the way” instead.

We leave the dressing room and get nearly run over by two women bolting in our direction.
The first has dark skin and is wearing the red and gold garb of the guards who fought their way through the last act. The other is wearing the dress of the queen, but her red locks have magically turned blonde by now.
The black woman tries to pass us by. The policeman step into her way “Pardon, you’re not allowed in right now ma’am.”
“Why not!?” the woman’s voice is loud and forceful.
“Because-uh…well…” he stammers.
The woman rolls her eyes “Step aside sweetheart.” The black woman pushes him aside roughly and practically slams the door in.
The policeman besides me huffs.
Then the woman who forced her way inside starts to scream.
My heart sinks, then jumps as the inspector shouts over her “What’s this lady doing here now!?”
“Darren, Darren my darling!?”
“She’s hysterical, get her out of here!”
“No! let me get to him!”
“Easy lady.”
“Let go of me!”
There’s sounds of a struggle, insults and anger flung in from either side.
“Let’s go.” The policeman tries as he puts a hand on my arm.
I shake it off “Are you kidding? I want to know who that woman is.”
“Why?” The blonde asks me with crossed arms and a sneer.
“To figure out who did this of course.”
“I’m not sure this is relevant to the case.” The policeman sighs.
“That’s why I need to know.” I roll my eyes at the man’s ignorance. Then address the blonde woman directly “I’m not with him usually, he just needs to write down my story. I’m a detective.”
The blonde’s eyes widen “You’re a peejai?”
I’m not entirely sure what that means but I’ll look that up later “Yes, My name is Alice Castella.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously “Who hired you this fast?”
“Oh I just…I guess I hired myself I was in the room when it happe-.”
“-and screw your mother while you’re at it!” she hollers before slamming the door shut behind her. She wobbles on her feet for a moment and then she slams back-first into the door and slides down sobbing.
“Tonya!” The blonde dives down towards her and hugs her.
“Fucking pigs!” the woman seethes.
“What happened in there?”
“He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, and they wouldn’t even let me get close to him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Were the two of you together?” I ask curiously.
“What’s it to you?” the woman bites harshly.
“I-I’m sorry, that must have sounded strange. I’m a detective, I’m not with those men and-“
“Then what’s the dog doing behind you?” she bites.
“The dog could arrest you for ignoring police orders, sweetheart.” the police officer responds smugly.
“Oh you just go ahead and try you fucking-“ her eyes are flaming, the tears dripping down her cheeks ineffective it dousing her anger.
“Tonya, that’s enough.” The blonde squeezes her tightly.
“He threatened me! He said he’d arrest me!”
The blonde fires a glare at the policeman “He can’t do shit without his boss’ approval.” She then helps the woman called Tonya up. “Let’s just go for now.”
I step towards the women “I’d like to talk to the both of you again later, if that’s okay. Without the dog.” I quickly add.
The black woman huffs, the blonde just shrugs timidly.
I make a mental note of their appearance as they walk away, hoping to still recognize them out of costume.
“You didn’t have to call me a dog, you know.” Menfrey huffs.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have acted like one then.”
“All I said-“
“I know what you said. Besides, I’m trying to earn their trust. Using similar vocabulary helps establish an ‘in group’ that I want to be part of so they’re more likely to tell me the truth.”
His eyes narrow at my flawless Cygnian “What information do you even hope to gain from them?”
“I want to know who Darren Johnasson was, I want to know their relation to him. Whether they know anyone who might want to do him harm and I want to verify the claim mister Craig made on mister Johnasson being friends with everyone in the company.”
“That’s…not a bad idea, but I need to get your statement first so how about we find a spot to talk.” The police officer states bluntly.
I sigh “Fine.”

