LemonTarts

Carousel

Ashley Gallagher

Outside Club Carousel

As much as it itched at Ashley’s skin to leave a crime scene without a full evaluation, the urgency of protecting their only living witness, Emerald or otherwise, far outweighed whatever information this scene could offer them. “Are you suggesting we lie low and wait to see where he strikes next, hoping it’s not at us? That could prove as useless as this killing, plus an extra splash of blood on our hands.” Despite his protest, he could see the logic of the plan. As it was, the only progress they had made thus far were a few questionable sightings and the knowledge that anyone they spoke to had a giant target on their back.

Something gnawed at him. “I’ve never seen this man in my life, you spoke to him?”

Progress being made on the case without him set him on edge. His case. Smith’s case. He searched within himself for the shame over how he’d conducted himself throughout this entire ordeal, and came up empty. His tactics thus far had been rife with unprofessionalism, outbursts, and worse, emotion. Having always been a straight-laced, by the book individual, he reckoned even just one of these words should horrify him, and yet… A deep sense of sickening satisfaction crept over his bones at this taste of freedom, of ugly and underhanded justice for Smith. Had his morals always been such dead weight?

Regardless of the man’s reply, Ashley silently peered at Cal with a narrowed-eye gaze, imagining himself in the man’s shoes. A bringer of justice, by any means necessary. He looked down on Cal for it once, but was that not what he should be for someone like Smith? For someone as innocent as the poor, brutalized girl above the Carousel?

Deep within him, buried somewhere beneath his heart, something seemed to be rattling its chains, testing him.

Carousel

Ashley Gallagher

Outside Club Carousel

The street, normally alive with the city's deviant nightlife, was jarring in the daylight. Nothing but a picked carcass remained. Ashley fancied he could almost hear its death rattle in the exhaust of passing cars and the general hubbub of its busybody occupants, so different from the painted characters of the night.

He strode with an uncharacteristically hurried gait, hand clenching and unclenching at his side, running the logic through his mind over, and over, and over, and over again. It couldn’t be her. If it were, the scene would be at his apartment. Unless… unless she’d gotten it in her head to pay the club a visit again– no. That would be foolish. And she didn’t have a car. He pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it smarted in protest.

Ashley might have just tread straight through the crime scene had the crowd he bumped into not pulled him from his thoughts. He weaved around well-dressed vultures, ignoring their pleas for information, the incessant click and flash of cameras.

The case and its strange and grisly nature had naturally attracted the general public and their morbid curiosity. He couldn’t blame them, but he could definitely grumble obscenities in their direction. He slowed at the crime scene tape, ducking under it in a smooth and effortless movement that had become second nature at this point, and observed the scene before him.

The involuntary relief that flooded his chest sickened him, truly. It wasn’t her.

Rather, it was a man that lay sprawled face-down in the yellow patch of grass in clear view of the street. Ashley flashed his badge to the beat cops keeping the vultures at bay and continued on, crouching next to the body. Careful not to disturb the crime scene just yet, he took note of the tufts of grass worked into the fabric of the man’s jacket, the missing fingernail on a hand with fingers bent at unnatural angles. He had put up a fight, no doubt about it.

Ashley craned his neck to peer into the man’s face, reaching out and turning his head just enough that he might identify the poor sod. Smith stared back at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

Ashley fell backwards with a startled exclamation, just barely stopping himself from landing ass to grass. Not possible, it wasn’t possible.

He was right, it wasn’t. As clear as he’d seen his friend, when he took a second look the face was a stranger’s. Ashley quickly straightened and collected himself, brushing off the lapels of his jacket. He shot what he hoped was a smirk at Cal, though it probably looked more unsettled than anything. “The bees this time of year, trying to crawl up my nose I tell ya.” He grimaced and went back to work, trying to shake off the sense of uneasiness that had sunk its claws into the back of his neck.

