Author's Preface
Raoul returned to the station two days later, against medical advice. He should be on bed rest but he simply couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't sit in his apartment after letting things get to this point. Work would distract him from the pain if nothing else.
The left side of his face was still heavily bandaged beneath a temporary patch, a bit larger and more unwieldy than his previous one.
The precinct looked the same as always but that day, as he walked in just after peak hours, he couldn't help but feel disconnected from it all. The usual hum of voices and ringing phones felt muted by the case that had now taken over his every waking moment.
All at once everything fell silent, leaving the detective surrounded by distant stares and the investigation details cycled on repeat in his mind. He'd been thinking about it the whole way here, preparing to get back on track. He moved slowly through the bullpen, aware of the sidelong glances and sudden silences. His hand subtly stretched out by his side to brush up against the desks and chairs. He'd be damned if he found himself needing a walking aid at his age. Wasn't he fortunate to already be used to navigating with just one eye? His little gimmick had paid off after all, he could almost pity himself for allowing it to come to this.
His office door stood slightly ajar. Inside he saw a familiar figure dressed in the most casual attire he'd seen at the precinct. A plain black tee, washed out blue jeans, and sneakers. This figure sat at his secondary desk, reviewing case files intently, dyed black hair tied up into a messy bun, and aviator glasses that fell off his head the second the person looked up at Raoul. Jasper Boa.
Jasper sighed and leaned back as Raoul entered.
Retired for three years, his father still carried the presence of a legend that left Raoul in his shadow. He had sharp green eyes, silver threading his dark hair, and a scruffy goatee grown out in the start of his retirement. Usually he'd be a welcome spring of levity. Today, that presence crackled with barely contained fury.
“Close the door,” Jasper said without greeting.
Raoul did so and leaned against the edge of his desk. “Marsh told me you were assigned.”
“Assigned.” Jasper’s voice was low and flat. “I made sure of it. You nearly got yourself killed playing lone hero, and now I am here to make certain you do not finish the job.” He gestured at the files spread across the desk. “I have been through everything. The autopsy. The toxicology. The statements. The locked room.”
“Don't have the witness testimonials I see.”
“Don't get smart with me, son.”
“Just noting an inconsistency with your claim there dad.”
“'Detective' will suffice while we're both on the case. I don't need to hear that, neither does anyone else here need the reminder.”
“Noted.”
Jasper watched Raoul for a few moments, deciding exactly where to start with the mess of a situation they've both found themselves in. “Tell me something, son. Why exactly have you not closed this as a self-inflicted accident or unfortunate allergic reaction weeks ago?”
Raoul kept his expression neutral. “I do not believe Virgil intentionally consumed that tea. The timing, the circumstance. It doesn't add up. I believe Nero is behind it somehow. The threats, the leverage over Violet, the history with the family. It fits.”
Jasper leaned back in the chair, studying his son with the same dissecting gaze he had once turned on suspects. “You believe. Based on what, precisely? The clean toxicology report? The fact that the studio was locked from the inside? The absence of any physical evidence of foul play?” He picked up a report and flipped through it. “Virgil had a known severe allergy to Asteraceae plants. Chamomile belongs to that family. He ordered the tea himself. No one forced him. No tampering found. The EpiPen was missing from his bag, but Violet confirmed he sometimes forgot it. Every thread leads back to the same quiet conclusion.”
Raoul said nothing. He could not mention the real reason he put his life and career on the line. The breadcrumbs Virgil had left only for him, the final wish to protect Violet, and his intent to punish their father. Admitting to his self-involvement would end his involvement in the case entirely.
Jasper set the file down. “Do you suspect Vincent? He found the body. He had access.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Vincent is distant, but not capable of this.”
“Sounds like conjecture, not real evidence son.”
“Conjecture from observations I've made investigating this case. I know a lot more about it than you.”
Jasper fell silent for a short while. He debated weather it was worth pressing the matter, but he chose to let it slide. “And Violet? The last person to see him alive. The one who benefits most from the will.”
Raoul shook his head. “She loved him. They were closer than any of them. She has been tearing herself apart trying to understand what she missed.”
Jasper exhaled sharply, the sound heavy with disappointment. “Exactly. You have not been investigating this case, Raoul. You have been hunting one man. Nero. You latched onto him early and ignored everything that did not support that conclusion. You barely pressed the medical history. You accepted every family statement at face value. That is not how this works. Not how I taught you.”
The words stung more than Raoul expected. He looked away, toward the narrow window that overlooked the parking lot. “I had reasons.”
“You're too closely invested in this case. Either that or I raised a fool.”
“Says more about you than me then, Detective Jasper.” Raoul grumbled under his breath, catching his father's stunned eye. “Oh don't give me that disappointed look while trying to rake me through the coals. I've had a job to do, so I've been doing it as best I can.”
“You had a fixation.” Jasper corrected. “And it nearly cost you your life. We are starting this case from the beginning. Today. Every interview again. Every piece of evidence re-examined. No shortcuts. No personal angles. If Nero is guilty of something in this death, we will find it properly. If not, we close it honestly.”
Raoul met his father’s gaze. The skepticism that had been growing in him since the hospital felt heavier now, reinforced by Jasper’s cold logic.
He couldn't promise he'd do it honestly. He didn't want to promise he'd do it honestly. He had wanted to honor Virgil’s wishes, and getting someone quite as powerful as Nero would get him out of Jasper's shadow if nothing else. He'd made a right mess of things, and he knew there was little he could do to fix it on his own.
“Understood.” he said quietly.
Jasper stood, gathering several folders. “Good. We begin with the café footage and the barista statements. Then we speak to Violet again. And this time, you will listen to what the evidence is actually saying, not what you hope it will say.”
As his father moved toward the door, Raoul touched the bandage over his missing eye. The pain was a steady reminder. Virgil had engineered a drastic finale to the Vale's current chapter. Raoul had lost control of the script.
And he was fraying for it.