Fic: Adventures in the Bad Green Apple: Blood for a Bauble - Chapter 3 (Wicked)
Fandom: Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
Disclaimer: Wicked (c) Gregory Maguire.
Rating: This chapter PG, whole fic PG-13/R.
Summary: In a slightly different Oz, Elphaba Thropp ekes out her living as a bitter private eye in the Emerald City, the bad green apple of Oz, where rain rarely lets up, crime runs rampant, and sensuous socialites wrap themselves in cigarette smoke.
Chapters: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 / 12
Adventures in the Bad Green Apple: Blood for a Bauble
Chapter 3.
Elphaba strode towards her home by the west wall of the Emerald City through streets lined with tattered posters for pfaither festivals plastered over endless rows of out-of-date exhibit ads for the city museum. Words stood out of the mess of graffiti and torn paper like omens, whispering of wild dancing and ancient artifacts. The sky above was cloudless, but the stars were lost into its darkness, dimmed by the many small lights of the city.
She climbed the creaking stairs up to the office, hearing the right-hand neighbours shouting and breaking things again. Must be Tuesday. She opened the door to find the reception spotless, a new plant replacing the old, dead one by the secretary's desk. Tibbett was standing on a ladder with a white apron tied around his waist, painting over the irredeemable mess that had been her window frame since she'd had to break someone's fingers over it for last month's rent.
Elphaba grinned at him. “Tibbs, one of these days I may just have to marry you.”
Tibbett turned to her with a shrug and an answering grin. He'd mellowed considerably after Elphaba had fulfilled her promise and doled out the cash. “You'd have to catch me first, and beat up my boyfriend, too.”
“Not a problem,” Elphaba said and cracked her knuckles. “Who is it this month?”
“Don't you dare,” Tibbett muttered, turning back to his painting with a wistful air. “He's special.”
Of course - they all were, until the next one. She made her way into the office proper, seeing with some relief that Tibbett had so far restricted himself to dusting and emptying the waste baskets. She dialed a number and put her aching feet up on the desk.
“Abe?” she asked when the call went through. “It's Elphie. Heard you peeled a John Doe off Rev Street earlier today.” Abe the court physician had a dark past as a serial graverobber from his medical school days which he preferred to keep secret. Fifteen minutes later she knew as much as he did.
The body had been that of a large, rough man, shot neatly through the heart from the back, dragged into the shadows of an alley leading off Revolution Street and searched, apparently with great haste and urgency. The clothes were torn and even cut open in several places. The damage stopped abruptly midway through the coat, which suggested that whatever the killer had been looking for had been found. Since the money pouch was still hanging on the belt in plain view, Elphie's theory just seemed better and better.
It was when she asked about the clothes themselves that Elphaba got an answer that made her squeeze the receiver, almost cracking the cheap copper. The dead man had worn a trenchcoat thrown over livery of white and blue with a pattern only too familiar.
-
Glinda Arduenna paced her sitting room, one exquisite red-painted fingernail between her teeth. She had spent the past half-hour composing a letter of apology to her old school mistress for missing dinner last night but had found she could barely concentrate for the space of a paragraph. She'd picked up the morning paper without even unfolding it before putting it down again. There was the pitcher, invitingly half-full, as if another inch or so less could barely make a difference, or even make the maid to suspect her of indulging in a noon drink.
It had begun to occur to Glinda that Fiyero, for all his beautiful eyes and tender hands, was still the same Winkie Prince the most vitriolic papers called the “worm in the apple” - the undisputed ruler of more than two hundred able-bodied, strange-eyed, dark-skinned people who lived down every street and watched you when you drove past, as if waiting for you to make a mistake or to go down the wrong alley. How angry was he? What could anger really be like in such a man? Was she just making a fool of herself by hiring a P.I. to settle a score with a boyfriend or was she being a bigger fool by making herself actually dangerous to him? Was it after all true what they said about his dark dealings with the underworld - and what would Elphaba Thropp do if she found them out? Her mind went over every prejudice against the heathens of the hills that her mother had laid down before her, every argument that Glinda had previously scorned as unfair and old-fashioned.
She shook her head angrily, trying to dispel the chilling thoughts. She wasn't about to turn into her mother. Determined, Glinda picked up the receiver and dialed a number.
-
The hotel suite had been decorated and furnished exactly to the specifications of the governor of Munchkinland. Nessarose sat at her vanity, not that she really could have chosen to stand. She combed her inky black hair, stroke by careful stroke, her pale skin already adorned with the best make-up money could buy, and carefully fixed a silver pendent around her neck.
