Tales from NeoNoir: Pastel Persuasions

     Act Five: Rubbish Revelations

     I had fallen back asleep. My dreams had been spinning out all the events of the past few weeks. My mind has replayed Mrs. Uzzie “Skeith” walking into my office and my life. The way she had been speaking with the Meerca Brothers, whom I assumed had only been pestering her, but slowly my mind was processing that she had been in cahoots with them. The anger jolting through my body as I replay our conversation at Grundos Cafe breaks my sleepy reverie.

      I wake in a start when I hear the clipped voice beside me.

     “Zach,” Mrs. Plume chides, “Zach, what have you gotten yourself…” she pauses and shakes out her feathers, “What have you gotten US into?”

     Her stressing the ‘us’ causes my anger to deflate rapidly. I feel more tired than a trainee at the Ninja School running up and down the volcano. I open my mouth to speak, but a groan comes out instead.

     “Cecilia,” I struggle to get words out, “Cecilia, I made a mistake that may have cost what little piece of my soul was left after the grey curse struck.”

      “What happened boy?” She asks, no accusation in her voice, no reproach. The Elderly Pteri is tough; I’ll give her that as I appraise that black eye she came in with.

     I let it all spill out. Uzzie is coming in for information about her “husband”, following the Bank Manager, even the consideration of not taking the case, fully knowing it could get me in trouble with TNT. How I had gotten roped into the game of Double or Nothing with Snargan, causing me to overhear the conversation between the three Skeiths about a ‘move’ which I then conveyed to the pastel Usul posing as B.M’s wife. Watching the Meerca Brothers repel down from the roof of the National Neopian, the Lens Flare that took out the whole Meridellian Army in attendance…

     “The Meerca Brothers couldn’t have done the Lens Flare themselves.” I look up from the floor, the tuft of hair flipping out of my eyes as I look back at Mrs. Plume. My heart rate speeds up, and my mind spins faster than the metal pieces churning out of Tangor’s workshop. “There was a third thief!”

     Before Cecilia can say anything, the door quickly creaks open as Snargan and the Bank Manager come back into the room.

     The Bank Manager crossed to sit behind the large table I had first spotted him at. His grey form is dejected as he pulls out a pad of paper. Snargan follows behind and leans a beefy shoulder on the wall as he eyes Mrs. Plume again.

     “Can we get your name officially for our records?” The calm, quiet tone from B.M. as he looks at me sets me on edge; I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

     “Zack Zaffa, Private Eye.” I cringe as I’m hit with the failure of not doing an easy enough background check. What sort of green behind the gills, Koi-loving PI had I become since the grey curse?

     “Mr. Zaffa,” the B.M. picks up a pen, “Please tell me everything you can about the Neopian posing as my wife.” His lip curls as if insulted.

     “Can you let Mrs. Plume go?” I ignored his question to get the old bird free first: “I had laid her off months ago; she just happened to run into me on Virtupets Station a few days ago. Please.” I look to Snargan, hoping for some leniency for Cecilia.

     “No.” The one-word answer is spoken in unison by both Skeiths.

     “Just tell them what you told me.” Cecilia nods. Her belief in me even after dragging her bruised and battered into my mistake sends a twinge of guilt into my straightened spine.

     I repeat the same story I had just told Mrs. Plume, and get to the part of watching the Lens Flare strike the Meridellian contingent.

     “The Meerca Brothers had an accomplice.” I finish my story looking between the three Neopians in the room. “It must have been the person who kicked me after I was hit by the second freeze round of Warlock’s Rage.”

     The Bank Manager clears his throat. “We’ll have the Defenders look to see if this third accomplice shows up on any surveillance,” the grey Skeith turns to Snargan, who is lazily flipping a coin between his claws, “Tell the Defenders we need to be on the lookout for a Pastel Usul as well.”

      My heart sinks. What if Uzzie was blackmailed by the Meerca henchmen? What if… what if… what… I shake myself, it was all too unlikely. That dame had come into my office and asked me to follow a Neopian about to move Skarl’s hoard of treasure into his vaults. She had to have been masterminding something. I feel like half the pieces of the puzzle are still flipped over, unclear of where they all fit.

     “We will be in touch.” B.M. nods again to Snargan, “King Skarl is a just ruler; he should allow us to send the prisoners some leftovers from the last meal while the investigation takes place.”

     The Skeiths leave again, and I’m left with my own thoughts and a now chiding Mrs. Plume.

     “Zach, my boy, what have I always said about background checks!” She squawks at me. The story now digested and her real hunger ramping up, I can sense the agitation she had kept under wraps.

     “I know, I know.” I’m left repeating and placating her as we wait for our meal. My stomach is in knots as I don’t know whether I’ll be able to eat or not.

     It’s difficult to tell the time in this dreary room, but my tail has gone numb from helping prop my weight up for so long. I had nearly given up hope of a meal when the door slowly opened back up.

     Snargan came back into the room with two bowls of slop, my stomach so far gone it doesn’t care what the lumpy brown liquid conceals. He sets the bowls down in front of Mrs. Plume and me before pulling a key from his belt.

     “You’ll be happy to hear that the Defenders are in agreement on the third accomplice. They just haven’t figured it out yet.”

     I collapse on my rear, and the blood begins rushing back to my limbs. Wrapping my tail around to the front, I start to rub some feeling back into it when Snargan continues.

