Kitsune drove me back to my aunt Agatha's house. The day had been both enlightening and emotionally charged, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of exhaustion and anticipation as we arrived at the familiar doorstep.
Before I could step out of the car, Agatha swung open the front door, her silhouette illuminated by the warm light spilling out into the darkness. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and determination as she peered at Kitsune.
"Kitsune," she called out, her voice filled with harsh command, "get your butt inside. You’re having dinner with us."
Kitsune glanced at me, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. I could tell he was considering the invitation and gauging my reaction. As if I knew Agatha better than him.
“I wouldn’t refuse,” I said before I stepped out of the car.
He sighed. “Yeah, I figured.”
We both made our way inside the house.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” Agatha said, practically slamming the door behind her so hard, her water painting of cherry blossoms almost toppled over. “What’s this I hear about Baron going around and getting you to work on the Victoria Scheffeld case?”
“Baron stopped by the office and hired me to work on it,” Kitsune said affably.
We spilled into the dining room, and my aunt whirled on her heel, pointing an accusing finger at him. I ducked just in time, glad, for once, her notorious temper wasn’t focused on me but on someone else.
The scent of Agatha's homemade eggplant parmesan wafted through the air, creating a symphony of savory notes that tickled my senses and made my mouth water in anticipation. The rich, comforting scent of roasted eggplant filled my senses which, when paired with the tangy allure of tomato sauce, and the irresistible hints of garlic and melted cheese, caused my stomach to rumble with anticipation.
The room itself was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting a cozy and inviting ambiance despite Agatha’s aggression. The dining table, adorned with a simple yet elegant tablecloth, was set for three, like she somehow knew she’d get Kitsune in here—it was probably why she cooked eggplant parmesan in the first place, knowing it was his favorite.
“Baron has been breathing down my neck the second it was radioed in,” Agatha said. I was surprised she didn’t call him out for being a smartass because of his comment. She must have been stressed to let that go. “I know he’s worried about the tourist season and the art festival, but I didn’t see him up in arms about Ugani’s death.”
She began to plate the food as she shook her head, blonde wisps of hair following her every movement.
“Richmond talk to you yet?” she asked, setting down my plate of food first.
Kitsune leaned back in his chair. “No,” he said.
Agatha's expression grew thoughtful as she continued to serve the meal. The dining room, bathed in the warm glow of the overhead light, felt like a haven of normalcy in the midst of the town's turmoil.
“The brat has thrown himself into the case, thinking no one knows who she really is,” she said. “I have a mind to remove him from it, but…” She shook her head. “Look what happened when I tried to do the same thing to you, hmm? You left me. I can’t afford to lose another detective.”
Kitsune took a moment to consider, his gaze locked onto his plate. I tried to look at him without being obvious about it. The photograph I saw in his office flashed in my mind, the man and the woman. I wondered if that was who my aunt referred to. Kitsune’s face was expressionless but there was a tautness around his cheeks that I picked up…probably because I had stared at his cheeks more than I should have been.
“The problem is, with Baron doing the same thing to this case, one can’t help but wonder…” She let her voice trail off, fingers curling around the large wine glass.
“They aren’t connected,” Kitsune said. There was an edge to his voice, something that commanded power and attention. Despite my aunt’s ranking at the department, he must have believed he knew more than she did.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I just do,” he said.
“She’s his sister, Kitsune,” she pointed out. “Same MO—targeting people close to department employees. Look at Nathan’s parents. Look at –”
“I’m familiar with the case,” he said firmly, picking up his fork. “However, there wasn’t a note left behind, taunting the targeted officer. The body was left in a public space where anyone could have stumbled upon it rather than somewhere personal. There are too many discrepancies.”
My aunt gave him a long look. Kitsune didn’t look at anyone as he began to eat.
I wished I understood what they were talking about. I knew it was a chilling cold case, a serial killer who targeted the department for some reason. But I didn’t know the details. Agatha wouldn’t let me look at the files and there wasn’t much on public record. Maybe I could check out the library and see if there were any newspaper articles written about it. There had to be, right?
“Why isn’t George talking?” I asked instead. “I would have thought he’d be more…cooperative.”
Kitsune sighed. “Richmond and his sister had a strange relationship,” he said. “Their grandparents raised them after their parents abandoned them. And when they died, it was him raising his sister. He was grounded, she was more of a free spirit, and she would get herself into some debt and Richmond would always bail her out. He kept her quiet. When she left the town, he seemed…relieved.”
The dining room held an air of quiet contemplation as the remnants of our meal sat on our plates, and Agatha's frustration simmered beneath the surface.