"You never call, you never write, and then suddenly I find my little sister has popped into the city and not even bothered to say hello."
Nessa flinched, her hands freezing as she moved to pin back a strand of unruly hair. "What are you doing here, Elphaba?" she asked coldly, watching her sibling through her mirror and continuing to do her hair.
"Can't I drop by for a natter once in a while? Besides, I live here now. Really I should be asking you what you're doing in my city.” The green woman leaned casually in the doorway.
"Your city? Ha." The younger woman laughed, laying down her hair pins and wheeling her chair out to face her sister. "Since when was it your city?"
"Since the Wizard died and made me Governor," Elphaba replied dryly, moving from the doorway to lean against the desk. "I am merely asking what brings a person such as yourself so far away from home?"
"Well, I'm a diplomat, aren't I?" Nessa growled irritably. "I have a colleague in this city that I'm meeting with to discuss the state of the Munchkin Financial district here."
Elphaba nodded, her eyebrows raised. "Well, that's interesting,"
"Riveting."
"It's just..." She moved until she was standing behind Nessa's chair and grabbed hold of the handles. Ignoring her sister's protests, she wheeled her over to the window. "I've got one of your men, or at least a man wearing your colours..." She leaned on the window frame, looking out across the city. From here it could almost be described as attractive. The buildings gleamed every shade of green from lime to forest and the cobbles were free of filth. There was not a beggar or streetwalker in sight, but still Elphaba hated it. At least down her end you could see where the corruption lay. Around here the thieves tended to wear suits.
"Where?" Nessa looked up, confused. "And what's he done to merit your attention?"
"He's lying on a slab." Elphaba sighed. "As to what he has done, I was hoping you could help me out there." For the first time she locked eyes with Nessa, giving her a truly frightening gaze. Her sister held it. She had, after all, had practice.
"I don't know what you're talking about. How does this concern me, anyway?" she asked, not looking away.
"Oh, I don't know," Elphaba said, turning away and taking her hat off. She inspected the brim as she spoke. "Someone has just shot and murdered one of your guards - I thought you might want to know."
"People die all the time in this city. Had he been brawling or was it just a mugging?" Her sister retorted, wheeling herself away from the cityscape and over to her desk.
"Hit the nail on the head there, sis. He had been stripped of whatever it was he had been sent to get." Elphaba said, still looking at her hat. Rain began to fall again, the gentle sound of raindrops filling the silence of the room.
"Sent to get? You speak in riddles, Elphaba, just as you always have. Speak plainly for once, will you?" Frustration was beginning to show on the younger Thropp's face now.
"As a diplomat I thought you would be used to complicated words," Elphaba teased, "and as a politician I thought you would understand not speaking plainly about all the things you know."
"Still so childish! Now do you see why father always wanted me to be the Eminence of Munchkinland instead of you?" Nessa said, attempting a strike at an old wound. Elphaba just chuckled bitterly.
"No, he handed you the keys to that little backwater because he knows that I would have thrown them back in his face. After all, what did he ever do for me? Oh yes, I had clothes and food and oh, there is that old gem - responsibilities." She laced the last word with malice as Nessa's grip tightened on the edges of her chair.
"He gave you the best childhood that you deserved! He even offered to send you to Shiz! And even that you were too proud to accept!" she yelled.
Elphaba moved back against the wall, crossing her arms across her thin body. "Is that what he told you?" she asked quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "Intriguing."
"Don't try to pretend that you were the good guy in all this, Elphaba! I saw how you behaved around him. No respect, and Shell too? Have you forgotten him? Thanks to his big sister's shining influence he has decided not to go to college, but to travel instead! You have torn this family apart and now you come here accusing me of, of..." She spluttered, lost for words.
"It always has to be personal with you, doesn't it, Nessie?" Elphaba muttered, arms still crossed. "I'm not accusing you of anything, just informing you that a member of your staff has been murdered and that you are now a part of my inquiries. Any help that you can give me would be most appreciated." She crossed the room and begun opening the door.
"Don't you leave now, I'm not done with you yet!" Nessa shrieked, trying to turn her chair around.
"Goodbye, Lady Governor. I hope you enjoy your stay in the city," Elphaba said stoically, before replacing her hat and shutting the door.
-
Elphaba smoked her way through fifteen minutes of rain in the protection of the alcove of the Majestic Hotel, chatting with the doorman. Her line of work had weaned her off her propensity to solitude. It was amazing how easily people talked to you when you were green and could tell a dozen better jokes about it than they did. She thought as she talked, though, even as she smiled, and even as she repeated the one about Jack and the beanstalk.
