A Fraudulent Death, Draft 02, CH 27 (Patreon)

The housing building Marlot looked at was located a few blocks away from where the body had been found, so he was hopeful he’d finally start getting answers. The mail center was in the corner on the ground floor and was accessible from inside and outside the building.

The people in line for the counter wore old clothing, many worn down to the threads, and had the alertness of someone waiting to be pounced on. On the low side of middle-rated, if not even lower, Marlot thought. Even the predators in the line hunched in on themselves. He reassessed his estimation lower. If predators felt like prey, they couldn’t be worth much. He joined the line and the jackal before him did her best to move away and not bump into the rabbit in front of her.

The mailroom itself gave no indication of the area’s rating. Like any other throughout the city, it was large enough to accommodate two dozen customers, with all sorts of boxes and envelopes hanging on a wall. A few even cooled to send meat, although he doubted anyone of the people here could afford them. Marlot almost exclusively sent parcels through the mail system, with the occasional letters to the Revenue Bureau. Even his bills were all handled electronically now.

The young and thin bear stood from putting a basket of envelopes down and startled on seeing him. The scent coming off was worry so strong it bordered on fear. The bear looked around the mailroom, as Marlot took out his ID, and it was only the two of them in it. With people milling on the other side of the door.

“RI Blackclaw,” Marlot introduced himself, then added, “this is part of an investigation, I’m not looking to feed.” Despite working, the male was dressed the same as the others. He’d have expected a steady job for the government to raise him above that.

“How—” The bear swallowed. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for information on a package that was mailed from here eight days ago.”

“Eight days?” the worry crossed into fear now. “There’s no way I remember that far back.”

“But you know how to use a computer, right?” Marlot said, reminding himself the bear was young. This was probably his first encounter with any government representative. “And you do scan everything that is shipped through here, right?”

The bear nodded quickly.

“So, how about you pull out that day’s scans and I’ll look through it?”

“I—”

The whole room reeked of fear. Enough Marlot was worried the bear would drop dead from it, and that he might use his position to do less legal things. Nothing else would explain why he was reacting this way. He almost demanded that he get out of the way. Marlot could access the system, and it would be legal. But he knew this was the bully in him that wanted that. What he needed to do was calm the bear so he could function.

“Do you know what an RI does?” he asked, doing his best to make his voice soothing. The bear shook his head. “I investigate unpaid bodies. Nothing else. The way you’re reacting, you’re afraid I’ll find out what you’re taking advantage of your position, but even if I did, it wouldn’t be my problem. Do you understand what I mean?”

The bear nodded, but it was a reflex. A hope it would send the intruder away. The outside door opened, a gazelle stepped in and immediately left, hand over his muzzle and ears folded back. The reek would at least ensure they weren’t disturbed.

“I promise,” Marlot said, “I won’t report anything I see. All I care about is that package.”

This time, when the bear nodded, it was slower, more cognizant of what Marlot said. It still took him long enough to stop shaking the door opened again and this time it was a cougar who turned around and left.

The bear moved to the computer and typed, then the printer spit out papers. A lot of them. The store did more business than Marlot expected. He took the six pages and located the Mixcoat’s address on the third. He cursed when it didn’t say who had mailed it or offered an address as an origin. The field for the ID number contained something that Marlot could tell wasn’t an ID. Possibly a system in place to track those using physical money.

“What… what are you looking for?” the bear asked cautiously.

Marlot dropped the papers on the counter. “I’m trying to find out who sent the package. I mean where that person lives.”

The bear pulled the papers to him. “Can you show me which entry it is?”

Marlot put his finger on the line.

“That’s apartment eighteen-o-six.” The bear said his finger under the ID field. “It’s the middle four numbers. I have to include the apartment number since they can’t pay with their ID.”

“Do you know who lives there?” Marlot noted the number. He finally had something to work with.

The bear shook his head. “I deal with too many people. I can’t keep track.”

“Thanks.” He entered the housing complex and the people who’d been milling at the door hurried out of his way. They rushed back in and had it filled to the point a line of people was left outside before he reached the elevators.

