Chapter Text
As a field of work, accounting had a reputation for being boring.
It was not an entirely undeserved reputation. Looking over pages and pages of small numbers for hours at a time would be a large number of people’s idea of hell. Despite the recent embrace of ‘nerd’ culture and the value placed in having a higher education, math remained firmly uncool.
Except to Phillip Lodge, that was.
Accounting was his dream job. It bridged the firm intangible facts of numbers to the lives of all people. Going over financial documents, Phillip saw dentist appointments, children going back to school, weeks of planning for one birthday party. His favourite part of the job was when he found a loophole. Some technicality to help get his clients closer to whatever they wanted. Seeing how he’d helped in their relieved grateful smiles. He was proud of his small firm, the people employed there and most of his clients.
There was an anxious triple knock at his office door, Phillip already knew who it would be. He closed his laptop. “Come in.” No one else in the office would’ve needed the direct invitation.
Eun Park shuffled themselves inside, softly closing the door behind them. A promising graduate who had worked here for over a year now but who was so visibly anxious it always looked like it was their first day. If they hadn’t brought the same nervous energy to every situation, Phillip might’ve been offended. “I’m so sorry to bother you, sir- Phil.” They corrected themselves at the last minute.
“Please, you’re always welcome.” He offered them a seat but they remained standing.
“You know Ms Flynn? She’s come in with an, um, unusual request.” Eun fidgeted tugging down their sweater vest.
Phillip felt his mouth twitch into a frown. “Well, it’s her money, we have to respect how she uses it.”
In their field being nonjudgmental was a good trait to have. All sorts of people needed accountants. People who had addictions, people who liked risky investments, people who wanted to spend thousands of dollars on Funko Pop dolls. As long as they were warned of the risks, acting in sound mind and of their own volition, decisions were left to the client. Phillip described it as the Prime Directive- whenever he said this out loud he was called a nerd.
“And I do, respect her,” They agreed hurriedly. “It’s just, this one is really weird and I don’t know how to actually do it?”
He didn’t know what to make of that. “What do you mean?”
Ms Christina Flynn shook his hand with a smile. She was the Lodge firm’s first and biggest client. She was worth more than the firm, actually. In the late 60s Christina had been a big name in toys. She'd worked for Hasbro and Cardinal Games until creating her own brand Sphinx! A smaller company with a successful niche in puzzles. For a woman worth millions she dressed very plainly. She looked more as if she was ready to attend a Bingo hall.
“Ms Flynn, it’s good to see you again.” Phillip sat down next to the beaming grandmotherly woman, Eun hoovering behind them. “How can we help?”
“I would like to have all the money in my account turned into gold bars.” She informed him pleasantly.
“Oh. Oh?” He couldn’t help looking to his younger colleague who responded with an equally confused shrug. Phillip returned his attention to the client. “Okay. Right. Well, um, are you sure that’s-“
“I’m not an idiot Lodge.” Christina cut him off politely but unyielding and sharp. “I know the dangers of having my entire fortune in one place and inaccessible. I’m dying.”
The admission sent a hush over Eun’s small office. The graduate employee silently walked behind their desk and collapsed into their chair. Phillip wavered, reaching out to touch her hand but unsure if that was what she wanted. At her permissive smile he completed the touch, lightly squeezing her hand. Death had suddenly entered the room and Christina was the only one comfortable in its presence. A sympathetic despair welled up in Phillip and selfishly dread at the reminder that he himself was getting older. “I’m so sorry, Christina.”
Ms Flynn rolled her shoulders back but there was a struggle in her face that betrayed her nonchalance. “It’s alright, nothing immediate. Doctors said five years but I think they were being kind.”
“There’s nothing they can do?” Eun piped up with a gut punching naivety.
“Not really, no.” A sigh escaped Christina as she unburdened herself. “It’s…frightening. I know it’s all natural but it scares me. I want to set up some riddles, let the person who solves them inherit everything. Silly, I know but I want to make this fun.”
The younger accountant beat him to the punch. “Of course, absolutely. How can we help?”
“I know a reputable gold dealer, he might have a contact. You need to set a budget, an amount to leave aside for daily expenses, any kind of medical expenses.” Phillip started speculating.
Eun picked up his thread expertly. “I’ll need to get in contact with your lawyers. We’ll get you to do a cognition test, just to avoid any problems down the line.”
And a tension he hadn’t even noticed in Christina seemed to leave her body. “Thank you both.”
