Zara rounded the table, she felt the fine ridges in the underside, the laminate on the top. Familiarising herself completely with where they all would sit. What they would each in turn feel and experience as she asked her questions. Probed their motives and whereabouts.
The subjects.
It had been a while since she'd done anything like this. Since she'd been allowed to.
H.E.L.P had sidelined her quite a while ago, even before the pressure on the organization ramped up. The lack of faith-- no. The lack of trust was a sleight she had found more than difficult. It was one thing from the humans, their fear of the different was a defining trait. To be expected. But her own people? This was something beyond.
"So, you want coffee? Tea? Somethin' stronger, whilst you play the disaffected detective?"
Zara smirked, her neck straightened, recognising the voice before seeing its source as her back wa still to the door. The Australian Captain.
"Or do you still not trust me and view me as a suspect in this whole infernal bloody investigation?"
Turning her head to the side, she scanned his face from profile for his reaction as she told him. "You were never a real suspect. Running around the whole ship in full sight of everyone, desperately trying to pull away from shore. Killing someone at that time would have taken a level of sleight of hand that nobody would reasonably believe you to be capable of."
"But suggesting it got you exactly what you bloody wanted, didn't it?" He spat in disgust. "So quick, clean and quiet. With your ego trip. Whatever last grab at glory you call this."
He was enraged, but she could tell he'd just confirmed suspicions he already had. She briefly wondered what could have tipped her hand before it immediately came to light.
"So how'd 'bullet retrieval' go on a through-and-through, anyway?"
Ah. There it was. If anything, she should have been surprised more didn't pick up on it, although they were probably distracted by the situation. For most, a murder isn't an everyday thing.
"Judging by wound diameter, I suspect we're looking for a .38 special or 9mm round."
Zara walked back around the table towards the side that she would actually be sitting in. Facing the entrance. Back to the wall, as she was accustomed to.
He sneered, unimpressed by her deflection and choice in ignoring his point.
She expanded further.
"A .38 special or a 9mm round would mean a revolver or pistol of some kind. Can you picture many humans going Hype-hunting with a handgun and firing off blindly at distance into fog? What do you think they'd expect to hit?"
"Probably some poor bastard on stern deck about Quinn Spence's size..." The Captain muttered as he walked away.
Zara poured a glass of water for her side of the table and sat and waited for the first person she'd requested to arrive.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
She entered with an unwillingness to talk, even beyond her capacity to do so.
Lilly Marks slapped a notepad and pen down on the table top and rocked back in her chair, irritated by the whole process.
Zara maintained the silence, which seemed to irritate the woman opposit even further. Ink drew from her shoulders and swirled, until forming a clear, yet cursive 'What?' across her own forehead.
She didn't seem particularly impressed by this entire endeavour, and Zara's investigation had split the crewmembers. Not the least because of--
"The Captain asked that should I need to speak to you, I speak to you and Ms Boucher first, to not keep you from other duties. He doesn't much care for the fact this investigation is taking place and what he views as the possible negative effects it could have on the people on this ship. I take it you feel this time could be better spent getting back to those duties as well?"
The ink on her forehead swirled and took the form of a picture of a brain. Before the word 'Smart' appeared underneath it.
Zara exhaled sharply, the sides of her mouth curling slightly at the sullen visual response.
"You like the Captain, don't you?"
Lilly's brow dropped slightly, not liking where the insinuation was going with the much older man.
She picked up the pen and started to scrawl, her handwriting much less aesthetically pleasing than the writing she could produce with her own ink and flesh. Zara sipped at the glass of water, just for something to do whilst she wrote her response.
She slapped the pen back down sharply, tore off the page and turned it, sliding the note paper to the former H.E.L.P investigator.
He's a good man. After all, he's the reason most of us have anywhere to go now at all. He seems to genuinely care.
Zara read the note and then looked at the woman seated across from her. Taking in her body language.
Lilly gave her something else to read. The ink on her forehead swirled again before spelling out. 'Probably including you.'
Empty speculation, but Zara's takeaway was different from Lilly's intent.
Deflection.
'He's funny.'
"And how did you know Quinn Spence?"
More scrawling on the notepad.
I don't really. Got introduced because he was going to be working in the kitchen. We haven't really had service yet though, so never even worked with him yet. Our prep work has been different and separate. Chef would know him better.
"Chef being Celeste Boucher?"
The ink once again swirled on her forehead to once again show the brain. This time throbbing. 'Genius' formed beneath it in pristine formal cursive.
The Chef was next. The Captain eager to let the kitchen staff be allowed to get back to work.
"Chef Boucher. What's your opinion of her?"