The eighteenth floor was cleaner than he expected. Housing complexes like this one, which catered to the low rated, survived by cutting as many corners as they could get away with, and the first to go were maintenance and cleaning. Marlot had gone to some higher-middle-rated complexes with dirtier halls.

He knocked on the door and heard motion. He looked around for a camera, but none of the doors had them. Not high rated enough to afford them, he guessed. So the only way the occupant could see who it was, was to open—

The door cracked open, stop by a thick chain. “Yes?” a brown eye fixed on him, widened and the door slammed shut, leaving scents of fear clinging to it.

“That’s…” Marlot said to no one. He knocked again. “It’s too late to pretend you aren’t there,” he shouted. “If it helps, I’m not here for you.” Unless you killed Hardir, but Marlot didn’t think it was the case.

After a few seconds of silence, the door opened again, stopped by the chain. White fur around the eye. Orange and black at the edges. A tiger, still smelling scared. “What do you want?” he demanded, voice trembling.

Marlot showed his ID. “RI Blackclaw.” The male glanced at it. “Do you know Hardir Mixcoat?”

“No,” the tiger stated, and the lie tainted the scent of fear.

“Can I come in?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral, as he put his ID away.

“Am I a suspect?”

Marlot tilted an ear. “Should I consider you a suspect?” It was quite the leap to make on having an RI visit.

The tiger’s fear climbed, then the door closed. Seconds without sounds, then the chain being slid. The door opened. The apartment was sparse but tidy. Marlot closed the door behind him and stayed by it to give the tiger as much space as he could.

“Now,” he said, his tone harder. “How about we do this again? Did you know Hardir Mixcoat?”

The tiger glances at a door in the back of the living room. One of three, with the others being where the living room and kitchen met, and in the kitchen.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Marlot said.

“I didn’t say anything!” the tiger hurried to reply.

“Your body spoke for you. What’s your name?”

The tiger’s shoulders slumped before he dropped onto the old couch. “Grift. Grift Stripes.” The name sounded fabricated; too exact for who the tiger seemed to be, but Marlot let it go.

“Grift, what’s your connection to Hardir?” Marlot indicated the closed door.

“We just shared the apartment,” the tiger answered. He was too far for Marlot to scent if he was lying, but the fidgeting made him suspect there might have been more.

“When was the last you saw him?”

Grift shrugged. “A while ago. He went out and didn’t come back.”

“Can I look through his room?”

“Go ahead, but there isn’t much there. He didn’t have anything.”

“Do you know where he was from?” He asked as he opened the door.

“We just shared the place,” the tiger answered, annoyance in his tone. “We weren’t friends or anything.”

Marlot had trouble imagining sharing an apartment and not at least becoming friendly.

The room had a bed, a dresser, and nothing else. The body’s scent was there, but stale, at least a week old. The dresser and closet had a few sets of old, thread-bare, clothes.

“What did Hardir do for a living?” Marlot asked as he exited the bedroom.

“I don’t know.” The tiger fidgeted.

How far could Marlot push his authority? The tiger was already scared of him. There had to be a reason for that. A part of him pointed out that if he was more scared, Marlot would get answers. And the images of a moose sitting behind an interrogation table, Marlot screaming at him. Fear so thick in the room it had—

No.

He was asking himself the wrong question. It wasn’t how far could he push? But how far should he and still be someone Trembor would care for?

He looked around for any signs the body might have died here. With a broken neck and no bleeding injuries, there was no blood to follow. He could have died here, but there was no scent of a dead body.

The tiger was hiding something, but Marlot had no indication it had anything to do with Hardir’s body. Unless he found that link, the right thing to do was leave him be.

“Thank you for answering my questions.”

The surprise from the tiger confirmed Marlot’s suspicions. He was scared Marlot would push, and that gnawed at Marlot’s instinct to respond. Instead, he opened the door and left the tiger alone.

He no longer wanted to be the kind of male who went after everything he wanted, despite the consequences.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t poke into who Grift really was.

On the ground floor, he found the building manager, and after showing his ID, and an explanation of the troubles the female could be in legally if she didn’t comply, he got the listing of all the building’s occupants.

If she lodged a complaint against him, he had the justification of this being where his body lived. No one had to know he wanted it to look into someone else.

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