Fic: Adventures in the Bad Green Apple: Blood for a Bauble - Chapter 4 (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 4.
The Emerald City Museum had been renamed a few years ago and was now called the National Museum of Oz. It had been a controversial move showing, according to Quarterly Scientific titles, the Wizard's disturbing trend towards worldwide domination by claiming there was such a thing as the 'Nation of Oz'. The Museum building was an imposing, bulky construction near the center of the city and an ancient establishment that had seen many Ozmas and housed treasures from all across the Known World. Just a few months ago it's star exhibit had been the jewel called "the Grimmerald", displayed in its domed central room.
A large, heavy emerald with unusual carvings on its wide front facet that made the light bounce and reflect in eerie ways, the Grimmerald had been discovered, it was said, in the private royal museum collection left behind by the lost Ozma line. Elphaba had never seen it, but remembered reading that the exhibit had ended early; the museum had claimed there had been security concerns, but the public opinion, especially after border checks had doubled immediately following the news, was that the jewel had indeed already been stolen.
"I think we need to talk to your dear Crope," Elphaba told Glinda grimly. "He was a museum guide, you say?"
"Oh, it won't be him," Glinda said, waving her hand dismissively.
"Nonetheless. Furthermore, are you by any chance acquainted with Nessarose, the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland?"
"Yes, actually. We were at Shiz University together."
Shiz did seem to be cropping up a lot in a different contexts recently. Elphaba's mind raced. "And have you recently entertained her in your rooms?"
There was that strange blush of Glinda's again. It really only amplified her fresh beauty. "No," Glinda replied. "Is she in town? I didn't know."
"Ambassadorial suite, no less. And last, do you know any Shizian gunsmiths currently in residence in Emerald City?"
"Gunsmiths?"
"I noticed the antique weapon over your mantelpiece. Looks like it hasn't been fired in decades, but I recognize the Shizian model." She pulled a wrapped-up piece of cloth from her pocket and opened it to show Glinda a partially flattened bullet. "This bullet was dug out of a dead man in Thropp livery a block away from this building. He'd been searched but not robbed - of his money, anyway. See this decorative motif in this bullet?" She held it up to the light. "That means money and expertise - or a student job meant to impress the instructors. Looks Shizian to me. Since you seem to be a collector, I thought you might know someone who could verify it."
Glinda, who had been staring at Elphaba with wide eyes since she mentioned the livery, exclaimed, "But why? Why would Nessarose send a man to steal my necklace? And you said there'd been no forced entry!"
"True. I thought he might have been in here with Nessa... rose Thropp." Elphabe coughed to cover up her slip and bundled the bullet up again. "Do you know anyone fitting the description of tall, wide, strong chin, short-cut reddish hair, with a scar running down the left temple?"
"Only my Aunt Seraphine," replied Glinda.
"Then, unless your aunt is a cross-dresser, we must assume your pretty was taken from you by someone you trust and handed over to someone who was killed."
"Then we still don't know who has it!"
"We know enough to know the desert is getting hotter every step we take and there are snakes in the sand, Miss Arduenna," said Elphaba grimly. "I don't think you're quite safe anymore."
"Why? I haven't got it anymore."
"Who knows that? Who knew you had the jewel in the first place? Do they know it wasn't you - or me, on your orders - who took it back from the dead man? Trust no-one, ma'am."
"I don't like it when you call me ma'am," Glinda confessed suddenly. "Can't it be Glinda?"
Elphaba's shoulders stiffened, and she walked to the other side of the room, picked up a newspaper and put it down again. "I don't think that would be very professional. You haven't answered my question about gunsmiths."
"I do know one - a dealer - another old friend from Shiz. I'll take you to him tomorrow. I'll arrange it in the morning, but he probably won't be able to see us before afternoon."
"Good. After that, I think you should leave town for a while. I know how to handle snakes. Don't worry - I'm still on the case." A strange fire gleamed in Elphaba's eye. "You can trust that. I have my own reasons, too, besides your safety. I shall also stay here tonight, in case there's trouble."
"Your own reasons? Isn't that unprofessional?" There was a bitterness in Glinda's voice that surprised Elphaba.
"If you're worried I'll let something as weak and womanish as feelings get in my way--"
"You already have." Glinda moved up to her, stubbing her simmering cigarette on a crystal ashtray on the way. There was a gleam in her eyes, a battle-challenge that made Elphaba's blood rise in answer. "The smart thing to do was to call the whole thing off and find some safer work. Yet you're here, for his sake - it is for his sake, isn't it? And you hate me because I said no to someone who said no to you!"
Elphaba hissed in anger, her face distorting in rage. Her hand twitched to slap this insolent chitty. "Do not pretend to know what passed between us!"
"Well, what did? It wasn't just friendly handshakes! You're more interested in protecting him than me! Perhaps I should make it easier for everyone - just fire you and have it done with!" Glinda's eyes were blazing now and the light from the oil lamps around the room reflected in her hair gave her a halo of gold.
Elphaba, still grimacing with rage, raised her fists. They opened like flowers on each side of Glinda's face as her arms encircled Elphaba and she and kissed her, hard, desperate, her soft lips mashed into Elphaba's thin ones.
