Ch.288Request Log #023 – Waiting for the Holy Night (3)

The Nolls watched the apartment entrance until evening before returning to their restaurant. Sitting by the window with binoculars had become tedious.

The book I bought from Old Empire wasn’t bad at all. Though I’m not particularly literary, I knew Sarah liked stories she could contemplate for a long time. This book was excellent in that regard.

Still, I couldn’t help my unfamiliarity with books. I only became friendly with text when researching for cases. Then I’d force myself to read, but I couldn’t make reading a regular hobby.

Unusually, I’d rested from morning until evening. I set down the book I’d carefully read to avoid leaving traces. I hadn’t finished it. Sarah didn’t like people who only read the endings.

I knew how to pretend I’d read something. I could skim through, pick out a sentence or two, add some elaborate interpretation, and sound like I’d read it ten times.

It was ultimately a skill of imitation. Someone who had diligently read the entire book would notice, but there weren’t many such conscientious people left in the world. It was enough to get by.

Still, I only used such imitation for work. I went to the telephone to call the journalist’s lawyer in preparation. No matter how much they’d worked together, the lawyer would know better than I did, who only met them occasionally.

After several rings, the call connected. I heard background noise after a moment. It was dinner time. The journalist and lawyer had finished work not long ago. I could hear dishes in the background.

Something decisive came through. Only after hearing the journalist’s voice asking if it was a wrong number did I speak. Thankfully, she wasn’t foolish enough to ask directly.

“It’s Husband. I was too busy to follow up on everything, but seeing the article, it seems things were handled well. How did it go?”

“I wondered who it was—Mr. Michael? Yes, as you saw, the charges were dropped. The prosecutor did their job properly at least. I would have been confident even if it went to court, but you know how it is.”

The journalist must have perked up at hearing my name. I seemed to have developed the ability to sense the scene on the other end of the line. It was probably just my imagination, but I decided to believe it.

“Ah, then… there’s more good news. I found the real culprit. Took care of it too.”

Saying nothing else meant that even though the case was closed, I couldn’t say anything more. She didn’t press further and responded with an amused voice.

“They got what they deserved, I suppose. Oh, have you had dinner? If not, I’d like you to join our little celebration… Rose would like it too… you’re not much of a cook, are you?”

“These days I at least heat up canned food. Though I haven’t progressed to adding bread to my cooking repertoire yet.”

“Ha! If you called that cooking to our ogres, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. That’s just heating food. Anyway, will you come?”

Between the ogre grocer near my apartment and this woman, ogres seemed overly concerned with what others ate. Once you know ogres, you can’t get away with eating carelessly.

“Do you have alcohol? If not, I was planning to drink myself to sleep after finishing this job.”

“A lawyer doesn’t deliberately do things that would get them prosecuted. Still, Rose graduated from being a teetotaler long ago… if you bring something, we could have a drink.”

I pulled out the secret drawer under my desk. From it, I took a whiskey bottle decorated with oak axes, a gift I’d received after my house burned down. I could put it in my duffel bag.

“Dinner better be decent. I’m not easily satisfied by spending just a dollar or two on dinner.”

“You’re quite good at pretending to enjoy fifty-cent dinners. Well… I suppose I’d have to pay twenty dollars to ask for this, but please come quickly. We’ll be waiting.”

It was an inexplicable connection. Despite being at odds for nine months and working together as friends just once while chasing Charles Clichy, we seemed quite close. It was an unfamiliar sensation.

It was amusing how I flexed my hand to feel reality because this process of becoming close to someone felt awkward. This time, I didn’t need to pretend—it was real. I let out a small laugh, grabbed the alcohol, and left home.

I headed to the lawyer’s house. I’d been there once before when I brought the journalist to help drive away Scott Clichy, who wanted to take Rose Clichy to Texas.

The city seemed to be drawing vitality from its very marrow. The streams of light rising from Little Eire, already bright as day, were faintly visible from the main road.

