And for his sins, the wrong woman walks into his life once more. Waits expectantly for him to state his business – the business that called her away from her own livelihood. The fly invites the spider into his domain, the draculina across the threshold. Despite the grisly murder and that intimidating feeling that accompanies any beautiful woman, Navy manages a smile. It is a far more genuine one than he would have managed in months prior.[break][break]
“Good to see you. Come in, come in. I’ll show you the picture. The boys down at Slateport PD’s forensics office faxed me over the picture.” He’s made an effort for her. Whether that effort means anything is wholly a matter for the blonde woman he has invited to sit down by his desk. There’s tea waiting for her, freshly brewed. Accompanying it is a selection of sugar, cream, and honey. He doesn’t know her tastes, so he shoots wide.[break][break]
Taking his own seat, Navy slides the picture across. Since the shield had to come out eventually anyway, Navy insisted they send over a photocopy that did not contain the body of the deceased. The whole crest, in its full glory, is there for her. Every last detail, all the sins of her past, waiting to claw up from the depths and pull her down.[break][break]
“You carry yourself like a refined lady of means, Elisabeth. Er, Ms. Fiorelli. So, I thought I’d ask you. Humans know things computer databases might not.” The detective observes. He waits to see what she will make of this.


[break][break]

+ ooc notes

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Her eyes pierce him like no bullet dares. They accuse him. Venom greener than her eyes threatens to spill forth. Navy feels like he is in the presence of a displeased queen. This is a look that has killed stronger men than he.[break][break]
“There, uh, there was a murder. This morning. Around two.” He stumbles over himself, like his foot’s caught on a root in the road.[break][break]
You want to take Lopez’s job and you’re letting a LOOK get to you, Navy? He chides himself. His back straightens. Navy understands he has to conduct himself like a professional or this hole is only going to get deeper. Piercing his claws into the earth, he crawls his way out of the hole.[break][break]
“Guy’s a recent immigrant from Kalos. Since you know the coat of arms, I’ll get Leslie to send me over a picture of what he looks like. A kite shield with this coat of arms was shoved down his neck and out of his throat. Honest to Arceus, you’re the only Kalosian I know. I know we only met once, but you struck as someone who might know a thing or two about the old noble families. The murder weapon’s an antique, so my thinking is that if I can trace who bought this shield, that makes fingering the culprit way easier.” He falls into a detective’s cool logic. Find the evidence, build the case, get paid. Quick work. In and out. That’s how he conducts himself.[break][break]
But the way she looked at him after seeing that coat of arms…[break][break]
Navy can’t shake the feeling it’s personal. She didn’t kill him. He believes that like gospel, and any idiot with a grasp of the timeline would be able to tell. So, that means she’s his best line to get information.[break][break]
“Bortiforte. Just that name’s a big help. Anything you can tell me about them is going to help me a lot. Anything you’re willing to share, I’m willing to listen.” Despite that earlier fear, now that he’s caught a scent, he looks like he’s on the trail. Pursuing a fruitful lead. All thanks to her.


[break][break]

+ Elisabeth Fiorelli

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Some part of Navy begins putting together a theory. The rest of him rips that part down, the proverbial crabs in the bucket. There are holes in the logic with which he conducts himself, and this woman hits on a few of them by sheer accident. His gunmetal eyes still race back and forth as he thinks this through.[break][break]
Maybe it’s meant to send a message? Maybe it was the only murder weapon on hand. Determining whether the victim owned the shield is of paramount importance.[break][break]
“Hmm. So if they’re all dead, then that means they don’t have enemies.” Anyone could make that observation. It’s not some jaw-dropping leap of logic that puts a bow in everything. Outside of detective fiction, seldom few cases have such a moment. Investigation is often a matter of putting together puzzle pieces soaked in grunge, oil, and trying to piece out what you see.[break][break]
“A weird weapon for a crime of passion. Guy was found dead in his home. I really doubt you’d know this much, but do you know who bought the shield?” Pulling out his phone, Navy texts Officer Leslie. Within a minute, his fax machine purrs and comes alive. A picture comes through. Navy puts it in front of Elisabeth before sitting back down.[break][break]
“That’s our guy. He someone that has a connection to the Bortifortes?” An innocent question. He cannot possibly perceive the storm inside of this woman.


