The coroner gently draped the white sheet over the female body. His assistant handed him a clipboard with the all too familiar forms.
“Broken neck,” he voiced out loud, writing the statement down on the form. “No visual signs of assault or sexual assault. No defence wounds. Time of death estimated at 3:00 AM.”
“Just like Dorothy Catalonia.” Trowa wrinkled his nose. The analgesic gel could hardly keep the lingering smell of the morgue away. Wufei stood next to him, arms crossed.
“Don’t tell me we have a goddamn serial killer.”
He was not a man quick and easy with swear words, and Trowa knew how upset he was. The possibility of a serial killer on the loose opened a whole new can of worms, not to mention a new aspect of the case.
The coroner completed filling out the forms. “Do you want me to perform full autopsy?”
“No.” Wufei shook his head. “Please notify her family and next-of-kin. I think it’s safe to say you won’t find anything more than a broken neck.”
The man was quick to understand. “Right, just like Catalonia.”
“Just like her.” Wufei sighed.
“I need some coffee,” Trowa said. The coroner and his assistant busied themselves with the forms and the preparations of the body for release and didn’t notice the two detectives leaving the morgue.
Wufei rubbed at his temples. “Une’s going to be very pissed about this. Just what we need - a psycho randomly killing women.”
“Perhaps not randomly,” Trowa suggested. They reached the end of the hallway and took a right turn, towards their office.
“You’re thinking about the piano teacher?”
“The girls were both his student. There must be something we’ve missed.” Trowa didn’t sound very confident. He knew Wufei’s judgmental skills and his own observation skills. Thinking back to their first encounter, it struck Trowa again that Duo Maxwell was one of the few people where honesty could be read off of their faces. \\Or he was a damned good actor.\\
“Or just overlooked, maybe. We have the name of his life partner. He was absent at the time we questioned Maxwell. It looked like a cold lead at that moment, but I think it’s time to pick it up.”
Wufei opened the door to the office.
“We haven’t much to work with,” he continued. “We better prepare before we pay him a visit. Call the lab to analyse the plaid blanket we found. Her clothing has to be searched for prints, the works. We have to notify the Schbeiker family.”
Silence fell. Both detectives hated the notifying with a passion. Trowa heaved a sigh.
“I thought I had seen everything right about now… but this case keeps amazing me.”
“We will find our perpetrator, Barton. Justice is on our side.”
Trowa followed his colleague into the office, suddenly feeling subdued. Two murders and hardly a lead to work on except that they were both students of Duo Maxwell, a piano teacher with hands and fingers so fine and slender that Trowa seriously doubted if they were ever able to break a neck.
Duo sometimes really hated himself. He stood in front of the mirror with his toothbrush in hand, his long chestnut hair neatly and tightly braided, dressed in his usual black and white attire. Heero was close to him, putting on aftershave.
“You’re staring at yourself. What’s the matter?” Heero put away the lotion.
“I just wish I could be strong as you,” Duo said. He turned around to face Heero. “God, how you must be sick of me, whining and snivelling! Those damn nightmares…”
Heero closed the distance between them with one step and embraced Duo. “How dare you think of yourself like that! Duo… listen to me, Duo!”
He cupped Duo’s face and gazed in his lover’s eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that you are the strongest one of us? You’ve been through so much in your life, and still you sparkle and smile, you laugh and you live. You’re alive, Duo, so alive!”
“You call me alive?” He dropped his toothbrush, unaware. “I’m in this apartment all day, every day, I have nightmares and I have seen so much death that I…”
“Sshh,” Heero silenced him with a kiss. Duo shivered.
“You’ve seen a church burning, you’ve lost everything you ever loved. It would be traumatic for anyone, so don’t blame yourself for the nightmares. I’m here to protect you, remember? I’m here and I’ll protect you, from everything.”
“From everyone as well?” Duo looked Heero straight in the eye. He cocked his head.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I - I’m sorry Heero, I didn’t… I meant to say… that you’re also protecting me from yourself.” Duo took Heero by the hand when he withdrew. “See? That’s what I mean! You’re retreating!”
“We’ve been over this before,” Heero answered, voice colder. “Duo, I don’t want to go through this all again.”
“Why don’t you tell me, Heero? Why don’t you? You know I won’t judge you… but sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who knows me, and I don't know you.”
Duo felt awkward. He noticed the toothbrush on the floor and the toothpaste smeared on the bath mat.
“What is it you want to know?” It came out as a sigh. Heero didn’t pull himself free, but Duo could feel his tensed muscles.
“What happened to you in the war?”
“Please, Duo. I beg of you stop reliving the war for me. It’s too personal.”
“Too personal?” Duo gaped. “You talk about it every time with your precious war buddies! Why do you leave me out of this important period in your life? What do \\they\\ contribute that I don’t?”
Heero looked pained and Duo regretted his words. The war, even though it ended more then five years ago, had been too big of a wall between them from the beginning of their relationship. He had to accept certain walls in Heero’s life… but this one, this wall was coming down now.
“They’re soldiers and you’re not, Duo. They understand, on a different level. They understand that pain and suffering is not to be talked about over tea and cookies, but that it’s part of the mission.”