Glinda smelled of strawberries and fresh linen and sunlight. How was that possible, in this city of smoke and garbage? She fitted her softness onto Elphaba's angles, her hip against Elphaba's in a rolling motion that slipped desire right through Elphaba's last defenses, into the pit of her belly, twisting in the need like a knife, and making her moan into Glinda's mouth. There was an answering whimper which nearly drove her out of her last smidgen of sense.
Almost.
Elphaba shoved Glinda away, not as hard as she could, but hard enough, and backed up against the brick of the fireplace, breathing hard. "Can't," she panted, and added under her breath, "Oh, Lurline."
Glinda was breathing at least as hard as she was, her face flushed and her hair slightly tussled, and Elphaba had to look away to quell the renewed surge of desire. "Oh, please don't be sensible!" Glinda moaned, but she may have been talking to herself, as she was making no further move towards her.
"Go to bed," said Elphaba, her voice suddenly harsh and rasping. "I'll take the sofa." She didn't dare to look back at Glinda, but heard her footsteps and, after a moment, a door closing.
Elphaba let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing back stray strands of silky black hair. She went over the room, chucked three bottles of gin out the window, then closed it and checked the latches. She also booby-trapped the keyhole with bells. She set her hat and coat over the chair and curled up on the sofa, listening for a quiet breathing on the other side of the bedroom door. The door was thick, though, and in the absence of sound Elphaba concentrated on turning her own blood into ice, her desire into indifference. It felt like being the smallest bird in the world and trying to swallow the moon.
-
The clock on the wall chimed in the morning, its dulcet tones filling the sitting room. The sun was desperately trying to shine its way through already gathering clouds and birds chirped nervously from their perches. A chilled wind blew through the the curtains, making them billow into the room. It blew against an emerald face, flicking into the crevices of frown-lines and fluttering the strands of hair. Elphaba blinked open her eyes only to find her cheek stuck to the page in front of her. Great, fallen asleep at her desk again - why hadn't Tibbett woken her? As consciousness returned she became aware that this was not her office. She peeled her skin away from the book, trying to get her bearings. Of course, Glinda's rooms. She must have fallen asleep after last night's... inquiries.
As she stretched she felt something fall off of her back. Turning, she realised that someone had placed a blanket around her shoulders, presumably to fend off the cold. She frowned before picking it up and pressing it to her face. It smelt like Glinda. The memories of last night came crashing around her like an avalanche, the kiss, the urge, the feel of Glinda's soft body against her. But she could not allow herself to dwell on such matters. It felt so odd to her now, standing in these rooms. The day seemed too calm, the light too faint and colours too faded after the emotion of last night. It was as if the world had dulled and someone had wrapped cotton wool around her senses.
She heard a shuffling step. A figure appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. She was wearing a robe now but still was uncovered enough to send an ache of desire through Elphaba's body. Her arrival dispelled the haze; she looked so real against the backdrop of their false society. Blond curls glowed in the early light, her skin seemed to radiate life and her eyes twinkled like blue stars set into her face. The cotton wool was ripped away and the world pulled into sharp focus. She could once again hear the distant sounds of the city and her brain began to buzz with the thrill of a case.
No words were said as Elphaba picked up her jacket and hat. She nodded curtly to Glinda as she moved to the door.
"Elphaba, wait."
It was the first time Glinda had used her first name. It felt odd to hear it said in that clear little voice, as if all the formality and pretense had been stripped from it, leaving only the idea of the name and the promise of identity. Elphaba stopped, her hand already on the doorknob.
"About last night..." Glinda began, moving forward into the room.
"Forget it," Elphaba replied quickly, not turning round. She focused on a knot in the door's wooden surface. There was a pause.
"What if I don't want to?" Glinda asked quietly, hands grasping at the arms of her robe.
Elphaba sighed. Why did these things always have to get so damn complicated? "I'm going back to my office, there's some things I need to sort out," she said, turning to face Glinda. "But I'll be back," she finished slowly. Glinda nodded, an unreadable expression on her face. Elphaba turned the handle and left, breathing deeply as she walked down and out into the street.
-
Glinda walked to the door and locked it behind Elphaba, and leaned on it, feeling dizzy at the lingering scent of herbal cigarettes, leather and that distinct sweet heavy smell of Elphaba. Her eyes fluttered closed. How dreadfully inconvenient! Just the memory of Elphaba left her weak in the knees.
Why? A woman - a green woman, not even pretty by what Glinda had thought were her standards, was not someone she had expected to fall for. Or, well, at least not a green woman, added some more honest part of her. Clearly she had to rethink her standards. All she could tell was she'd never met anyone like Elphaba before and she could barely wait to see her again.
-
A growl of hunger from her stomach had forced Elphaba into a nearby bakery on her way back to the office. Armed with a box full of donuts and a head full of information she opened the door to her office.
She almost dropped the doughnuts. Her normally mildly untidy office had been ransacked: drawers pulled out of her desk, paperwork scattered everywhere, frames on the walls askew. Her cot had been pulled out and the sheets mangled. No corner had been left untouched and the window had been smashed. It was clear to her that the people who had done this were looking for something, and something told her that something was a rather fine necklace.