Carousel

Ashley Gallagher

Central Police Station

Ashley sighed, grimacing as his partner tore into both him and his shoddy police work. The man was right, there was no doubt about that. He knew better than to ask what the hell Cal was doing at the club in the first place, the answer would undoubtedly be picking up his slack, but something Cal had said suddenly hit him like a blow. “My… my apartment? He saw us in my apartment?” The rest of the lecture was all but lost on him in a sudden moment as he sat, gears whirring in his brain almost visibly. “Cal, she’s there now, by herself. I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed himself for being so stupid. “I thought it would be safe. Safer than the club.” Ashley took a moment to collect himself, this was his job. He had let his emotions run most of the evening, it was time for his logic to take over, if he had any left. He felt the nights of sleeplessness buzz at the edge of his vision. “We need to go over there now, get her out of there. I know what it must look like to you, but I assure you my interest is strictly professional, and we need to go make sure the witness is safe.” He swallowed the lie like bitter coffee and met Cal’s gaze. How could he be so foolish? Of course his apartment wasn’t safe, he was one of the detectives tracking the damn monster. “I’ll take her into police custody for official questioning, she’ll be safe here for now. The rest…” He sighed. “The rest will be up to her, I suppose.” He swept up the jacket he had discarded and headed for the door.

A shrill tone rang out into the room and Ashley whipped around, eyeing the phone that sat at his desk. He snapped it up. “Detective Gallagher speaking.” His blood ran cold, and he watched his knuckles whiten on the edge of the desk. He hooked the phone and turned to Cal. “They found a body– outside the Carousel.”

Carousel

"Emerald"

Outside Club Carousel

The club’s doors slammed shut behind Emerald and she hunched her shoulders, her mink shrug doing nothing to ward off the night’s chill, and the delicate fabric of Ashley’s dress doing even less. Goosebumps prickled at the surface of her skin. She sighed, her fingers trembling as she brought a cigarette to her red lips, cupping a hand around its end as she sparked it up. Stupid plan, stupid night, and a very stupid, stupid detective. She rolled her eyes, groaning audibly and tilting her head back in frustration, searching the night sky for an explanation for her downright foolish behavior. It stared silently back at her, answerless.

Every time she’d bothered to trust someone besides herself, they had let her down. Of course this time had been no different. Now she had nowhere to stay, no way to get out of this part of town. A big, fat ‘murder me’ sign sat above her head in heady neon. She felt her shaking subside as a drag from her cigarette floated sweetly through her.

Emerald squared her shoulders and set down the sidewalk, determined to at least make it a couple blocks before her inevitable end.

It was by chance that she spared a glance into the alleyway parallel to the club, and caught the figure, hunched over himself, breathing so heavy she could see the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders. Perhaps it was also by chance that she recognized the jacket slung over said shoulders. “Detective?!”

The figure didn’t move, and she approached, leaning over and gingerly reaching out to place her hands on either shoulder. “Detective.” She spoke sternly, with more purpose, willing him to answer her. He didn’t, but she got a clearer view of his harrowed expression, his skin white as a sheet, as if he’d seen a ghost. Her tone softened instinctively. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. Tell me what’s going on…” She moved to crouch in front of him, ducking so she could meet his gaze. “Ashley, I’m frightened.”

His eyes finally rose to meet hers and he stilled. After a beat, he abruptly stood, and she followed, pulling her shrug tight around her shoulders with one hand, and leaving the other perched on his shoulder. In a rush of motion, he took her face roughly into both hands, almost pulling her off her feet. “Ashley!”

“You… you’re… you’re okay.” The detective murmured, almost tenderly, examining her face closely. Life seemed to snap back into him and he unhanded her, clearing his throat and averting his eyes. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“No thanks to you!” She snapped, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I could have my throat slit upstairs by now and you’d be none the wiser! What could have possibly possessed you to abandon me like that!” Much to her dismay, she sounded more frightened than angry, but she continued, unable to stop herself. “And then I come out here... and find you like this, christ!” She bent and snatched up her shrug that had fallen in the mud amidst the commotion. “No more games, no more elaborate plans, this is my -life- you’re putting on the line!” Emerald couldn’t tell if she was angrier with him, or angrier with herself for placing so much trust in him.