The question seemed to amuse Lilly. Rapid scraewling, as the smirk broadened across her face.
I think if she was the one who turned up dead, you'd have a lot more questions for me. As well as anyone who ever had to work with her and knows her personality.
Slap. Turn. Push.
Zara read the note and smirked herself.
"You mean 'personally'."
The ink on her forehead swirled and took the form of emboldened all caps 'NO.' as Lilly shook her head twice with her lips pursed. She knew exactly what she meant.
"Look. You were in the dining room at the time. Witnesses place you there as well during the entire incident. Main reason I wanted to speak with you first was to get whatever early impression of the victim I could, from someone who could be comfortably written off as a suspect and get your interview out of the way. Captain's orders."
Lilly shrugged, and pointed her thumb to the exit with her brow raised. The body language clear. 'So I can go?'
"Of course. You didn't do this. We both know that..."
Lilly got to her feet and made for the door.
"...of course, the question is, would you lie to cover for someone else? The Captain?"
The young mute woman stopped in her tracks and turned her face to profile. She scratched her cheek, and ink swirled around her wrist, before illustrating a perfect middle finger on the back of her hand. Less than subtle.
But then so had Zara's statement been. And needlessly provocative, by design.
If they were going to create a schism over this, become adversarial, the least Zara could do is use it to her advantage. She felt little for her fellow crew, and so would be completely unapologetic for her methods. Her investigation was still very much in its infancy, so much so she'd not even had to employ her 'special skills' yet. Nothing but the psychological training at this point.
It remained a little frustrating that she had little knowledge of the victim at this point.
Quinn Spence. Five feet eleven inches. One hundred and sixty pounds. Hyperhuman power: An immunity to radiation. Tasked with working in the kitchen, under the next subject - Celeste Boucher. Known associates: At this point none.
Frustratingly bare knowledge base.
Sure, there were things she could extrapolate from the body, but character witnesses add far more 'flavour'. Motivations and goals, personality traits, before you even get to potential background knowledge which may lead to motive for the killer.
Condensation had formed on the outside of her glass of water.
Just the first thing at this table she expected to see sweat.
Celeste Boucher stood formally at the door, awaiting acknowledgement and permission to take her seat opposite.
"Take a seat." Zara permitted.
"Would you prefer 'Chef' or 'Ms Boucher'?"
Even seated, Celeste Boucher seemed less than relaxed in nature. Completely unperturbed by the questions which may come, but more a preparedness to snap to an attention. Like the very act of being stationary was itself disagreeable to her very nature.
"'Chef' in the kitchen. As for here, I leave it to your discretion." She replied simply.
"Do you feel you have anything of value to add to this investigation, Chef Boucher?"
"Yes."
"And what's that?"
"I did not do this, and, whilst I can't vouch for her on a great many other things, Lilly Marks did not do this either."
Zara dwelled on the Chef's phrasing for a moment. Tenting her fingers momentarily she re-phrased the unasked question for the surrendered statement.
"So you are saying that this wasn't any of the kitchen staff?"
"I didn't say that. I said that I know that I didn't do this, and I can also account for the whereabouts of Lilly Marks. As for the other kitchen staff - the dishwashers - I'd granted them their leave, along with Quinn since it was general prep and there was no service at hand."
Zara nodded, as if confirming a suspicion.
"An interesting choice of words regarding Lilly Marks, as well. What's your impression of her?"
The Chef considered what she was being asked, and the context her opinion had been requested in. She clearly didn't think particularly highly of her, but...
"She didn't do this. And this is meant to be an investigation looking into who did. So my thoughts on her are irrelevant."
Zara smirked at the backpedalling. Very willing to speak ill of her, until called to direct question.
"And those thoughts would be?"
"She floats. She's content to be far less than what she's capable of being. I can't respect a person without a work ethic. Especially someone who is so capable of more. A person without any sense of drive or ambition. It may win her friends, but it does not impress me."
As if sensing Zara's categorizing her statement, Celeste continued.
"...Like I said, irrelevant to the matter at hand. Speaks nothing to who killed Quinn Spence."
Zara took a sip of water and considered her statements. If nothing else, this subject seemed honest and direct.
"And if you asked her of me, I don't doubt that her response would be that I'm a cold, hard bitch."
And very willing to surrender statements to character. Especially when left with uncomfortable silence. Possibly due to seeing herself as a social 'outsider'. Eager to get her own views seen and heard.
"And you spoke of the dishwashers earlier, they also had been granted free time. What's your impression of them, and are you aware of how they got along with Quinn?"
Celeste seemed to give the question some thought. Her hand raised to her chin and her eyes lowered, as she tried to search for anything of interest pertaining to the people who were to be working in the kitchen.