"I wish you'd to tell me when you intend to not come back after a night out, I was worried half to, oh sweet Lurline!"
That would be Tibbett. Elphaba turned to see her secretary grabbing at his head. "I tidied this all. Yesterday. And now..." He shook his head, eyes staring and wide in shook. "The paperwork was
all piled neatly and I even managed to scrub that horrendous stain off the desk and, and... I think I need to lie down." He grasped at the door frame shutting his eyes and breathing deeply.
"That would probably be for the best," Elphaba agreed, not taking her eyes off the mess someone had made of her home. She made her way in slowly, careful not to stand on any of the shards of windowpane that now littered the floor. Well, Tibbs had been threatening to re-decorate, now he had the perfect excuse, she thought bitterly. She heard a crack from beneath her feet, she stepped back sharply, eyes searching for the glass. Closer inspection showed it to not be glass from her window, but from a picture frame. She only kept one picture frame in the whole room and it was always in the locked draw of her desk. Whoever had smashed this had done it deliberately; the frame had been broken from the inside out.
She picked up the picture, smoothing out the newly formed wrinkles. Within the photo were five people, three of them children, with an older man and an elderly woman. One of the girls was sitting on the man's lap, a young boy standing at his shoulder. At the other shoulder, almost out of the photo was a girl with emerald green skin. The elderly woman was holding on to the girls shoulder, pushing her forward and into the picture. Elphaba sighed. That picture had been taken when her father had wanted something to send to some distant relative. She had always hated that bloody dress.
Steeling herself she folded the picture and placed it in her pocket before starting on the rest of the room. Once all the furniture was set upright and what salvageable paperwork was on the desk it didn't look quite as bad. Elphaba was pushing her cot back up when Tibbett entered.
"All right, I think I'm ready," he said, leaning on the door frame. "Oh gods it's still hideous," he moaned.
"I've been cleaning up, actually," Elphaba said with mock hurt, "and not doing a half bad job of it." Tibbett looked at her incredulously.
"This is what you call cleaning?" he asked slowly before shaking his head and shoving past his employer. "I'm going to need a brush, a mop, bin bags, some new paint, the number of a good glazier and a miracle."
"Well, I can get you most of that, but I'm all out of miracles." Elphaba laughed, watching the man busy himself with her desk. "Will a bonus suffice?"
"That'll do nicely," Tibbett called as he began shuffling the papers.
"I have to go out again though, Tibbs. I have an appointment with a gunsmith and a blonde. Should be dangerous," Elphaba commented, picking up her hat and a different coat.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it'll all be very professional. Besides, none of the guns will be loaded," Tibbett called across the room.
"It's not the gunsmith I'm worried about," Elphaba muttered darkly, before shutting the door and leaving Tibbett to his own devices.
-
"Boq darling, how wonderful it is to see you!" Glinda met the young Munchkin with gushing affection that belied the awkward silence she had been standing in just a moment ago, her back straight, her eyes downcast and polite nothings dead on her tongue. Elphaba herself had found little to say in the few minutes they had waited in the hallway of the fair-sized city house. The carriage ride had been worse. She could still remember the sensation of Glinda's voluptuous body bending against her, and could barely credit how much she herself, who usually did not like getting touchy-feely, now longed for that connection of skin and warmth.
The house was decorated in a wealthy, only slightly ostentatious manner, and seemed predominantly masculine after Glinda's gauzy, softly coloured and delicately decorated apartment. It was furnished darker than most Munchkin houses and the rooms were noticeably taller, but here and there there would still be a familiar tendency towards round roofs and splotches of bright colours in lamps and wall hangings. The master of the house was of the short stock, though not as short as a commoner, with a jolly face and dreamy eyes, dressed in shirtsleeves with a red waistcoat and a watch on a heavy gold chain in his pocket. He would have looked the very picture of an effluent businessman were it not for his youth and those eyes.
He bent politely over Glinda's hand, his hand lingering in hers just a fraction of a second too long, and introductions were made. He blinked with the usual curious astonishment on Elphaba's looks, but recovered fast and offered them both tea.
"Thank you, but we do have business to attend to," said Elphaba, tired already of this polite nonsense. She looked pointedly at Glinda, who cleared her throat.
"I am so sorry, dear Boq, but she is right. We do come on business. Miss Thropp is a private detective. We were wondering if you could help us with a bullet." She wrung her hands in genuine consternation. "There really was no-one else I could have gone to."
"Of course! Not a problem at all." Elphaba had seen his eyes glaze over with disappointment, and Glinda's smile freeze into a sickly grimace in response. Elphaba allowed herself a rueful smile. She was beginning to appreciate that being Glinda must have its drawbacks, too. She glanced over at the blonde, wondering about the bout of passion last night. Was it real, or a show put on for her sake? Was she absolutely sure Glinda hadn't been an accomplice in the original theft of the Grimmerald? But then why hire her? The detective in Elphaba knew she should tread carefully, but her gut told her there'd been nothing fake about last night. Perhaps that kind of desire was the real reason Glinda had left Fiyero and why she entertained none of this young fellow's hopes.
