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FF7: The Girl in the Music Box, Pt 1

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The Girl in the Music Box
An FF7 Detective Story

By: CSKazaam

Summary: A high-profile kidnapping leads the Chief of Police to call upon Detectives Sephiroth and Zack for help. But with clues almost non-existent and time running out, will they succeed in finding the little girl before it's too late? A 1920s Detective story.

Genre: General
Pairing: None
Setting: 1920s Detective AU
Rating: K+
Status: Complete
Type: One-shot, split into two parts to fit DA's size limit

Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by the almighty Square Enix! This story and the OCs are all me, however. Enjoy!


 


Part I

The summer's heat just would not give anyone a break. It lay thick and heavy upon the city like a jar of honey shattered upon the kitchen floor, but with none of the sweetness and all of the pests. And I don't mean the buzzing kind either, although those were plenty as we sat with the windows open, trying to get a rare breeze. I mean the lowlifes crawling through the darkened corridors of the streets. As the heat soared, so, it seemed, did the desperation of thousands in the city, everyone anxious for relief from whatever fire they felt against their backs. The thieves, the muggers, the murderers … all were out in force. It made even the police desperate, shorthanded as they were against the recent wave of crime.

You would think it would mean that business would pick up for me and Sephiroth, world-class detectives extraordinaire, but you would be sadly mistaken, and me with you. It seemed that all we could snag these days were the petty crimes and trivial disputes. They were hardly enough to interest Sephiroth, so we turned most of them down. Though we did end up taking one or two, just to keep the cash flowing. Not that it was very much, mind you, but at least it was something.

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid I really can't help you find your glasses," I spoke into the telephone receiver. "No, I … I … You say the cat took them? I don't … Well, has he had a reading problem lately? … He doesn't read? Then I don't think he needs the glasses for anything. … No, I'm pretty sure about that. … I don't think the dog needs them either. Have you checked the nightstand? … How about under your bed, then? … Yes, I will. Yes … Well, there you go! I'm glad I could help. … No, please don't call again. … I'm sure. Thanks. Bye."

I slammed the receiver onto the phone, and let my head thunk onto the desk.

"Seph …"

"Yes, Zackary?" a patient, but amused voice replied.

"Kill me now. I can't take it anymore."

There was a snort, and I slowly raised my head to see my partner hiding his amusement behind the newspaper.

"I can't do that. Who would I have to answer the telephones?"

"You can do it," I grumbled. "Or bribe some kid off the street."

"Nonsense. That would be a waste of perfectly good resources."

I raised an eyebrow, or tried to, but I don't think it worked. "What, me, you, or the money you used to bribe the kid?"

"Yes."

"Hmph." I glared at the raised newspaper, then returned my gaze to the phone. For the next few moments, I wished as hard as I could for a random bolt of lightning to strike it. But, sadly, nothing happened, so I gave up and grabbed my own copy of the newspaper.

I wasn't originally intending to read it, instead planning to use it to swat a fly that had been bugging me for the past twenty minutes, but something on the page caught my eye, and I paused to scan it.

RARE BIRD FLIES THE COOP

St. George, Staten Is. – For the second time in three weeks, a rare bird has gone missing
from the home of Dr. Robert Harley. Found and rescued once before, the Ceylon Magpie
has again appeared to master the locks on its cage and break free.

"I don't understand it," said Dr. Harley. "Once, I can see. These birds are rather
intelligent. But twice? Even after I had the locks replaced? It should be impossible!"

Robert Harley is offering a sizable reward for any information leading to the return of
the magpie. He requests that all residents of St. George keep an eye out for the bright
blue and red bird. It is about the size of a raven and, as a magpie, is irresistibly attracted
to shiny objects. It cannot be confused with any other bird in the area. A thorough
description and contact information follows.

I whistled. "Well, would you look at that. Old Harley's lost his bird again! That guy has the worst luck."

"Indeed."

"Hey, d'you think we could find his bird again for him? Then again, I'm not sure I really want to. Chasin' that thing down once was enough for me." I winced at the recollection of the nasty scratches inflicted by the thorns in the bird's nest. Though it had definitely all been worth it … The memory of Aerith's kiss floated into my mind.

"Hm. I may consider it, if he calls us. Though it might turn out to be more of an imposition when I have no one to answer the phones after I send you."

"After you send …? Heeey!" I leaned across the desk, jabbing a finger into it. "There was a 'we' in that question. As in you and me. I'm not gonna climb through all the park's trees by myself!"

"Why not? You managed perfectly well with Miss Gainsborough watching. I'm sure you could ask her to accompany you again, if you wanted." He smirked.

I felt my face turn scarlet. "Jeez, Seph-"

"Sephiroth."

I waved a hand. "-It's not what you think!"

"Isn't it?"

"No! We're just friends."

"Ah, I see. Just friends." He didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah! Just friends, that's all it is," I insisted.

"Of course."

Hmph. I sunk lower into my chair and turned my attention to the half-chewed pencil sitting on the top of my green desk pad. Giving it a flick, I sent it rolling several inches away, and watched as it came to a stop. Flicking it back, I proceeded to repeat the action several more times, casting a glance across the way to see if the slight noise of unproductivity would begin to annoy my boss.

The newspaper rustled. "Zackary …"

Suddenly, the phone rang. I snatched it up before the irritating chime had a chance to end. "Detective Sephiroth's office, First-Class Detective Extraordinaire Zack Fair speaking!" I ignored the snort from the other end of the room.

The old familiar voice on the other end of the line made me grin. "Angeal! How's it goin'? Haven't heard from you in a while, you wouldn't believe-" He interrupted me, the seriousness of his tone unmistakable. I frowned, listening, then grabbed my pencil to jot down a few notes. "Right … okay … We'll be right there!"

