Tori 1 (Patreon)

I'm still working on the next Tori Mystery. Here's a scene for it that I wrote today.

I'm not sure if all of you have read Reaper's Lottery, but please note that I've redacted a word in the following scene. If you haven't read it and still plan to, that word would be a bit of a spoiler.

If having a redacted word is going to annoy you, skip down to the reviewer's link at the bottom of this post. The linked document is uncensored.

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Tori was already seated when Nuah returned to his office. “Investigator Tori, this is Selta,” he said, introducing the fluffy white female who followed him. She looked young—just old enough to be out of school—very pretty, and she clearly did not want to be there. Her eyes were glued to the deck beneath her paws.

“Hello, Selta,” said Tori, taking a moment to stand. Selta didn’t look up, didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge her.

Security’s notes on the first murder were surprisingly lean—little more than a description of the crime scene and an autopsy report. Judging by the way the witness held herself, Tori presumed that she’d been reluctant to say any more than she had to.

Tori frowned. If she was going to make progress on this case, she needed to know more than “Raksa was drinking brandy, then he died.”

Nuah was returning to his desk when Tori stopped him. “Actually, sir,” she said, “would it be possible for me to speak with Selta in private?”

The middle-aged male must not have expected that. His ears drooped, and for a moment he looked annoyed at being kicked out of his own office. He looked at Tori’s ****** face once more and then relented without argument. Perhaps he was relieved to get away?

Nuah gestured for Selta to enter, then he left, shutting the door quietly behind him, as if not to disturb the interview.

Tori stared at the deck in the middle of the office for a long moment. “I saw the photos of Raksa lying here. I’m so sorry you had to witness that. It must have been awful.”

Selta was still standing beside the door, as if she was ready to bolt from the room. Without looking up, she nodded.

“And I’m so sorry to put you through this again,” Tori added. “I know you were interviewed after the murder, but I just started working on this case. Would you mind running through it again for me?”

Selta sighed and launched into the condensed version of the story before Tori could interrupt, “He was drinking brandy, then he dropped the bottle—”

“Where was he standing when you entered the office?” asked Tori.

Selta looked up at last—first at Tori and then over at her boss’s desk. “He was sitting,” she said after a pause. She pointed. “Over there.”

“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to show me?” Tori gave her a smile. “Just so I can visualize what happened, okay?” She put a paw on Selta’s back. She flinched but did not pull away. Then guiding the witness toward the desk, Tori added. “You be Raksa, and I’ll be you.”

Selta walked toward the desk but then hesitated. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” said Tori as she stood by the door. “Show me how your boss was sitting, okay?”

With no small degree of reluctance, Selta took a seat on her boss’s chair and kicked her paws up on the corner of his desk. She was too short for the pose to look natural and she seemed uncomfortable—both physically and emotionally.

“Thank you for doing that,” said Tori. “So, you walked into the office. What did he say?”

“He said he was transferring me to second shift.”

“Oh,” said Tori with concern in her voice. Swing shift was the worst. Most of the crew agreed, even working thirds was preferable. “How did you feel about that?”

“I was angry.” She sat up suddenly, taking her paws from the desk. “I didn’t murder him!”

“Well, of course not!” laughed Tori. “You’d have to have left the office, stolen the poison, come back, dropped it into his brandy, and then had him drink it. That would be ridiculous. I’m just trying to imagine what happened, okay? So, you were angry about being transferred. What did you say?”

Partially mollified, Selta said, “I told him I didn’t want to change and asked if someone else could transfer instead.”

“And was he already drinking the brandy at this point?”

Selta shook her head. She stood up and opened the desk drawer. “He kept it in here. I mean, I guess he did. He pulled it out of this drawer when I asked if anyone else could transfer.”

“It was full?” asked Tori.

“No, nearly empty.”

“Okay, so you asked if someone else could transfer, and he said…?”

Selta fell silent once more. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Tori frowned, concerned not only that her investigation was faltering but also worried about what could have happened, why the witness was being so elusive. “Hey, it’s okay,” said Tori in a lowered voice. “I’m not writing this down. I won’t share the details with anyone. I just need the clues if I’m gonna catch this guy.”

Selta leveled a surprisingly steely gaze as Tori. “Maybe I don’t want you to find him.”

“Whu—” gasped Tori, taken by surprise.

“This killer, he’s our own Bandit of Rainwood Green.”

Tori stared in silence a moment before realizing her muzzle was open. How could anyone want a murderer to walk free? “You mean like Erona … from the video?”

The witness nodded and remained silent.

“Selta,” whispered Tori, “Erona was just trying to help the poor. He wasn’t poisoning innocent people.”

“Raksa was not innocent,” she spat.

Tori’s eyes popped open wide. Were the murders not the first crimes?

“Everyone warned me,” said Selta. “I thought they were exaggerating, but all the gals agreed to keep an eye out if he called one of us into his office,”—she pointed toward the large window that overlooked the work floor—“and barge in here with an excuse, to rescue anyone he cornered.”

Tori waited. She whispered, “Did they? Did they rush up here when he cornered you?”

Selta’s eyes were brimming with tears. She nodded. “But he was already drinking the brandy. He was dead before anyone came to check.”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mHA5V8GxxpadVBtUyN3cgeaCmwmKRbv021q0jcHS3UE/edit?usp=sharing

Any thoughts?