Ashley held his hands out, as if soothing a spooked horse. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Tonight went to shit, that’s all. Ain’t nothing else to say about it. I’ll play it safe from here on out, you have my word, just please…” He gave her an imploring look. “Please don’t go off on your own, let me drive you back.” He was asking her to stay. So be it.

Emerald stepped in close, her face inches from his, and paused a beat before snatching his keys from his trouser pocket. “You’re such a fool. You’re in no state to drive.” She muttered angrily, spinning on a heel and stalking out of the alleyway.

Ashley Gallagher

Central Police Station

If it weren’t in the middle of the night-- and if he weren’t as sober as a judge, Ashley might have fancied himself hungover. He was dreadfully exhausted, a bit queasy, and nursing quite the headsplitter. The drive back to his apartment had been one of stony silence. He had dropped Emerald off at his apartment, and much to his surprise she offered no complaint when left promptly thereafter. The only way to make up for such laughable, shoddy detective work, was to obsess over the case files until the wee hours of the morning, and that was precisely what he planned on doing. He wondered what Lovegrove would have said if he had witnessed such a messy display as tonight.

Ashley rounded the corner of the dimly lit precinct, and as if a devil summoned by the mere thought of his name, Cal appeared. The man was sprawled out, feet kicked up on the desk, sleeping soundly. Ashley cleared his throat pointedly. “Haven’t you got somewhere better to sleep, Lovegrove? This is a precinct, not your living room.”

Carousel

Ashley Gallagher

Carousel Club

“Suit yourself, I’m going for a drink.”

With a huff swish of amethyst tulle, Ashley’s headache dissipated ever so slightly. He lit a cigarette and pinched the bridge of his nose. Pull yourself together, you fool. But it wasn’t that simple. His thoughts were thick and fuzzy, like swimming through honey. The sharpness and wit he relied on normally was failing him spectacularly. This fucking case.

The music flared briefly and drew his eyes to the stage. The jazzy little number the girl was performing did nothing to hide the painful youth of her features. So young, but a prey to the city, as they often were. A shame, there was so much beauty to New York City, if only its shadows weren’t so goddamn oppressive. He cast his gaze out at the crowd, realizing he should be looking for anything out of the ordinary. Though, he figured he’d be hard pressed to find anything ordinary at all about the patrons of a club such as this. One figure in particular caught his eye, and he felt himself stiffen.

A shimmer of rainy grey eyes met his, then looked away. So brief, but he would know them anywhere. Impossible. Before he even realized he was moving he was on his feet, shouldering his way closer to the edge of the club, craning his neck to catch a glimpse. Sure enough, there she was, not a radiant beauty, just a comfortable one, with honey-brown hair and an easy smile. Someone whispered, “Mary.” And a few beats later he realized it must have been him, as he felt the name sweeten his lips.

Something solid slammed into him and he scrambled, gripping the shoulder of the man who he had just collided with. “Hey! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, you maniac.”

Ashley ignored him, frantically searching the back wall once more, but she’d disappeared. No. She had to be here, she was right there. With a newfound sense of urgency he weaved his way through the tables, eyes darting back and forth. She was here, he had to find her. Movement caught his eye. She had her back to him, but it didn’t matter, it had to be her. Somewhere deep down something was screaming at him, begging him to wake up, but it was muffled, suffocated by the clouding of his own damn mind.

He reached out, clumsily grasping at her pale shoulder. “Mary.” She jumped out of her seat, and whirled to face him, and reality hit him like a freight train. The face that stared back at him was a stranger’s, and a horrified one at that.

“Let go of me, you lecherous creep!”

He stumbled backwards, unable to find the words even to comfort this poor girl he had practically accosted.

“Hey pal, what’s the bright idea?” Ashley barely registered the man who had come to her defense, and he shook his head, couldn’t stop shaking his head in fact. He turned, stumbling for a door, any door. Mary.