I hung up and turned to Seph, who had set down his paper to listen. "There's been a kidnapping from a house on Fifth Avenue between Sixty-Eighth and Sixty-Ninth. It's a little girl that's missing, and the department is asking for our help."

Sephiroth was already standing, donning his fedora. "Let's go."


The mother was sobbing into her husband's shoulder as if there was no tomorrow, and really, I couldn't blame her. Having your little girl snatched away must feel like the end of the world. The man held her tight, trying to soothe her, but really, he wasn't in a position to do much soothing himself – he was angry, and his eyes were red.

This was the scene Seph and I stumbled upon as we arrived at the luxurious mansion halfway between Sixty-Eighth and Sixty-Ninth, the one with a sunny view of Central Park. It was a sprawling, two-story number, painted light yellow with pale, sea-green shutters on every window. A porch in the same color stretched across the entire face of the building, slim columns and latticework on the railings lending it an elegant appearance. The place was surrounded with greenery and neatly trimmed gardens; the park across the road almost seemed like an extension of the lawn.

The police had already arrived, as you should have guessed, and were currently questioning the distraught parents. Angeal Hewley was there; as Chief of Police, these people must've been very influential to warrant his presence. He led the questioning, so I hadn't had a chance to greet him properly since we'd arrived. He was very conscious of the delicate situation, jotting down notes in a ragged old notepad.

Adele and Emmerson Calder: these were the two victims of this awful crime. Mr. Calder was a brown-haired, brown-eyed businessman; he owned his own real-estate company, and, as the housing market was up, was doing very well for himself. A little on the pudgy side, he still seemed like he'd be a cheerful fellow with a kind expression … if he didn't currently look as if he'd like to rip the arms off of whoever had made off with his little girl.

Mrs. Adele Calder was his complete opposite, in terms of appearance, at any rate. Slim and shapely, she had golden locks that spilled down in sunny waves to the middle of her back, and her tear-filled blue eyes held a depth of emotion that made you feel like your heart had just torn in two. She was an actress. I remembered reading about some of her films in the papers.

The last person of the Calder household was a Miss Gwynn Irvine, or Gwen for short. She stood to the side, wringing her hands. She was the couple's housekeeper and nanny, having watched over the little girl since she was three. She was mousy and brown-haired, and quite beside herself, but was making an admirable attempt in keeping herself together. I had given her a supportive smile as she looked our way when we entered the living room, but she simply brought a fist to her mouth to hold in her grief, and turned away, shoulders shaking.

Oh, but who's the missing girl, you ask? I'll tell you. Jennifer Evelyn Calder, affectionately called Jenny or just Jen, was five years old, and going on six; her birthday was due in two weeks. She had curly, light brown hair and large blue eyes, and she was adorable; I know because I was currently examining a photo of her in my hands, and trying to ignore the way her innocent eyes tugged on my heart. She squeezed a stuffed bunny under one arm, and clutched what looked like a small, ornamental box in the other. It had a tiny ballerina on the top of it.

I'd relate to you, word-for-word, the conversation that passed between Mr. Calder and Chief Hewley, but it was so broken up that I'll summarize instead. The Calders had left for their routine, Sunday afternoon drive, leaving little Jennifer in the care of the maid, Gwen Irvine. As usual, Gwen and Jenny headed for the park. They hadn't been there but half an hour, when Gwen turned her back for just a moment, and Jenny was gone. She'd seen a black sedan speeding away, but it had disappeared before she'd been able to notice any more specific characteristics.

I frowned. If that was all we had to go on, this was going to be a difficult case. I glanced at Seph. If I knew how he worked, and I did, like the back of my hand, he'd want to investigate the house, especially the rooms of the maid, the parents, and the little girl, to determine whether there might be anything of interest there. Then, once the parents and the housekeeper had had a chance to calm down, he'd question them again, to see if their stories held up and whether they knew of anyone who might have had an interest in the little girl.

Already, the police were questioning them on this point.

If I knew Angeal, and I did, like the back of my other hand, he'd have already sent a team of investigators out to comb the park and see if they might catch the kidnapper right away. That would be a lucky break! I doubted it would happen, but it was the first few hours, the first few days, that were the most critical in a kidnapping investigation. Who knows what the criminal might want with her, or where he'd take her? Poor kid! She must be so frightened … I wanted to run out there right now and look myself, but I knew it wouldn't do any good.

I jumped when I felt a hand come down on my shoulder, and jerked my head around to look up at Seph.

"Steady, Zack." I almost didn't notice his rare use of the shortened form of my name. "It won't be any help if you run off without knowing what you're chasing."

Guess I must've been more fidgety than I thought. "Yeah, I know … But I can't stand that we're stuck here! What if one more person is all they need to find her? We could be out there right now doing something useful!"

"We're detectives, not police officers. Let them do their jobs." He looked me in the eye. "You'll be of more help here, with me, than you will be running around out there. Understand?"

I gave a heartfelt sigh, then nodded, reluctantly. "Yeah …" I scanned the others in the room. "… But why call us in now? Not that I'm complaining, but … isn't it early in the case to be calling in detectives, when the police haven't even finished their search?"

Sephiroth nodded. "I believe it is simply a matter of our clients' social standing. A famous actor and well-known businessman … Chief Hewley wants to show that he is making the best possible effort to find their daughter, whether or not we turn out to be unnecessary."

"Too bad we can't give everyone those same chances," I muttered, frowning. How was that fair, pulling out all the stops for these people, just because they were rich and famous? There were so many others, less fortunate, that would never be given the same opportunity, even when they were just as deserving! Not that I begrudged the Calders the extra help in finding their daughter, but it just wasn't fair.