When the rain let up, she sighed, pulled her hat low over her face and pulled her gloves back on just in case some stray drops still decided to follow their fellows. There was no putting it off now - she had to see Miss Arduenna again. She had from her names, addresses and descriptions, but none of them matched the man she'd seen on the slab at the morgue under Abe's scalpel. She had to bring in the description herself and see if it rung any bells. Perhaps talking about the case would clear her own mind, too.
She also wanted to see Glinda's face to see if she was lying. What was her role in all this? Did she know her necklace was worth killing for? Why lie about it, or try to point her at the Winkie Prince? Elphaba had seen nothing to indicate he was involved in any way.
Elphaba did not relish the idea of returning to those rooms, to the world of gauze and money, shallow feminine things and temptation. She abhorred everything Glinda stood for - put-upon charm, feminine arts and the self-complacency of fortune and breeding. Everything she had was what Elphaba had once wanted or did want - her looks, her wealth, her wasted independence. The best that could be said of Glinda was that she was not, despite surface similarity, anything like Nessarose. That, and that she had curves that would make even Tibbett stop and stare.
Resolved, Elphaba pressed on into the descending darkness. Lights were beginning to be lit in restaurants and molly houses, homes and street corners. The real Emerald City was waking up.
-
"Miss Arduenna?" Elphaba knocked against the large oak doors of Glinda's rooms. "Miss Arduenna, I need to talk to you," she called, going to knock again. After a minute she turned to leave, expecting the little socialite to have gone off simpering to one of her society friends. Hearing the click of the latch she looked back to be met with a rather unexpected sight. Glinda stood in nothing but her nightgown, her hair down and face devoid of make-up. Elphaba very nearly caught her breath. Normally Glinda was stunning, but like this she showed a different side of her beauty - something more raw and natural. For a moment the detective was lost for words, something that hadn't happened to her for a very long time.
"You had something you want to talk to me about?" Glinda prompted, snapping her out of her musings.
"Ah. Yes. Let's see,” Elphaba managed, stepping into the other woman's rooms as Glinda held the door for her, trying to obfuscate the effect the woman had on her, curse her looks. “I've had some information and I need some more. From you." The first thing that Elphaba noticed in the room was the open decanter on the table, which looked suspiciously less full than it had the previous day. She raised her eyebrows but remained silent as Glinda sat down on one of the plush sofas.
"Well? What do you need?" Glinda asked irritably. "It's just that it's late and as you can tell I was just preparing to go to bed..." She trailed off, crossing her legs daintily. Elphaba noticed how this made the silky fabric of her night dress creep further up her thigh.
"Several things... I'll get to each in time. Let's start with your necklace again. We still haven't covered all the basics. First of all, where did it come from?" Elphaba inquired, taking off her jacket in leaning back against the table.
Glinda rolled her eyes lazily. "A graduation present from my father. I don't think he ever really believed I would manage my course." She shrugged. "Then again, nobody did. That wasn't the point of my going to college in their eyes." She reached over to a nearby cabinet and picked up a box of cigarettes, plucked one and placed it in her mouth before looking for some matches.
"Here," Elphaba said quickly, striking a match and holding it to her client's cigarette. Glinda tilted her head, letting the flame lick at the end of her smoke. When it was lit she inhaled deeply, blowing it up and out across the room. Elphaba watched, for once not sure how much of this show was for her benefit. "What did you study?" she asked as Glinda brought her hand up again.
"Sorcery, actually." She smirked. "Didn't expect that, did you, Detective?" For the first time Glinda deliberately locked eyes with Elphaba.
"Can't say I did," Elphaba replied, anger bubbling up slightly but it was curbed by her intrigue. "Did you do well at it?" she asked, taking out a cigarette of her own.
"Mercy no, not at the start anyway." Glinda let out a bitter laugh. "Even exploded a sandwich one day..." Her eyeline drifted up at the memory. It had been a Sunday, a lazy one at that, Crope had taken her down to the lake front for a picnic and she had demanded to try out that levitation spell...
"But you continued with it anyway?" Elphaba asked, surprised. There appeared to be more to this little airhead then met the eye. Not that it really mattered, after all, she still sat here in the realms of wealth and ignorance smoking a £5 cigarette.
"Well, I don't quite believe in giving up on things, Detective," she said in a dangerously low voice. Leaning forward she crossed her arms across her knees and looked up at Elphaba challengingly.