Making this happen involved not just hard work but waiting for state offices to open so employees could ring back about the legality of keeping 13 million dollars worth of gold in a basement. This is how Phillip ended up sat on his office couch at 11 o’clock at night, staring up at the smooth grey ceiling. His eyes were starting to slip shut and it was getting harder to open each time it happened. He was no stranger to working late hours but multiple days of early starts and looking at screens til the evening were taking their toll.
An anxious triple knock at the door dragged Phillip away from the sleep his body craved. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. “Come in.”
Eun opened the door but didn’t move from the doorway. “I got the quote from the construction workers, they said they’d accept a payment plan in the event of Ms Flynn’s passing.”
He accepted the mundane update with a nod. “Good work. You really shouldn’t make it a habit to do this much overtime, though. You should go home, get some rest.”
They raised their shoulders up and down too quickly for the shrug to appear casual. “Nah, I don’t want to break momentum. I still have to hear back from the forklift people.”
Park rocked on their heels looking down at their shoes. It took a second for Phillip to understand why and when he did he wanted to kick himself.
He remembered being young, nervous, starting a new job in a new city. The people who’d been kind enough to help him. There was a reason Eun Park was involved with such an important client. They were thorough, hard working. If they trusted their own judgement more they could go far. It wouldn’t hurt if they were slightly better at the social aspect but accounting was a forgiving profession for that. Phillip put them in positions to prove themselves, offered advice when he thought it was warranted. Nothing more personal than that.
“You know I was about to order some takeout, since you’re waiting anyway?” He offered.
Eun brightened immediately. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Keeping a poker face was another weakness of theirs.
Soon the two were eating a small feast of Nepali food out of plastic containers and sharing war stories.
“He wanted to invest all of his savings in a digital currency called BatBucks. As in Batman.” Park waved a hand as they dunked roti into dal bhat. “He was going to invest his kids' college funds.”
“Oh god.” Phillip laughed as he dragged a hand over his face.
They took a bite of the roti. “And he was so certain about it, I started to think ‘maybe I should invest’.”
“Eun.” He chided instinctively.
“I didn’t!” Park squared up defensively. “I spent two weeks researching the coin for him. I put together a PowerPoint for him so he could understand the risks. He decided not to invest.”
His smile widened. “You know another accountant might have just done what they were told and called it a day.”
They hummed skeptically. “I doubt they wouldn’t at least warn them.”
“Mm, you’d be surprised at some people.” Phillip scooped up one of the momos with his fork.
“What’s one of your weird ones?”
He finished chewing and wiped a napkin over his mouth. “Let’s see, there was the client who wanted to make his home a cat sanctuary. A woman who averaged 300k on clothes a month.”
“Oh!” Phillip snapped his fingers remembering a good one. “Once I actually had to help someone budget so they could throw an NRA fundraiser.”
“Oh, wow. Really?” Their voice went up a couple pitches.
He speared a curried potato on his fork. “I know. I’ll say this; it was a real test of my professionalism. This country.”
Eun laughed weakly. “Yeah. Hey, are those sudoku books on your shelf?”
Phillip perked up at their mention, eyes drifting to the bookshelf in question. “Yes, I finish a book and add it to the shelf.”
Their eyes widened and they gave an impressed whistle. “There’s over a dozen in there.”
He nodded proudly. “I’ve been doing them for years. My ex always complained about how much time I spent on them. He used to call it taking my work home with me.”
That lack of poker face shone again as soon he’d uttered the word ‘he’. It was a bigger reaction than Phillip thought was warranted.
“Yes, Eun.” He adopted a conspiratorial tone. “I am one of England’s stately homos.”
Park choked on a laugh looking so baffled by the statement Phillip felt he had to explain. “Before your time. Really though, it’s not that surprising is it?”
Maybe he didn’t have a pride flag hanging down his office wall but Phillip Lodge wasn’t hiding anything either. Being unmarried, hygiene minded and a passionate antique collector were usually enough for people to pick up on. Amusingly, some Americans would hear the accent and assume based on just that.
And it wasn’t as if the concept of being gay should be a shock to someone who, uncharacteristically boldly, listed their pronouns on their resume.
“No, sir. I mean not no but-“ Eun short circuited then pointed at the filled sudoku books. “I like sudoku too. It’s nice working with someone who also likes- sudoku.”
He didn’t understand the need for indirectness. Phillip didn’t think the younger generation were so don’t-ask-don’t-tell. Maybe it was just a Eun-ism.
It didn’t matter. Phillip understood what they were trying to say.