"As far as I'm aware, they'd both only just met in the last few days. Ste, the Irishman. He's another floater like Lilly Marks. Made worse by the fact that he's loud. But the other girl, Suze. She tries, and she's eager to please, she's just a little... flighty. Prone to making mistakes. At the biggest moments too. But both had only just met him. We still hadn't had a service yet, for them to really interact a lot either, and as far as I know, neither of them really 'hang out' with Quinn either."
Zara made a mental note of the Chef's impression of her workers and considered what else this subject could possibly have to offer.
She'd been boxed in to speaking to the kitchen staff first, the Captain eager to provide early access so they could return to their duties with minimal disruption. Now that they were out to sea, preparation and food services would be more regular and their workload more intense. It wasn't an ideal way to run an investigation, the likelihood of solving a homicide drops to half after the first forty eight hours, and usually an investigation builds its own natural organic momentum. These early forced sessions of questioning broke that organic momentum, but they also gave important background, in a situation she admittedly knew too little about.
And most homicide investigations don't see all major players trapped in a singular location for presumably well over those first forty eight hours.
Whoever it was, the killer had nowhere to run to.
...but that could also lead to more desperation. And in turn potential future victims.
The uncomfortable silence was whittling away at Chef Boucher's 'cold hard bitch' exterior, but she was clearly uncertain of what more she could add to break the silence.
"The Irishman will be working nights. Suze in the mornings. Actually..."
She'd finally found something else she could offer.
"Ste was quite insistent that he be working the night shifts. Which is quite irregular in the service industry. Most would prefer to work the earlier shift, get their work done, and have their nights to themselves. Especially a..."
Celeste Boucher hesitated to choose her words carefully.
"Especially someone with Ste's work ethic and personality type."
Insistent. Zara considered. Insistent on having the time available which aligns with time of death.
"That should be all we need, Chef Boucher. I'd like to thank you for your co-operation with our investigation." Again, Zara chose her words carefully.
"Well, hopefully you get to the bottom of whoever murdered poor Quinn.
Zara nodded solemnly in return. Her eyes not meeting the Chef's as if to consider the loss of the poor hyperhuman at the center of the investigation.
No closer yet. But with the formative background information from a few subjects who could not have committed the act, she was prepared for the investigation to roll downhill and find its own momentum now. With more flexibility to call people for questioning to come.
The subjects.
It had been a while since she'd done anything like this. Since she'd been allowed to.
H.E.L.P had sidelined her quite a while ago, even before the pressure on the organization ramped up. The lack of faith-- no. The lack of trust was a sleight she had found more than difficult. It was one thing from the humans, their fear of the different was a defining trait. To be expected. But her own people? This was something beyond.
"So, you want coffee? Tea? Somethin' stronger, whilst you play the disaffected detective?"
Zara smirked, her neck straightened, recognising the voice before seeing its source as her back wa still to the door. The Australian Captain.
"Or do you still not trust me and view me as a suspect in this whole infernal bloody investigation?"
Turning her head to the side, she scanned his face from profile for his reaction as she told him. "You were never a real suspect. Running around the whole ship in full sight of everyone, desperately trying to pull away from shore. Killing someone at that time would have taken a level of sleight of hand that nobody would reasonably believe you to be capable of."
"But suggesting it got you exactly what you bloody wanted, didn't it?" He spat in disgust. "So quick, clean and quiet. With your ego trip. Whatever last grab at glory you call this."
He was enraged, but she could tell he'd just confirmed suspicions he already had. She briefly wondered what could have tipped her hand before it immediately came to light.
"So how'd 'bullet retrieval' go on a through-and-through, anyway?"
Ah. There it was. If anything, she should have been surprised more didn't pick up on it, although they were probably distracted by the situation. For most, a murder isn't an everyday thing.
"Judging by wound diameter, I suspect we're looking for a .38 special or 9mm round."
Zara walked back around the table towards the side that she would actually be sitting in. Facing the entrance. Back to the wall, as she was accustomed to.
He sneered, unimpressed by her deflection and choice in ignoring his point.
She expanded further.
"A .38 special or a 9mm round would mean a revolver or pistol of some kind. Can you picture many humans going Hype-hunting with a handgun and firing off blindly at distance into fog? What do you think they'd expect to hit?"
"Probably some poor bastard on stern deck about Quinn Spence's size..." The Captain muttered as he walked away.
Zara poured a glass of water for her side of the table and sat and waited for the first person she'd requested to arrive.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Alumni Village Port - And Surrounding Waters
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Lilly Marks
Celeste Boucher
Celeste Boucher
She entered with an unwillingness to talk, even beyond her capacity to do so.