Master Boq led them through the house, occasionally opening doors at Glinda's prompting to show Elphaba this or that curiosity. It seemed Glinda was determined to keep some semblance of a social visit to their call by including the tour of the house. Each room was much like the other, save for change of function. Elphaba did spot a secret doorway in the library as well as a painting that had been moved often enough to make her suspect a safe was hidden underneath.
They reached the workshop, which Boq declared had been inserted for his own private hobby purposes alone. It was a small wood-paneled room with a massive fire for heating iron, a table full of minute molds and tools as well as paints and varnish. Elphaba had understood Master Boq, rather than being himself a gunsmith by trade, ran the Emerald City branch of his father's guns and swords business, but it seemed he had taken an interest in the art himself, too. The family had diverted their fortune from agriculture to artillery following the Wizard's wars on the barbaric nations of the west and north and the opportunities it presented in the field. It was helped in no small way by the people of Oz having taken as well to this new technology of murder. Some said that guns were another of the Wizard's own innovations, and it was certainly true that before the Wizard no-one had ever thought to use fireworks for weapons. Elphaba and the Gale Force as well as Emerald City's criminal underbelly now reaped the benefits - and the price was taken off the back of the sorry sods who were left bleeding.
Boq moved over to the large oak table. It was littered with random objects, most of which Elphaba could only guess at their function. What appeared to be an over-sized magnifying glass sat fixed at the end of the table, it's metal frame gleaming, reflecting the light from the lamps. The largest glass seemed to be attached to a long folding metal arm of some sort. Elphaba watched in wonder as Boq moved over to it and pulled the magnifier out and over the desk. He then reached round for a pair of cotton gloves, embroidered with what Elphaba assumed were his own initials.
"The bullet, please, Detective?" he asked, holding out a glove-clad hand. Elphaba reached into her pocket, pulled out the little bundle and handed it over. From within a pot on the table Boq extracted some silver tipped tweezers, before delving into the bag and pulling out the little shade of metal. He took it over to the magnifier and placed it on a tissue-covered plate before looking at it under the glass. After a couple of minutes Elphaba's eyes began to wander, looking around the workshop's strange array of tools. None of them looked particularly dangerous, but she could think of a few violent uses for most.
Her eyes eventually landed on Glinda, who had begun examining her nails. A few strands of blond hair had worked their way free of an otherwise exquisitely complicated style, falling in front of her face. Elphaba caught her breath as Glinda looked up directly into her eyes. Her eyebrow twitched questioningly and she smirked. Boq was leaning down over his desk in between the two women and Glinda glanced down to make sure he was still busy with the bullet. Slowly, deliberately, she licked her lips, her gaze never leaving the detective's. Elphaba blanched, in so far as she could, turning a rather lighter shade of green. She swallowed, watching as Glinda traced a hand down her own body, skimming over curves - curves which last night had been pressed into rather intimate places of Elphaba's own anatomy.
"Hmmm, interesting," Boq murmured, bringing Elphaba back to the present.
"What's interesting?" she asked, yanking her gaze off of the other woman. Glinda smiled triumphantly over the Munchkin's shoulder as he began to talk.
"Well, it's not any of our modern models," Boq said, holding the bullet up to the light. "In fact it seems to be a custom job. See right there - that inscription? You don't normally get these on new bullets..." he trailed off, shrugging nonchalantly.
"So you can't help us then?" Elphaba sighed. If the gun was custom-made then there was no way to trace where it had been bought.
"Sorry, ladies," Boq said, replacing the bullet in the bag. "You know, it must have been a pretty old gun to fire one of those, though. In fact I haven't seen the like of it since Shiz..."
"What happened at Shiz?" Elphaba asked as Boq began to pack up some of his tools.
"Oh it's nothing really - just that our old school mistress, Glinda and mine that is." He shot her another smile, she responded with all the enthusiasm of a punctured balloon. "She used to have an old gun, one that probably took this kind of ammo. Kept it on the mantle piece of her office." He paused, face furrowing as he tried to remember. "In fact the funny thing was that it was really in full working order. I had a look at it once you see - she knew my father and, well, I offered to look the gun over." He grinned again. "What a beauty - an antique, as far as guns can be. They're all made so functional these days, but that piece was a thing of beauty."
Sounded like another dead end. There may have been something to all these Shiz connections, but then it might as well have all been coincidence. An antique gun might just as well point back to the museum - and once more to this mysterious Crope. "Well, that's pretty conclusive," she joked darkly. "Dined with your old school ma'am lately, Miss Glinda?"
"Yes, actually," Glinda said, frowning thoughtfully.
"That's it, then, she must have popped it in her knitting basket and toddled off with it - and shot the liveried man on the way for a lark."
"Madame Morrible just may have," muttered Glinda, glancing at Boq, who was suddenly looking rather alarmed. "She's not exactly as you imagine..." There was a haunted look in Glinda's eye that made Elphaba stop. She was just about to open her mouth to ask more when there was a polite little knock on the workshop door.
Followed by Boq's "come in", an elderly butler entered with the quiet grace of butlers everywhere. "Prince Fiyero of the Arjiki is here to see you, sir."