"Hewley likely has the mayor breathing down his neck to find a solution. Otherwise, the police department cannot afford to call in private detectives for every situation. They are doing the best they can. We should consider it fortunate that they are able to employ additional resources in this case, despite its high-profile nature."

I sighed again. "Guess you're right …" Blowing the bangs out of my eyes, I glanced back down at the picture of Jenny. "Dang, she's cute, Seph. What would a kidnapper want with a girl like her?"

"I prefer not to speculate too much … but the most likely motive would be to hold her for ransom. Given the status of her parents, it would be a logical assumption."

"Think we'll get a ransom note?"

"Probably not before tomorrow, to give the parents sufficient time to panic," he replied, dryly.

I scowled. "That's just cruel!"

"We would not be here if it wasn't."

It was several more minutes before the police had finished questioning the Calders. The details aren't too interesting, but it did provide us with a short list of people who might have had an interest in the family. I'll relate those to you later; right now we were headed upstairs to little Jenny's room.

There was a small commotion when the parents first realized what we were doing – apparently, they hadn't expected their house to be searched, as victims of the crime. Angeal explained to them that it was all part of the procedure – all we knew for certain was that a little girl was missing. The parents were indignant, of course, at the implications of that, but after Angeal offered to return with a search warrant, they relented, and let us continue.

The tour among the upper floor was relatively short. The parents' room didn't reveal much of anything – it held the usual array of furniture, classier, of course, than anything I would ever have. The maid's room was small, in comparison, tucked away in a corner, and much more reminiscent of my own humble place. It consisted of a bed, a tiny closet, a small writing desk, and not much else. The furniture too, was simple – sturdy, but rather plain construction. Sure thrifty were these Calders.

Finally, we were guided to Jenny's bedroom by Gwen Irvine, the maid. Mrs. Calder and her husband followed shortly after. It was a large room, done up in soft, pastel colors. Warm, yellow lamps provided the lighting, and a large bay window offered a sun-lit view of Central Park across the way. The window was framed by violet curtains sporting a unicorn print, which the frilly bedcovers and pillows matched. A parade of plush animals danced over the bed and onto the floor, while their fellow cohorts cheered from the bench beneath the window. Graceful ballerina figurines lined the dresser across from the foot of the bed, and a pink rocking horse sat in the corner.

I stared at the rocking horse. I'd always wanted one of those. Well, not a pink one, of course.

We stepped inside, our shoes sinking into the plush, blue and pink rug. The room was a child's dream. Jenny must have loved it here. Moving further inside to give the others room to enter, I crossed over to the dresser. I could hardly imagine growing up with a room this large – there was plenty of space for a child to play, and with the number of toys around, I guessed that Jenny had spent a lot of time here, even inviting friends over to have tea parties or play with dolls. She certainly had a lot of them! And, near the window, were a miniature table and three chairs, with the necessary tea set carefully arranged on the table's surface. A little brown-haired doll sat on one chair; the other two were empty.

As I surveyed the room, I listened to the maid confirm, in her strong Scottish accent, my thoughts about the time Jenny spent playing in the room. Mornings were spent in lessons with Gwen. After lunch came piano practice, then Jenny was allowed the afternoons to play. Evenings were reserved for a family dinner, and bedtime for little Jenny came early.

A decorative little box on the dresser caught my eye, and I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. I recognized it as the same box in the photograph. Made of white porcelain, it was gilded in slightly worn golden paint; fancy designs wrapped around the sides of it. Little legs at each corner lifted it from the surface it usually rested upon, and centered on the top was a tiny ballerina. Judging by the small, golden key in the side of it, it was a music box. I gave the key a few turns.

Simple, delicate chimes began playing, clear and beautiful, a sweet melody that I had no name for. It was somehow peaceful and comforting, almost like a mother's lullaby. As the notes played, the little ballerina spun slowly, gracefully dancing in time to the music. I watched. It was utterly enchanting.

A moment later, a throat cleared, startling me from my reverie. I glanced up, only to see the entire party of Gwen, the Calders, and Sephiroth staring back at me. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, giving me a distinctly odd look. Mrs. Calder had a hand to her mouth, and looked about ready to tear up, which left me wondering what kind of insensitive cad I was for so blatantly reminding her that her daughter was not here to play with the box.

I coughed, feeling my face heat up. Hastily setting the music box back on the dresser, I turned my attention back to the others, rubbing the back of my neck and offering an apologetic smile.

"Right … uh … so … Jenny – she had the run of the house then, in the afternoons?"

"No …" it was Mr. Calder who spoke up. "Jenny knew … knows … better than to scamper about the house in such an undignified manner. She was allowed to play in her room. On Sundays, she went to the park with Gwen."

I blinked. "… Right … Her friends visited her here, then? Or met in the park?"

Jenny's mother answered. "There are few children around of appropriate upbringing. Jenny preferred spending her time with Gwen." At this, the maid nodded slowly. "But, occasionally, she would have visitors."

Jenny liked playing alone? My dubious expression must have showed, because Mrs. Calder said, rather snappishly, "Well, we can't all raise our children to be ruffians playing in the street, can we? What kind of life would that give them? We wanted Jenny to have the best –" She broke off, again bringing her hand to her mouth, and shaking her head. "… I'm sorry, I can't …" She turned away, shoulders trembling. Mr. Calder put an arm around her, and began to escort her out of the room. He glanced once more at us, then at Gwen.

"Gwen, would you …?"

"I'll stay with them, sir." Her voice trembled slightly, but she was strong.

I sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of my face, and turned to regard the rest of the bedroom. Ruffians playing in the street? Jeez, what a princess. I shoved my hands into my pockets. I didn't want to think bad of her, losing her daughter and all. But that got on my nerves.