“You don’t have to call me sir. In fact, I’d really prefer you didn’t.” He passed them the momos. “I like working with you too.”
Phillip had to man a helm to open Christina’s fridge. A customised nautical steering wheel was the fridge’s handle and it had to be turned a certain number of times to open. It had been fun when he’d first visited but right now, more than a few glasses of scotch deep Phillip hated it.
Incredible for a moment, ridiculously inconvenient for the everyday seemed to the thought process behind every part of the house. He now knew where the money Christina didn’t spend on clothes went. Her little house was insane. All optical illusions and interactive puzzles. Architects who worked on the Ripley’s Odditoriums were poached for the project.
He gave up on the handle looking into the den for help. Once Eun noticed they mimed two left and four right turns. Copying the movements Phillip opened the fridge and retrieved the chilled champagne.
The den was a rustic 70s California style sunken living room, the twist being everything was completely upside down. This was also disorienting when you were drunk. He carefully placed the opaque bottle on the flat carpet and settled in his beanbag looking up at the fully furnished ceiling.
Styrofoam beans rustled as Christina eagerly sat up, peeling the gold foil off the bottle lip. Her grey curls had lost their natural lustre, there was a brittle quality now like if strands were touched they’d simply break away. Sickness was starting to take its toll, she was paler and an omnipresent tiredness chased all her movements.
The cork popped vapour rising up out of the bottle.
Christina laughed victoriously. “To the construction crew, to accountants and to my new basement!” She topped up their mugs with champagne.
Having declined Ms Flynn’s offer to celebrate with them, the construction crew were probably in bed by now. The three celebrators were coated in a thin layer of sweat and dust from clearing out furniture. As long and tiring the day had been, Phillip felt pride run through him. They’d been able to help Christina realise her dream. No matter that it had been a rather strange dream under dire circumstances- it had made her happier.
“Salut.” He toasted her.
Eun downed the champagne in one smooth motion, it would have impressed him if they hadn’t started hiccuping directly afterwards.
Somewhere out of view the house’s wall mounted phone was ringing. There were only two people who wouldn’t have known Christina’s mobile number but who did know her home number.
“Are you planning to answer that?” Phillip asked though he knew the answer from her unchanging posture.
“Why? I know what they’re calling for and I’m not lending them any more.” She shook her head as she quickly refilled her glass. “Wannabe gangsters.”
The ‘wannabe gangsters’ in question were her nephews. Not the brightest boys or the most diligent family members. The brothers lived in Boston, to Phillip’s knowledge they’d never visited their aunt and spent most of their time hustling as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.
Park blinked one eye at a time tiredly. “Ms Flynn, if you think they’re such idiots why do you want to send them a golden ticket?”
“Eun.” He chided half heartedly as it was something he’d wondered himself.
Early into working on Ms Flynn’s will, the letters to be sent postmortem to the potential heirs were deemed ‘golden tickets’. It was too obvious to resist. There were 6 people, all somehow loosely acquainted with Christina, due to receive one.
The woman of the hour tilted her head smiling unbothered. “It just didn’t seem sporting to leave them out, they are still my family.”
Phillip sipped his champagne then frowned. “Are either of them any good at puzzles?”
Chrisrina arched an eyebrow. “I don’t like them that much, I won’t spoon feed them.”
Eun sat forward sloshing the champagne they were refilling. “Is there one of them you actually want to win?”
He anticipated a wry smirk and a wise remark but instead Christina glanced down at her drink thoughtfully. “Solving puzzles and riddles, it isn’t about being the cleverest. Close attention and patience are all it takes. I like people who work hard and care about small things.”
It did track. One thing Phillip knew about the other 5 fortune contenders was that they were each good at games of some kind.
Ms Flynn cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. “So what sort of company are you two keeping these days?”
“Mm. I’ve got a dnd group I see every third weekend.” Park very obviously pretended to misunderstand the question.
Phillip leaned over to Christina nearly falling out of his beanbag. “Someone has a crush on the young estate lawyer.”
“Phil!” They exclaimed betrayed.
“The lazy one?” She inquired incredulously.
“Mmhm.” He took another sip.
Eun sat up with righteous indignation. “She’s not lazy, she’s just unfulfilled in her job. I think she’s capable of a lot.”
Phillip felt a tad guilty now. Privately, he thought Eun could do better but who was he to squash young love? “She’s a sharp dresser.” He threw them a bone.
Park lit up at it smiling dopily. “She is.”
“What about you?”
