Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gallows Eve ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Gallows Eve (Part 4)

 

By DRL

 

 

Heero Yuy looked at the watch that adorned his left wrist. 09.08. He had been inside the prison only eight minutes, but already it felt like hours. And Duo Maxwell had been here how long? He deliberately pushed the thought from his mind. Instead he looked down at the wooden table at which he sat, its surface peppered with cigarette burns and etched with names, initials and off-colour slogans carved into it by scores of prisoners, all of whom Heero assumed had been here for the same reason as he now was. The interview room was drab, featureless and thoroughly depressing, with its odour of stale tobacco mixed with Jeyes fluid, and its single bare-bulb light fitting, which hung low over the table, causing a shadow to be cast across the upper portion of the room, adding to the gloom. The only window was a small, square glass pane let into the heavy steel door and this was barred, although for what reason Heero could not fathom since its size was enough to staunch any hope of egress.

 

His gaze darted to the door as he heard the sound of voices outside, and he rose as the door swung open. A uniformed prison guard entered, followed by the person Heero had come here to see, the prisoner Duo Maxwell. Maxwell was dressed in faded blue jeans and a chambray shirt, open at the neck and sleeves loosely rolled. A white tee-shirt could just be glimpsed above the open collar of the shirt and were it not for the fact that Heero was well aware that every other inmate of the prison wore exactly the same outfit, he would have thought it quite a becoming little ensemble. Duo's waist-length, chestnut hair was swept back into its customary braid, and just as they had when Heero had seen him in court, some tendrils of hair had worked loose and hung around his face, framing and softening it. He looked pale, wan, tired and thin, and Heero felt a momentary pang of alarm. He prayed that this ordeal would not get the better of the braided young man before Heero could accomplish his self-appointed task.

 

`Hang in there Duo,' He willed, `Not long now.'

 

“'Ere's yer visitor Maxwell,” The guard said roughly, “Siddown.” He drew a chair out from under the table, scraping its metal legs noisily across the floor. Duo lowered himself down into the chair as he looked intently at the man seated across the table from him. The guard withdrew with visible reluctance, closing and locking the door behind him and imprisoning them both within the dismal cell.

 

“Good morning Duo.” Heero said, smiling gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was not very good at smiles.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Though profane, Duo's retort carried no rancour, only mild curiosity. His voice, though well-modulated, was slightly hoarse, as though this were the first time he had spoken for the morning and his vocal cords were still a little stiff.

 

“I'm here to talk to you about your case.” Heero replied, redoubling his efforts on the reassuring smile. Duo expelled an exasperated breath.

 

“What for?” He said testily, then he narrowed his eyes, sat back in his chair and regarded the Asian man who sat before him. Piercing cobalt-blue eyes, stylishly trimmed, but unruly dark hair, expensively tailored suit, gold cufflinks and a Rolex watch was all there was to see, and Duo drank it all in. “Wait a minute,” He said as he concluded his scrutiny, “I've seen you before. You were at my trial. You kept staring at me.” At this Heero felt the colour rise in his cheeks and his gaze fell to the tabletop. “I wouldn't worry about it,” Duo continued dryly, “You were by no means the only one,” His voice dropped a little, “But at least you didn't look away when I caught your eye.”

 

Heero raised his eyes to meet Duo's again, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had never before seen eyes of such an unusual shade…, or of such alluring beauty. He coughed to clear his throat… and his head before he spoke again.

 

“As I said, I'm here to talk to you about your case.”

 

“And as I said,” Duo replied, once again with no rancour, “What for? You still haven't told me who you are. Are you a policeman?” And for the first time a note of steel entered his voice.

 

“No, not at all.” Heero hastened to reassure him. After all he had recently been through, Duo had no reason to look kindly on the police.

 

“Well what are you then?” Duo asked, his manner noticeably more guarded than previously, “A reporter?”

 

Heero hesitated before giving his answer. He had to tread very carefully if he wanted to win Duo's confidence and trust. After all, he had no official status and Duo was in no way compelled to speak with him. In fact, his very presence in the prison was highly irregular, let alone to be granted a private interview.

 

“I'm…, well you could say I'm an agent, of sorts.” Heero said finally. “I undertake enquiries and investigations on an independent basis. I've taken an interest in your case and I would like to see if I could help you.” Duo sat back in his chair and regarded Heero squarely, head cocked slightly to one side and eyes narrowed, as if assessing what he saw.

 

“You're an agent? What, a federal agent?” He asked with genuine interest.

 

“No,” Heero replied, “Not a federal agent. I told you, I'm not a policeman. I undertake enquiries, but,” He added quickly, forestalling Duo, who had opened his mouth to speak, “I'm not a private detective either. I'm just an interested party who wants to help you.”