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 4.
The Emerald City Museum had been renamed a few years ago and was now called the National Museum of Oz. It had been a controversial move showing, according to Quarterly Scientific titles, the Wizard's disturbing trend towards worldwide domination by claiming there was such a thing as the 'Nation of Oz'. The Museum building was an imposing, bulky construction near the center of the city and an ancient establishment that had seen many Ozmas and housed treasures from all across the Known World. Just a few months ago it's star exhibit had been the jewel called "the Grimmerald", displayed in its domed central room.
A large, heavy emerald with unusual carvings on its wide front facet that made the light bounce and reflect in eerie ways, the Grimmerald had been discovered, it was said, in the private royal museum collection left behind by the lost Ozma line. Elphaba had never seen it, but remembered reading that the exhibit had ended early; the museum had claimed there had been security concerns, but the public opinion, especially after border checks had doubled immediately following the news, was that the jewel had indeed already been stolen.
"I think we need to talk to your dear Crope," Elphaba told Glinda grimly. "He was a museum guide, you say?"
"Oh, it won't be him," Glinda said, waving her hand dismissively.
"Nonetheless. Furthermore, are you by any chance acquainted with Nessarose, the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland?"
"Yes, actually. We were at Shiz University together."
Shiz did seem to be cropping up a lot in a different contexts recently. Elphaba's mind raced. "And have you recently entertained her in your rooms?"
There was that strange blush of Glinda's again. It really only amplified her fresh beauty. "No," Glinda replied. "Is she in town? I didn't know."
"Ambassadorial suite, no less. And last, do you know any Shizian gunsmiths currently in residence in Emerald City?"
"Gunsmiths?"
"I noticed the antique weapon over your mantelpiece. Looks like it hasn't been fired in decades, but I recognize the Shizian model." She pulled a wrapped-up piece of cloth from her pocket and opened it to show Glinda a partially flattened bullet. "This bullet was dug out of a dead man in Thropp livery a block away from this building. He'd been searched but not robbed - of his money, anyway. See this decorative motif in this bullet?" She held it up to the light. "That means money and expertise - or a student job meant to impress the instructors. Looks Shizian to me. Since you seem to be a collector, I thought you might know someone who could verify it."
Glinda, who had been staring at Elphaba with wide eyes since she mentioned the livery, exclaimed, "But why? Why would Nessarose send a man to steal my necklace? And you said there'd been no forced entry!"
"True. I thought he might have been in here with Nessa... rose Thropp." Elphabe coughed to cover up her slip and bundled the bullet up again. "Do you know anyone fitting the description of tall, wide, strong chin, short-cut reddish hair, with a scar running down the left temple?"
"Only my Aunt Seraphine," replied Glinda.
"Then, unless your aunt is a cross-dresser, we must assume your pretty was taken from you by someone you trust and handed over to someone who was killed."
"Then we still don't know who has it!"
"We know enough to know the desert is getting hotter every step we take and there are snakes in the sand, Miss Arduenna," said Elphaba grimly. "I don't think you're quite safe anymore."
"Why? I haven't got it anymore."
"Who knows that? Who knew you had the jewel in the first place? Do they know it wasn't you - or me, on your orders - who took it back from the dead man? Trust no-one, ma'am."
"I don't like it when you call me ma'am," Glinda confessed suddenly. "Can't it be Glinda?"
Elphaba's shoulders stiffened, and she walked to the other side of the room, picked up a newspaper and put it down again. "I don't think that would be very professional. You haven't answered my question about gunsmiths."
"I do know one - a dealer - another old friend from Shiz. I'll take you to him tomorrow. I'll arrange it in the morning, but he probably won't be able to see us before afternoon."
"Good. After that, I think you should leave town for a while. I know how to handle snakes. Don't worry - I'm still on the case." A strange fire gleamed in Elphaba's eye. "You can trust that. I have my own reasons, too, besides your safety. I shall also stay here tonight, in case there's trouble."
"Your own reasons? Isn't that unprofessional?" There was a bitterness in Glinda's voice that surprised Elphaba.
"If you're worried I'll let something as weak and womanish as feelings get in my way--"
"You already have." Glinda moved up to her, stubbing her simmering cigarette on a crystal ashtray on the way. There was a gleam in her eyes, a battle-challenge that made Elphaba's blood rise in answer. "The smart thing to do was to call the whole thing off and find some safer work. Yet you're here, for his sake - it is for his sake, isn't it? And you hate me because I said no to someone who said no to you!"
Elphaba hissed in anger, her face distorting in rage. Her hand twitched to slap this insolent chitty. "Do not pretend to know what passed between us!"
"Well, what did? It wasn't just friendly handshakes! You're more interested in protecting him than me! Perhaps I should make it easier for everyone - just fire you and have it done with!" Glinda's eyes were blazing now and the light from the oil lamps around the room reflected in her hair gave her a halo of gold.
Elphaba, still grimacing with rage, raised her fists. They opened like flowers on each side of Glinda's face as her arms encircled Elphaba and she and kissed her, hard, desperate, her soft lips mashed into Elphaba's thin ones.