He had a delayed reaction to Christina addressing him. “Me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. Is there a Mr Lodge waiting at home?”
“The hours of overtime you’ve seen me doing makes it self evident there isn’t.” Phillip sniped.
“Ah right.” Ms Flynn dramatically faked humble conceit. “I meant why isn’t there a Mr Lodge?”
He choked on air. “Well that’s a bloody personal question.”
Eun looked as if they’d be eating out of a bowl of popcorn if one was available. “This is more of a personal setting than a professional one.” The effect of the cheeky remark was undone by them worryingly adding. “Sir.”
Under the weight of two sets of expectant eyes Phillip caved. “I was in a relationship, god, five years ago now. It didn’t work out. There just hasn’t been anyone else I connected to.”
There had been a period where Phillip Lodge had been dead certain that Arthur Eco was the love of his life. That such a thing as a ‘love of your life’ existed for everyone. The heartbreak had long since healed into dry disappointment.
“The last thing he said to me was that I was boring.” Phillip refilled his mug with champagne, drained it and filled it again as he mused. “I thought about that for a long time. Because he was right. I like getting up early in a clean apartment and working in an office and going home from work to watch How It’s Made. But why should that matter? I’m lucky enough to live a life I like. Doors close when you’re older but life grows around it.”
Eun’s eyes filled with sympathy, they awkwardly patted a spot on Phillip’s bean bag adjacent to his shoulder. Christina pursed her lips. There was a restrained look to her that gave Phillip the impression she was biting her tongue. It took Phillip back to being in primary school and asking a question that made his teacher cringe. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt this way nor shake the feeling.
They resumed more casual conversation until late into the night. At 2am Eun passed out on the bean bag. He helped Christina get down a blanket from the linen closet to drape over them. They stirred without opening their eyes as Ms Flynn slid a pillow under their head. “Can I still… use the grounds tomorrow?” They drunkenly mumbled.
“If you still feel up to it.” Flynn replied amused.
When he raised an eyebrow at the interaction she just winked at him. As sleeping on the floor sounded like a nightmare to him, the homeowner showed him to the guest room. Christina put her hand around the doorknob then paused.
“You know,” She started quietly, respectfully, a bad sign. “I don’t want to make any assumptions about how things have been for you.”
Christina cleared her throat. “When I visited you about the storage, I saw your phone for a second. There was a message from a Henry asking you to call him back?”
The embarrassment returned tenfold. It was actually what it sounded like. He had been truthful earlier, there was no one he’d connected with but well, Phillip wasn’t dead.
“I’m not trying to-“ She rushed to say then sighed frustratedly. “Just- if you’re really happy with how things are for you, that’s fine but if you aren’t it really isn’t too late.”
He bristled. “Chris.”
“And I am saying that as someone for whom it is too late for.” She laughed as his face dropped. “It was a choice I made and I don’t regret it but there were costs. You live in New York, you’re gay, you have a good job.”
There was too much in what she said for Phillip to know how to respond to it, now he was starting to sober up. A lingering symptom of a keep-calm-and-carry-on upbringing. He landed on dry humor. “Right, so, it’s all easy then?”
“No, it’s probably still quite difficult. Just not impossible if you keep yourself open to it.” At that Christina opened the door to the guest room.
She walked away to the end of the hallway to leave but turned around at the last second. “Night, kiddo.” Christina winked disappearing around the corner.
Phillip chuckled to himself rubbing under his eyes. Sleeping after a few drinks in the company of friends was always a treat.
In the end it took almost 2 years to make the full preparations. There were hoops they had to jump through with the banks and the government and keeping all of this secret. The three of them spent hours together hunched over takeout food from any restaurant that delivered. Eun was crucial in bringing it all together. They’d really risen to the occasion and he was quite proud. Christina had gone from an acquaintance to a friend who he enjoyed late night drunken phone calls with. Honestly, it was some of the most fun Phillip had ever had.
Unfortunately it ended too quickly. Christina’s health worsened and she had to spend the last months of her life on bed rest. Eun and Phillip visited right up until she passed away. Now they grieved her together. There was an ache knowing he’d never talk to her again but what was there to be done but quietly mourn? Let things return to normal.
That was disrupted when NYPD officers burst into the Lodge Firm and handcuffed Eun Park’s arms behind their back.
“What do you think you're doing? Let go of them!” Phillip got as close to the scene as he could without actually touching the armed officers.
