Tales from NeoNoir: Pastel Persuasions

      It’s been three weeks since the night in Meridell Castle and my conversation with my client, Mrs. Uzzie Skeith. My detective’s instinct has been on high alert as I continue following the Bank Manager.

     In the past several days, the one thing that has stuck out in my mind is how tired the B.M. appears. His feet drag from Meridell Castle. His schedule has become less consistent. He was an hour late coming back to Neopia today. I had headed back to my office to send a quick message to Uzzie when I finally saw him enter the building.

     ‘Mrs. Skeith, your husband was late today. He seems extra distracted, hopefully his Meridell business concludes shortly.’

     The Bank Manager has been at work for an hour when I see a convoy of Meridellian soldiers line each side of the sidewalk, their grey uniforms pristine in the grey glow of the morning. I rush down the stairs to get a better idea of what is happening, when four dazzling golden carriages break through the bleak grey of Neopia Central. The Bank Manager waits on the steps of the National Neopian, a pocket watch in hand and grim determination in the set of his brow.

     “Move lively, gentlemen,” the B.M. growls, “The building has been cleared, and the safe is waiting.”

     The first carriage offloads crate after crate before departing. The next carriage pulls up and begins offloading golden statues of King Skarl. I can’t help my jaw from dropping as the gold reflects the sunlight brighter and brighter before entering the dismal grey bank. The third carriage is in the process of offloading new trunks when one spills over.

     The sidewalk is covered with a dozen Skarl Hasty Maces when the soldiers break their formation and encircle the weapons, swords out and shields up. Everyone is so distracted by the commotion on the ground that they miss the slight movement on the roof of the bank. I squint to try and spot where the motion had come from, but the reflected splendour of the treasure is making it difficult to focus on the grey shadows from the roof.

     There! I saw the movement again; it was not something grey, but a dark, dark blue on the roof. Why does my stomach plummet? The commotion all around keeps my focus from honing in, and my mind is left scrambling as I continue to watch the offloading of what could be all the treasure in Meridell… into the National Neopian Bank.

     I watch as the third carriage spins back to head home to Meridell, and the last carriage pulls forward. This carriage is flanked by a dozen more soldiers holding the greyed Meridellian flag as they nod to the Bank Manager.

     Snargan jumps out from the carriage. He turns and pulls a small golden chest from inside.

     “Skeith,” Snargan booms, “The safety deposit box ready? Crown Jewels can’t be out here exposed.”

     “Snargan,” the Bank Manager cuts him a glare, “We know the plan, keep your voice down…”

     At that very moment, a Lens Flare blasts all in the entrance radius for the Bank, and the sight of the flash hits my stomach like a Poisonous Lollipop when I spot them. Heermeedjet and Meerouladen rappel down from the roof of the National Neopian. The Meerca Brothers ooze pure glee, and it hits me then, the blue flash that had caught my eye… it had been the blue patch on Merouladen’s suit.

     The Skeiths, Snargan and the Bank Manager, as well as all the soldiers, lay stupefied and unable to move as the Meerca Brothers make a beeline for the chest in Snargan’s clutches. I can hear the grizzled Skeith snarl in warning as they pry his claw tips off the golden chest. What I hadn’t noticed, and maybe they hadn’t seen it either, was the shackle and chain keeping the chest tied to Snargan’s waist.

     “‘Jet!” the Meerca calls to his brother, “Pass me the Meerca Fangs, a few chomps oughta do it!”

     Shaking myself from my stupor, I rush forward. “HEY!” The Brothers ignore my approach and, in a few bites, bust open the small chest to pull out King Skarl’s crown jewels!

     I urge my feet onward to stop them, seeing a twitch or two coming from the laid out soldiers. I am hoping my attempt will prevent these thieves from succeeding. Praying the winds ride with me I almost make it to the centre of the commotion, when a Warlock’s Rage freezes us all again.

     I struggle to breathe, my sprint has only winded me, and at the moment of the ‘Rage’, I have tripped and landed face-first in the dusty grey walk. I had already been up all night watching the B.M. My body is laden with exhaustion and tension. The only thing working in my favour is that my mind continues to race. I can hear the Meerca Brothers scrambling.

     “‘Aden, ‘Jet! I can’t trust you with anything!” My peripheral vision catches a pea green foot stop next to me.

     The new thief pauses next to my prone form, before I feel a kick to the side of my head, and I pass out with the smell of roses on my mind.

     ******

     “WAKE UP!”

