All Bottled Up

“You know what? I quit.”

The towering ebony man covered in teal and aqua feathers threw his hands up, about faced and got two steps toward the door before he was stopped by the force that was Maggie.

“No no no.” The slender woman put a hand on his chest and he stopped as if facing an impenetrable wall. A second hand joined the first and she steered him back to the desk; gentle taps and soothing cooing noises coaxing him into a chair. He crossed his legs and pouted, but settled into the chair with a theatrical sigh.

“Now. Be a good boy and cooperate with the nice detective.” She patted him fondly on the head, gave me a warning glare and scurried from the room.

“Hello, Mason.” I reached across the table, offering my right hand to the muscular man. In these situations, I usually receive a firm handshake. I was not prepared for my hand to be swallowed gently by his giant fingers, bent over and kissed as if I was a Victorian lady. Did I blush? Maybe, but I’d never admit it, hardened detective that I am.

“I’m sorry miss,” he said, his voice soft velvet. “How can I help you?”

Non flustered (no really! I'm a professional) , I removed my hand from his and laid it on my lap where I tried to ignore the spot that still tingled from where his lips had met my skin.

“I am here to investigate,” I double checked my notes ,”one Lucille Hammond. Are you aware of her whereabouts?” At the mention of the young woman I was sent to investigate, his countenance changed, softening. He looked less like a squirrel caught plundering a bird feeder and settled into a persona more like the majestic peacock his feathers portrayed.

“Oh Miss Lucy! Of course I know where she is.” He beamed at me, perfect white teeth dazzling against his glossy black lips. He shot up from the chair, clapping his hands. “Come, I can take you to her!”

I admit at this moment I was somewhat baffled. I had been paid a pretty sum to investigate this young woman, and if he knew where she was, then case closed? Instinct and years of experience told me it was never this easy. I rose and came around the table. He hooked an elbow through mine and guided me out of the room.

The hall was filled with models in the outlandish fashion of the outer moons. Filmy tops. Chain studded bottoms. Everything covered in feathers. Makeup artists crouched before their masterpieces adding flourishes and final touches. Models leaned against the wall gossiping and waiting for their turn to hit the runway. Hands were raised in warm greeting to the man on my arm; suspicious glances were thrown my way.

“May I present Miss Lucy.” Mason threw an arm out theatrically as we entered the break room, gesturing at the heavy wooden table in the center of the room. I eyed the table suspiciously wondering if Lucy was slated to walk the runway dressed as a table. I extricated my arm from that of the large feathered man and made a circuit around the table.

“No silly! She’s in here.” Mason flicked a finger against a wine bottle in the center of the table. I bent down, nose almost touching the translucent green glass. Miss Lucy banged furiously from inside the bottle. I’d seen strange things in my line of work, but this was a first. I took a second to smooth the initial incredulity from my face, then straightened up and faced Mason.

“Am I supposed to be investigating who did this to her?” The closest case I'd ever had to an incredible shrinking woman was that one time the crown prince of Titan had been turned into a frog. His younger sister had read the frog prince and contracted one of the moon’s bio engineers to literally recreate the story for her. Once the royal family found out what had happened to him, it was simple to turn him back. But that had been a tense week.

Mason giggled. “No. We know who did that! Perry Lorenzo shrank her and put her in the bottle.” Mason wiggled his fingers at Lucy, who’d given up banging on the glass and had sunk cross-legged to the bottom of the bottle, her chin in her hands. She was dressed in feathers matching Mason’s.

“I’m not investigating where she is, nor who did this to her. Am I supposed to find Perry?” I asked genuinely confused.

“Perry died.” Mason’s demeanor changed again, the bubbly exterior solemn in an instant.

“Am I supposed to find out who killed him?”

Mason laughed. “No silly! Martin the Bee killed him. He was sleeping with Martin’s wife!”

“Then I'm confused. What am I supposed to be investigating?”

Mason narrowed his eyes at me and bent down to examine my face intensely before answering,

“Well don’t you just inspire confidence in your investigative abilities?” I smiled my most saccharine smile at him and bent to look at Miss Licy pouting in her makeshift jail.

A short round woman in a fairy costume joined us at the table, wielding a tray with an assortment of tiny objects. Ignoring Mason and myself, she proceeded to fold a tiny bit of paper into a cup and fill it with bits of raspberry. She attached this to a children’s fishing pole and lowered it into the wine bottle where Lucy promptly unhooked it and began popping raspberry bits into her mouth. The fairy woman then replaced the paper cup with a second filled with water. Into the wine bottle it went.

“Has anyone considered letting Lucy out of the wine bottle?”

“Oh, we can't do that. We don't know why Perry put her in there to begin with. She could be dangerous.” I looked again at the tiny woman in the crumpled feathers with raspberry smeared across her chin. Dangerous was not the first word that came to mind to describe Miss Lucy.

“Did you know Perry and Martin?” I asked the fairy.

“Not well. Us models don’t typically mix with the sponsors.” She shrugged and shook her head, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle wafting from her tresses.

“Do you have any idea why Perry might have put her in there, or why she might be dangerous?” The woman shook her head again. Mason took a step toward the door, but I put a hand on his arm. “Where are you going, Mason?”

He froze, and sighed. “I know she was my partner, but she isn't exactly the nicest person in the show. She called me dumb and made fun of me. She can stay in the bottle for all I care.” He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the table. “If Perry shrank her and put her in the bottle, she probably deserved it.”

It was good information, Lucy was not liked by her peers. But what was her relationship to Perry? And why was no one concerned that Perry had been murdered?

I wrote my observations of Lucy in the bottle, the words of the fairy lady, and the sentiments of Mason in my notebook then took Mason’s arm and headed back into the hall.

He lead me down a corridor dotted with dressing rooms and bright lights. Every inch was choked with busy people, hanging costumes, and scurrying robots. The rings of Saturn glittered through the glass ceiling, the black of space a beautiful backdrop.

Mason stopped before a woman with faintly green skin, her slitted yellow eyes unusual, but not as striking as some I’d encountered in the Outer moons of Pluto. She was beautiful in an exotic way, graceful even with a second set of arms.

“Ranella, nice to meet you miss?” She extended a hand, the lower right of the quad. I shook, noting the iciness of her skin.

“I’m Detective Fillion, investigating the odd circumstances of Miss Lucy.” I presented her with my badge and she took a cursory glance.

“I assume you want to talk to me because I was married to that rat bastard Martin?” she asked.

Taken aback by the implications of her statement, I hesitated a moment.

“You were sleeping with Perry? And your husband killed him?” She must have picked up on the stricken look on my face.

“Oh honey, I don't care what happens to either of them. Perry is the richest man on Saturn’s moons and Martin won me in a poker tournament. It was all business for me. They can both rot in hell.”

I nodded, still shocked at this development.

“She was blackmailing Perry,” came a smooth voice from behind me. Maggie straightened Ranella’s top, oblivious to the bombshell she’d just dropped.

“If she was blackmailing Perry, doesn't it make sense that might have been the reason he shrank her and stuck her in a wine bottle?” Three pairs of eyes locked on me. Confusion then realization washed across their faces. I hadn't expected to find rocket scientists amid the elite models of Saturn’s largest fashion show, but this? This was ludicrous. Why was I even here?

“Mason, you were right to begin with.” I turned on my heel and threw one nasty look over my shoulder as I exited this mad house. “You know what? I quit.”