Death of a Hundred Kisses

Lonely Little Leaf

Any memory with the mothers is impossible not to cherish. It could be good, it could be bad, it could be lost out of sight. But the memory, they never would betray.

I came home early. It was not so pleasant as I thought. And I was stuck to the decision of my former family. The woman who raised me didn’t want to see me, and the man whom I hated the most wanted me to take over his life of power and dynasty. Oh irony, why?

I needed to take some coffees and cigarettes. Maybe there were some coffee cubes left in the refrigerator. It would be a long tiresome night, to think over tomorrow, think over everything I would do.

I put some coffee cube in the empty kettle. The coffee was ready in no time. I had a readymade hot coffee and a pack of blurry cigarette. I was ready to plan.

I looked into my closet. I had nearly enough to spend a day or two in Milan. I didn’t need a week vacation, obviously. My absence could alert IBCI or FBI, but I was just clearing my mind. Would that be believable? Maybe, there was no record exactly for my previous visit in Milan.

I lit a cigarette. So, should I go again? How was Durante? Was he okay this time? Did he remember me? I didn’t know. It was risky going to a man whose relation with me was still confusing. But maybe all was for the better.

Suddenly I heard a knock, a sudden knock. Who was here at this late hour? Who could it be?

I slowly grabbed my revolver, and walked to the door. The pounding on the door was getting heavier, that wouldn’t be a safe alert, would it?

It was. There were people from IBCI.

Agent Micah was standing there, staring a me. There was John, happy to see me maybe. Noire was also here, he hadn’t come to my house ever.

I coughed, ‘Agent Micah, it was surprised to see you here, at this hour.’

Micah was still staring at me. John asked, ‘Sir, can we come in?’

I nodded, ‘You can, but you don’t have to address me respectfully as your senior. Because I am not.’

John nodded, ‘Noted.’

Noire always had a cold voice, ‘Your house is pretty dope.’

I just nodded. I had too much in my plate to play with these kids.

I asked again, ‘So, what can I do for you?’

Micah looked at me, ‘For a respected and decorated agent, you have too little sense of generosity.’

I was okay with less generosity. However, what was her involvement in this?

John asked me, ‘If you don’t mind, I will make coffee for us, and a little snack, I know where everything is.’

Of course, he would know. He was the only person who came in my house more than three times. I gave him extra keys to drop by and wait for me to go on the stakeout in any case. He knew my house, but not me.

He didn’t wait for my permission, he straight went to the kitchen, and I was left with a weirdo teammate, and a nerdy girl who took my position.

Noire pulled some files from his bag, ‘These are all the files we have on Abiel Montero.’

So, they were trying again to have me on the case. Was it even real, or IBCI wanted me to secretly confess?

I looked at Micah, ‘I thought I told you I don’t want to be involved.’

She looked at me like my stare, ‘And I thought I said I wasn’t ready giving up on that. So, here we are. You are the best I know.’

Damn, she knew so little. Literally every agent in FBI was better than me at everything.

I wanted to keep this argument going, but I had my personal life, my personal hunch. So, I couldn't risk my secrecy over these people.

I sat down with them, ‘So, any digging in Abiel? Who was he?’

Noire replied, ‘Some kind of money people.’

I sighed, ‘No, I mean, what did he do to get such a dark death? Like any enmity? Or just random?’

Noire cleared his throat, ‘The FBI people said that he was on the watch list. He had suspicious connections with many people, but nothing is provable.’

Micah sat right next to me, ‘Let’s say it’s random, then what should we do?’

I was really bored by these incompetent dorks, ‘Aren’t you a detective? What does your gut say?’

She sighed, ‘My gut says to follow what Ephron says.’

Ah man, this girl was intolerable, ‘I think we should interview some of his closest friends. No matter how secretive a person is, there is someone who knows all those secrets.’

Noire said, ‘Yeah, thought you would say that. So, here's the interview tapes and statements of three people. The mother, the wife and the girl with an affair. The three horsemen.’

Noire was quite silent one, but with a good brain.