He was ignored. The arresting officer addressed the junior accountant, gripping their forearm forcing them forward. “Eun Park, we're taking you in, under suspicion for the murder of Rocco Henderson.”
The name rang vaguely familiar but Phillip couldn’t place where he’d heard it before.
“I don’t know who that is!” They protested as they tried to match the officers pace.
Phillip followed them to the elevator. “You’re making a mistake. You have the wrong person! For God’s sake they’re vegetarian!”
“Sir? Phil? What should I do?” They called out. Eun was no longer in view, their short frame blocked out by uniforms.
“Call a lawyer! Don’t say anything! I’ll meet you down at the station.” He yelled back as the elevator doors closed.
Phillip stepped into the police station, composed, smiling politely ready to rain hell. He walked up to the bored receptionist. “I’m here for Eun Park.”
She typed something into the computer, her nails clicked against the keys. “Park is still in an interview. Could be a while.” Her tone fell short of caring.
“Thank you, I’ll wait. Could I have a complaints form please?” His tone was so congenial it only narrowly avoided condescension.
The receptionist made a face but passed him two clipboards. “Sign in here, complaint form underneath.”
Phillip perched himself on one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting room and started filling in the paperwork with thorough detail. He hadn’t been able to get badge numbers but he’d overheard some names. Poor Eun was probably frightened out of their mind right now. Phillip realised he was pressing the provided pen down hard on the paper. His penmanship stayed neat but the words left a physical imprint on the paper. Phillip was curving the letters in ‘cruel and unprofessional conduct’ when he noticed a pair of pointy toed Cuban heels stopped in front of him.
“Might I borrow that pen when you’ve finished?” A heavily Southern accented voice inquired.
He couldn’t quite tell what part of the American South the accent hailed from, even after over a decade spent in the states. The second thing Phillip noticed about the man was how well dressed he was. The pressed autumnal three piece suit was a step above what everyone else in the precinct was wearing. (Phillip was also wearing a suit but it was a more standard navy on white). Thirdly, well, he was a good looking man. Tan, broad but not too broad, with light hair and an intriguing smile. Most notable of these qualities were keen intelligent eyes.
Phillip realised his response had been delayed. “It’s not my pen.” That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say.
“You can borrow it now.” Phillip held it out to the stranger, probably too eagerly. “Here, I’ll probably take longer than you… it just isn’t my pen is all.”
He’d ended the sentence weakly and the stranger smiled down at him with a twinkle of amusement. It made the accountant want to break eye contact, this was what he got for being out of practice.
The pen was plucked from his fingertips.
“Thank you, regardless.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket, quickly scrawled something down then passed the pen back. “If you’ll forgive my saying so, you seem stressed?”
“That’s entirely accurate, I have very good reason to be though.” Phillip looked left and right checking no officers were paying attention, the man playfully copied his movements. “My friend was just towed away, arrested in front of all their colleagues for a crime they had nothing to do with.”
His amused demeanour dropped at this. “Really? That is deeply unjust.”
“Tell me about it.” Phillip snorted. “I mean did Giuliani get voted back in and no one told me?”
“So what misdemeanour was misapplied to your friend?” The mystery man asked alliteratively.
“A murder.” He admitted reluctantly as if the seriousness of the crime predetermined their guilt. Phillip hurried to add. “They really are innocent, just a complete misunderstanding.”
The man nodded understandingly but his eyes narrowed with scepticism. “A public murder arrest is not something metropolitan police forces usually risky unless they think they have reason to. Is there anything that would give them cause to indict your friend?”
“Nothing. This person wouldn’t hurt a fly, completely law abiding.” Phillip reiterated. He knew there was no reason for the stranger to believe him but he wanted him too anyway.
The other man went to speak. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by an officer with rigid posture. “Benoit Blanc? We’ve got a suspect in the interview room.”
It took a second for Phillip to realise that the policeman was not speaking into the air but addressing the man beside him. Who apparently was involved in an active investigation. Thank god, the accountant hadn’t said anything incriminating- not that there was anything incriminating to say.
He looked over him coldly. “Aren’t plain clothes officers supposed to be plainly clothed?”
The stranger, Benoit Blanc apparently, has the decency to look abashed. “Oh, I’m not a police officer. More of a good samaritan with certain expertise.”
He clearly wanted Phillip to ask about this but he didn't budge. “I see.”
Benoit chuckled not humorously but appeasingly. “Now, I understand you must feel misled.”
“That is a common symptom of being misled.” Phillip shut him down.