[break][break]

+ Elisabeth Fiorelli

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Her face is like a porcelain mask to him. Navy cannot read this woman to save his life. This detective is no knight, but her words kindle an urgent need to defend within him. It’s the urge that drove him to drop out of high school for someone else’s sake. It’s the urge that pushed him to Mt. Pyre when Melody seemed to be in danger.[break][break]

Again and again, the urge to defend by decisive action has defined this man. Elisabeth’s words push him once more to play that role. For, if the family who owned this shield once had enemies, and she sold this shield…[break][break]

Even he isn’t blind to the implications. Her reaction to the victim keys him into one thing: the victim isn’t the owner of the shield. He hadn’t expected that. Frankly, it would be bad for them. If the murder weapon belongs to the victim, it’s not like tracing it will do them any good. The thing was checked for prints and is clean.[break][break]

Now, there’s hope.[break][break]

“I’ll go over some basic facts with you. Sorry if this bores you, sometimes I do my best thinking out loud. Pierre Fantoche. Mid-30’s. Spent most of his 20’s working in Kalos in the service industry. Butler. Moved here on a work visa originally. His immigration papers were processing. Worked for some family called…let’s see….” He sifts through the papers. Points to a name with a decisive hand.[break][break]

“de Chalons. Yeah. De Chalons.” He butchers the name in a way only a foreigner who doesn’t speak Kalosian can. “Head of the family, Geralt de Chalons, runs a berry company. With how much land he owns in a foreign region, seems more like a berry republic to me.” Navy tells her what she likely already knows.[break][break]

“Pfft, their crest is a Stoutland. Who’d want a dog on their crest when Garchomps exist?” He accidentally admits more than he knows about himself with that statement.[break][break]

"After he moved here, he got a job working as a butler for some rich guy. Mark Schrute. Third generation owner of a fancy textile company. Hmm, says here he does collect antiques." Navy pauses, looks up at her, prays he isn't boring her with something worthless. Why does he care if he's boring her?

“Doesn’t happen to be a de Chalons or that Shcrute guy who bought the shield, does it?” He asks, half joking.


[break][break]

+ Elisabeth Fiorelli

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“No!” He answers at once, the urgency of his voice like that of a knight raising a shield to block a bloody blow on some bygone battlefield. It leaves his mouth with due haste and the detective deduces how it sounds as soon as the word is out.[break][break]

“No.” He repeats, far softer. This time a prayer instead of a war cry. “But if you owned the shield back in the day, the cops were gonna come calling eventually.” He runs a hand through his fine blue hair, contemplating his next move. Really, she’s done more than enough thus far. Confirming the coat of arms on the shield and being willing to search her records for the name of the owner…[break][break]

It’s an open and shut case, especially if the name in her records comes up de Chalons or Schrute. Yet all the same, he feels like she’s a part of this now – caught up in the web. Or is he caught in hers? He’ll never know for sure.[break][break]

“I doubt anyone’s gonna say you did it, but if they do, I’ll back up that you’re innocent.” There’s that tiny voice inside his mind, his volition, screaming into the void of his head that no one who looked at him the way she originally did could be innocent. Not guilty, yes. Innocent? No…[break][break]

It’s beaten down again. Drama wins out over volition. The widow selling the shield does make for a good story.[break][break]

“You’ve helped me out a lot already. If you want, you’re welcome to go back to your shop. I’ll pay ya back for coming.” He goes to reach for his wallet. The hand doesn’t even make it to his pants. What he just said doesn’t sit right.[break][break]

“But you’ve got the right to see this through, if you wanna.”



[break][break]

+ Elisabeth Fiorelli

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Letting her slip away doesn’t sit well with him, but what can he say? What can he do? She’s her own woman. Free to do as she pleases. A sinking feeling of dread builds in his stomach, like she’s about to be snatched away. She’s just one normal woman. What can she do if this family comes calling, or if the culprit tries to shut her up?[break][break]
He could pursue this further, press the issue, but he has trouble being bold with women. Navy demurs, looks at the paper. Slowly nods, tracing a finger along the words on the page.[break][break]
“Alright. I’ll have more questions before the day’s out, probably. Do me a favor and stick close to your phone, please.” That’s the most he can ask. Chances are, she won’t even comply with that much. “And…stay safe, Miss Fiorelli. If you need me for anything, just call.”[break][break]
He doesn’t even notice the omission of a few prudent words: relating to the case. He’s sure she sees herself out. He gets back to the case. Digs in like a bloodhound chasing a bone. Great leaps in logic are beyond this man, but he is relentless in his pursuit. Only through this relentless offense can he be a proper shield for people like this woman.

[break][break]

+ Elisabeth Fiorelli

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