I heard Seph cross to the window. I took a moment to survey the closet, finding nothing more interesting than several cute dresses, and went to join him.

The sprawling lawn below was lush and green, defying the wilting heat of the summer. Beyond the street, Central Park was cool and shaded, a little slice of Heaven promising a welcome retreat. A couple of kids chased a barking dog past a park bench, and a boy ran up a small hill, trying to launch a kite.

How could Jenny want to play alone, with that view? Maybe it was fanciful thinking, but I imagined her sitting here on the bench with all her plush toys and watching the kids out in the park, perhaps wishing she could join in. Why had her parents kept her away?

"It would not be difficult to spy on this house and determine Jenny's schedule." Sephiroth's musings broke me from my own.

"Hm? Oh, right. Yeah, you could just sit on the park bench over there and watch the place. Heck, you'd probably even see inside this room. I'll bet Jenny knew who kidnapped her – she'd be able to see 'em from here while she was watching the other kids play."

I heard Sephiroth shift beside me, and knew he had turned to look down at me.

"… What makes you think she watched the other kids from here?"

"… Oh, well …" I shifted to the other foot, suddenly a bit uncomfortable at being caught in my own imaginings. "Well … wouldn't you? I mean, jeez, if you were locked up all the time, even a place as nice as this would start to look boring." Abruptly, I whirled on the maid, who stood waiting near the doorway. "Didn't she have any other friends?" I demanded. "She couldn't have just played by herself all the time!"

Gwen actually appeared rather remorseful, and lowered her eyes to study her clasped hands. "She did, most times. As the mistress said, Jenny was to have a proper upbringing." She hesitated, apparently about to say something more, but then remained quiet.

I couldn't believe this! "So she didn't have any friends at all?"

"… I was her friend."

Her subdued words gave me pause, before I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Great. Heck of a way for a kid to live. Surrounded by finery, all prim and proper, but not even allowed to get out and have fun and be a kid-"

"Zackary." I felt a strong hand grip my arm, and found Seph glaring disapprovingly at me. There was a slight crease between his brows, as if he was confused. "What is wrong with you?"

Well, let him be confused. I shrugged away. "Nothin'. It's just that a kid should have a chance to live, you know?"

He searched my face. "Why are you taking issue with this? How Jenny Calder was raised is none of our concern. Your personal feelings have no bearing on the matter."

"The Calders acted only in Jenny's best interests," Gwen offered, though she remained staring at the floor.

"Yeah, but-"

"This is irrelevant, Zackary, unless it is somehow related to the little girl's disappearance, which may or may not be so. In any case, getting upset about it will only cloud your judgment."

Sephiroth finished with a note of finality, indicating that I had also better be done with the argument. I didn't want to be done, but he was right, and I couldn't come up with anything to say that he couldn't counter. So I huffed and turned my back to him, crossing my arms. The least he could have done was show some compassion too. Honestly, the man could be as heartless as a block of ice.

I shifted my gaze to glare sullenly down upon the heads of the stuffed animals on the window bench. Several of them gazed forlornly out the window, much as my imagined Jenny was doing. And, though it could have been more of my imagination, the much-loved plushies didn't seem as much loved as they should have been, most of them looking almost new. In fact, now that I thought of it, even the rocking horse had been in pristine condition. Either she'd taken really good care of it, or it just hadn't seen much use. The only items I'd spied so far that were a bit worn were the music box and the doll sitting at the little table – she had a bit of dirt smudged on one cheek.

"Zackary." I looked up. Having finished his inspection of the window and finding nothing else of interest in the room, Sephiroth was waiting for me at the door. I hmph'd and made my way over to him, feeling a little like an errant pooch.

Why did Sephiroth have to completely dismiss my ideas? What if little Jenny, forbidden from making friends and playing with the other children, had simply run away? Surely her feelings about things had been important too!

But did that match what we knew? Gwen reported that she'd seen a vehicle pull away with Jenny inside.

… No. To be precise, the maid had had her back turned when Jenny vanished. She'd then seen a car take off, but it wasn't necessarily connected to the girl's disappearance. What if Jenny was simply out hiding somewhere in the park? With the park being so large, and the police combing through it, it was likely they would still find her there! She was only five, after all. She couldn't hide forever! If I was her, I'd soon forget about hiding and run off to play with the kids that I'd been so wishing to play with for so long.

That was it! That had to be the answer. It fit perfectly with all the bits of the puzzle I'd pieced together.

Eagerly, I glanced at Seph, wanting to describe my theory. But his face was distant, eyes reviewing details only his mind could see, and I recalled the way he'd simply written off my ideas just moments ago. I felt my expression fall, and I turned my face away so he wouldn't see the disappointment reflected there. … Maybe I would just wait for the police to report back when they'd found Jenny. Yes. Then Sephiroth would see that I'd been right!

We arrived at the downstairs living room to the scene of Angeal Hewley conversing quietly with his cops. Mr. and Mrs. Calder sat nearby on the large sofa; Emmerson held his wife's hands, murmuring and running his thumb over her fingers in an attempt to soothe. She nodded on occasion, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. I followed Sephiroth over to Angeal.

He turned to meet us, giving Sephiroth a nod of acknowledgement. "Sephiroth." His eyes flicked in my direction. "Zack."

I opened my mouth, but Sephiroth cut the greeting short. I bounced impatiently on my toes, the proper welcome foiled again.

"Angeal. Any ideas?" the detective asked.