 

“And how much is this help going to cost me?” Duo asked caustically, “I'm sure you're not `interested' enough to work for free.”

 

“Actually I am.” Heero said. “I make no charge for my services. I have…, independent means.” Duo raised an eyebrow at this.

 

“And you want to help me? Well I'm sorry Mr…”

 

“Yuy, Heero Yuy.” Heero supplied.

 

“I'm sorry Mr Yuy, but I'm beyond help. You were there in that courtroom during the trial. You heard all the evidence. Hell, if I didn't know better, even I would think I was guilty!” Duo exclaimed with some vehemence, his eyes flashing angrily.

 

“And yet here you sit, as yet un-convicted of any crime.” Heero added quietly. The retort that Duo was about to utter died on his lips as Heero's last words sunk slowly in. His body visibly deflated as his mounting ire cooled and the fight seeped out of him.

 

“I suppose you're right.” He said quietly. “It's just that being in here, one tends to get a little hopeless.” He looked across the table at Heero, and the despair in his violet eyes clawed at Heero's heart and it was with a supreme effort of will that he stopped himself from reaching out and taking Duo's hand in his, just to give the other man a modicum of the reassurance and comfort he so obviously craved.

 

“By rights, I should be under sentence to hang in 14 days,” Duo continued in a low monotone, “But instead I have to wait an indefinite period of time for a new trial date, then I have to go through the whole tortuous fiasco again.” His voice suddenly cracked and his face crumpled. “If they are going to hang me, then why don't they just get on with it? I just want this whole nightmare to be over. I don't think I can bear any more.” He crossed his arms on the tabletop and buried his face, heavy sobs wracking his body.

 

In an instant Heero was out of his seat and at Duo's side. He knelt beside the sobbing young man, took him in his arms and held him close, stroking his hair and murmuring gentle platitudes in an effort to calm him. He heard the rattling of keys and the scrape of metal against metal as the key turned in the lock, and the stern voice of the prison guard rent the air.

 

“Yer not allowed ter touch the prisoner Sir.” He said as he bustled into the room.

 

“For heavens sake man,” Heero hissed, “Can't you see that he's upset? What do you think I am going to do, slip him a file?”

 

“But Sir…” The guard persisted, but Heero turned on him with a baleful glare that halted all further protestation. The surley guard withdrew, pulled the door shut with a dissatisfied clang, and locked it behind him.

 

Heero mentally cursed the man as during the interruption Duo had collected himself and had gently extricated himself from Heero's embrace. Sensing that the moment had passed, he resumed his seat and watched as Duo wiped away his tears with his knuckles. He looked expectantly at Heero with no sign of apology or embarrassment for his breakdown.

 

“So,” He said with a short sniff, “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“Did you kill Zechs Merquise?” Heero asked the question coldly and directly.

 

“No, I did not.” Duo responded equally as strongly.

 

“Do you have any idea who did?”

 

“Yes, I do.” Heero raised a startled eyebrow. He had not expected this. Duo went on to explain the remark. “I think he did it himself. It was just the sort of thing he would do, just to teach me a lesson.”

 

“A pretty harsh lesson.” Heero murmured dryly.

 

“That was Zechs all over, ever one to cut off his nose to spite his face. He was so melodramatic about virtually everything.” Duo spoke the words dispassionately, as if there was no particular fondness in the reminiscence, but no animosity either.

 

“Had he ever threatened to take his life before?” Duo laughed mirthlessly.

 

“Yes, all the time. Whenever his books didn't sell, whenever a horse he'd backed lost at the races, whenever he got a bad review, all the time.”

 

“Did you ever take him seriously?”

 

“No, not even…” Duo hesitated and looked away from Heero, “Not even that last night.”

 

“The night he died?” Duo's gaze swivelled to meet Heero's once more.

 

“Yes.”

 

“He actually threatened to take his own life that night, during your last interview with him?”

 

“Yes.” Duo affirmed. “Not in so many words perhaps, but that's what he meant alright.”

 

“Tell me exactly what happened that evening.”

 

“Okay.” Duo took a deep breath and began. “At around 3.00 in the afternoon I received a note from Zechs asking me to meet with him.”

 

“How exactly did you get the note?” Heero asked.

 

“It came by special messenger. He was told to wait for a reply, so I quickly wrote one out and gave it to him.”

 

“Yes,” Heero nodded briefly in agreement, “both notes were read out in court. You wrote yours on the back of his, and the piece of paper was found in Merquise's pocket after his death. Hmmm, it's a pity he didn't mention killing himself in the note.” He added dryly.