Micah looked at me, ‘You named those the three horsemen?’

How did this woman guess that? Did Noire tell her?

I simply nodded.

She gave me the tape, ‘Wanna hear these now?’

I denied, ‘Not exactly. Give me a brief description about them. The mother first.’

Noire opened the file, ‘Maria Montero, age 67. She was Maria Renoir before marriage. When she married Xavier Montero, Abiel was three. She was always with him throughout his whole childhood.’

I sighed, ‘And she still couldn’t believe he was killed, and was with some bad companies on his own.’

Noire nodded, ‘Yeah, typical raising mother.’

She looked at us, ‘This seems harsh.’

I looked at her, ‘Well, to be true, the world is harsh. Every opportunity is a opportunity for being wicked, if you can recognize. So, I feel deeply sorry for her, but being in denial is a laughable mistake.’

She stayed silent.

I asked, ‘What’s the deal about the wife.’

Noire opened another file, ‘Diana Montero, age 32. She was just Diana before marrying Abiel. She was a stenographer before. The marriage was drastically being ruined for Abiel's sudden business meetings. She blames herself for his death.’

Micah mocked me, ‘Now just say that typical marriage in America.’

I would never work with any annoying woman, ever again, ‘I would say that. But the absence of surname states otherwise. And stenographers usually have secret friends for feds. So it’s worth a shot following on.’

She looked at me, ‘And the third? The affair girl?’

I sighed, ‘No need, would be a typical reason of dissatisfaction in original love life. It’s a common case.’

Noire nodded, ‘It is really. So our first hunch is Diana.’

John came with a tray, ‘Well, there was just coffee, and some weird non-crispy nachos. So who wants a coffee dipped nacho fiesta?’

Everyone raised their hands. I didn’t, it was absurd. I mean, that was not even a real thing. Who ate coffee with nachos? Coffee was a loner drink. It is the best while drunken alone, with nothing.

John gave me a cup, ‘Here. I know you wouldn’t like anything with coffee. So this is a plain cup of coffee, served just for a plain man.’

The words were offensive, but true. I took my coffee cup, and sat on the sofa.

It was common for us three, to sit around and do our jobs, find a solve. That was a real life. Who gave a crap about getting in a meeting with scumbag like Perez? I never disliked the underworld shenanigans. But replacing grandpa, that was too much. He shouldn’t be replaced, he should be destroyed. And mainly, this job, solving something, avenging some crime in the right way was more exciting to me.

Micah sat next to me. She was way shorter sitting beside me. Was that weird? Maybe, but why would it be?

She whispered, ‘Isn’t it great? Being with the squad, having the same feeling as always, these are the cherishing moments you always will want, not some stand-off with a killer lover.’

She yawned, ‘Man, I am sleepy.’

She slept in my shoulder. I wanted to yell, ‘Girl, you are a detective. Act like one.’

But I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

She said, sleeping on my shoulder, ‘Lazarus, it’s a sweet name. Why do you hide your name with agent Ephron?’

I sighed, ‘Are you waiting for my answer?’

She laughed, ‘No, not exactly. I know the surname rule. I am also a detective, remember?’

Oh wow! She remembered, thank goodness. Man, I am bad in throwing sarcastic thoughts.

She sipped her coffee, ‘Have you ever wondered a place, where the sun doesn’t shine, the moon doesn’t rise, and full of mushroom? Can you take me there?’

Fairytale had never any affect on me. I slowly got up from the sofa, and tucked her in it. She was sleepy. I could hear her throwing thoughts all over everywhere.

She whispered finally, ‘You can create stories around us, not with some passionate female killer.’

Was that jealousy? Maybe, I was too tired for any thoughts.

I went into my room and threw myself on the bed. It was a long day, a day full of craziness. Actually deep down, I wanted that. I wanted to yell happily, but that would make the detectives unnecessarily suspicious. I revised the plan. The first thing in the morning would be sneaking out of the house, with a journey bag. I was innocence, but Illinois had not proof for me, maybe Milan had.