But by the end of the day, Faun did not want to reflect upon the meeting with the two authorities which, mostly was tedious and all about the fact that Monsieur Pierre Reaux was not kept abreast of the ongoing details of the case. It was a wasted hour of listening to and watching him exclaim and strut over the documents and the paper trail of how Sullivan and she and third party had left him in the dust.
It just buried Faun under more stupid nonsense.
Sheila did not see Faun again until after closing time when she handed Faun the cash till,
“What did Inspector Clouseau have to say?—sheeze —you look like you’ve not see daylight in a year! Did you even eat anything all day?”
Faun took the till and quietly started counting the drawer down
Sheila cleared her throat,
“hello?”
Faun looked up in mid count,
“thirty-seven….” her eyes focused on Sheila and for a second or two it seemed she seemed to go blank. Then she said, “I’m sorry …. yeah—Clouseau needs a clue—I don’t want to get into it, he’s an idiot —but, it’s just more stuff they need—paperwork—total waste of my time….sorry…. I can’t believe it’s so late—I never even saw the sun today….sorry I left you out there on the floor all day.”
“It was your day off, and I wasn’t alone, the girls took a shift today —so, the change might be off—“
Faun dropped the pennies back in the coin slot and looked at Sheila—six foot two black trans beauty wearing one of her usual imaginative ensembles, this one involving a red tartan kilt with a matching hat
“Oh…. I didn’t realize ….” Faun again looked blank
“Ill do the till— sweetie, why don’t you go home?”
After about a minute of considering and nervously rearranging the objects of the desk in front of her Faun sighed in defeat,
“yeah….” and stood up and reached without looking for her hand bag and coat but paused by the office door. She looked into the office and back at Sheila, “King Leopold?”
“Oh! We have him—I meant to tell you, can we drop him off tomorrow? Gary and he seemed to have hit it off—“
“So, who dropped him off? Who was the guy?”
“Guy,” Sheila said, “his name —that’s his name—“
“But—“ and yet as Faun wished to press for more info on this little mystery her phone alerted with the dismal tone of Pierre Reaux —asking her to fetch yet one more piece of paperwork —this one from Arthur’s office.
It was awhile before Faun finally arrived back at her place in the freezing cold, fumbling for her key hardly noticing any of her surroundings except for the cold and all the snow and so it was with a start that she looked up from removing her boots inside the entrance via her kitchen, by the door that she noticed ….Grant standing there looking at her —still inside the partition between her place and the other side that lead out to ….the other kitchen and —to salmon sofas
“What….” the words seemed not to come to Faun as she stared up at him
He looked ….terrible ….it was clear he had been traveling but it was not just a look of travel weary, it was something deeper.
He stared at her. His dark hair and face were groomed as usual but something was obviously wrong; he appeared slightly crumpled in his woolen pullover and gray trousers
“Something’s —wrong….” Faun said it looking at him as she carefully approached him in her stocking feet
Slowly his eyes met hers; red veined and tired but it made the green of one of them almost brilliant
“Don’t ask me,” he said and just stared at her. His eyes took a deadly serious look. “Don’t ask,” he said again
Faun took a step back and started to turn away,
“all ri—“ but he reached for her as she started to move away. Faun stumbled and let him steady her as she looked again up at him. She stared into his eyes and said again, “all right ….” as she took a deep breath, “would you like tea?”
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