The police officer cleared his throat impatiently, the private detective hesitated looking briefly in his direction before following the officer. Alone Phillip huffed to himself, that had been a very underhanded tactic. Though it was partially his own fault for reading too much into the short conversation. He’d been single for too long and Blanc did have a certain ‘vibe’ about him.
Not important, what mattered was Eun Park. There was never a good time to be arrested in front of your colleagues but it happening now was unfortunate timing. Park had been doing so well. They’d been more confident, still fidgety and neurotic but surer of themselves. It was well deserved, Eun was good at their job and getting better every day. Phillip had been planning on making them partner someday.
Provided they didn’t do life for murder and their reputation survived the arrest.
He typed an office wide email reminding everyone not to draw conclusions, trying to douse the fire. There are a few more emails to send off, phone calls to make while he waits. These little tasks ate up 20 minutes. At the end of which, Phillip looked up from his phone to see Blanc and the same officer from before walking towards him.
Blanc stopped in the same spot he occupied before, palms up apologetically. “Now I know I made a poor impression earlier. And I suspected we were both here for the same person but I think it would really help your friend if you were in the room.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Right. And that’s what you care about? What’s in their best interest?”
“An unfair or misconducted investigation is worse than worthless to me. What I need is to have every piece of information available to me, so that I may pierce the veil of prevarication to arrive at the truth.” Blanc’s fingers cracked open an invisible sphere.
It was a strange and impassioned analogy, Phillip wasn’t sure what to say to it.
The officer, Robert DuPont according to his name tag, seemed similarly baffled by the statement. He stared at the detective stunned before turning to Phillip. “Your friend hasn’t said anything.”
“Good.” He responded bluntly. “This whole fiasco could really damage their career and I’m glad their lawyer-“
“Park didn’t call a lawyer.” The cop cut him off. “They’ve just been sitting there silently.”
Phillip blinked. “What, this whole time?”
“It is an impressive feat.” Blanc chimed in again and he did sound genuinely impressed. He crouched down so they were on eye level. “We were thinking it might be beneficial if you sat in on the interview.”
“What?”
“Your friend might feel less anxious in your presence. You’d have the reassurance nothing untoward was occurring and we’d be better able to establish the truth.” This sudden show of magnanimity rubbed the accountant the wrong way but Phillip wasn’t about to refuse the opportunity.
He felt piercing blue eyes on him all the way to the interrogation room but ignored it.
As soon as the door opened, revealing Eun Park sat rigidly in a metal chair, it was like oxygen returned to his lungs. They were still in one piece, frazzled but unharmed. Eun twisted in their chair taking him in with undisguised relief. “Sir- I mean Phil!”
Without looking he pulled a chair out and sat down next to them. “Are you alright? You aren’t hurt?”
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” They led out a shuddering breath.
“Why didn't you exercise your right to a lawyer?” DuPont stood ruler straight behind his chair.
The power play came across overly obvious, especially as Blanc took the chair next to him with a dry look- one Phillip briefly thought might be for his benefit.
Eun’s eyes were wide and doe like. “I don’t know a criminal lawyer and I wasn’t sure if a public defender was a good idea.”
“So you decided to just sit in silence?” He asked incredulously.
Park pushed up their glasses with a frown. “I was nervous.”
Officer DuPont nodded sarcastically. “Sure, common reaction.”
Phillip shifted forward, another polite immovable smile on his face. “I’m sorry my friend didn’t want to risk indicting themselves.”
“It impeded an ongoing investigation so you should be.” He countered coldly.
Benoit Blanc cleared his throat and leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. “Now, Eun, may I call you Eun?”
They nodded and the private detective proceeded. “Eun, have you ever visited the property of your client, the late Christina Flynn?”
Hearing that name snapped through Phillip with a painful pang. For an instant, he had the bizarre thought that it was Christina’s murder they were being accused of. That was patently ridiculous however since she’d passed away of natural causes under hospital supervision.
“Yes.” Park’s voice brought him back. “Multiple times.” They added, sounding unsure of how much they were supposed to speak.
“Witnesses have stated you were a frequent visitor with your own set of keys.” Blanc looked over them, clearly scrutinising.
“That’s accurate.” They agreed.
“And is it true that sometimes during these visits you used the grounds to practice your shooting?”
Shooting? He must have misheard. Phillip waited to hear what the word really was.
Park nodded again unphased. “Yes. It was Christina’s idea.”