 

“That's what Wuf..., er Mr Chang said.” The braided man agreed. “But no, he did not. All he did was make me look like the bad guy yet again. His note was all desperate and pleading and mine was terse and cold. Prosecuting counsel made quite a meal out of it.”

 

Heero nodded. He remembered. The prosecution had indeed made much of Duo's cool response to his erstwhile lover's heartrending plea for a meeting. He looked at the other man with eyes filled with sympathy, but he continued his questioning in an unemotional, purposeful manner.

 

“You suggested the time of the meeting. Was there any particular reason for your choice of time?”

 

“No, not really.” Duo shrugged, then he gave a short, mirthless laugh. “If you want the honest truth, I chose 9.00 because it was late enough for me to have dinner and clear up, but early enough for me to have him in and out without interfering with my regular bedtime. How calculating is that?” Heero drew his lips into a tight line, which was supposed to indicate a smile.

 

“When was your regular bedtime?” He asked.

 

“Well, now that I'm on my own it's around 10.00. When Zechs and I were together we always went to sleep much later.” Realising that what he had just said could be misconstrued, Duo coloured and quickly added, “Because we were often out late, or had guests round.” Heero nodded. If he noticed Duo's unwitting double entendre he gave no sign.

 

“He arrived on time?”

 

“Bang on time. I knew he would - he was a stickler for punctuality.”

 

“And you let him in?”

 

“Yes. He couldn't have let himself in because I changed the locks when I broke off our relationship; I had to. He refused to give up his key after he left, and I didn't want him wandering in and out of here at will.”

 

“How did he seem?”

 

“If you mean did he seem like a man about to commit suicide, no, I have to admit that he did not. He seemed his usual self, a bit subdued, but that was to be expected, given the circumstances.”

 

“Where did the interview take place?”

 

“In the living room.”

 

“Did you offer him any refreshment?”

 

“Yes, we had coffee.”

 

“Did you offer?”

 

“I told you, we had…” Duo paused, as Heero's words sunk in. “Actually no, he asked.” Duo corrected, “It was he who asked for the coffee, I remember now.” Heero nodded again.

 

“You went to make it?”

 

“Yes,” Duo said, “I went to the kitchen, poured two cups, then I brought them to the living room on a tray.”

 

“You said you poured two cups, you didn't make the coffee?”

 

“No, it was already made. I brewed a fresh pot because I knew Zechs was coming.”

 

“So you were prepared to entertain him?” Heero asked dourly, and the question carried with it a hint of accusation.

 

“No I was not.” Duo replied somewhat defensively. “I did no more than I would have done for any other guest. I always brew a fresh pot of coffee when I am expecting guests. If the coffee is already brewed it saves time, you know, so that they are not kept waiting. I didn't really intend to offer Zechs coffee at all, I was just on auto-pilot that evening, and I did it automatically.”

 

“How long were you out of sight of him?”

 

“Not at all really,” Duo replied, “The kitchen, well I suppose one would call it a kitchenette really, is in sight of the living room. I had to turn my back to him to walk to the kitchen, so I suppose for the time it took me to walk to the kitchen, grab two cups and pour the coffee, I had my back to him.”

 

“So he had an opportunity to take the gun, albeit an extremely brief one.” Heero murmured sotto voce, then a little louder he said, “Mr Maxwell, would you allow me to have a look at your flat, just so that I can get an idea of the lie of the land, as it were?”

 

“Why not?” Duo shrugged. “Have you a piece of paper and a pen? I'll give you the phone number of someone who has the key.” Heero produced the writing materials and Duo scribbled down a name and a phone number in a bold, confident hand. “He's an old friend of Zechs', so take anything he might say about me with a pinch of salt.” Maxwell said this as he wrote, but without acrimony; he was merely stating a fact. He handed the paper to Heero, who took it, folded it and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket without looking at it.

 

“What happened when you brought the coffee?” He asked.

 

“We talked. He started by saying that he was sorry and asked me to forgive him. When I said that I couldn't forgive what he had done, he became angry and then began shouting at me, saying some quite mean and hurtful things. He said that he couldn't see what I was getting so upset about. The fact was that as I had already been living in sin with him for over a year, it was pointless my taking the moral high ground now since my reputation was already in tatters. He said that I might as well stay with him, since no-one else would have me because I was `soiled goods'…” Duo tailed off and looked down at his clasped hands as they lay on the tabletop. His knuckles were white and bloodless, and he controlled his breathing with a visible effort. After a few moments he looked up at Heero and continued his narrative, his voice choked with emotion. “I told him to get out after that. I told him to get out and that I never wanted to see him again, alive or dead. `Don't worry, I'm going' he said, `and don't worry, you never will see me again alive, no-one will'. He went out of the door and I closed it behind him. It was a few seconds later that I heard the shots.”