     “Seems the surveillance feed cut out just around that ‘Rage’ hit we all got knocked with.” He pulls a spoon out from his back pocket and drops it on the floor next to our bowls. Mrs. Plume delicately cleans the utensil on her skirt before taking a tentative bite of the slop.

     “So you all believe me!” I nearly jump back to my feet.

     “Didn’t say that, boy,” Snargan sneers slightly in my direction, “But there’s enough doubt that you may just be indentured here in Meridell until the Crown Jewels are paid off… found… or the King is satisfied.” He shrugs nonchalantly at the thought, scratching a claw under his chin.

     “Mrs. Plume,” he offers a slight bow, “The Zafara’s information regarding you all checked out, and your kids have been calling with your alibis regarding why you were on the Station and your last interactions with Mr. Zaffa here. You’ll be free to go shortly. If there’s anything we can do to make your wait more comfortable, please let me know.”

     The consideration from the grizzled Skeith makes me do a double take as I pick up my own spoon. “Eat up,” he states as he heads back towards the door, “your fate will be decided soon.”

     I gulp and put the spoonful of slop to my lips, unsure if I should be glad I can’t taste it or not.

     *****

      Ooze, Drip, Splat

     I overturn the cartful of rubbish into the pile at the Dump. I have been indentured to Meridell, just as Snargan had thought. Having worked here for a few weeks, I spend my days under the oversight of Charlie, the Blue Kacheek who runs the joint. His demeanour leaves a lot to be desired, but for the most part, as long as I shovel fast, he leaves me to my thoughts.

     The Defenders had no luck other than a quick streak of green flashing before the surveillance camera in discovering any insight on the third thief. Any signs of Uzzie had vanished with my last neomail to her, her account having been wiped clean.

     All eyes and ears were on the lookout for the Crown Jewels, but no one had seen them pop up. Even the spies on alert in the shady Neopian underbelly had heard less than the squeak of a miamouse. What would I have done with them if I were trying to offload the goods? I lifted a shovel and scooped out another pile of slop, as it slid to the ground, out rolled a piece of obsidian, and it struck me.

     Moltara. The thieves could head into Moltara to melt down the jewels… split them up into smaller undetected pieces. I wonder if anyone had eyes in Moltara looking for the Meerca Brothers and their accomplice, Uzzie. I had finally wrapped my mind around the fact that the Pastel Princess had been using me, the twinge of regret still heavy on my heart.

     “Charlie!” I call, hoping to catch the Kacheek’s attention. He turns, spits, and starts to walk over. The squelch of his boots across the muck gives me shudders.

     “Whadya want?”

     “I need to speak with King Skarl,” I plead, my last glimmer of hope dying at the disbelief in the Dump Master’s gaze when I rephrase it, “Or someone who can get a message to him.”

     “What could you possibly have to say that is so important?”

     “I KNOW WHERE THE THIEVES ARE HEADED!” I shout loud enough for the crokabek to fly off the nearby branches.

     “The King has the Defenders, TNT, and even Faerieland contingents investigating the theft, and you think the doofus who fed information to the thieves has the answer?”

     “You don’t believe me?” I deflate, my vigour zapped back to grey curse state as the disbelief in Charlie’s look hits me anew.

     “Is Maraqua experiencing a drought?” He drawls and spits again.

     I can’t let this go. My investigative intuition is sounding a red alarm in my mind. “Please, just tell the King… tell Snargan even… that the thieves will be heading to Moltara. They are going to try and melt down the jewels!”

     “And Sloth’s my uncle, Zaf,” Charlie turns from me to go back to his station. “Get back to shovelling– those apple cores ain’t gonna gather themselves.”

     I watch Charlie’s back as he squelches back to his preferred corner of the Dump. My fur is dirty, and the stench is making my eyes water. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. This past year has brought me low. I had thought all I had left were grey days in Neopia Central, but now the unending days of shovelling with no exit in sight…

     I feel like a Petpetpet caught in a sticky trap. Will I be squashed under the foot of all the hurdles set before me?

     No. I repeat that one word to myself. There is a way out of this. I’m getting myself into Moltara. I will catch these thieves and clear my name. My mind whirls through what could possibly be the thieves' plan.

     Moltara is due to send its team up to Neopia to train for the Altador Cup soon; many residents will be moving topside as well for the celebration send-off. It would be the most opportune time to melt down any items without Tangor, Moltara’s top tinkerer and SMELT Manager, being present to question the items. My assumption was that these thieves knew how to process the jewels, their planning and ability to lay low meant long-term planning.

     My body is on autopilot as I run through all the possible scenarios. The shovel moves right to left as I heft Meridell’s waste into piles. I look down at my foot, the iron shackle keeping me anchored at the Rubbish Dump. My shovel hits a gleam in the sunlight, having loaded a splash of cooking oil.

     I pause and angle the oil down my leg to coat my shin and foot. I wiggle my heel into the shackle’s cuff. I can slip out! I have to be strategic, jump onto a wagon after it has offloaded and make my way out of here. Listening for the rattling wagon to come back to the path, the creak of axles causes my ears to twitch, and I brush the sweat of my nose with my elbow.

     Charlie has his back turned away from me, so I rush to slip my foot all the way out. My heartbeat thunders in my chest as I skirt around piles of rubbish and slip under the tarp covering the now empty wagon. I hold my breath at the stench and let my body shake as the wheels hit divots on the dusty road.

     “Moltara, here I come,” I say to myself before pulling the tarp taut and hoping I can catch the thieves in time.

To be continued…