"Emerald"

Club Carousel

Emerald wished she could say she was surprised as the man was dragged off by a shady stranger, but with the way this night was going…

She was simply thankful the attention had been directed somewhere else, away from herself. She took a moment, sitting down properly at the bar and fixing her hair. She was in control.

“You alright, Em?” Mickey offered her a genuine smile, albeit a tad uneasy as well. She waved him off.

“Just some desperate freak, takes more than that to ruffle my feathers.” And yet… her heart flip-flopped as she realized she was now completely on her own, and a sitting duck. She squirmed uncomfortably on her seat, the drink in front of her lacking it’s usual appeal.

“You ever going to let me take you away from all this?” It was a joke, one he had told many times, but she could feel the yearning truth behind it all the same.

Even so, “Wouldn’t dream of it, I love this life.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and she swallowed it with a tiny grimace.

The Creep (alternatively, Jacob Collins)

Outside Club Carousel

Jacob’s walk home was cold, and wet. Rain sneaking it’s way down the collar of his shirt. He felt defeated, frightened, and most of all humiliated. He had hoped the first time he spoke to Emerald it would have all gone so differently, so much better. But he had ruined everything.

He never had a way with words, never knew how to talk to girls. In school they had laughed at him, taunted him, and he’d become accustomed to the idea that love was not a luxury he was allowed.

The first time he had seen Emerald on stage, the urge to rebel against the cruelty of that notion had consumed him, and in that moment he had loved her with his entire heart and soul.

But yet again, his stupid words had granted him the same look he had always gotten, disgust, fear, horror. All he wanted was for her to be safe. Even if it was in the arms of someone else.

Perhaps if he wasn’t so deep in his thoughts, he might have seen the man in the white trench-coat, matching each path he took, just a few paces behind him. Perhaps he would have heard the wing-toed footsteps or the soft breath. By the time he did, it was too late, and in his final moments of consciousness, he wondered how the world could possibly be so cruel

Carousel

The Creep

Outside Club Carousel

“So what say you?”

The man stammered, clammy hands rubbing insistently at his sides. He eyed the pistol with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Come on now, officer. I-I-I didn’t do nothin’, I swear it.” He moved restlessly foot to foot. “You’re wasting time! You’re wasting her time! You should be in there, protecting her, why aren’t you in there, protecting her?!” He swore, running his hands through his sparse hairline. “I didn’t want to be a part of this, I didn’t want anything to do with this, officer, you hear me? It’s not my fault. It was an accident, I had to protect her!”

He sucked in a shaky breath. “I-I-I I’ll tell you what I know, I’ll do it. I’ll do it for her. I uh… I uh… I guess I was following the lady, ‘escorting’ her back home, you could say. Makin’ sure she made it home safe, okay? But she didn’t go home, not to the home I know her to go to, yeah? She gets in the car with this cop, at the end of the day, she ends up back at his apartment. She… she… she.. Ah fuck.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m no creep, okay, officer? I’m no creep. Just a man in love, alright? Once I got the money, I’m gonna get her out of this life.” He eyed Cal’s piece again, and stuttered back into his story. “But uh…. Uh… I wasn’t the only one watchin’, you see. I was … I was watchin’ the window, I see her in the window,” He gestures emphatically with his hands as he speaks, “I look down, and there’s a man, he’s got a stark white coat on, yeah? A trench coat. He’s lookin’ up at her too. Couldn’t see his face, but I know he was watchin’ her, all intense-like. Was there for a -long- time too. ‘Till the detective came to the window to close it, when I looked back down the guy was gone! I knew. That’s when I knew she was next!”

Carousel

"Emerald"

Club Carousel

Emerald would be lying if she said being at the club again didn’t elicit some sort of discomfort. She felt eyes on her, lots of them, like flies on a carcass, and she couldn’t tell if they were real or her imagination. She kept her own focused straight ahead, a tunnel vision to her seat, and then towards the colorful stage. What an odd sensation it was to be on the other side, on the other perspective, looking up onto the stage as opposed to looking out at the enraptured masses that filled the club.