“And you are quite the experienced marksman. A .22 long rifle, a 12 gauge shotgun, a 10mm pistol.” Benoit Blanc laid multiple glossy photos of the aforementioned guns on the table. “I’ve heard you nearly went to the Olympics?”
“For trap shooting. I also do skeet and rapid fire but I’m not as good.” Park confirmed as Phillip’s head started to spin.
Seeing Blanc’s eyes drift from Eun to him, Phillip concealed his surprise. “Having a hobby isn’t a criminal offence.”
Officer DuPont pushed forward the picture of the pistol. “No but having your fingerprints on a murder weapon can land you in prison.”
He looked to his protege anxiously, they shrank in their seat.
DuPont threw down another photo aggressively. A crime scene photo. It was so surreal to see such a photo in Phillip’s real life that he didn’t perceive it as real. He saw it in the same detached light as the true crime advertisements that popped on tv occasionally. A body drenched in so much red that it couldn’t possibly be blood.
But of course it was.
A man was laid out on the floor, arms and legs sprawled out in the way chalk outlines were. He wore a silky black and mauve suit with a gold figaro chain. The ensemble was irreparably stained with blood. His head was more gaping holes than muscle or bone. Reduced to pulp surrounding five craters where cheekbones, eyes, nose, jaw and throat were supposed to be. God, that poor man.
Phillip had to look away, catch his breath. When he looked back Benoit Blanc was gazing at him with tender sympathy. Uncertain what to do with this and unexpectedly moved by it, the accountant turned his attention back to his friend.
Eun’s mouth subtly pulled into a tight thin line and their brows furrowed. It was similar to the expression he’d seen them make once before. A client’s computer crashed resulting in the loss of two years worth of financial documents. What Phillip recognised to be an anxious focus he knew could be misconstrued as guilt or indifference. Judging from Officer DuPont white knuckling the back of his chair, that was exactly what was happening.
He tapped the photo repeatedly. “Rocco Henderson was shot five times in the head with your gun on a property you had access to. Any thoughts on this?”
It clicked now where Phillip had that name before. He’d read it dozens of times in Christina’s paperwork. It was one of the nephews. The wannabe gangsters. The younger one maybe, it was hard to tell. What had he been doing there? Did his brother know he was dead?
Eun met their interrogator’s gaze unflinchingly. “I left the pistol on the property. It was grossly irresponsible and a terrible mistake but I didn’t do this.”
Phillip felt a surge of pride watching them stand up for themselves firmly and articulately under such pressure.
“No?” The officer pressed.
“No.” They insisted resolutely, Park pointed at the crime scene photo. “These shots are messy, why do five when one would kill him? And at too close range, if I’d shot him I wouldn’t need to do that.”
“Eun!” Phillip clutched their arm in desperate panic. “You need to stop talking.”
“Now, they raise a good point.” A honeyed southern accent interjected, grabbing the attention of the room. “Eun, would you mind testing this theory?”
The sound of a pistol going off was louder than it was in films. The core sound itself was the same but amplified so it rattled off the inside of your head. Despite having lived in New York for years now he’d managed to avoid guns until this very moment. Phillip watched as Eun fired down the range with an ease and confidence he’d never seen from them before.
The four of them were decked out in orange protective eyewear and sound muffling headphones. Standing by as Park targeted the paper cutout with, admittedly, an assassin-like aim. His attention was drawn away from the spectacle by Blanc waving him over conspiratorially.
Seeing as Officer DuPont was preoccupied watching Eun like a hawk, Phillip snuck over to him. The term ‘fraternising with the enemy’ came to his mind though he knew that was probably an unfair characterisation. He joined the private investigator away from the others.
“WERE YOU FAMILIAR WITH THIS DIMENSION OF YOUR FRIEND’S PERSONAL LIFE?” Blanc yelled calmly.
It was a comical sight. The formally dressed man in his oversized headphones having to scream to be heard.
“WHATEVER THEY DO IN PRIVATE IS THEIR BUSINESS.” Phillip found himself shouting.
This earned him a smile which was slightly infuriating. “YOU ARE A LOYAL COMPANION. YOUR FRIEND IS LUCKY TO HAVE YOU.”
The praise left him off kilter. Especially since he got the impression Blanc meant it. “THEY’D DO THE SAME FOR ME.” He settled on saying.
Benoit smiled then his eyes drifted to the left and he removed the headphones. Phillip turned around taking off his own pair, there were no more thundering gunshots in the air. The only sound was a quiet whirring as the target was pulled to the front.
