Chapter 2.7 - In which Lieutenant Robards volunteers for paperwork

Calder

Month 12, Day 19, Saturday 6:30 p.m.

Lieutenant Calder Robards sat at his desk, his head pounding with the remnants of a nasty flu that had kept him bedridden for days. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the stack of reports before him instead of the time remaining until he could apply another dose of healing salves. The recent false Aberrant incident had left the station in chaos, and the coppers were still scrambling to piece together what had happened. If not for the lack of manpower, he would still be at home, lying in bed.

Calder looked up from his desk as a dark-skinned woman burst through the station’s front doors, dragging a mixed group of seven other people behind her. He recognized the boy whose arm she held in a tight grip and noted their similar features. If his eyes were correct—and they usually were—the woman was Percy’s mother. 

Mrs. Irving’s face was flushed with anger, her eyes bright and hard with determination, and she marched straight towards the desk nearest the front door.

A man following behind her with a young boy in his arms reached out to grab her free hand before she could speak to the copper on intake duty. With a worried expression, he leaned close and murmured something into her ear, but Mrs. Irving scowled back at him and yanked her hand free, obviously disagreeing with whatever he had said.

Percy, whose complexion was slightly greenish, met Calder’s gaze across the room with a clear mix of dread and resignation.

The man Calder guessed to be Percy’s father had pressed his lips together tightly with concern, but overall, seemed calm.

A red-headed girl glared fiercely at a tall, blonde young man who Calder recognized as the Bourgeron heir—who was smiling around at everyone obliviously.

And the two youngest children were clearly worried and confused, but stayed studiously silent, likely trying to avoid the attention of their mother.

While Mrs. Irving talked to Calder’s colleague, the rest of the group settled into the waiting area, and Calder caught snippets of their conversation.

The eldest Irving daughter’s shoulders were hunched against the attention their entrance had drawn and was muttering spitefully under her breath. She shot several annoyed glances at her mother, Percy, and Percy’s red-headed friend, who Calder recalled was named Viv.

Calder sighed as his harried colleague hurried to prepare one of the interrogation rooms. Whatever this was about, his instincts were warning him of a complicated mess of trouble, and he suspected Percy would once again be at the center of it.

Captain Hay came out of his office and stood near the entrance, his arms crossed and a scowl that had long ago settled into permanent wrinkles etched on his face. That scowl only grew deeper, spreading into lines around his mouth, as a well-dressed man carrying a briefcase arrived.

The man stared around with the jaded, calculating eyes so common to those in his profession—and his pay grade. As soon as his gaze landed on Mr. Bourgeron, he strode across the room and gave the young man a precise bow. Of course, the man must be one of the Bourgerons’ solicitors, though how he had made it to the station so quickly, Calder didn’t know.

Ignoring the curious stares of the others, young Mr. Bourgeron stood quickly, looking both excited and nervous.

Before he could say anything, the solicitor raised a hand to Mr. Bourgeron’s face. “Let me do the talking,” the man enunciated slowly, staring at Mr. Bourgeron with so much focused intent that it seemed as if he were trying to free-cast a geas on him.

Mr. Bourgeron deflated and nodded silently.

Calder sensed a history between them.

Percy, at the center of the group, kept his eyes downcast, occasionally stealing nervous glances around the room.

With a deep sigh, Calder stood and volunteered himself to take point—and the responsibility for the majority of the paperwork—on this case. But when he learned what he’d stepped into the middle of, he didn’t know whether to be relieved or rueful. Calder gave Percy a pointed stare, and as the boy ducked his head, Mrs. Irving placed a hand on Percy’s thin shoulder and glared back at Calder.

As Calder led Percy, his mother, Mr. Bourgeron, and the solicitor into one of the interrogation rooms, he braced himself against a wave of fatigue. Normally, people would be interrogated individually. However, seeing that they had come in voluntarily and were not under suspicion of a crime, that Percy was a minor accompanied by his mother, and that the solicitor was supposedly acting on behalf of both young men at once, they would do this all together.

Captain Hay followed, taking the seat at the other end of the table from Calder. The man’s pulsing jaw and gritted teeth as he looked at the civilians spoke of his barely restrained frustration.

At Calder’s cue, Percy began his account first, speaking a little too fast, his tongue occasionally tripping over the words.

Mr. Bourgeron, however, could barely contain himself. Several times when he felt that Percy was not doing justice to their statement, he launched into his own version of events. “There we were, surrounded by gore and viscera, torn off limbs and scooped out organs, when suddenly—“

The solicitor cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Tennyson’s dramatic retelling. “What my client means is that they observed some…untidiness of unknown origin,” he interjected smoothly.

Captain Hay snorted loudly, and for once, Calder didn’t blame him. Everyone at the table except Mr. Bourgeron stared at the man, astounded by his ability to say such a thing with a straight face.

The solicitor adjusted his glasses, completely unabashed.

Calder pinched the bridge of his nose, longing for a good all-purpose healing potion to deal with the pressure building there. Unfortunately, even working as a copper, those were only available for free when someone had been critically injured on the job.

Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic…” he murmured, his eyes darting between his mother, Mr. Bourgeron, and Calder.

Mrs. Irving leaned forward. “Sweetie, let me handle this,” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Calder held up a hand. “Mrs. Irving,” he said firmly, “we need to hear from Percy directly.”

Captain Hay’s expression darkened. The older man placed a fist on the table, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Percy. “Go ahead, boy,” Hay said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Keep lying about this incident just like you did with the Schubert’s Photo Emporium theft. It seems to be a habit of yours.”

Mrs. Irving’s head snapped up, her eyes widening and then narrowing again immediately. “What theft?”

Percy’s face paled.

Her gazed moved from Captain Hay to her son. “Percy, what is he talking about?”

“Mom, I can explain—”

With a smug smile, Captain Hay cut him off. “Seems there’s a lot you don’t know about your son’s activities, Mrs. Irving.”

Author Note:

Weekly discussion thread on the Alcove: https://alcove.azaleaellis.com/t/chapter-2-7-weekly-discussion-in-which-lieutenant-robards-volunteers-for-paperwork/868