The dancer currently up there was one she barely knew. A new girl, perhaps. Poor soul. Once you stepped into this life, you hardly ever had the chance to step back out. Ashley was quiet beside her, barely sparing her a glance as he scoured the club with his eyes, stroking his scruffed chin thoughtfully.

“Oh, detective.” She cooed flirtatiously, “You’ll scare off any and all suspects with that hard police glare of yours, you should really relax. Pretend you’re here on pleasure, not business.” Hypocritical, she knew. She reached up and took his hat off, setting it on the table. “You look like a real square.” The action granted her some attention as he redirected his gaze to her face, seeming to study her expression. His face softened a little and he reached out to stroke her cheek.

“You mean put on an act? Like you?” His expression deadpanned again and he dropped his hand. “That was never my specialty.”

“Clearly.” She soured. “Perhaps you’re just disappointed it isn’t me up on that stage.”

He spared a brief and disinterested glance towards the girl on stage. “Might as well be, now could you quiet yourself? I’m trying to focus.”

Ouch. Emerald would not let some moody, grizzled cop define her worth as so little. The audacity was unbelievable. After slapping his hat back on his head with a scoff she stood, composing herself. “Suit yourself, I’m going for a drink.” With a huff and a swish of chiffon she spun around and stalked towards the bar. She cursed herself for being so childish, and playing such a child’s game. Perhaps she was just frustrated that she seemed to have no control over the detective at this moment. She hated that. If she was playing a game, she wanted to be in control of all of the players. Any uncertainties rendered it impossible for her to endure.

Or maybe she was simply confused. This was not how Ashley was supposed to respond to her, not how he usually responded to her. Was his eye so fickle? Had she lost his attention so quickly?

Emerald was suddenly aware of how alone she was at the bar, how she could not see the detective through the crowd, how he could not see her. Foolish. She almost forgot a murderer was on the loose and a grave sat empty with her name engraved in the stone above it. She folded her hands uncomfortably on the bar. Mickey, the bartender, appeared in front of her as if by magic or good fortune. “Ah Emerald.” His smile was a friendly one. “I’m glad to see you back, even if it’s not on the stage. Can I get you your usual? On the house.”

“You’re an angel, Mickey. I owe you a kiss for your kindness, I do.” She batted her eyelashes at him and he preened, leaning forward and presenting his cheek. She pressed a quick, crimson painted kiss to his cheek.

“Aw shucks, anything for the leading lady. You pay my bills you know, with all the rich fools you bring in these doors.” He gave her a little mock salute before moving further down the bar to tend to the other patrons.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her heart stopped, then began again with a quick and anxious rhythm that she felt in her fingertips and toes. She swallowed before turning around and eyeing the man that had settled himself next to her without her knowing. She recognized him, recognized the sad cow eyes that now observed her with urgency. It was the man she had spoken of, her silent watcher.

“Why pray tell not? This is my club.” Emerald fought to keep the tremble out of her tone, keeping her eyes on the man instead of letting them flick to her table, wondering if Ashley could even see the exchange.

“It isn’t safe, you’re not safe. If he were smart, he’d be here, if he were here, he’d kill you the moment he caught you alone.”

“Who?”

He shook his head frantically, reaching for the bodice of her dress. “You need to leave. He can’t take you, not you.” She tried to step away but his grasp was a tight one. His expression turned angry. “How could you be so foolish, coming here? I know you. I know you’re smarter than this!”

Emerald’s heart was in her throat as she spoke. “Let me go, you ghoul! It would cost you near a fortune and then some for you to put your disgusting fingers on me, how disrespectful that you think you can do so for free.”

The commotion drew the attention of Mickey who had come back around with her drink. “Hey! Are you giving the lady here some trouble? Don’t make me come around the bar, mister. You won’t like what happens then.”

It was then that she noticed Mickey’s gaze was not the only one she and the man had attracted. Many of the patrons had stopped their indulgences and now looked on with curiosity. This was not good, attention was not good. This was not how this was supposed to go. Finally she sent a frantic glance in the direction of her table, hoping to find Ashley there. To her horror the table was vacated and Ashley was nowhere in sight. Had he truly left her here to the wolves? Bait to draw in the killer while he watched from safety?