"A good philosophy," Elphaba commented, not rising to the bait.
"Quite," Glinda replied, moving up again and taking another drag. "It was very important to me, that necklace. You know I quite think it's the only time my father ever said he was truly proud of me.” She tilted her head upwards thoughtfully. She did not seem sad... simply reflective. She tapped off some of the ash into a nearby tray.
"And you still think that Fiyero is behind this?" Elphaba pressed. She needed know where the girl really stood on this matter.
"For the last time, yes!" Glinda replied angrily, leaning back against the sofa. "He's the only person who I could have annoyed enough for him to want to hurt me so."
"If I may, what was the nature of your relationship with him?" Elphaba asked, taking a drag from her own cigarette.
Glinda gave her a patient look. "I told you I dumped him. Doesn't that tell you enough?"
"No, Miss," said Elphaba with equal patience. "You said he proposed marriage to you. Was he serious? How far were you in his confidence? How often were you together, and for how long did the affair continue?" Elphaba's throat almost constricted on that last word, and though her face remained stoically impassive, her heart begun to race.
"For around six months, actually," answered Glinda, getting up and pacing the room, leaving smoke trails behind her. "We met in college, but only became involved after. He was always such a doofus at Shiz, but in here he was somebody - a big man, with people dogging him and trying to win favours, and what's more, people coming to him for help when no-one else could help them. And he did, you know - help them. My friends said I was mad to go out with him, but I knew him. It's not at all like they say in the papers. Who else have the Winkies got to look out for them?"
Elphaba lowered her gaze, trying to control the tumult within. Six months ago it was three months since she herself had last seen Fiyero. She fought down the sudden surge of feelings she'd thought herself well over and forced herself to continue. “I thought you said they were artful and deceitful. Don't you read the papers? Every time a baby cries it's because a Winkie kicked it.”
Glinda looked up at her, then took a nervous drag of her cigarette. “You mustn't think a lady means everything she says when she's angry, Detective,” she said without looking at Elphaba, and reached for the decanter. Only when the cap was already off and she had a glass in her hand did she seem to notice it. She put both down. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, something put-upon in her smile.
“No, thank you,” said Elphaba, taking the glass and stopper from Glinda gently and replacing them. Glinda started and blushed. Surprised by her silent approach, or by the gesture? Elphaba couldn't tell. She was half-surprised herself, and soon surprised herself further. “I used to... know Fiyero.”
Glinda studied her closely. “I thought you might have,” she said. Elphaba looked up sharply. Glinda answered with a rueful smile. “Explains a few things. Your face is not entirely a blank page, Detective.” Her smile dropped and she sighed. “As I was saying, he is a good man, but I'm afraid I hurt him. Nobody likes that. Nobody forgives that. He's not the first man I've told no to. It tends to turn ugly.”
The unpleasant thought that she had misjudged this girl had begun to creep up on Elphaba. Not knowing what to say, she coughed, adjusted her hat, blew her nose and turned to face the window.
“You came here just to find that out?” Glinda asked.
“No,” said Elphaba, smothering her emotion into the case. “The necklace. Have you ever actually had it appraised?”
“No, but Daddy did. It's Shizian make - he bought it the day of my graduation. There were a dozen like it in the same shop. It was a popular model. £500 is enough that I don't have to be ashamed to want to wear it, and I expect some street thug would be overjoyed to have as much. Maybe it's already been passed on.”
Elphaba considered the situation. How far could she trust her own client? What dumb thing might Glinda do if she knew more? After a moment's deliberation, she decided it would be better if Glinda knew what to look out for.
“It has been,” she said. She walked over to Glinda and touched her arm, to make her turn around and listen. Again there was a faint colouring of Glinda's soft cheeks at their proximity, and Elphaba fancied she heard a sharp intake of breath. I must look particularly fearsome tonight, she mused. “Listen. I believe people have been killed for your necklace. If it really is worthless, there must be something else to it. Does it have a locket attached? A secret compartment?”
“Killed?” Glinda's voice rose an octave, with fear and surprise, but she pulled herself together. “No... No, nothing. There was one curious thing, though.”
“Tell me.”
“The central piece was shaped rather like that jewel that used to be on display in the National Museum. Dear Crope pointed it out - he used to work there as a specialist.” Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes just at the same time as Elphaba's widened with excitement. “Come to think of it,” Glinda continued, “I did think at some point that the frame holding the piece was slightly darker than it used to be... Almost as if...”
“...It had been changed,” Elphaba finished for her.