Grimly, Angeal shook his head. "You know everything I do, at the moment. You've heard most of what they've had to say; of course, you're free to question them again as you like. It looks like a standard kidnapping – straightforward and quick. We're hoping the kidnapper is someone known to the family, as it often turns out to be … But you know as well as I do that the Calders have money, people know they have money, and someone out there might want to take advantage of it." He shifted to observe the parents. "It's a good guess that the kidnapping wasn't random – it would be risky to snatch a child with her guardian right there, so I can only assume that Jenny Calder was specifically targeted, and the kidnapper saw their outing as the best opportunity."

At this, I felt ready to burst with wanting to voice my theory, but managed to refrain. Angeal noticed my fidgeting and raised an eyebrow before Sephiroth once again took his attention.

My partner nodded slowly. "It doesn't entirely rule out a purely random, opportunistic crime, of course," he mused, "but that will depend on the accuracy of Miss Irvine's report."

Speaking of the maid, she was just now descending the stairs, slowly, as if her feet were encased in lead. Her eyes were drawn to the anguished couple, and she looked away, her own face a picture of torment. She stopped at the last step, clutching the banister tightly.

I made to go to her, but Sephiroth beat me to the punch. I hung back, deciding to take the opportunity to see what Angeal thought of my idea.

"Hey, Angeal." I grinned at my old mentor, still itching to give him a hug, but the time for the greeting had passed, and the current situation cast a dour atmosphere over everything, anyway.

"Zack." His tone was business, but his eyes smiled back. Pocketing his notepad, he turned his attention to me for a brief respite from this cheerless work. "How is official detective life treating you these days? " His lips curled up into a slight smirk.

"Heh. Well," I rubbed the back of my neck in a somewhat sheepish manner, memories of unofficial detective life running through my mind, with Inspector Angeal Hewley, now Chief of Police, at his wits end trying to keep me out of it. "You know. Not too bad now that I don't have you breathing down my neck. I can finally get things done proper!"

He grunted. "One more pain in the neck finally out of my hair – I can sleep easy at night knowing I'll at last be able to get my work done."

I jammed a hand into my pocket and tilted my fedora just so, leaning in with my own smirk. "You mean you're just afraid of me showing you up, old man."

"More like tired of the boys at the office cracking jokes about the pathetic, lost puppy I picked up."

"Aw, you know you miss me!"

"As I miss the flies buzzing around my lunch."

"Ouch." I cringed, clutching at my heart as if mortally wounded. "That's harsh, Angeal, even from you!" I adopted a woebegone expression. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Finally, that got a chuckle out of him. "'Anymore?' You say that like there was something to continue in the first place."

Dang, he was getting good. I conceded defeat. Stiffening, I choked out, "You got me! Detective Zack Fair down for the count, heart crushed and trod upon by Angeal's shiny black police boots …"

Angeal rolled his eyes. "Overdramatic as usual, Zack. Glad to see you haven't changed. Sephiroth treating you well, by the way?"

"Thrilled to see you too, Angeal! And yeah, it's good. It's … interesting." My eyes wandered over to see the man in question conversing with the maid. Remembering my purpose, I broached the new subject. "Say, uh, Angeal …" Suddenly nervous at what he might think of the idea, though I had no real reason to be, I shifted from foot to foot. "… How sure are you that Jenny was really … kidnapped?"

"How sure …?" He frowned, puzzled by the question. "Reasonably so. After all, she did disappear. Why do you-?"

"Well, I mean, what if she just … ran away, instead?"

"Ran away? What makes you think that? She seemed like a well-behaved little girl. I don't think she'd worry Miss Irvine like that. Besides, she would need to be rather quick to make her getaway without being seen, wouldn't she?"

"Oh come on, Angeal, you know as well as I do how quick little kids can be!"

He gave me a wry look. "Indeed, I do."

I coughed. "Anyway … My point is that, with Jenny being cooped up all the time away from all the other kids, she finally decided to get out and have some fun on her own for once! Wouldn't you, if you were stuck in your room all day with nothing to do but watch the other kids from your window? I'm betting that she's just hiding somewhere in the park!"

Angeal brought a hand to his chin, giving me a long, evaluating look, as he considered the idea. "… You think she was that lonely?"

"Lonely, sad, frustrated, bored … whatever you want to call it, I think she wanted someone other than the maid to play with! Someone her own age, a chance to run wild without constricting rules … she was going nuts with the monotony of this place!"

He frowned, silent for a moment. "… Have you told this to Sephiroth?"

I shook my head, waving a hand. "Nah, I … he'd just dismiss it." Shoving both hands into my pockets, I blew the bangs out of my eyes, again finding my gaze sliding over to the other detective. "… Sometimes, I feel like he doesn't even give me a chance." I muttered this last bit, not really planning to have said it.

Feeling a hand squeeze my shoulder, I glanced back to Angeal. "I think you need to give him more credit," he said, quietly. "Sephiroth deals in hard facts; he doesn't respond well to feelings. It's not a bad idea, but you need to have something more concrete than idle speculation to back it up."

Something more concrete? How was I going to get anything concrete about a little girl's feelings …? My eyes fell once more upon Sephiroth and the maid. Of course! Who better to know a girl's inner feelings than the one who practically raised her?

I started toward them, but their attention, and mine, were abruptly drawn to the commotion of the front door opening and three cops striding purposefully into the room. After spotting Angeal, they headed in our direction. The chief stepped forward to meet them.

In low tones, they explained that the sweep of the park had been conducted, multiple people interviewed. They'd also had teams check the surrounding neighborhoods, with one result: Jenny was nowhere to be found, nor had anyone seen a little girl matching her description.

Jenny was nowhere to be found?

My heart sank, and my tongue turned to ash.

Angeal glanced over to me. "Still think she simply ran away?"