The light is dim and screwy in the makeshift interrogation room.
We’re in the storage room next to the bar. Surrounded by racks and racks of expensive wines and the occasional bottle of soda water.
There are no chairs, never mind a table, and the police officer across from me doesn’t look like he’s used to writing while standing up.
“Name?”
“Alice Castella.”
“And you’re Cygnian?”
“As are you, I presume.”
“Well yes, but that’s not the point.” He says as he awkwardly scribbles on his little form “Age?”
“How is that relevant?”
“Please answer the question miss Castella.”
“Eighteen.” I huff.
“An eighteen year old detective huh.”
“Yes.”
“So are you one of those meriklakyn?”
“What?”
“Gifted children with mental capabilities far beyond their years.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, I’ve just read a lot of books in my youth. Shouldn’t you be asking me about the murder?”
“Yes, what happened?”
“Well from the perspective of a guest; a woman got stabbed in the middle of a song. I assume a fake stabbing is part of the plot because none of the other performers batted an eye until one of the pianists down in the orchestra pit starts screaming murder.”
“That’d be George, Donna’s brother.”
Wait, he knows stuff I don’t yet!?
Interesting.
“Did you talk to him?”
The man shakes his head “The man is inconsolable, we got that off one of the violinists. What happened next?”
“She drops down to the stage, helped by the gardener while the snake, the one who stabbed her, runs off the stage. The gardener follows him, the background dancers rush to Donna and and of the guards shouts for a doctor. My friend Dana jumps onto the stage and calls me up some time later. We try to hold the wound closed and move her arms up and down until the real doctors come to take over.”
His eyes widen “You were on the stage?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know the deceased?”
“Never met her.”
“But were you a fan or something?”
I shrug “She was an excellent singer, but this was my first time visiting this theater.”
“Is your friend a doctor?”
“My friend is a manta.”
“What’s a manta?”
“Oh, well they help people. I think it might be a spiritual thing but it boils down to helping people for the sake of making the world better rather than for a reward or praise.”
The man writes for a couple moments, then asks “How did you end up from the stage to the snake’s dressing room?”
That’s not a bad question, maybe he’s not as incapable as I thought? “After the doctors took over care of the victim my friend took me to the dressing room to wash my bloodstained hands. Then mister Craig came in to tell us she didn’t make it and that’s when I decided to solve this case myself.”
“So who do you think did it?”
“I have no idea. Which is why I want to talk to more people. I was just trying to get my bearings when your boss came stampeding in and kicked us out.”
“Well, the leading theory seems to be that Darren Johnasson stabbed the woman, then ran back to his dressing room to kill himself.”
I scoff at that “Unlikely.”
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow at me “How so?”
“A couple things. Firstly, the cause of death seems to be strangulation. Without noose or other mechanical aids it’s difficult to strangle yourself since you automatically let go as you pass out. If a device was used it’d still be there for us to find but it’s not there. Secondly, the person on stage was wearing the snake’s yellow and green costume whereas the man in the dressing room wears simple day clothes-“
“Yes but actors are really quick with changing clothes.” He counters.
“But changing clothes just to die? Besides the gardener was on the snake’s tail, wouldn’t he have tried to stop the murderer from suicide?”
“Would you?”
“Yes.” I respond right away. Then follow with “Do you know who played the gardener?”
“Not yet, but I take it one of my colleagues is already talking to him. What else did you notice while you were in the dressing room?”
“The window was locked and without damage so it’s unlikely the murderer came in that way. Meaning the murderer is most likely someone who wouldn’t look out if place walking around in this place. They also need to know the snake’s entire dancing routine, so more likely troupe than crew. I assume the motive for mister Johnasson’s death is access to the costume but one thing that bothers me however is that I expect a planned murder to be hidden better than a haphazardly tied scarf around a corpse’s neck.”
The man hums as he writes “So you really are a detective then?” He says, surprise clear in his voice. “Anything else you noticed that looked off or strange?”
“Not really, time was too short, but I do wonder how a real knife ended up in the snake’s hands, since the actor director handles it before him. Wouldn’t he notice if something was wrong with it?”
“Maybe he’s in on it?”
“He did seem genuinely upset but I can’t rule that possibility yet. Is that all you need?”
“If you have no more information to give me. But before you go…” He caps his pen, clips it onto his notebook and uses his free hand to pull something from his pocket. “I think we can catch this crook faster if we work together, don’t you think?”
I accept the card and read it. ‘Millard Menfrey, police officer.’ the rest of the card is taken up with one of Venusia’s signature paragraph-long addresses.
I’m not sure what to think of this man yet. But I guess having the card is not a bad thing in itself.
“Thank you. I’ll take my leave now” I ask putting the card into my pocket. He nods “Have a nice evening miss Castella.”

I exit the closet. My eyes blasted with light as we return back to the glitz and glamour of the theater. But the atmosphere has gone morose and dour.
People hanging around, waiting to go home.
Sitting on the steps with their coats hanging over their shoulders.
I wonder where the others went.
Are they still getting interviewed?
The man who took Dana away didn’t exactly announce where he was heading.
And there’s also those women who-
“Miss detective!”
I look behind me. The blonde woman from earlier comes rushing after me. I can’t suppress the smile forming on my face.
There are gasps from the public, eyes following the performer with intrigue. “You’re serious about solving this right?”
“Yes, very.”
“Good, there’s a cast entrance if you go down the left side of the theater. It’s the first door you spot. Just knock somewhere around breakfast time tomorrow and I’ll let you in. We can talk more then.”
“I’ll do that, thank you again and sorry for your loss.”
“Tonya told me you jumped onto the stage to try and save Donna, is that true?”
“Yes, but I was there to help my friend, I couldn’t have done it without her.”
“That’s still amazing.”
“Tonya’s the woman who was with you right? Can I ask how she’s doing?”
“Rapidly going from a blubbering puddle to an erupting volcano and back again.” She smiles a watery smile “I need to go back to her again but I’m glad I got to intercept you.”
“Indeed. Good night miss…”
“Melanie, Melanie Pilkee.”
“Good night miss Pilkee, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The sky is a patchwork of dark clouds and odd architecture as I make my way out the theater again.
My mind is reeling, I should write things down.
But first I should find the others.
I assume they’ve been let go already?
Did they go back to the Griffin already?
“Alice! Oh thank heavens there you are, why did they keep you that long?” Hamala asks as she flags me down from next to one of the pillars.

“Oh, I uh…I’ve decided I’m a detective now. And I’m going to try and solve this murder.”
“You’re what now?”