Glinda sat down at the nearest chair in shock.
Disclaimer: Wicked (c) Gregory Maguire.
Rating: This chapter PG, whole fic PG-13/R.
Summary: In a slightly different Oz, Elphaba Thropp ekes out her living as a bitter private eye in the Emerald City, the bad green apple of Oz, where rain rarely lets up, crime runs rampant, and sensuous socialites wrap themselves in cigarette smoke.
Chapters: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 / 12
Adventures in the Bad Green Apple: Blood for a Bauble
Chapter 3.
Elphaba strode towards her home by the west wall of the Emerald City through streets lined with tattered posters for pfaither festivals plastered over endless rows of out-of-date exhibit ads for the city museum. Words stood out of the mess of graffiti and torn paper like omens, whispering of wild dancing and ancient artifacts. The sky above was cloudless, but the stars were lost into its darkness, dimmed by the many small lights of the city.
She climbed the creaking stairs up to the office, hearing the right-hand neighbours shouting and breaking things again. Must be Tuesday. She opened the door to find the reception spotless, a new plant replacing the old, dead one by the secretary's desk. Tibbett was standing on a ladder with a white apron tied around his waist, painting over the irredeemable mess that had been her window frame since she'd had to break someone's fingers over it for last month's rent.
Elphaba grinned at him. “Tibbs, one of these days I may just have to marry you.”
Tibbett turned to her with a shrug and an answering grin. He'd mellowed considerably after Elphaba had fulfilled her promise and doled out the cash. “You'd have to catch me first, and beat up my boyfriend, too.”
“Not a problem,” Elphaba said and cracked her knuckles. “Who is it this month?”
“Don't you dare,” Tibbett muttered, turning back to his painting with a wistful air. “He's special.”
Of course - they all were, until the next one. She made her way into the office proper, seeing with some relief that Tibbett had so far restricted himself to dusting and emptying the waste baskets. She dialed a number and put her aching feet up on the desk.
“Abe?” she asked when the call went through. “It's Elphie. Heard you peeled a John Doe off Rev Street earlier today.” Abe the court physician had a dark past as a serial graverobber from his medical school days which he preferred to keep secret. Fifteen minutes later she knew as much as he did.
The body had been that of a large, rough man, shot neatly through the heart from the back, dragged into the shadows of an alley leading off Revolution Street and searched, apparently with great haste and urgency. The clothes were torn and even cut open in several places. The damage stopped abruptly midway through the coat, which suggested that whatever the killer had been looking for had been found. Since the money pouch was still hanging on the belt in plain view, Elphie's theory just seemed better and better.
It was when she asked about the clothes themselves that Elphaba got an answer that made her squeeze the receiver, almost cracking the cheap copper. The dead man had worn a trenchcoat thrown over livery of white and blue with a pattern only too familiar.
-
Glinda Arduenna paced her sitting room, one exquisite red-painted fingernail between her teeth. She had spent the past half-hour composing a letter of apology to her old school mistress for missing dinner last night but had found she could barely concentrate for the space of a paragraph. She'd picked up the morning paper without even unfolding it before putting it down again. There was the pitcher, invitingly half-full, as if another inch or so less could barely make a difference, or even make the maid to suspect her of indulging in a noon drink.
It had begun to occur to Glinda that Fiyero, for all his beautiful eyes and tender hands, was still the same Winkie Prince the most vitriolic papers called the “worm in the apple” - the undisputed ruler of more than two hundred able-bodied, strange-eyed, dark-skinned people who lived down every street and watched you when you drove past, as if waiting for you to make a mistake or to go down the wrong alley. How angry was he? What could anger really be like in such a man? Was she just making a fool of herself by hiring a P.I. to settle a score with a boyfriend or was she being a bigger fool by making herself actually dangerous to him? Was it after all true what they said about his dark dealings with the underworld - and what would Elphaba Thropp do if she found them out? Her mind went over every prejudice against the heathens of the hills that her mother had laid down before her, every argument that Glinda had previously scorned as unfair and old-fashioned.
She shook her head angrily, trying to dispel the chilling thoughts. She wasn't about to turn into her mother. Determined, Glinda picked up the receiver and dialed a number.
-
The hotel suite had been decorated and furnished exactly to the specifications of the governor of Munchkinland. Nessarose sat at her vanity, not that she really could have chosen to stand. She combed her inky black hair, stroke by careful stroke, her pale skin already adorned with the best make-up money could buy, and carefully fixed a silver pendent around her neck.