The rest of the afternoon and early evening was just as disheartening as the first. The sole indication that Jenny had ever been in the park was a white and fuzzy stuffed rabbit plush half hidden beneath a bush in the dirt, found during the sweep of the place. As with the music box, it matched the toy in the photograph I still held, and Gwen, the maid, confirmed it was Jenny's.

It had been found on the opposite side of the park from where Jenny had been taken. The general feeling was that the kidnappers had driven their vehicle on a route around the park, at least to that point, tossed the toy for some unknown reason, and continued to speed away. Present discussions circled around possible reasons for losing the toy and needing to loop the park.

"Obviously, they wanted to throw us off the trail. Plant a lead that would have us off looking in the wrong place."

"What are you talkin' about? The maid saw them over here! They'd be saps not to notice it what with the commotion she raised! It'd be pointless to drive all the way around just to ditch the thing."

"You're a sap, O'Malley. Little kid prob'ly put up a fight and beat the guys with it, so they got rid of it, so's they wouldn't hafta deal with 'er."

"You're both saps. We're looking in the wrong place, I'm telling you …"

There were two groups of us, clustered around a map of Central Park Angeal had had one of his boys fetch. One side debated the relative merits of leaving the rabbit where it was found, and the other attempted to reason out how the circuitous route affected where the kidnappers had gone, or, looking at it another way, how where they'd gone merited the route taken around the park.

Needless to say, we weren't getting anywhere quick. We'd plotted the homes of the contacts given to us by the Calders, and only one might have justified the route, and that was pushing it. Then again, I felt the whole thing was pushing it, as any kidnapper wise to the possibility of being tailed would take a circuitous route in the first place just to throw the tail off. Any of the contacts could have just as easily been responsible as not.

Sephiroth stood back from the group, observing, but having already decided early on that the value of this activity was minimal, if not nonexistent. I joined him, doffing my hat to run a weary hand through my hair.

"Any ideas?"

"Yes. We should leave this to the experts."

Let the grunts do their grunt work. I grinned. "Does Angeal know how highly you regard his forces?"

He grunted in response.

"So, boss, what now?"

"Now, we wait." He stepped away from the table, turned, and began striding toward the foyer.

That took me by surprise. "Wha-? Wait?" I hurried to catch up with him. "What for? Don't ya want to get out there and catch the guys? What about interviewing the other people on our list? We still got a … a Mrs. Caroway …" I struggled to remember the names, "uh … Redford somethin'-or-other …"

"For the ransom note." Reaching the entryway, he snatched his jacket from the hook and shrugged it on.

… Oh. "… But can't we still check these people out while we're waiting?"

At this, he turned to me. "Zackary. If you were the kidnapper, and the police interviewed you before you had sent the ransom note, would you still send the ransom note?"

I had to pause at this and give it some thought. Would I? "Ah … I don't know. I suppose not, if I thought they were already wise to me. … But then again, maybe I would, if I got a thrill out of it. Maybe I'd do it just to spite them."

Sephiroth nodded. "Good. On the one hand, we can attempt to determine the character of the kidnapper by questioning the contacts first. On the other, it may deprive us of a valuable piece of evidence, it may not work depending on how well the suspects may act, and it may give us nothing if the kidnapper is someone else entirely."

"… Oh. Right. So … wait for the ransom note first to be sure we get it, and then see about comparing it to the suspects?"

"For now," Sephiroth confirmed. He glanced out the window bordering the door. "Now, quickly." Swiftly pulling the door open, he stepped to the side, out of direct view of the street. A man on the other side stumbled slightly, about to knock. He blinked in surprise, straightening his hat, and immediately set eyes upon the mass of police officers beyond the foyer. Face lighting up, he ignored me and shouted toward them.

"I say! I say, Chief Hewley, if I might ask you a few questions …"

Oh Gaia. Reporters.

As Angeal looked up, I saw a long-suffering expression cross his face. "Who let him in here …?" His eyes fell upon me and Sephiroth. I gave him a bit of a sheepish wave and stuck close to Sephiroth's heels as he quickly exited. "Sephiroth!"

Behind us, the reporter echoed. "Sephiroth? Was that Sephiroth? Wait! Sir, if I might-"

The door slammed shut, giving the reporter nothing but a fleeting glimpse of Seph's silvery hair. As he tugged his hat low, not that it did one bit of good, I could almost hear his smirk.


The much-awaited ransom note did not manifest the next day as we'd expected, or the day after. By the evening of the third day, we all knew we were in trouble, and Sephiroth had gone to consult with Angeal about the progress – or lack of – the cops had made in scouring the city for information. I was given the task of inviting myself to a vigil at the Calder's place, where we assumed several of their friends and acquaintances would arrive in a show of support. It would be an excellent opportunity to gather information both from those who actually came … and those who didn't.

It would also be the first time I'd gone to interview anyone completely on my own. I was a little nervous, to be honest. I knew my tendency to accidently blurt things out could get this case sunk faster than the Titanic attempting to dance the Breakaway with an iceberg.

I arrived at eight, and waved off the taxi. The sun was low, shadows rolling long across the ground, but doing little to banish the heat still rising from the sidewalks. The air was stagnant and muggy, though I still wore my tie, wanting to make a good impression. I did leave my jacket back at the office – it was just too much to stand.

A few steps shy of the door, I paused, possessed by some unknown feeling, and took in my immediate surroundings. Had the kidnapper possibly watched from here, lurking in the bushes to catalogue the Calder's comings and goings? Had he entered through this very door, a friend, for afternoon tea with the missus, or to talk business with Mr. Calder? Had he known them well? Or had he simply seized on a passing opportunity? Both thoughts chilled me. How much did we really know about anyone we knew? How much attention do passing strangers really give us?