"Regardless, Richmond isn't saying squat about it," Agatha finally spoke, her tone carrying a note of both concern and exasperation. "It's unlike him to remain so quiet, especially in a case like this. Why is the brat keeping things from us?”
Kitsune contemplated her words. "It's essential to remember that everyone grieves differently," he explained. I hated that there was something in his words that hinted he knew this from personal experience. Which meant he was aware of grieving because he had gone through it himself. "Richmond has always hidden behind charm and smiles. He doesn't easily express his emotions, even in the face of something as tragic as this."
Agatha's frustration deepened as she swirled the remnants of her wine in her glass. “But this silence, Kitsune, it's unsettling,” she said. “Surely he knows we’re here to help. It feels as though he's holding something back."
Kitsune grabbed a piece of eggplant with his fork. “I know it's frustrating, but it's crucial to give him time,” he said. “Grief can be a heavy burden, and people like George often prefer to process it in their own way."
"Yeah, well," she began, her voice measured, "he’s coming across as suspicious. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Kitsune exchanged a brief, knowing look with me. I held my breath. Was he going to tell her about the argument I overheard? Guilt gnawed at my stomach and I forced myself to shove food in my mouth in hopes to avoid a confrontation with my aunt, especially since she was so wound up herself. Because she could accuse me of withholding information if she really wanted to too because it wasn’t like I had rushed out to tell her about what I overheard at the bar. In fact, the only person I told was Kitsune.
"Chief," he said, his tone steady, "I don't want to jump to conclusions about anything at this point. It's essential that we gather all the facts and speak to everyone involved before making any assessments. Richmond is undoubtedly grieving, and it's important not to make assumptions based on his silence alone." He tilted his head to the side, reminding me of a cat. “Do you have any reason to suspect him besides his uncharacteristic silence?”
Agatha grunted before she took a sip of wine.
“Honestly? No. Of course not. With you gone, he’s my best detective.” She ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “Maybe that’s why I’m so agitated. He’s holding back.” She glanced over at Kitsune. “Maybe you could talk to him.”
“I intend to,” he said. “But I want to gather more information before I do anything else.”
“Don’t take too long, brat,” she said, shaking her head. “With Baron breathing down my neck, I’d like to get this thing off my desk before the festival. He doesn’t want to cancel it, but I might have to if there’s a chance this killer will strike again.”
“I didn’t know CB had serial killers,” I murmured before taking another bite of food.
“We don’t,” Agatha said. “There’s just…” She let her voice trail off. “Never mind.” She stood up abruptly. Although she drank a couple of glasses of wine, it didn’t seem to inhibit her movements at all.
“I don’t think we can apply this case to any others,” Kitsune said after a moment. “I don’t believe the festival needs to be canceled.”
“You think Scheffeld was a target herself?” Agatha asked.
“That’s what I’m working with now,” Kitsune said. “If anything comes up that changes my mind, I’ll worry about it then. As of right now, I don’t want to prescribe anything to this case. I want to view it as something that stands alone.”
A sigh escaped Agatha's lips as she turned on the faucet of the sink, prepared to start washing dishes by hand despite the perfectly good dishwasher next to her. “I suppose you're right,” she muttered, her back to us now. “I just can't shake this feeling that there's more to Richmond's silence than meets the eye."
“We will speak to him, ma’am,” he said. “We'll find out what he knows or suspects. But he may not have all the answers right now."
“Fine, but I want you to talk to him tomorrow, without delay,” she said. “And report back to me as soon as you have any information. The Spring Art Festival is less than a week away, and like I said before, I want this closed. I understand the need to grieve, but sometimes, you have to put it aside in order to help the greater good."
Kitsune looked back at me, his eyes studying my face. I wasn’t sure why, but his scrutiny made me more uncomfortable than I expected, like he saw something on me I didn’t.
“I understand,” he said. “Though, if I recall, I don’t work for you. Not anymore.”
“Not now,” Agatha agreed. “But that’ll change. You’ll come crawling back. They always do.”
“I’ll be sure to ask Jeremiah if that’s the case.”
Agatha stopped what she was doing and threw the dishrag at Kitsune’s head. It didn’t come anywhere near hitting him, and it landed with a loud plop on the ground. Kitsune didn’t even flinch.
“I invite you into my home, cook your favorite meal, and this is how you treat me? You’re fired, Kitsune!”
“I already quit.”
I leaned back in my chair, a small smile on my face, as I watched the interaction between the two. But I couldn’t help but wonder what my aunt spoke about in reference to a serial killer in Cherry Blossom. And, judging by Kitsune’s expression during that discussion, he seemed to have first-hand experience with that as well.