"You never call, you never write, and then suddenly I find my little sister has popped into the city and not even bothered to say hello."
Nessa flinched, her hands freezing as she moved to pin back a strand of unruly hair. "What are you doing here, Elphaba?" she asked coldly, watching her sibling through her mirror and continuing to do her hair.
"Can't I drop by for a natter once in a while? Besides, I live here now. Really I should be asking you what you're doing in my city.” The green woman leaned casually in the doorway.
"Your city? Ha." The younger woman laughed, laying down her hair pins and wheeling her chair out to face her sister. "Since when was it your city?"
"Since the Wizard died and made me Governor," Elphaba replied dryly, moving from the doorway to lean against the desk. "I am merely asking what brings a person such as yourself so far away from home?"
"Well, I'm a diplomat, aren't I?" Nessa growled irritably. "I have a colleague in this city that I'm meeting with to discuss the state of the Munchkin Financial district here."
Elphaba nodded, her eyebrows raised. "Well, that's interesting,"
"Riveting."
"It's just..." She moved until she was standing behind Nessa's chair and grabbed hold of the handles. Ignoring her sister's protests, she wheeled her over to the window. "I've got one of your men, or at least a man wearing your colours..." She leaned on the window frame, looking out across the city. From here it could almost be described as attractive. The buildings gleamed every shade of green from lime to forest and the cobbles were free of filth. There was not a beggar or streetwalker in sight, but still Elphaba hated it. At least down her end you could see where the corruption lay. Around here the thieves tended to wear suits.
"Where?" Nessa looked up, confused. "And what's he done to merit your attention?"
"He's lying on a slab." Elphaba sighed. "As to what he has done, I was hoping you could help me out there." For the first time she locked eyes with Nessa, giving her a truly frightening gaze. Her sister held it. She had, after all, had practice.
"I don't know what you're talking about. How does this concern me, anyway?" she asked, not looking away.
"Oh, I don't know," Elphaba said, turning away and taking her hat off. She inspected the brim as she spoke. "Someone has just shot and murdered one of your guards - I thought you might want to know."
"People die all the time in this city. Had he been brawling or was it just a mugging?" Her sister retorted, wheeling herself away from the cityscape and over to her desk.
"Hit the nail on the head there, sis. He had been stripped of whatever it was he had been sent to get." Elphaba said, still looking at her hat. Rain began to fall again, the gentle sound of raindrops filling the silence of the room.
"Sent to get? You speak in riddles, Elphaba, just as you always have. Speak plainly for once, will you?" Frustration was beginning to show on the younger Thropp's face now.
"As a diplomat I thought you would be used to complicated words," Elphaba teased, "and as a politician I thought you would understand not speaking plainly about all the things you know."
"Still so childish! Now do you see why father always wanted me to be the Eminence of Munchkinland instead of you?" Nessa said, attempting a strike at an old wound. Elphaba just chuckled bitterly.
"No, he handed you the keys to that little backwater because he knows that I would have thrown them back in his face. After all, what did he ever do for me? Oh yes, I had clothes and food and oh, there is that old gem - responsibilities." She laced the last word with malice as Nessa's grip tightened on the edges of her chair.
"He gave you the best childhood that you deserved! He even offered to send you to Shiz! And even that you were too proud to accept!" she yelled.
Elphaba moved back against the wall, crossing her arms across her thin body. "Is that what he told you?" she asked quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "Intriguing."
"Don't try to pretend that you were the good guy in all this, Elphaba! I saw how you behaved around him. No respect, and Shell too? Have you forgotten him? Thanks to his big sister's shining influence he has decided not to go to college, but to travel instead! You have torn this family apart and now you come here accusing me of, of..." She spluttered, lost for words.
"It always has to be personal with you, doesn't it, Nessie?" Elphaba muttered, arms still crossed. "I'm not accusing you of anything, just informing you that a member of your staff has been murdered and that you are now a part of my inquiries. Any help that you can give me would be most appreciated." She crossed the room and begun opening the door.
"Don't you leave now, I'm not done with you yet!" Nessa shrieked, trying to turn her chair around.
"Goodbye, Lady Governor. I hope you enjoy your stay in the city," Elphaba said stoically, before replacing her hat and shutting the door.
-
Elphaba smoked her way through fifteen minutes of rain in the protection of the alcove of the Majestic Hotel, chatting with the doorman. Her line of work had weaned her off her propensity to solitude. It was amazing how easily people talked to you when you were green and could tell a dozen better jokes about it than they did. She thought as she talked, though, even as she smiled, and even as she repeated the one about Jack and the beanstalk.