Golden light flickered upon the surrounding greenery, still but for that insignificant movement of air. Insects droned somewhere beyond my sight. I turned, looking across the street to the fields of Central Park. It was still, too, though not quite deserted. A couple strolled along a meandering path, and a man checked his watch upon that park bench.

Finally shrugging off the strange feeling, I knocked. Gwen Irvine answered. Surprise lit up her face, but she let me in, and guided me to the sitting room.

Thankfully, the Calders were not angered by my presence as I'd feared they would be. Rather, they were touched when I explained that, although Sephiroth couldn't make it, we wanted to support them in whatever way we could. Though we were working strictly for the police on this matter, we were, of course, there for anything they might need.

I felt a little guilty at the not-quite lie, especially when Mrs. Calder took my hand and uttered her thanks so sincerely, but I managed to brush it off. Instead, after nodding my own thanks to the cup of tea she placed in my hands, I sat down and turned my attention to the others in the room.

The first person my gaze landed upon was a Mr. Bruce Redford. It was natural that I seize upon him first, given his appearance and the way he dominated the room. I recognized him from the descriptions given earlier, and what we'd been able to dig up on everyone. Like Mr. Calder, he was a fellow property manager, and doing quite well in raking in his own share of the dough. He was a friend more than a business associate, tall, imposing, and built. His passion was boxing, and he did rather well at it, I hear. He had a thick neck, thick arms, and a thick head, though apparently not enough to be a handicap. He was deaf in one ear and spoke in a loud, booming voice, fitted for both performances he played.

I tried speaking to him once or twice, but he couldn't hear me over the sound of his own accomplishments. So I turned to the lady beside him instead, an elderly, dignified woman Adele Calder knew from the theatre. Mrs. Jane Caroway was also an actress, widowed, and well respected both in and out of the theatrical circles. I wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing, but I'm sure Seph might. Her dark attire, regal appearance, strong voice and arcing brow were a perfect match for the profound dramas I still imagined he once performed. Her hair was brown and graying, but her blue eyes pierced my own, and I wondered what she saw with them.

We spoke a short while about this and that, while I tried to determine what interest she might have in a little girl. Redford, I'd nearly written off entirely, as he was about as complex as a sack of potatoes, but Mrs. Caroway revealed little of herself. She was captivating, though, in the way that she spoke, a clear, distinguished voice, and I thought I might like to go see her at the theatre someday. Her eyes softened, as the evening wore on, and she said that I reminded her of her grandchildren.

The last two gathered there were Mr. Greyson Wright and his wife, Nora. Friends of the family, Mr. Wright was retired, a veteran of the Great War. Already past his prime when he shipped out, he was an older fellow now, though not nearly as aged as Mrs. Caroway. He was a Brit, with the accent to prove it; his voice was a bit rough, as he'd suffered from chlorine poisoning during the War. Still, he was enthusiastic and lively, the type of man who'd happily tell his grandchildren fantastic war stories for hours. I liked him almost immediately. He was a bit portly, wore his mustache bushy, and carried a cane with which he liked to rap the floor for emphasis, which occurred frequently. His wife wore a patient, tolerating smile.

Speaking of Nora, she was thinner than her husband, and remained quiet for the most part, seemingly content to let him do most of the talking for them. She was kindly, the sort of lady who might take in a lost and beaten traveler, only to fix them a large breakfast in the morning and insist they stay the week. Dignified in her own way, she was a good deal more open than Mrs. Caroway, and though I should have resisted, I often sought encouraging nods from her as I fumbled my way through the opening conversations.

That was it for the visitors, few though they were, and I understood that no one else of immediate interest had refused the invitation to the vigil. Angeal had had flowers sent, irises for hope, and though I hadn't thought to bring anything myself, it seemed that my presence was welcome enough – everyone expressed their appreciation at the work being done to find the kidnapper and bring Jenny home safely.

I won't transcribe the majority of the conversations that evening, since they were long, and not all that revealing. Each visitor expressed their sympathy for the Calders in their own way, Mrs. Caroway and Wright giving Adele a shoulder to cry on, and the men taking Mr. Calder aside and pledging their undying support. Redford unhelpfully boomed out his willingness to beat the culprit to a pulp, while Mr. Wright informed them that he would organize a civilian search party to back up the work the police were doing.

As the night wore on, the conversation turned from poor Jenny and speculation on the kidnapper to more idle chitchat, meant, I suppose, to give the Calders some relief from worry for their daughter. I soon found myself the focus of attention, as everyone seemed curious about my detective work, and what was it like working for the Great Sephiroth, and wasn't I a bit young to be doing this on my own?

"It's quite brave of you, dear, to be doing this line of work. It's not cut out for everybody," commented Mrs. Caroway.

"Goodness, yes." Mrs. Wright clutched Adele's hand. "Can you imagine, Adele, how dangerous it must be? Why, solving murders and saving lives, standing up to the mob … My, how exciting! I couldn't fathom … You must be fearless!"

Before I could stammer out a reply, Mr. Wright interrupted in his gruff voice. "I say, Nora, give the boy a chance to speak! He's out to prove himself, aren't you, lad? Ready to find his place, take on the world … much as I once was, I'll add! Keen on defending queen and country from those forces that might rip it apart … Hmm, or president and country in this case, I suppose …"

I rubbed the back of my neck in slight embarrassment at the attention, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately. "Ah, well …" Was I out to prove myself? I wasn't really sure. "It's just … a job, you know. Something to be doing. Something I've always wanted to be doing, yeah, but I wouldn't go as far as to say … Well, that is, I'm doing it to help people, sure. I guess that's why I'm doing it." And then I held up my hands so they wouldn't get the wrong idea. "But it's not as exciting as you make it out to be, really, I mean, there's a lot of boring stuff …"

"Aw, he's being modest," Mrs. Wright told the others, patting my knee. "He's just hoping to be somebody's hero, aren't you?"