Carousel

"Emerald"

Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67

“Let’s start from the beginning, then.” He said wearily, but relieved. At least for now it seemed she was being honest with him. “I’ll put on some coffee while you collect your thoughts.”

The silence that filled Ashley’s apartment was broken solely by the quick staccato of Emerald’s tapping heel and the hissing of the coffee pot that Ashley dutifully attended to, keeping his back to Emerald. She figured it was his way of relieving the pressure of the situation as she recounted her tale of the mysterious silhouette that had been haunting her for the past couple of weeks.
Admirers were not uncommon, especially with her status as ‘belle of the ball’ so it were. As the clubs dubbed leading lady, she found nothing suspicious about a repeat customer there to see her and only her-- she appreciated it even, and yet…

Something had struck her as odd about the man. He never helped himself to the other services of the club. There was never a drink in his hand nor a seat beneath him. He occupied only the smallest corner of the club, as if he were afraid to take up space. The only times he would make his way into the shining lights was when she was on stage. He’d stand, enamored below her, watching with hooded eyes and a pensive expression.

As soon as her performance ended, he would be gone.

She never spoke to the club about it, figured there was no reason to. If he had malintentions then why act so suspicious? If anything they would have chastised her for potentially scaring off a repeat customer. No… not worth it. She figured she might as well enjoy the attention, however peculiar its form.

In a display of attention that Emerald had never felt so deeply, Ashley listened intently as she spoke of the man, a thoughtful furrow in his brow as he considered. It was one thing to be watched on stage and seen. It was quite another to be actually heard by someone. It was intoxicating. She fancied she would have spoken all night were it appropriate, about anything, if it meant getting to be truly heard just a little longer. Sadly her tale came to an end. She watched him, watched the features of his face tense and relax as the gears of his little detective mind clicked and turned behind that pair of brown eyes.

“Now I can’t say that sounds all too strange or suspicious, but you say it felt strange?”

She nodded gently.

“That’s enough for me, doll. You think he’d be at the club now?”
“I’m not too sure, what interest in the club is there if it’s shining star is absent?” She batted her eyelashes pointedly. “I’d be surprised if it was even drawing half the attention it was before.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, a body is a body.” Even so, she felt his appreciative gaze as she stood, as if he in that moment realized the lie in his words. After her soft scoff and a beat of silence he spoke once more. “That settles it, we’ll go to the club tonight. You’ll be my guest, it wouldn’t be safe for you to perform, too much attention.”

“Oh? What a foolish plan, I would expect better from you, detective. Would it not be horribly suspicious for a dancer to show up on the arm of a detective? Particularly if he is looking for me? And what would the club think?”

“The club will think you’ve brought protection. If he’s there, I want to see his reaction when he sees you offstage.”

“Oh detective,” She bemoaned, “I have not a thing to wear! It wouldn’t do for me to be seen as a guest in my own club in this little old thing.” She gestured to her casualwear, wrinkled from time and movement. In truth she was looking for excuses not to leave her newfound safe haven. She wasn’t sure what being back at the club would feel like, and she couldn’t have anyone, especially not the detective, witnessing her losing her cool.

“Not a thing to wear-- for God’s sake woman.” He gestured exasperatedly at her before disappearing in his bedroom.

Ashley Gallagher

Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67

“Not a thing to wear…” Ashley mumbled angrily under his breath. Women. What did it matter what she was wearing? If her life was a stake, would it not be all the better to blend in? Regardless, he had thrown open the doors of his dusty old dresser before he even considered what he was doing. He paused, huffing a sigh before shuffling to the very back. A dull ache struck in his chest as his eyes fell upon the soft purple chiffon. How fitting. He pulled the dress out with much more grace and ceremony than he did anything in his life these days, running a calloused hand over the deep plum colored fabric. He could almost see it on her, see her eyes light up as she spun in the mirror all those years ago.

“Oh Ashley, it’s marvelous isn’t it?”