He stalked out of the bathroom, leaving Duo in surprise. The living room door clicked shut softly. Duo averted his eyes from his mirror image. What was wrong with him, asking, confronting Heero like that? They had fought about it before, but not this vehement. He kneeled to pick up the toothbrush and rinsed it clean. He felt like a bastard, prying it out of Heero, but he needed the answers. It took him a minute to realise that these answers gave rise to even more questions. He put the toothbrush back on the shelf and saw the medicine cabinet. Hesitant, he opened the small, starch white door. Automatically, Duo searched on the second shelf past the band aids and a package of common aspirin. He dismissed a small bottle of Zolpidem and the well-known Zoloft; nowadays he only used the sleeping aid or the anti depressants when in his mind his burden became too hard to bear. He reached the small package he was searching for. When in therapy, he had the good fortune to be treated by Doctor Sally Po. She had served in the war, and was recommended for dealing with post traumatic stress syndrome, forthcoming from the war. She had praised him on his strength to overcome his trauma, but he praised her for her excellent understanding and compassion. He didn’t want to regard himself as a war victim, he refused to see himself as one-- he hadn’t sustained injuries, he hadn’t battled in the front lines. She was the one to help him realise that his issues and nightmares came from the events he had been through, the murder of his foster family, and the destruction of a church where he had felt safe. She had shown him that he didn’t have to be a soldier to be a victim of the war, and he couldn’t get that message across to Heero. Hearing Heero say that his war buddies - those drunken cronies - understood him better than he did freakin’ hurt. With an irritated gesture, Duo swept over the shelf, lifted the package and tore it open. Two strips fell out. Sally Po had prescribed these to him to deal with the nightmares. Clorazil was a pretty strong tranquilliser, stronger than Zolpidem and Zoloft combined. Duo picked up the two strips. One was full, the other one missed only two pills. He had hardly used the medication these days, and this stock was sufficient for a long time to come. Duo looked silently at the pill strips.
“What’s… what’s going on in here?”
Heero was in the kitchen and had almost finished preparing breakfast. Duo came up to him and put his hands on his shoulders. Heero spun around and smiled.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Duo touched him on the forehead. “You’re beautiful too.”
They kissed, tension not completely forgotten. Heero withdrew and he motioned to the kitchen table.
“Hilde is late,” Duo said. He picked up a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and took a sip.
“What would you say if I stayed home with you today,” Heero said and put a bowl of cereal on the table. “To make up for it?”
“Really?”
“My war buddies are low priority when it comes to you.” He held out a jar of milk to pour on the cereal. “If that’s okay with you and the students, of course.”
“It would be great! Heero, I don’t want you to sacrifice your pleasures. I just want you to meet other people, instead of bitter war veterans.”
“I’ll observe you and your students the whole day,” Heero answered and embraced Duo, nudging his head. Duo parted his lips.
“Kiss me, Mr. Observant.”
After a few minutes they were interrupted by the doorbell. Duo ruffled Heero’s bangs.
“That’ll be Hilde, and about time too!”
He sprinted to the front door without waiting for Heero’s answer and swung the door open. “So where have you been? You’re late by about thirty minu… oh, sorry, Quatre.”
Quatre Winner laughed amicably. “I’m always early, Duo. I don’t want to miss a minute of class!”
He held up the recital books. “I want to learn to play the nocturne just as good as you.”
“That’ll take you some time, but I like your enthusiasm,” Duo quipped. “Come on in.”
Quatre stepped inside and put the books on the little side table by the door. “I practised a lot in my free time. I never thought I was going to… oh, good morning, Mr. Yuy.”
Duo had just taken Quatre’s coat and this time he saw the scowl on his lover’s face. There was something in Heero’s demeanour that didn’t exactly encourage visitors to greet him as jovially as Duo.
“Good morning, Mr. Winner,” was his curt answer and Duo hurried to continue the conversation.
“Why don’t you wait in the living room, Quatre. Tea? Heero, do you want to make some tea? I’m going to call Hilde-- she’s never this late.”
Heero disappeared into the kitchen and Quatre went into the living room. Duo took the phone and quickly dialled the number. He knew the number of his good friend by heart and was astounded that nobody picked up.
“There must be something wrong. Why doesn’t she pick up?”
Heero answered out of the kitchen. “Maybe she’s busy with school.”
“She never forgets a lesson and if she couldn’t make it, she’d have called me,” Duo replied. He dialled her number again and left a message on her answering machine. Heero busied himself with making tea. Duo thanked him by pecking him on the cheek and was about to leave the kitchen, when he turned around..
“You can amuse yourself, can’t you?”
Heero smiled wanly. “I haven’t been toying with the laptop for a while.”
“Great,” Duo answered. He winked at Heero before he went to the living room. He’d rather have Heero showing interest for his laptop and computers in general than him spending time with Khushrenada and Marquise.
\\“It’s really not fair of me,”\\ Duo thought while he paused to keep the tea from spilling on the carpet. \\“Heero does everything for me, I shouldn’t keep him from seeing his only friends.”\\ He frowned. If his ‘friends’ just stopped dwelling over the war and tried to look to the future. If they just stopped reviving his memories of a terrible period with their so-called ‘understanding’, if they just quit refuelling Heero’s paranoid feelings of protection ... Duo shook his head. The matter of Heero’s friends would be a difficult subject for a long time to come. He straightened himself-- he had a student to attend to.
Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 |