Glinda smelled of strawberries and fresh linen and sunlight. How was that possible, in this city of smoke and garbage? She fitted her softness onto Elphaba's angles, her hip against Elphaba's in a rolling motion that slipped desire right through Elphaba's last defenses, into the pit of her belly, twisting in the need like a knife, and making her moan into Glinda's mouth. There was an answering whimper which nearly drove her out of her last smidgen of sense.
Almost.
Elphaba shoved Glinda away, not as hard as she could, but hard enough, and backed up against the brick of the fireplace, breathing hard. "Can't," she panted, and added under her breath, "Oh, Lurline."
Glinda was breathing at least as hard as she was, her face flushed and her hair slightly tussled, and Elphaba had to look away to quell the renewed surge of desire. "Oh, please don't be sensible!" Glinda moaned, but she may have been talking to herself, as she was making no further move towards her.
"Go to bed," said Elphaba, her voice suddenly harsh and rasping. "I'll take the sofa." She didn't dare to look back at Glinda, but heard her footsteps and, after a moment, a door closing.
Elphaba let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing back stray strands of silky black hair. She went over the room, chucked three bottles of gin out the window, then closed it and checked the latches. She also booby-trapped the keyhole with bells. She set her hat and coat over the chair and curled up on the sofa, listening for a quiet breathing on the other side of the bedroom door. The door was thick, though, and in the absence of sound Elphaba concentrated on turning her own blood into ice, her desire into indifference. It felt like being the smallest bird in the world and trying to swallow the moon.
-
The clock on the wall chimed in the morning, its dulcet tones filling the sitting room. The sun was desperately trying to shine its way through already gathering clouds and birds chirped nervously from their perches. A chilled wind blew through the the curtains, making them billow into the room. It blew against an emerald face, flicking into the crevices of frown-lines and fluttering the strands of hair. Elphaba blinked open her eyes only to find her cheek stuck to the page in front of her. Great, fallen asleep at her desk again - why hadn't Tibbett woken her? As consciousness returned she became aware that this was not her office. She peeled her skin away from the book, trying to get her bearings. Of course, Glinda's rooms. She must have fallen asleep after last night's... inquiries.
As she stretched she felt something fall off of her back. Turning, she realised that someone had placed a blanket around her shoulders, presumably to fend off the cold. She frowned before picking it up and pressing it to her face. It smelt like Glinda. The memories of last night came crashing around her like an avalanche, the kiss, the urge, the feel of Glinda's soft body against her. But she could not allow herself to dwell on such matters. It felt so odd to her now, standing in these rooms. The day seemed too calm, the light too faint and colours too faded after the emotion of last night. It was as if the world had dulled and someone had wrapped cotton wool around her senses.
She heard a shuffling step. A figure appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. She was wearing a robe now but still was uncovered enough to send an ache of desire through Elphaba's body. Her arrival dispelled the haze; she looked so real against the backdrop of their false society. Blond curls glowed in the early light, her skin seemed to radiate life and her eyes twinkled like blue stars set into her face. The cotton wool was ripped away and the world pulled into sharp focus. She could once again hear the distant sounds of the city and her brain began to buzz with the thrill of a case.
No words were said as Elphaba picked up her jacket and hat. She nodded curtly to Glinda as she moved to the door.
"Elphaba, wait."
It was the first time Glinda had used her first name. It felt odd to hear it said in that clear little voice, as if all the formality and pretense had been stripped from it, leaving only the idea of the name and the promise of identity. Elphaba stopped, her hand already on the doorknob.
"About last night..." Glinda began, moving forward into the room.
"Forget it," Elphaba replied quickly, not turning round. She focused on a knot in the door's wooden surface. There was a pause.
"What if I don't want to?" Glinda asked quietly, hands grasping at the arms of her robe.
Elphaba sighed. Why did these things always have to get so damn complicated? "I'm going back to my office, there's some things I need to sort out," she said, turning to face Glinda. "But I'll be back," she finished slowly. Glinda nodded, an unreadable expression on her face. Elphaba turned the handle and left, breathing deeply as she walked down and out into the street.
-
Glinda walked to the door and locked it behind Elphaba, and leaned on it, feeling dizzy at the lingering scent of herbal cigarettes, leather and that distinct sweet heavy smell of Elphaba. Her eyes fluttered closed. How dreadfully inconvenient! Just the memory of Elphaba left her weak in the knees.
Why? A woman - a green woman, not even pretty by what Glinda had thought were her standards, was not someone she had expected to fall for. Or, well, at least not a green woman, added some more honest part of her. Clearly she had to rethink her standards. All she could tell was she'd never met anyone like Elphaba before and she could barely wait to see her again.
-
A growl of hunger from her stomach had forced Elphaba into a nearby bakery on her way back to the office. Armed with a box full of donuts and a head full of information she opened the door to her office.
She almost dropped the doughnuts. Her normally mildly untidy office had been ransacked: drawers pulled out of her desk, paperwork scattered everywhere, frames on the walls askew. Her cot had been pulled out and the sheets mangled. No corner had been left untouched and the window had been smashed. It was clear to her that the people who had done this were looking for something, and something told her that something was a rather fine necklace.