“Yes, I daresay she is.”

“You clown of a husband! Get over here and give me a kiss to match.”

He sighed. Such a beautiful thing should not be doomed to a lifetime in the back of the closet.

Emerald’s eyes widened when she spotted it in his arms, red lips parted in a soft ‘o’. The surprise quickly turned to an inquisitive expression that burned holes into his forehead as he refused to meet her eyes. How odd it must be, that a bachelor such as himself is in possession of such a thing.

Thankfully, no questions were asked. She slowly took it from him as if it were the most delicate piece of china, holding it up to her frame. “This should fit, give me just a moment. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have more where this came from, hm? It would be a crime to not accessorize such a piece.”

“Don’t push your luck with me, woman. Try it on.”

“How defensive of you, detective. I suppose I’ll just have to make do with what I have.” Her tone was distracted as she admired the dress in her hands and disappeared into his room. She emerged moments later. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

“Oh detective, it’s absolutely marvelous. What’s a man lacking taste such as yourself doing with such a lovely thing hidden away, hm?”

In an effort to change the subject he met her gaze once more. Lovely was the word for it, for her, and that, he decided, was all he’d think or say on the matter. “It suits you.”

“A compliment? From you? Perish the thought.”

“Are you quite done? I’d like to make it to the club before it closes.”

She stepped towards him, and he flinched as she looped her arm around his. Damn it, Ashley. “Lead the way, detective.”

Club Carousel

Despite the tragedies that had happened within, the club was lit up and boisterous as ever. Emerald seemed stiff and uncharacteristically quiet, though Ashley wasn’t sure he could blame her for that. The hostess had been absolutely delighted to see Emerald, and that seemed to cheer the Emerald up a tad, a genuine smile gracing her features for what Ashley assumed was a friend. The redheaded woman insisted on them having the best seats in the house, and Emerald complied before Ashley could say a word. He shook his head but remained quiet, a hand at the small of her back as if to guide her through the club.

Interesting. Dressed like this, he realized he almost forgot that this was her element. He reminded himself of her origins, of her class… or lack thereof, and it helped cut through the mist that had clouded his mind since she had emerged in the dress.

She was a client, and a dancer, and he was here to catch a perp, nothing more.

Carousel

Ashley Gallagher

Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67

The cab ride home was a thoughtful one for Ashley. His temper had simmered, then deflated, and he was left tired and out of ideas. The truth was, he had incredible contempt for the rich and famous and their lifestyles. Sure, it had clouded his judgement while speaking with the wretched starlet, but he felt more at peace having given her a piece of his mind. People like that never had to crawl in the mud and filth they created beneath them, it disgusted him.

He fumbled for his keys in his coat pocket briefly before jiggling them in the archaic, temperamental lock. As the door swung open he was met with the unwavering barrel of a revolver pointed in his direction. Ashley’s hands flew up in surrender and he stilled, a still smoking cigarette dangling loosely between his lips. “Jesus H. Christ, Emerald, it’s just me.”

The woman in question slowly lowered her weapon before setting it on the coffee table with an abrupt clatter. “Never know when a murderer is slinking his way in on a lady, nowadays.” She replied coolly.

Ashley snatched up the gun, eyeing it over. “How’d you even fuckin’ find this thing, anyway? You've been going through my stuff?”

“Yes.” She perched herself prettily on the arm of his dusty old armchair, her expression alight with a glint of amused challenge. Ashley willed away the soft smirk that threatened to curve at the corner of his lips to no avail.

He had been alone for a long time. The novelty of coming home to someone, albeit a complete stranger,was not lost on him. He felt a warm sort of chord strike within him, the cobwebs that had smothered it clearing just a tad. She cleared her throat and folded her arms. “Since I was stuck here in your tiny apartment all day, I had nothing better to do than some cleaning. You truly lead the life of a bachelor, don’t you? This place was and still quite possibly is the filthiest place I have ever seen.”

Ashley took a slow hit from his cigarette, letting the brief headrush pass before responding. “You see a lot of single men’s apartments, do you?”

