"I'm sorry I'm late," Umi says, as she steps into the office of the district attorney.
He isn't there, but Honoka Kousaka is, and that's just as much as Umi feels capable of handling, after the vaguely unsettling and unexpectedly tiring day she's had.
"It's fine, it's fine," Honoka says, waving both hands like it really is nothing. "Come in, sit down, we'll get this taken care of in no time! I just have a few messages to pass along to you, before we move forward with this case."
"Move forward?" Umi asks, taking a few steps further into the room and moving to take the seat she assumes Honoka is indicating for her.
She's dealt with the assistant district attorney a few times before, and all of those experiences were incredibly confusing to her. She's seen Honoka Kousaka in court and she's a whirlwind, doggedly pursuing witnesses and leaving them no place to turn in providing the testimony she wants, while also being incredibly gentle with her own witnesses, walking them through the answers that she knows they are able to give.
But outside of court, Honoka comes off as a bit of a scatterbrained mess, and it's always incredibly frustrating for Umi to sort through the things Honoka tells her without losing her head.
"Yes," Honoka says. "The DA believes this theft is the work of a criminal already involved in a different proceeding, didn't your captain tell you? We need to work fast if we want to consolidate the charges."
"Consolidate... the..." Umi repeats, taking a moment to process. "You mean you want to take someone to court immediately?"
"Well, not immediately," Honoka says, laughing as if that's a funny joke. Umi's expression is still horror-stricken at the very idea of that time table. "But yes, very soon. We need everything you've got as soon as possible so we can tighten our case."
"Everything... We haven't got everything!" Umi exclaims. "We have almost nothing at all, we didn't think we even had a suspect! Or, I didn't think we did, it is beginning to sound as if there has been a serious breakdown in communication between me and my captain."
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Umi regrets them — what if Honoka repeats it, what if her disrespect gets back to Nico? She's berating herself internally for not watching her tongue when Honoka speaks up again.
"Well, of course you do," Honoka says. "Captain Yazawa just told me that you questioned the suspect we've been slowly moving on for months. Just this morning, if I recall correctly?"
That dull rushing is again building behind Umi's ears, like the feeling of air blowing past her at an incredible rate, like the feeling of falling with the ground yanked right out from under her. She questioned the suspect that morning. After the flippant pep-talk Nico gave her, she questioned a suspect without knowing she was a suspect. Eli Ayase is the person the DA's office is considering for the string of art thefts.
"Of course," Umi says, unable to come up with anything else.
In her pocket, she can feel her work phone beginning to buzz.
"So, like I said," Honoka repeats, head tilting and eyes narrowing just slightly, as if Umi has begun to act strangely. "We need all your notes about the gallery, interviews with witnesses, it's the usual business and we've both been here before! But we need it tomorrow. Everything. We need to know that we have a case, because the suspect here is very wealthy, very influential, and if we cannot convince a judge that she is to be held without bail, she is very much a flight risk."
"Of course," Umi says again.
Her thoughts are coming too sluggishly to entirely keep up. Wealthy. Influential. A flight risk. Umi has seen Eli in the papers before, by name at least even if she hadn't recognized the woman's face first thing when she saw her in the interrogation room. She's a philanthropist. A community leader. Umi can feel her heart speeding up in her chest, and can feel her phone continuing to vibrate against her leg.
"I'll be certain to do that," Umi adds.
"In that case!" Honoka says. "We're all wrapped up here. I'll see you — first thing in the morning? How does nine-thirty sound?"
"Nine-thirty is fine," Umi says, without even thinking about it. "I'll collect the case file, and follow up on a few things if I have the time."
"This should go without saying," Honoka says, in that way she always does, telling Umi things she already knows and which feel like overstepping the bounds of an assistant to the district attorney. "But don't contact the suspect again, we don't want her tipped off about the rate at which the investigation is moving."
"Right," Umi says. "Tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow," Honoka agrees.
As Umi steps out of ADA Kousaka's office, her phone — momentarily still and silent for that last minute in the office — again begins to buzz. Reflexively, stiffly, Umi pulls it out of her pocket. She doesn't recognize the number. She slides her finger across the screen to answer it anyway.
"Hello," Umi says into the receiver.
"Hello, detective Sonoda," a warm, familiar voice says back. "Or can I call you Umi? I was thinking, coffee sounds nice. Or, as late as it is, maybe drinks? You did say I could call."
She says it as if this is perfectly ordinary, asking an officer of the law out for drinks, or coffee. Umi supposes it might be, if she hadn't met Eli on the job. She supposes other people must field requests like this on occasion — but she never has, always too busy with school, with the academy, with work, never making time for dating and never really letting anyone get close enough to proposition her.