The theater district was beginning to feature Christmas special plays and movies. It might be nice to spend a day at the theater. That’s how I usually unwound after finishing a job.

With a cigarette in my mouth, I drove to the lawyer’s house, parked, and crushed the butt in the car’s ashtray. Since I was meeting an elf, I found the square mint box I kept in the glove compartment.

After popping a few strong peppermints into my mouth, I got out of the car. I leaned against it, looking around to let the cigarette smell dissipate. I tried to get a feel for the house, though I’d never actually lived in a residential area.

Perhaps I’d become someone who could only drink absinthe, not fine liquor. Maybe I feared the opportunities I dreamed of—dreaming of home and returning to life.

Had I felt good refusing the salvation offered by the God-President? Had I shouted worrying about what would happen if I didn’t change after the curse was lifted?

Thinking back, I probably wasn’t that foolish. Everything just seemed ambiguous. It had always been that way, but lately it seemed worse.

Though I still had candy left, spending more time outside didn’t seem appealing. I swallowed what remained and headed to the lawyer’s house. I rang the doorbell a couple of times. Immediately, I heard the heavy footsteps of an ogre.

The door opened. The ogre, still covering his eyes, appeared in an unusual combination of dress pants and an apron. Not a common outfit. I greeted him with a nod and walked in.

The scene was familiar. Too much food for an elf filled a table too large for someone living alone, and the elf, ears twitching, waved at me. A smile escaped me.

“Mr. Michael! Looks like you didn’t have dinner plans tonight?”

“I was getting restless being cooped up all day. So, did you finish the job and come straight here for dinner?”

Normally she would have acted flustered, trying to prove she was better than that, but not this time. The journalist now skillfully countered with humor.

“That’s right! I even threw a tantrum to get dinner made. Still can’t escape being a Southern belle with nothing but flowers in her head!”

She was probably sticking close to the lawyer out of concern that Inspector Semangelof might harm her. Such a rigid angel wouldn’t be merciful to someone who interfered with his achievements.

I just smirked at her joke before asking properly. While Inspector Semangelof might fear a rifle, he certainly wouldn’t fear a lawyer with just a shield.

Yet he hadn’t come… something seemed odd. I considered dismissing the thought as unnecessary, but for a proper drink, I needed closure.

“Has Inspector Semangelof come around? I’d have expected someone like him to show up and make threats.”

“He hasn’t come at all. That’s why I’ve been keeping Rose close… but it seems the prosecutor wrapped things up nicely. No matter that he’s an angel, or rather, precisely because he’s an angel, it would be problematic. Imagine the headline: ‘Angel Cut in Half by Sword Inscribed with God-President’s Words.’ How would that look?”

It would be terrible. Plus, Rose Clichy had written another fighter’s article, directly punching Inspector Semangelof in the jaw. He probably wouldn’t want two or three more such articles.

There was no need to be suspicious. I sat down next to the journalist at the table where the two had been sitting across from each other, and helped myself to the delicious-smelling ogre cuisine.

No matter how much I took, the amount didn’t seem to diminish, but with one ogre and an Argonne Invincible who could eat as much as an ogre, the quantity reduced faster than expected.

The quality of the meal was excellent. You’d only regret eating ogre cuisine if it was moldy. Otherwise, they were a race that always prepared satisfying food.

The meal ended sooner than expected, and then came the drinks. When I placed the whiskey I’d brought on the table, the blindfolded lawyer somehow whistled appreciatively.

“Well, look at that… more expensive than I expected.”

“I don’t know what kind of alcohol you expected from a detective who makes twenty dollars a day.”

With a shrug that said “what else,” the ogre lawyer brought whiskey glasses from the freezer. So they didn’t lack alcohol—they’d just finished it all. He poured the drinks.

The journalist grabbed the glass I pushed toward her without thinking, then quickly pulled her hand away at the cold sensation, warming her hands against her cheeks. No matter how much time passed, she remained awkward.