Lilly Marks slapped a notepad and pen down on the table top and rocked back in her chair, irritated by the whole process.
Zara maintained the silence, which seemed to irritate the woman opposit even further. Ink drew from her shoulders and swirled, until forming a clear, yet cursive 'What?' across her own forehead.
She didn't seem particularly impressed by this entire endeavour, and Zara's investigation had split the crewmembers. Not the least because of--
"The Captain asked that should I need to speak to you, I speak to you and Ms Boucher first, to not keep you from other duties. He doesn't much care for the fact this investigation is taking place and what he views as the possible negative effects it could have on the people on this ship. I take it you feel this time could be better spent getting back to those duties as well?"
The ink on her forehead swirled and took the form of a picture of a brain. Before the word 'Smart' appeared underneath it.
Zara exhaled sharply, the sides of her mouth curling slightly at the sullen visual response.
"You like the Captain, don't you?"
Lilly's brow dropped slightly, not liking where the insinuation was going with the much older man.
She picked up the pen and started to scrawl, her handwriting much less aesthetically pleasing than the writing she could produce with her own ink and flesh. Zara sipped at the glass of water, just for something to do whilst she wrote her response.
She slapped the pen back down sharply, tore off the page and turned it, sliding the note paper to the former H.E.L.P investigator.
He's a good man. After all, he's the reason most of us have anywhere to go now at all. He seems to genuinely care.
Zara read the note and then looked at the woman seated across from her. Taking in her body language.
Lilly gave her something else to read. The ink on her forehead swirled again before spelling out. 'Probably including you.'
Empty speculation, but Zara's takeaway was different from Lilly's intent.
Deflection.
'He's funny.'
"And how did you know Quinn Spence?"
More scrawling on the notepad.
I don't really. Got introduced because he was going to be working in the kitchen. We haven't really had service yet though, so never even worked with him yet. Our prep work has been different and separate. Chef would know him better.
"Chef being Celeste Boucher?"
The ink once again swirled on her forehead to once again show the brain. This time throbbing. 'Genius' formed beneath it in pristine formal cursive.
The Chef was next. The Captain eager to let the kitchen staff be allowed to get back to work.
"Chef Boucher. What's your opinion of her?"
The question seemed to amuse Lilly. Rapid scraewling, as the smirk broadened across her face.
I think if she was the one who turned up dead, you'd have a lot more questions for me. As well as anyone who ever had to work with her and knows her personality.
Slap. Turn. Push.
Zara read the note and smirked herself.
"You mean 'personally'."
The ink on her forehead swirled and took the form of emboldened all caps 'NO.' as Lilly shook her head twice with her lips pursed. She knew exactly what she meant.
"Look. You were in the dining room at the time. Witnesses place you there as well during the entire incident. Main reason I wanted to speak with you first was to get whatever early impression of the victim I could, from someone who could be comfortably written off as a suspect and get your interview out of the way. Captain's orders."
Lilly shrugged, and pointed her thumb to the exit with her brow raised. The body language clear. 'So I can go?'
"Of course. You didn't do this. We both know that..."
Lilly got to her feet and made for the door.
"...of course, the question is, would you lie to cover for someone else? The Captain?"
The young mute woman stopped in her tracks and turned her face to profile. She scratched her cheek, and ink swirled around her wrist, before illustrating a perfect middle finger on the back of her hand. Less than subtle.
But then so had Zara's statement been. And needlessly provocative, by design.
If they were going to create a schism over this, become adversarial, the least Zara could do is use it to her advantage. She felt little for her fellow crew, and so would be completely unapologetic for her methods. Her investigation was still very much in its infancy, so much so she'd not even had to employ her 'special skills' yet. Nothing but the psychological training at this point.
It remained a little frustrating that she had little knowledge of the victim at this point.
Quinn Spence. Five feet eleven inches. One hundred and sixty pounds. Hyperhuman power: An immunity to radiation. Tasked with working in the kitchen, under the next subject - Celeste Boucher. Known associates: At this point none.
Frustratingly bare knowledge base.
Sure, there were things she could extrapolate from the body, but character witnesses add far more 'flavour'. Motivations and goals, personality traits, before you even get to potential background knowledge which may lead to motive for the killer.
Condensation had formed on the outside of her glass of water.
Just the first thing at this table she expected to see sweat.
Celeste Boucher stood formally at the door, awaiting acknowledgement and permission to take her seat opposite.
"Take a seat." Zara permitted.
"Would you prefer 'Chef' or 'Ms Boucher'?"