When the rain let up, she sighed, pulled her hat low over her face and pulled her gloves back on just in case some stray drops still decided to follow their fellows. There was no putting it off now - she had to see Miss Arduenna again. She had from her names, addresses and descriptions, but none of them matched the man she'd seen on the slab at the morgue under Abe's scalpel. She had to bring in the description herself and see if it rung any bells. Perhaps talking about the case would clear her own mind, too.
She also wanted to see Glinda's face to see if she was lying. What was her role in all this? Did she know her necklace was worth killing for? Why lie about it, or try to point her at the Winkie Prince? Elphaba had seen nothing to indicate he was involved in any way.
Elphaba did not relish the idea of returning to those rooms, to the world of gauze and money, shallow feminine things and temptation. She abhorred everything Glinda stood for - put-upon charm, feminine arts and the self-complacency of fortune and breeding. Everything she had was what Elphaba had once wanted or did want - her looks, her wealth, her wasted independence. The best that could be said of Glinda was that she was not, despite surface similarity, anything like Nessarose. That, and that she had curves that would make even Tibbett stop and stare.
Resolved, Elphaba pressed on into the descending darkness. Lights were beginning to be lit in restaurants and molly houses, homes and street corners. The real Emerald City was waking up.
-
"Miss Arduenna?" Elphaba knocked against the large oak doors of Glinda's rooms. "Miss Arduenna, I need to talk to you," she called, going to knock again. After a minute she turned to leave, expecting the little socialite to have gone off simpering to one of her society friends. Hearing the click of the latch she looked back to be met with a rather unexpected sight. Glinda stood in nothing but her nightgown, her hair down and face devoid of make-up. Elphaba very nearly caught her breath. Normally Glinda was stunning, but like this she showed a different side of her beauty - something more raw and natural. For a moment the detective was lost for words, something that hadn't happened to her for a very long time.
"You had something you want to talk to me about?" Glinda prompted, snapping her out of her musings.
"Ah. Yes. Let's see,” Elphaba managed, stepping into the other woman's rooms as Glinda held the door for her, trying to obfuscate the effect the woman had on her, curse her looks. “I've had some information and I need some more. From you." The first thing that Elphaba noticed in the room was the open decanter on the table, which looked suspiciously less full than it had the previous day. She raised her eyebrows but remained silent as Glinda sat down on one of the plush sofas.
"Well? What do you need?" Glinda asked irritably. "It's just that it's late and as you can tell I was just preparing to go to bed..." She trailed off, crossing her legs daintily. Elphaba noticed how this made the silky fabric of her night dress creep further up her thigh.
"Several things... I'll get to each in time. Let's start with your necklace again. We still haven't covered all the basics. First of all, where did it come from?" Elphaba inquired, taking off her jacket in leaning back against the table.
Glinda rolled her eyes lazily. "A graduation present from my father. I don't think he ever really believed I would manage my course." She shrugged. "Then again, nobody did. That wasn't the point of my going to college in their eyes." She reached over to a nearby cabinet and picked up a box of cigarettes, plucked one and placed it in her mouth before looking for some matches.
"Here," Elphaba said quickly, striking a match and holding it to her client's cigarette. Glinda tilted her head, letting the flame lick at the end of her smoke. When it was lit she inhaled deeply, blowing it up and out across the room. Elphaba watched, for once not sure how much of this show was for her benefit. "What did you study?" she asked as Glinda brought her hand up again.
"Sorcery, actually." She smirked. "Didn't expect that, did you, Detective?" For the first time Glinda deliberately locked eyes with Elphaba.
"Can't say I did," Elphaba replied, anger bubbling up slightly but it was curbed by her intrigue. "Did you do well at it?" she asked, taking out a cigarette of her own.
"Mercy no, not at the start anyway." Glinda let out a bitter laugh. "Even exploded a sandwich one day..." Her eyeline drifted up at the memory. It had been a Sunday, a lazy one at that, Crope had taken her down to the lake front for a picnic and she had demanded to try out that levitation spell...
"But you continued with it anyway?" Elphaba asked, surprised. There appeared to be more to this little airhead then met the eye. Not that it really mattered, after all, she still sat here in the realms of wealth and ignorance smoking a £5 cigarette.
"Well, I don't quite believe in giving up on things, Detective," she said in a dangerously low voice. Leaning forward she crossed her arms across her knees and looked up at Elphaba challengingly.