Umi doesn't know how she would respond to the situation if it were an ordinary request for a date. Let alone a request from the grand larceny suspect she isn't meant to be speaking to.
"I don't think I can do that," Umi says stiffly into the phone.
"Oh, don't tease," Eli jokes in response. "I might not have very much time for outings like this, you know." She leaves a little pause, just long enough to become weighty, significant. "I have a very busy schedule, after all. My work may be taking me out of the country in the near future."
Umi swallows, all of her nerves from the morning returning in the worst way and nearly paralyzing her just outside the building. She feels criminal, knowing who she's speaking to, knowing whose office she has just been inside. Everything has pulled tight inside her chest and it's becoming difficult, drawing the necessary air into her seized-up lungs.
"I'm not teasing," Umi says. "My work keeps me very busy as well."
She remembers, out of nowhere, the way Eli's mouth had smiled that morning during the interview — only the subtlest curl of very pink lips, slow and secretive like the sentiment was reserved only for Umi. She remembers how blue and clear Eli's eyes were, how lovely her delicate, high-cheekboned face. Umi remembers that Eli Ayase is one of the most gorgeous people she's ever spoken to in person in her life, and is very, very aware that this person — beautiful, successful, incredibly wealthy (almost definitely a criminal) is asking for her to go on a date.
"I could make it easy for you," Eli says. "If you'd prefer, I could come by your apartment instead. We could drink tea. Talk about our dreams for the future together."
It sounds incredibly romantic, cozy, more intimate than anything Umi has ever done in her life. It sounds far, far too familiar for a woman who only just met her that morning. Umi is very aware that in some sense, she's being played — but if Eli already has the information about her impending arrest (and from the phrasing of her invitation, Umi is certain that she does) she can't begin to think what Eli wishes to get out of her.
She's also very aware that, from the phrasing of this second offer, Eli must already know where she lives.
She tells herself, very firmly, that the perpetrator behind the string of art thefts has never been shown to be violent. That person was always calm, efficient, the epitome of a cat burglar — in and out fast and clean with no wasted time and no tip-off of the alarms in all the incidents save one. If nothing else, she shouldn't be in any physical danger, having a likely felon drop by her house.
She suddenly becomes aware that her thought process sounds insane.
"I'm not sure," is what she hears herself say. "It isn't a good idea."
But she doesn't know how to salvage her job — if this is her fault, if something she said, either to Eli herself or to Ms. Toujou on the phone, was the thing to tip Eli off and she does flee the country, Umi cannot think of anything she could have done differently. She can't think of anything she can do now to stop Eli from taking whatever actions it is she has planned. She can't, except... Maybe...
"Please?" Eli says, sounding so genuinely entreating.
"I suppose it might not hurt," Umi says. "But I want you to know, I agreed to this with great reluctance. I have work early in the morning, and the precinct is being kept very busy with — well, you won't want to know about that. I shouldn't talk about that. But that is to say, my day has been quite stressful, and I could use the chance to relax."
"I find a warm mug of tea and companionable conversation to be very relaxing," Eli says.
Umi takes a deep breath, tense all over before she makes herself speak, "That's exactly what I was hoping for. I'll see you at — when did you want to visit? I'm out right now, and I'll still need to drive home."
"Well," Eli says. "If it's quarter of nine now, and it'll take you... How long to drive home?"
"Fifteen minutes," Umi says, "give or take."
"Fifteen minutes to drive home," Eli repeats. "Hmm, how about nine-thirty? That gives you a little time to get in, wind down, change if you like. And then we can have our little tea together."
"Nine-thirty is fine," Umi says. "I'll see you then."
"Of course!" Eli says, voice lifting with delight. "Until later."
She hangs up her phone, and exhales the longest breath out her nose before her knees tremble and nearly give and all the tension bound up in her catches up to her nerves at once. She has to lean on the outside of the building, just to keep herself from stumbling to the ground.
An infamous cat burglar (socialite, her brain tells her, paragon of society, philanthropist, wealthy taxpayer, natural beauty) is coming to her house. For tea. And good conversation. Umi is about to host the suspect the DA's office is fighting tirelessly to tack down securely enough that she stays in jail, no bail for her to easily throw money at, no chance of her slipping through their fingers and fleeing the country.
Umi needs to make sure that Eli doesn't flee anywhere. Umi has a plan. It's just convincing one gorgeous, high society lady to stay in the city for the privilege of her company alone — how hard can it be?
Umi walks slowly to her car, thinking about her resume and whether she might be able to transfer to a new line of work, once the chips are all thrown down.