 

“What did you do then?” Heero asked gently.

 

“I opened the door and ran out to see what had happened. I knew that what I had heard were gunshots.”

 

“What did you see?” Duo swallowed hard before responding.

 

“I saw him..., Zechs. Just lying there.

 

“Did you see anyone else?”

 

`No.” Duo stated with a decisive shake of the head. “I've been over this a thousand times in my head. I didn't see anyone else at all.”

 

“Okay, that's fine. What did you think when you saw Mr Merquise lying in the hall?”

 

“At the time I was incapable of thinking anything rational.” Duo replied in a faraway voice, “The only thing that I remember going through my head was how impossible for him to be laying there on the floor with two holes in his chest, because I had just been talking to him a few seconds ago. It's silly isn't it?” Duo said with a mirthless little laugh. “It's just what people in the movies say when they are told that someone they know is dead. `He can't be, I just saw him yesterday'. Well it's true Mr Yuy, that is exactly what went through my head. It was just so ridiculously surreal, it was almost funny.”

 

“Now I want you to think very carefully Mr Maxwell,” Heero said gravely, “You have already said that you did not see anyone else in the hallway. Did you get the impression at all that there had been anyone else in the hallway?”

 

Duo opened his mouth to speak almost immediately, then closed it again. He appeared to think for a moment, staring blankly at a point somewhere above Heero's head, and when he finally did speak, it was with a note of wonder, tinged with excitement. “Do you know, now that you mention it, I think that there might have been? You know how it is when you are very familiar with a sound. You hear it and you register what it is on a subconscious level, but you don't really think about it, or about having heard it?” He looked at Heero to see if he was following. Heero nodded in acknowledgement and Duo continued. “Well it was like that. I heard something. I knew what it was at the time because it was such an everyday sound, but under the circumstances, I simply put it to the back of my mind and never thought about it again, until now.”

 

“What did you hear?”

 

“I heard the door to the stairwell bang shut.” Duo said. “It is a fire door, and has one of those special hinges that keeps it closed. What I mean is, you can open it, but the hinge slowly pulls the door shut, so that it stays closed all the time, in case of fire. Well the hinge is broken, and instead of closing the door slowly, it pulls it hard and makes it bang shut. It's been like that ever since Zechs and I moved into the flat. Some of the other tenants complained to the landlord about it, but it never really bothered Zechs and I. The fact is, we were near the end of the corridor, so we never got the worst of it. You see, we all have to use the stairs whenever the lifts are out of order, which is almost always, so the door bangs quite a lot. Anyway, I got to know the sound very well and I heard it as I ran out into the hallway. My god, there was someone there, wasn't there?” The excitement in Duo's voice had mounted until he spoke with what could only be described as animation. Heero made no attempt to rein him in. The man needed some hope.

 

“I'd say it was almost a certainty.” He said levelly. “One final question Mr Maxwell, how tall are you?”

 

“How tall am I?” Duo's mouth curled up in the beginnings of a mocking smile at the question, but when he caught sight of Heero's serious, uncompromising stare, his face straightened. “I'm five ten exactly. I know because they measured practically everything about me when I came in here.” He added dryly.

 

“Thank-you Mr Maxwell.” Heero rose, and as he did so the keys scraped in the lock once again and the prison guard entered the room. “If you remember anything more you can contact me via Mr Chang. I have a team of very competent people working on your case, so please try not to worry. You will be out of here soon.” He tried another smile, and by the warm smile that he received in return, he assumed that he had been successful.

 

As he walked out of the heavy metal door let into the lofty, unbroken wall that surrounded the prison precincts, which was the only means of entrance and egress from the institution, Heero breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the cool, fresh mid-morning air. Before getting into his car, he removed the piece of paper on which Duo had written the telephone number from his pocket and looked at it for the first time. As he did so he pulled a tiny cellular phone from the same pocket, pressed a pre-programmed button and held it to his ear. A moment later he spoke into the minute communication device, keeping his voice low, as though he feared he was being overheard.

 

“Trowa? Yes, I've just left. I have a name for you - Treize Kushrenada… Yes, as soon as you can.” He disconnected the call and replaced the phone and the slip of paper into his pocket. As he drove away, the sight of the walled prison in the rear-view mirror of his car, retreating in size as he sped away from it, was the best sight he had seen in many a long while..., well, perhaps the second-best.

 

 

 

 

1