Even seated, Celeste Boucher seemed less than relaxed in nature. Completely unperturbed by the questions which may come, but more a preparedness to snap to an attention. Like the very act of being stationary was itself disagreeable to her very nature.
"'Chef' in the kitchen. As for here, I leave it to your discretion." She replied simply.
"Do you feel you have anything of value to add to this investigation, Chef Boucher?"
"Yes."
"And what's that?"
"I did not do this, and, whilst I can't vouch for her on a great many other things, Lilly Marks did not do this either."
Zara dwelled on the Chef's phrasing for a moment. Tenting her fingers momentarily she re-phrased the unasked question for the surrendered statement.
"So you are saying that this wasn't any of the kitchen staff?"
"I didn't say that. I said that I know that I didn't do this, and I can also account for the whereabouts of Lilly Marks. As for the other kitchen staff - the dishwashers - I'd granted them their leave, along with Quinn since it was general prep and there was no service at hand."
Zara nodded, as if confirming a suspicion.
"An interesting choice of words regarding Lilly Marks, as well. What's your impression of her?"
The Chef considered what she was being asked, and the context her opinion had been requested in. She clearly didn't think particularly highly of her, but...
"She didn't do this. And this is meant to be an investigation looking into who did. So my thoughts on her are irrelevant."
Zara smirked at the backpedalling. Very willing to speak ill of her, until called to direct question.
"And those thoughts would be?"
"She floats. She's content to be far less than what she's capable of being. I can't respect a person without a work ethic. Especially someone who is so capable of more. A person without any sense of drive or ambition. It may win her friends, but it does not impress me."
As if sensing Zara's categorizing her statement, Celeste continued.
"...Like I said, irrelevant to the matter at hand. Speaks nothing to who killed Quinn Spence."
Zara took a sip of water and considered her statements. If nothing else, this subject seemed honest and direct.
"And if you asked her of me, I don't doubt that her response would be that I'm a cold, hard bitch."
And very willing to surrender statements to character. Especially when left with uncomfortable silence. Possibly due to seeing herself as a social 'outsider'. Eager to get her own views seen and heard.
"And you spoke of the dishwashers earlier, they also had been granted free time. What's your impression of them, and are you aware of how they got along with Quinn?"
Celeste seemed to give the question some thought. Her hand raised to her chin and her eyes lowered, as she tried to search for anything of interest pertaining to the people who were to be working in the kitchen.
"As far as I'm aware, they'd both only just met in the last few days. Ste, the Irishman. He's another floater like Lilly Marks. Made worse by the fact that he's loud. But the other girl, Suze. She tries, and she's eager to please, she's just a little... flighty. Prone to making mistakes. At the biggest moments too. But both had only just met him. We still hadn't had a service yet, for them to really interact a lot either, and as far as I know, neither of them really 'hang out' with Quinn either."
Zara made a mental note of the Chef's impression of her workers and considered what else this subject could possibly have to offer.
She'd been boxed in to speaking to the kitchen staff first, the Captain eager to provide early access so they could return to their duties with minimal disruption. Now that they were out to sea, preparation and food services would be more regular and their workload more intense. It wasn't an ideal way to run an investigation, the likelihood of solving a homicide drops to half after the first forty eight hours, and usually an investigation builds its own natural organic momentum. These early forced sessions of questioning broke that organic momentum, but they also gave important background, in a situation she admittedly knew too little about.
And most homicide investigations don't see all major players trapped in a singular location for presumably well over those first forty eight hours.
Whoever it was, the killer had nowhere to run to.
...but that could also lead to more desperation. And in turn potential future victims.
The uncomfortable silence was whittling away at Chef Boucher's 'cold hard bitch' exterior, but she was clearly uncertain of what more she could add to break the silence.
"The Irishman will be working nights. Suze in the mornings. Actually..."
She'd finally found something else she could offer.
"Ste was quite insistent that he be working the night shifts. Which is quite irregular in the service industry. Most would prefer to work the earlier shift, get their work done, and have their nights to themselves. Especially a..."
Celeste Boucher hesitated to choose her words carefully.
"Especially someone with Ste's work ethic and personality type."
Insistent. Zara considered. Insistent on having the time available which aligns with time of death.
"That should be all we need, Chef Boucher. I'd like to thank you for your co-operation with our investigation." Again, Zara chose her words carefully.
"Well, hopefully you get to the bottom of whoever murdered poor Quinn.
Zara nodded solemnly in return. Her eyes not meeting the Chef's as if to consider the loss of the poor hyperhuman at the center of the investigation.
No closer yet. But with the formative background information from a few subjects who could not have committed the act, she was prepared for the investigation to roll downhill and find its own momentum now. With more flexibility to call people for questioning to come.
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