"I wish you'd to tell me when you intend to not come back after a night out, I was worried half to, oh sweet Lurline!"
That would be Tibbett. Elphaba turned to see her secretary grabbing at his head. "I tidied this all. Yesterday. And now..." He shook his head, eyes staring and wide in shook. "The paperwork was
all piled neatly and I even managed to scrub that horrendous stain off the desk and, and... I think I need to lie down." He grasped at the door frame shutting his eyes and breathing deeply.
"That would probably be for the best," Elphaba agreed, not taking her eyes off the mess someone had made of her home. She made her way in slowly, careful not to stand on any of the shards of windowpane that now littered the floor. Well, Tibbs had been threatening to re-decorate, now he had the perfect excuse, she thought bitterly. She heard a crack from beneath her feet, she stepped back sharply, eyes searching for the glass. Closer inspection showed it to not be glass from her window, but from a picture frame. She only kept one picture frame in the whole room and it was always in the locked draw of her desk. Whoever had smashed this had done it deliberately; the frame had been broken from the inside out.
She picked up the picture, smoothing out the newly formed wrinkles. Within the photo were five people, three of them children, with an older man and an elderly woman. One of the girls was sitting on the man's lap, a young boy standing at his shoulder. At the other shoulder, almost out of the photo was a girl with emerald green skin. The elderly woman was holding on to the girls shoulder, pushing her forward and into the picture. Elphaba sighed. That picture had been taken when her father had wanted something to send to some distant relative. She had always hated that bloody dress.
Steeling herself she folded the picture and placed it in her pocket before starting on the rest of the room. Once all the furniture was set upright and what salvageable paperwork was on the desk it didn't look quite as bad. Elphaba was pushing her cot back up when Tibbett entered.
"All right, I think I'm ready," he said, leaning on the door frame. "Oh gods it's still hideous," he moaned.
"I've been cleaning up, actually," Elphaba said with mock hurt, "and not doing a half bad job of it." Tibbett looked at her incredulously.
"This is what you call cleaning?" he asked slowly before shaking his head and shoving past his employer. "I'm going to need a brush, a mop, bin bags, some new paint, the number of a good glazier and a miracle."
"Well, I can get you most of that, but I'm all out of miracles." Elphaba laughed, watching the man busy himself with her desk. "Will a bonus suffice?"
"That'll do nicely," Tibbett called as he began shuffling the papers.
"I have to go out again though, Tibbs. I have an appointment with a gunsmith and a blonde. Should be dangerous," Elphaba commented, picking up her hat and a different coat.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it'll all be very professional. Besides, none of the guns will be loaded," Tibbett called across the room.
"It's not the gunsmith I'm worried about," Elphaba muttered darkly, before shutting the door and leaving Tibbett to his own devices.
-
"Boq darling, how wonderful it is to see you!" Glinda met the young Munchkin with gushing affection that belied the awkward silence she had been standing in just a moment ago, her back straight, her eyes downcast and polite nothings dead on her tongue. Elphaba herself had found little to say in the few minutes they had waited in the hallway of the fair-sized city house. The carriage ride had been worse. She could still remember the sensation of Glinda's voluptuous body bending against her, and could barely credit how much she herself, who usually did not like getting touchy-feely, now longed for that connection of skin and warmth.
The house was decorated in a wealthy, only slightly ostentatious manner, and seemed predominantly masculine after Glinda's gauzy, softly coloured and delicately decorated apartment. It was furnished darker than most Munchkin houses and the rooms were noticeably taller, but here and there there would still be a familiar tendency towards round roofs and splotches of bright colours in lamps and wall hangings. The master of the house was of the short stock, though not as short as a commoner, with a jolly face and dreamy eyes, dressed in shirtsleeves with a red waistcoat and a watch on a heavy gold chain in his pocket. He would have looked the very picture of an effluent businessman were it not for his youth and those eyes.
He bent politely over Glinda's hand, his hand lingering in hers just a fraction of a second too long, and introductions were made. He blinked with the usual curious astonishment on Elphaba's looks, but recovered fast and offered them both tea.
"Thank you, but we do have business to attend to," said Elphaba, tired already of this polite nonsense. She looked pointedly at Glinda, who cleared her throat.
"I am so sorry, dear Boq, but she is right. We do come on business. Miss Thropp is a private detective. We were wondering if you could help us with a bullet." She wrung her hands in genuine consternation. "There really was no-one else I could have gone to."
"Of course! Not a problem at all." Elphaba had seen his eyes glaze over with disappointment, and Glinda's smile freeze into a sickly grimace in response. Elphaba allowed herself a rueful smile. She was beginning to appreciate that being Glinda must have its drawbacks, too. She glanced over at the blonde, wondering about the bout of passion last night. Was it real, or a show put on for her sake? Was she absolutely sure Glinda hadn't been an accomplice in the original theft of the Grimmerald? But then why hire her? The detective in Elphaba knew she should tread carefully, but her gut told her there'd been nothing fake about last night. Perhaps that kind of desire was the real reason Glinda had left Fiyero and why she entertained none of this young fellow's hopes.