“Oh hush, you scoundrel.” She smirked. “I’ll have you know I am a -saint-.”

Almost abruptly her expression cooled and turned to something more vulnerable. Her tone was an attempt at nonchalance. “Find anything new about the case?”

With a heavy sigh Ashley dropped himself down on the armchair. She smelled sweet. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Some starlet knows something, but she’s not talking. Cal’s tailing her.” He paused, opening his eyes to observe her.

Emerald had her back to him, but he could see the tension in her posture.”Do you have a particular admirer that frequents your club?”

She finally turned to half-eye him warily, though her tone was teasing. “Why, are you jealous?”

“Clearly, I have no other very prevalent reason to ask you such a question.” He retorted.

“I see lots of men come and go, and they would all be fools to not be entranced by me when I am on stage. Of course I have admirers. To expect me to recognize or name one would be ridiculous.”

A knot of frustration plopped heavy into his chest. He was so damn tired of coy responses and dismissive jokes. Before he could stop himself he was on his feet towering over her. “Damn it, woman! Drop the act. I am trying to -protect- you believe it or not and you’re making that a damn hard thing to do!”

She stood up, getting in his face and meeting him head on with a bout of her own fury. “Never talk to me like that again, Ashley Gallagher, if you value your precious information. I swear I’ll kill you myself, get the killer’s job done for him.”

They stood there for a moment, face to face, will to will before Ashley deflated and softened his posture. “My apologies, Emerald. It has been a long day.”

While a flicker of annoyance remained in her expression, she backed down as well. “Perhaps I know who you are speaking of. I suppose I was just… in denial about the possibility of being in danger.”

“Let’s start from the beginning, then.” He said wearily, but relieved. At least for now it seemed she was being honest with him. “I’ll put on some coffee while you collect your thoughts.”

Nostalgia for Infinity

"Io Sinclair”

”The Aurora” Club
City “Aries”, Mars

Io spun a shot glass filled with gem colored gelatin between a thumb and a forefinger, the neon wash of lights that danced across every surface almost but not quite hiding the Earth sky blue stains of hair dye on her hands.

The club was raucous as always, a heavy bass beat so visceral it was correcting the timing of her heartbeat. She tossed the gelatin to the back of her throat, bringing a delicate hand to her lips as if to ease the alcoholic undertones of the otherwise sweet shot.

“Easy there, Blue.” The bartender, an older man with a handsome face regardless offered her a genuine smile, the only one she’d seen from him all night. “Don’t want your clients thinking you’re easier than you already are.” She tossed her wavy, newly dyed blue hair over a shoulder, gave him a withering look and a rude gesture.

“Shut it, Indus. If I were a dumber broad I’d say you were jealous.”

He shrugged, pushing another, larger glass her way. He leaned in close, so close she could smell the clean scent of his aftershave cut clear through the clubs musk. “Don’t look now, but bring this drink to the man over there, plum purple suit. The one that’s been making eyes at you for the past hour.”

She lofted a brow. “It almost sounds like you’ve got us a job.”

“Then your ears are as working as well as that dress. A Galileus political bigwig rang me up today, said we’d be getting a particular man in a particular suit who spends the rest of his time in his big fancy house with his beautiful wife and children on Callisto.”

“Sounds boring, why are you wasting my time? Does your contact want him dead?”

“Better. The mans name is Arric Timble, a reporter for an interplanetary news hologram. My contact said he is in possession of some very damning photos that could ruin my contacts career and position. Thankfully Timble keeps it on his person in that handy dandy little briefcase of his. A little more of this,” He pushed the drink towards her. “And a little less of that,” He gestures towards her dress. “And you should have full access to those files.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“A hefty paycheck and you get to see the photos?”

She gave him a winning wink and a smile. “Sold. You know me so well.”

“Unfortunately, now take him this drink. The ice is melting and his eyes are starting to wander elsewhere.”

With a quick kiss on his cheek she grabbed the drink. “As if.” She spun, and began sauntering over towards the man in the plum purple suit.