There were five neat piercings to the left breast, which according to the scoring system earned them a total of 38 points by way of a 7,7, 8, 8 and 8. Even to Phillip’s untrained eye, the impact of the shots would have left an entirely different impression on the body.
Park holstered their gun and threw their arm out at the scene with an uncharacteristic smug flourish.
“There, you see, entirely different ballistics.” Phillip backed them up.
Officer DuPont unclipped the paper bringing it up to his face. “You’re a vegetarian right?”
It wasn’t the line of questioning he’d anticipated and from Eun’s confused expression they didn’t either. Blanc however bore the change with a tired languor that indicated he’d predicted it and had mentally followed the officer’s thought process to conclusion.
“That’s nice. Gotta think about the environment, right?” The false friendly smile was made even more unconvincing by DuPont’s suspicious gaze. “Have you ever shot an animal before?”
Eun’s face betrayed how much the mere idea of it bothered them.
“Yeah, awful isn’t it? It’s hard work, shooting something alive.” He ran his fingers over the bullet holes. “Nerve wracking. Even the most experienced sharpshooter’s hand would shake, shooting someone for the first time.”
Dread sunk in. There would always be doubt, Phillip realised, until the murderer was caught nothing else would clear Eun’s name.
In the car park of the police station, Eun and Phillip stood against the wall despondently. The dire situation warranted a lapse from quitting smoking for him. He exhaled soothing smoke as they showed him their phone. A little smiling Eun, their brother and sister on each side. All with bowlcuts, all dressed in camo, all carrying a gun.
“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” They tucked their phone back into their pocket and mumbled. “I know how you feel about guns.”
His first instinct was to argue. Lay out how the betrayal was unnecessary and insulting but there wasn’t time. “I really don’t know what to do.”
Park put their hands in their pockets, looking up at the sky helplessly. “Me neither.”
He flicked the building ash off the end of his cigarette. “Should we- do we call a lawyer do you think?”
They shrugged, a corner of their mouth dragged down giving away how unconvinced they were. “Maybe I’ll call my parents first.”
He cleared his throat out of habit. “Yes, that might be best.”
They looked up at him. “I’m really scared.” It wasn’t said with any drama, only a blunt matter of factness.
“Eun, I am with you here. We are going to find a way out of this, okay?”
Park nodded. Philip, with careful reluctance, put a hand on their shoulder. Eun slowly and stiffly rested their forehead against his arm. The two stood there silently for a moment before separating.
As Park opened the door to go back inside they nearly collided with Benoit Blanc coming out. “My apologies, I didn’t see you there.”
They mumbled something Phillip missed in reply and brushed past the detective unceremoniously. If it bothered him he didn’t show it. Blanc joined him without hesitation, patting down his pockets searchingly. “Could I trouble you for a light?”
He cushioned a cigarette between his lips, as Phillip stepped into his space to light it the faint scent of ginger and orange blossom hit him. “Is that Myslf Absolu?”
“That it is.” There was a twinkle in Benoit’s eyes as he inhaled the first breath of his cigarette. “I suspected you and I were men of similar taste.”
“Oh?” Phillip did have some modicum of interest in him but it was an overt overture he was making while actively investigating his friend it was less than appreciated.
Benoit must have picked up on what he was thinking because he gave him a sly look. “In cologne and cowboy killers that is.”
“Cowboy killers?” He repeated bemusedly.
“Marlboros.” His blue eyes moved pointedly to the ashes Phillip had left on the ground. “Personally I prefer cigars when I can.”
“Right.” It didn’t feel right engaging in this banter when lives were on the line. “I hope you know, it doesn't escape me that Mr Henderson is owed justice in all this.”
Blanc frowned, exhaling a small puff of smoke. “I didn’t think it had.”
He continued ignoring the pleasant jolt he got from the remark. “But I know my friend and they would never do this, you have to tell the police they have the wrong person.”
“I thought as much.”
Phillip blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I do not think your friend is the culprit in this cadaverous endeavour.”
Hope rose in his chest. “So you’ll tell them?”
“No. I cannot simply trust my judgment of your friend to be infallible.” Benoit drew the cigarette away from his lips, informing him mirthlessly. “For this investigation to succeed, I have to doggedly pursue all avenues until I arrive at the correct conclusion. To do otherwise would be a disservice to Rocco and his family.”
“I suppose I understand.” Phillip didn’t bother to hide his frustration.
Blanc continued undeterred, lowering his voice. “But I do think that your presence here helps your friend be better understood by the authorities. Why don’t you accompany us to the scene of the crime?”