I was trying this whiskey for the first time too and was about to take a sip when the journalist grabbed my wrist. I could still freely use my hand despite her grip, but I decided to pause.

“We should at least clink glasses! Our connection may be strange, but we handled everything properly! This time we didn’t even need to stick together—I did my part, you did yours… and now we’re here, finishing the job and raising our glasses!”

It sounded like she wanted recognition, or perhaps she’d already received enough recognition and wanted me to show it through action. She raised her glass first, and the lawyer naturally followed.

I clinked my glass against theirs and downed a glass of whiskey. It tasted good—an honest flavor that revealed the source of the oak barrels used for aging.

I thought the aroma might be too strong for an elf, but the journalist swirled a sip in her mouth before swallowing and nodding. She really did resemble Charles Clichy.

Showing no intention of stopping after one sip, she gripped the cold glass so tightly her fingertips turned white and gulped down the remaining two sips. She set the glass down.

She staggered slightly, having downed alcohol that didn’t suit her. Still, she didn’t seem drunk. She had reason to keep her mind sharp. I didn’t bother imagining what that reason might be.

After downing her glass, Rose Leafman looked up at me with shining eyes. She tried to borrow courage from the alcohol as she had when she blurted out that I might be a good person, but this time it didn’t work as well.

She spoke soberly. Though not particularly skillful, she changed the subject, speaking more adeptly than if she’d been blushing and fluttering her ears.

“Oh, you said you were restless staying home? For different reasons, I’ve been stuck at Paulina’s house all day too. Tomorrow, would you like to go out together? You could be my bodyguard!”

It was just an excuse, but not a stupid one. As if they’d rehearsed, her lawyer continued. I felt like I was being subjected to the same treatment I gave Inspector Semangelof.

“I need to report this case to my company too. Since I borrowed a company investigator, I can’t just say I helped someone I know. Though Inspector Semangelof doesn’t seem intent on harming Rose, we can’t be certain yet… it would be better if you stayed with her, even for a day.”

Yes, I was being entangled. If a couple of police officers came in to arrest me, that would be my own doing, but these two had crafted a gentler scheme.

I needed to think about what to give the journalist for Christmas anyway, and observing her in person wouldn’t be bad. After a brief chuckle, I nodded.

“Well, it seems like you practiced this at least two or three times before I arrived. Did you rehearse when you heard my car stopping, while I was chewing peppermints?”

I was just making a reasonable guess as usual, but this time the journalist’s eyes widened. Her already gentle expression now looked almost pitiful.

Though she didn’t speak, I seemed to have accidentally guessed correctly. At times like this, I received the deductive powers of the genius detectives from radio dramas. I continued speaking to prevent a prolonged silence.

“Fine by me. It’s winter, so I won’t need to escort an elf around all day. I just need to pass the time. You don’t have to go to work tomorrow?”

“Ah, yes! The editor told me to take care of myself and rest! Lately all the articles have been like this, so I seem to have more days off than working days…”

This probably wasn’t the journalist’s life she had dreamed of. But these days didn’t tolerate mediocrity. To be a fighter, one had to be a fierce fighter like this journalist.

It wasn’t a bad thing. To encourage her, I placed my hand between her two perked ears and gently stroked. Her tense ears drooped, looking like a lop-eared rabbit’s.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have just gotten drunk and fallen asleep, then come over tomorrow morning. Now I have to go back and come again tomorrow.”

After emptying the whiskey bottle and spending time drinking and talking until almost eleven, I left the house. I lit a cigarette and looked around. There had been no tail on the way, nor anyone waiting at my destination.

There was no smell of Noll fur either. No signs of tampering with my car. It was quite unpleasant having to make such checks even after arranging what amounted to a casual date.

Only after confirming everything did I return home. If I wanted to look less disheveled tomorrow, I needed to try sleeping at least four hours tonight.