"A good philosophy," Elphaba commented, not rising to the bait.
"Quite," Glinda replied, moving up again and taking another drag. "It was very important to me, that necklace. You know I quite think it's the only time my father ever said he was truly proud of me.” She tilted her head upwards thoughtfully. She did not seem sad... simply reflective. She tapped off some of the ash into a nearby tray.
"And you still think that Fiyero is behind this?" Elphaba pressed. She needed know where the girl really stood on this matter.
"For the last time, yes!" Glinda replied angrily, leaning back against the sofa. "He's the only person who I could have annoyed enough for him to want to hurt me so."
"If I may, what was the nature of your relationship with him?" Elphaba asked, taking a drag from her own cigarette.
Glinda gave her a patient look. "I told you I dumped him. Doesn't that tell you enough?"
"No, Miss," said Elphaba with equal patience. "You said he proposed marriage to you. Was he serious? How far were you in his confidence? How often were you together, and for how long did the affair continue?" Elphaba's throat almost constricted on that last word, and though her face remained stoically impassive, her heart begun to race.
"For around six months, actually," answered Glinda, getting up and pacing the room, leaving smoke trails behind her. "We met in college, but only became involved after. He was always such a doofus at Shiz, but in here he was somebody - a big man, with people dogging him and trying to win favours, and what's more, people coming to him for help when no-one else could help them. And he did, you know - help them. My friends said I was mad to go out with him, but I knew him. It's not at all like they say in the papers. Who else have the Winkies got to look out for them?"
Elphaba lowered her gaze, trying to control the tumult within. Six months ago it was three months since she herself had last seen Fiyero. She fought down the sudden surge of feelings she'd thought herself well over and forced herself to continue. “I thought you said they were artful and deceitful. Don't you read the papers? Every time a baby cries it's because a Winkie kicked it.”
Glinda looked up at her, then took a nervous drag of her cigarette. “You mustn't think a lady means everything she says when she's angry, Detective,” she said without looking at Elphaba, and reached for the decanter. Only when the cap was already off and she had a glass in her hand did she seem to notice it. She put both down. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, something put-upon in her smile.
“No, thank you,” said Elphaba, taking the glass and stopper from Glinda gently and replacing them. Glinda started and blushed. Surprised by her silent approach, or by the gesture? Elphaba couldn't tell. She was half-surprised herself, and soon surprised herself further. “I used to... know Fiyero.”
Glinda studied her closely. “I thought you might have,” she said. Elphaba looked up sharply. Glinda answered with a rueful smile. “Explains a few things. Your face is not entirely a blank page, Detective.” Her smile dropped and she sighed. “As I was saying, he is a good man, but I'm afraid I hurt him. Nobody likes that. Nobody forgives that. He's not the first man I've told no to. It tends to turn ugly.”
The unpleasant thought that she had misjudged this girl had begun to creep up on Elphaba. Not knowing what to say, she coughed, adjusted her hat, blew her nose and turned to face the window.
“You came here just to find that out?” Glinda asked.
“No,” said Elphaba, smothering her emotion into the case. “The necklace. Have you ever actually had it appraised?”
“No, but Daddy did. It's Shizian make - he bought it the day of my graduation. There were a dozen like it in the same shop. It was a popular model. £500 is enough that I don't have to be ashamed to want to wear it, and I expect some street thug would be overjoyed to have as much. Maybe it's already been passed on.”
Elphaba considered the situation. How far could she trust her own client? What dumb thing might Glinda do if she knew more? After a moment's deliberation, she decided it would be better if Glinda knew what to look out for.
“It has been,” she said. She walked over to Glinda and touched her arm, to make her turn around and listen. Again there was a faint colouring of Glinda's soft cheeks at their proximity, and Elphaba fancied she heard a sharp intake of breath. I must look particularly fearsome tonight, she mused. “Listen. I believe people have been killed for your necklace. If it really is worthless, there must be something else to it. Does it have a locket attached? A secret compartment?”
“Killed?” Glinda's voice rose an octave, with fear and surprise, but she pulled herself together. “No... No, nothing. There was one curious thing, though.”
“Tell me.”
“The central piece was shaped rather like that jewel that used to be on display in the National Museum. Dear Crope pointed it out - he used to work there as a specialist.” Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes just at the same time as Elphaba's widened with excitement. “Come to think of it,” Glinda continued, “I did think at some point that the frame holding the piece was slightly darker than it used to be... Almost as if...”
“...It had been changed,” Elphaba finished for her.
Glinda sat down at the nearest chair in shock.