[PART 3/3]
He isn't there, but Honoka Kousaka is, and that's just as much as Umi feels capable of handling, after the vaguely unsettling and unexpectedly tiring day she's had.
"It's fine, it's fine," Honoka says, waving both hands like it really is nothing. "Come in, sit down, we'll get this taken care of in no time! I just have a few messages to pass along to you, before we move forward with this case."
"Move forward?" Umi asks, taking a few steps further into the room and moving to take the seat she assumes Honoka is indicating for her.
She's dealt with the assistant district attorney a few times before, and all of those experiences were incredibly confusing to her. She's seen Honoka Kousaka in court and she's a whirlwind, doggedly pursuing witnesses and leaving them no place to turn in providing the testimony she wants, while also being incredibly gentle with her own witnesses, walking them through the answers that she knows they are able to give.
But outside of court, Honoka comes off as a bit of a scatterbrained mess, and it's always incredibly frustrating for Umi to sort through the things Honoka tells her without losing her head.
"Yes," Honoka says. "The DA believes this theft is the work of a criminal already involved in a different proceeding, didn't your captain tell you? We need to work fast if we want to consolidate the charges."
"Consolidate... the..." Umi repeats, taking a moment to process. "You mean you want to take someone to court immediately?"
"Well, not immediately," Honoka says, laughing as if that's a funny joke. Umi's expression is still horror-stricken at the very idea of that time table. "But yes, very soon. We need everything you've got as soon as possible so we can tighten our case."
"Everything... We haven't got everything!" Umi exclaims. "We have almost nothing at all, we didn't think we even had a suspect! Or, I didn't think we did, it is beginning to sound as if there has been a serious breakdown in communication between me and my captain."
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Umi regrets them — what if Honoka repeats it, what if her disrespect gets back to Nico? She's berating herself internally for not watching her tongue when Honoka speaks up again.
"Well, of course you do," Honoka says. "Captain Yazawa just told me that you questioned the suspect we've been slowly moving on for months. Just this morning, if I recall correctly?"
That dull rushing is again building behind Umi's ears, like the feeling of air blowing past her at an incredible rate, like the feeling of falling with the ground yanked right out from under her. She questioned the suspect that morning. After the flippant pep-talk Nico gave her, she questioned a suspect without knowing she was a suspect. Eli Ayase is the person the DA's office is considering for the string of art thefts.
"Of course," Umi says, unable to come up with anything else.
In her pocket, she can feel her work phone beginning to buzz.
"So, like I said," Honoka repeats, head tilting and eyes narrowing just slightly, as if Umi has begun to act strangely. "We need all your notes about the gallery, interviews with witnesses, it's the usual business and we've both been here before! But we need it tomorrow. Everything. We need to know that we have a case, because the suspect here is very wealthy, very influential, and if we cannot convince a judge that she is to be held without bail, she is very much a flight risk."
"Of course," Umi says again.
Her thoughts are coming too sluggishly to entirely keep up. Wealthy. Influential. A flight risk. Umi has seen Eli in the papers before, by name at least even if she hadn't recognized the woman's face first thing when she saw her in the interrogation room. She's a philanthropist. A community leader. Umi can feel her heart speeding up in her chest, and can feel her phone continuing to vibrate against her leg.
"I'll be certain to do that," Umi adds.
"In that case!" Honoka says. "We're all wrapped up here. I'll see you — first thing in the morning? How does nine-thirty sound?"
"Nine-thirty is fine," Umi says, without even thinking about it. "I'll collect the case file, and follow up on a few things if I have the time."
"This should go without saying," Honoka says, in that way she always does, telling Umi things she already knows and which feel like overstepping the bounds of an assistant to the district attorney. "But don't contact the suspect again, we don't want her tipped off about the rate at which the investigation is moving."
"Right," Umi says. "Tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow," Honoka agrees.
As Umi steps out of ADA Kousaka's office, her phone — momentarily still and silent for that last minute in the office — again begins to buzz. Reflexively, stiffly, Umi pulls it out of her pocket. She doesn't recognize the number. She slides her finger across the screen to answer it anyway.
"Hello," Umi says into the receiver.
"Hello, detective Sonoda," a warm, familiar voice says back. "Or can I call you Umi? I was thinking, coffee sounds nice. Or, as late as it is, maybe drinks? You did say I could call."
She says it as if this is perfectly ordinary, asking an officer of the law out for drinks, or coffee. Umi supposes it might be, if she hadn't met Eli on the job. She supposes other people must field requests like this on occasion — but she never has, always too busy with school, with the academy, with work, never making time for dating and never really letting anyone get close enough to proposition her.