Master Boq led them through the house, occasionally opening doors at Glinda's prompting to show Elphaba this or that curiosity. It seemed Glinda was determined to keep some semblance of a social visit to their call by including the tour of the house. Each room was much like the other, save for change of function. Elphaba did spot a secret doorway in the library as well as a painting that had been moved often enough to make her suspect a safe was hidden underneath.
They reached the workshop, which Boq declared had been inserted for his own private hobby purposes alone. It was a small wood-paneled room with a massive fire for heating iron, a table full of minute molds and tools as well as paints and varnish. Elphaba had understood Master Boq, rather than being himself a gunsmith by trade, ran the Emerald City branch of his father's guns and swords business, but it seemed he had taken an interest in the art himself, too. The family had diverted their fortune from agriculture to artillery following the Wizard's wars on the barbaric nations of the west and north and the opportunities it presented in the field. It was helped in no small way by the people of Oz having taken as well to this new technology of murder. Some said that guns were another of the Wizard's own innovations, and it was certainly true that before the Wizard no-one had ever thought to use fireworks for weapons. Elphaba and the Gale Force as well as Emerald City's criminal underbelly now reaped the benefits - and the price was taken off the back of the sorry sods who were left bleeding.
Boq moved over to the large oak table. It was littered with random objects, most of which Elphaba could only guess at their function. What appeared to be an over-sized magnifying glass sat fixed at the end of the table, it's metal frame gleaming, reflecting the light from the lamps. The largest glass seemed to be attached to a long folding metal arm of some sort. Elphaba watched in wonder as Boq moved over to it and pulled the magnifier out and over the desk. He then reached round for a pair of cotton gloves, embroidered with what Elphaba assumed were his own initials.
"The bullet, please, Detective?" he asked, holding out a glove-clad hand. Elphaba reached into her pocket, pulled out the little bundle and handed it over. From within a pot on the table Boq extracted some silver tipped tweezers, before delving into the bag and pulling out the little shade of metal. He took it over to the magnifier and placed it on a tissue-covered plate before looking at it under the glass. After a couple of minutes Elphaba's eyes began to wander, looking around the workshop's strange array of tools. None of them looked particularly dangerous, but she could think of a few violent uses for most.
Her eyes eventually landed on Glinda, who had begun examining her nails. A few strands of blond hair had worked their way free of an otherwise exquisitely complicated style, falling in front of her face. Elphaba caught her breath as Glinda looked up directly into her eyes. Her eyebrow twitched questioningly and she smirked. Boq was leaning down over his desk in between the two women and Glinda glanced down to make sure he was still busy with the bullet. Slowly, deliberately, she licked her lips, her gaze never leaving the detective's. Elphaba blanched, in so far as she could, turning a rather lighter shade of green. She swallowed, watching as Glinda traced a hand down her own body, skimming over curves - curves which last night had been pressed into rather intimate places of Elphaba's own anatomy.
"Hmmm, interesting," Boq murmured, bringing Elphaba back to the present.
"What's interesting?" she asked, yanking her gaze off of the other woman. Glinda smiled triumphantly over the Munchkin's shoulder as he began to talk.
"Well, it's not any of our modern models," Boq said, holding the bullet up to the light. "In fact it seems to be a custom job. See right there - that inscription? You don't normally get these on new bullets..." he trailed off, shrugging nonchalantly.
"So you can't help us then?" Elphaba sighed. If the gun was custom-made then there was no way to trace where it had been bought.
"Sorry, ladies," Boq said, replacing the bullet in the bag. "You know, it must have been a pretty old gun to fire one of those, though. In fact I haven't seen the like of it since Shiz..."
"What happened at Shiz?" Elphaba asked as Boq began to pack up some of his tools.
"Oh it's nothing really - just that our old school mistress, Glinda and mine that is." He shot her another smile, she responded with all the enthusiasm of a punctured balloon. "She used to have an old gun, one that probably took this kind of ammo. Kept it on the mantle piece of her office." He paused, face furrowing as he tried to remember. "In fact the funny thing was that it was really in full working order. I had a look at it once you see - she knew my father and, well, I offered to look the gun over." He grinned again. "What a beauty - an antique, as far as guns can be. They're all made so functional these days, but that piece was a thing of beauty."
Sounded like another dead end. There may have been something to all these Shiz connections, but then it might as well have all been coincidence. An antique gun might just as well point back to the museum - and once more to this mysterious Crope. "Well, that's pretty conclusive," she joked darkly. "Dined with your old school ma'am lately, Miss Glinda?"
"Yes, actually," Glinda said, frowning thoughtfully.
"That's it, then, she must have popped it in her knitting basket and toddled off with it - and shot the liveried man on the way for a lark."
"Madame Morrible just may have," muttered Glinda, glancing at Boq, who was suddenly looking rather alarmed. "She's not exactly as you imagine..." There was a haunted look in Glinda's eye that made Elphaba stop. She was just about to open her mouth to ask more when there was a polite little knock on the workshop door.
Followed by Boq's "come in", an elderly butler entered with the quiet grace of butlers everywhere. "Prince Fiyero of the Arjiki is here to see you, sir."