Somebody's … hero …? … Huh. Maybe …

"A hero!" Mr. Wright thumped my back in approval, nearly giving me the opportunity to experience breathing my tea. "Well put, my boy! There's something this town needs – a true, red-blooded hero, someone to put crime in its place." He shook his head abruptly. "Too much of it these days … too much." At that, the atmosphere sobered, everyone recalling the reason they were all there.

… A hero, huh? Maybe it was silly, but … I kinda liked the sound of that. Jenny's face appeared in my mind, and I thought how she could sure use a hero of her own right now.

Mr. Wright cleared his throat, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. In a manner at odds to his formerly brash attitude, he gently reached over to take Adele Calder's hand.

"I am sorry, my dear. We've kept you too late, and you need your rest. Never fear, we will do everything in our power to help you. We'll get Jenny back. I promise."

They stood. Adele gripped his hand tightly and managed a brave smile, though her eyes shimmered.

"Thank you, Greyson. And you, too, Nora, and Jane, Bruce. Thank you so much. Emmerson and I …" Here, her husband stepped up to wrap an arm around her. "We're so profoundly grateful for your support. I don't know what we'd do if …" She trailed off, at a loss.

Mrs. Caroway stepped forward. "If there's anything we can do, Adele … please, just ask." She gave her a kind smile.

Tearful, Mrs. Calder nodded. They all spoke their good-nights and good-byes, and Emmerson escorted his wife upstairs.

With the night concluded, we all filed toward the exit. Redford was the first to leave, followed by Mrs. Caroway. Mr. and Mrs. Wright were last. Just before he left, Mr. Wright turned to me one last time.

"I see a lot of potential in you, my boy," he said. "You'll do great things. You're determined, I can see that. You've got spirit." He nodded, firmly. "Don't ever lose that, because you'll need it."

Unsure quite how to take this, I simply nodded in reply.

He paused then, for a moment, mustache working. Then he cleared his throat and continued, gruffly. "Despite what I may have said to Adele … I know there's only so much any of us can do." He glanced down, and when he looked back up, I saw the helplessness in his eyes. "Little Jenny … she's like a granddaughter to me. … Please … if there's anything I can do that might … however remotely … be of service …"

I hesitated, then set a hand on his shoulder. "I promise, Mr. Wright, Nora. I'll find her. I won't stop until I do, and I won't let anything happen to her." A little surprised by the conviction I heard in my own voice, I continued, "We'll find the people who did this and make sure they never get the chance to do it again."

Finally, Mr. Wright nodded once, turning to leave. As he departed I heard him mutter, "Good kid. Good kid."

I sighed, watching them go into the dark. There were a lot of promises made tonight, and I honestly didn't know if any of them could be kept. How powerless were we, in the face of such a simple act of cruelty?

… A hero, huh?

Just as I started to go, I felt a light hand on my arm. Turning, I found Gwen there. She seemed unsure, and glanced over her shoulder in a furtive manner.

"Mr. Fair …" she began quietly, revealing something beneath her apron and pressing it into my hands. "Please, take this with you. It causes the mistress much grief to look upon it, as Jenny loved it so, and she goes into the room every day …"

I held the item up. It was the music box I'd taken a fancy to three days ago.

"… A-are you sure? But-"

"Yes. Please, it does no good here, but maybe it will help … in a way, I don't know …" She wrung her hands. "Just … take it, please. For her sake. No one will know."

"Well … alright, then …" I gazed at it doubtfully, then pulled out a handkerchief to wrap it in. "No reason why not, I guess … But let me know if you change your mind. I'll keep it safe."

She nodded. Still flustered, she cast her gaze about outside, before returning it to me. "Thank you, Mr. Fair." She did a little curtsey, then hurriedly pulled the door shut. The warm light from inside vanished with it.

I stared at the door a moment, shrugged, then turned to go, debating the merits of heading back to the office to give my report to Sephiroth, or simply going home for the night. Settling on the latter, I strode to the curb and down a little ways, past the bench, now empty. Spotting a taxi, I flagged it down and was soon on my way home.



End Part I
- The Girl in the Music Box -

Part II: [link]

Long time no post again, eh? I'm just glad I was able to get this finished! It was about all I worked on over Christmas break, but I've had the first part sitting around for a while before I finally worked my way through it. Welcome to another detective story, following the events of A Knock at the Door. Some of those events are alluded to, but it's not necessary to have read it beforehand.

Those of you who are waiting for my Star Wars/FF7 crossover to update, fear not! That is what I'll be working on next.

This was written for Theme #18: Under the Moon/ Music Box, for 30 Screams on LiveJournal. I'm planning to use each prompt in a detective episode. Hope you enjoy! There will be more detective fun to come in the future.

Oh, and many thanks to LuckyLadybug for previewing and suggestions, and paying attention to the details that I missed. It never even entered my mind that Daylight Savings Time might come into play. I'm glad someone's paying attention!


-Kazaam


* * *
Kazaam's FF7 Fanfic Library (chronological order, top to bottom)

FFVII
Just a Little Rough Around the Edges
This Broken Road
Brothers Under the Sun
Diana, Stand Down
Scapegoat
All I've Lived For

FFVII/SW
Distant Worlds, Broken Souls

FFVII/Detective AU
That First Step
A Knock at the Door
The Girl in the Music Box
Stars
© 2012 - 2024 CSKazaam
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waddledee13's avatar
So fantastic! Best thing I've read in a long time my dear. I did LOVE how you kept the characters to their personalities! Can't wait to continue.