Umi doesn't know how she would respond to the situation if it were an ordinary request for a date. Let alone a request from the grand larceny suspect she isn't meant to be speaking to.
"I don't think I can do that," Umi says stiffly into the phone.
"Oh, don't tease," Eli jokes in response. "I might not have very much time for outings like this, you know." She leaves a little pause, just long enough to become weighty, significant. "I have a very busy schedule, after all. My work may be taking me out of the country in the near future."
Umi swallows, all of her nerves from the morning returning in the worst way and nearly paralyzing her just outside the building. She feels criminal, knowing who she's speaking to, knowing whose office she has just been inside. Everything has pulled tight inside her chest and it's becoming difficult, drawing the necessary air into her seized-up lungs.
"I'm not teasing," Umi says. "My work keeps me very busy as well."
She remembers, out of nowhere, the way Eli's mouth had smiled that morning during the interview — only the subtlest curl of very pink lips, slow and secretive like the sentiment was reserved only for Umi. She remembers how blue and clear Eli's eyes were, how lovely her delicate, high-cheekboned face. Umi remembers that Eli Ayase is one of the most gorgeous people she's ever spoken to in person in her life, and is very, very aware that this person — beautiful, successful, incredibly wealthy (almost definitely a criminal) is asking for her to go on a date.
"I could make it easy for you," Eli says. "If you'd prefer, I could come by your apartment instead. We could drink tea. Talk about our dreams for the future together."
It sounds incredibly romantic, cozy, more intimate than anything Umi has ever done in her life. It sounds far, far too familiar for a woman who only just met her that morning. Umi is very aware that in some sense, she's being played — but if Eli already has the information about her impending arrest (and from the phrasing of her invitation, Umi is certain that she does) she can't begin to think what Eli wishes to get out of her.
She's also very aware that, from the phrasing of this second offer, Eli must already know where she lives.
She tells herself, very firmly, that the perpetrator behind the string of art thefts has never been shown to be violent. That person was always calm, efficient, the epitome of a cat burglar — in and out fast and clean with no wasted time and no tip-off of the alarms in all the incidents save one. If nothing else, she shouldn't be in any physical danger, having a likely felon drop by her house.
She suddenly becomes aware that her thought process sounds insane.
"I'm not sure," is what she hears herself say. "It isn't a good idea."
But she doesn't know how to salvage her job — if this is her fault, if something she said, either to Eli herself or to Ms. Toujou on the phone, was the thing to tip Eli off and she does flee the country, Umi cannot think of anything she could have done differently. She can't think of anything she can do now to stop Eli from taking whatever actions it is she has planned. She can't, except... Maybe...
"Please?" Eli says, sounding so genuinely entreating.
"I suppose it might not hurt," Umi says. "But I want you to know, I agreed to this with great reluctance. I have work early in the morning, and the precinct is being kept very busy with — well, you won't want to know about that. I shouldn't talk about that. But that is to say, my day has been quite stressful, and I could use the chance to relax."
"I find a warm mug of tea and companionable conversation to be very relaxing," Eli says.
Umi takes a deep breath, tense all over before she makes herself speak, "That's exactly what I was hoping for. I'll see you at — when did you want to visit? I'm out right now, and I'll still need to drive home."
"Well," Eli says. "If it's quarter of nine now, and it'll take you... How long to drive home?"
"Fifteen minutes," Umi says, "give or take."
"Fifteen minutes to drive home," Eli repeats. "Hmm, how about nine-thirty? That gives you a little time to get in, wind down, change if you like. And then we can have our little tea together."
"Nine-thirty is fine," Umi says. "I'll see you then."
"Of course!" Eli says, voice lifting with delight. "Until later."
"Until later," Umi repeats, dutifully. "Goodbye, Eli."
She hangs up her phone, and exhales the longest breath out her nose before her knees tremble and nearly give and all the tension bound up in her catches up to her nerves at once. She has to lean on the outside of the building, just to keep herself from stumbling to the ground.
An infamous cat burglar (socialite, her brain tells her, paragon of society, philanthropist, wealthy taxpayer, natural beauty) is coming to her house. For tea. And good conversation. Umi is about to host the suspect the DA's office is fighting tirelessly to tack down securely enough that she stays in jail, no bail for her to easily throw money at, no chance of her slipping through their fingers and fleeing the country.
Umi needs to make sure that Eli doesn't flee anywhere. Umi has a plan. It's just convincing one gorgeous, high society lady to stay in the city for the privilege of her company alone — how hard can it be?
Umi walks slowly to her car, thinking about her resume and whether she might be able to transfer to a new line of work, once the chips are all thrown down.