     A bucket of cold water is thrown on my face, and I wake to find myself strung up on a stone wall, my toes barely scraping the floor. Luckily, my tail props up the bulk of my form

     “Not the best wake-up I’ve ever had, but still not the worst,” I grumble as I feel a large claw-tipped hand grip my throat. The hand pushes my chin up until I’m staring into the angry eyes of Snargan.

     “Wha’ are the chances I see the same gambler in two entirely different places?” Snargan growls as he releases my neck. I shake myself, feeling the wet tuft of hair on my head slosh beads of water onto the stone floor.

     “Care for a game of double or nothin’?” I must be delusional to quip in my situation, but something has knocked a few screws loose in my head.

     “You tryin’ to be funny?” Snargan fumes, “Have you seen what the King does to those he declares an enemy?”

     I swallow. What have I stepped myself into? “You have the wrong guy…” I start when I’m cut off by another, calmer voice.

     “How long have you been working with the Meerca Brothers?” A monotonous drawl comes from the shadows, and I squint to see the Bank Manager at a small wooden table with his fingers steepled. His well-manicured claws click quietly together as he waits for my answer.

     I struggle to think of an answer that will not incriminate me more. The fact that I had seen them at Grundo’s Cafe less than a month ago does not bode well for proving my innocence. Do I break my typical protocol and ask the B.M. about his wife?

     “We received the video surveillance from Virtupets Station,” the B.M. continues, “The Defenders of Neopia had been following the duo when the Bank was hit.” The Grey Skeith flips a vid screen to show me the entrance to Grundo’s Cafe, “We see the Meerca Brothers coming into Gargarox’s Establishment less than an hour before we see you– collar up and looking about— entering the same restaurant…”

     “I wasn’t meeting them,” I interject, my tail feeling the pressure of my body as I continue to dangle against the cold wall. “I was seeing a client.”

     “‘Datsa lie!” Snargan shouts, “This was less than an hour after you left this very keep. You had been spying on us for the week before that night of Double or Nothin’! I don’t forget a face”

     The Bank Manager rises while changing the vid screen, “Who is this old bird?” He flips an image of me speaking to Cecilia Plume around. I can tell I look sullen as she rambles wordlessly in the feed, “We have the Defenders looking to bring her in now.”

     My stomach drops, not poor old Mrs. Plume mixed up in my mess. My mind starts buzzing louder than a hive of mutant Buzz when a loud knock echoes in the room.

     “I’ve acquired the other suspect,” a growl-laden voice emanates into the room. “Are you ready for the Pteri?”

     “Right this way,” sneers Snargan, as he leads the Masked Intruder into the chamber, dragging my old secretary’s unconscious form behind him.

     The yellow-clad Blue Kougra (the Masked Intruder! My mind interjects.) frowns in my direction before turning to the Skeiths, “We’ve been two steps behind the Meerca Brothers all day. I’ll get back to DoN headquarters and keep you posted. Please let me know if you get anything of interest out of these two Neopians.”

     Snargan busies himself chaining the unconscious Mrs. Plume to my left, when I notice her black eye. The poor Pteri had been knocked around good by the Defenders. Why had they used such force on the elderly Mrs. Plume? Her feathers are ruffled, and her tail feathers appear thinner than normal.

     The Bank Manager has shown the Masked Intruder to the door, and the two whisper low enough that I can’t discern the words passing between them. Seeing my poor secretary has made it clear I need to get out of poor Uzzie’s involvement in this predicament.

     “I’m a P.I. Your wife had me following you.” I choke out, not liking how I’ve given up the secrecy my ray of sunrise had desired, but I’m sure she will understand.

     All the commotion in the room freezes. Snargan turns toward me but looks to the Bank Manager.

     “And… and whose wife would that be?” Snargan asks, eerily calm after the previous line of questioning.

     “The Bank Manager’s wife, Mrs. Uzzie Skeith. Pastel Usul, very sweet dame...” I cough before I start waxing poetic about my little rose.

     “Excuse me,” the Bank Manager turns from the Masked Defender back into the room. He eyes Snargan and makes a slight sideways nod to the door. The Meridellian treasurer shakes his head slightly, but exits behind the Masked Defender.

     “You would think a Private Eye would do some background checks,” the B.M. slowly looks in my direction. “I’m not married.”

     He quickly slams the door behind him. I can feel the reverberation of the slam in my body and the weight of his words on my heart. I’m left with only my thoughts spinning and the unconscious form of my old secretary in the now silent room.

To be continued…