Chapter Text
Date: January 7, 2183
Time: 07:56
Location: C-Sec
Garrus ran a hand over his new rifle, an Equalizer X from Haliat. It was one of the best turian made sniper rifles, and it was now his. It was a gift for his promotion—or, it at least felt like one. He got to choose his new weapons within the weapon stipend allotted for his promotion. There were plenty of pistols, assault rifles, shotguns, but what he wanted was the perfect sniper rifle. When the credits appeared in his account, he already knew what a majority of them were going towards. Its white body was accentuated by a black stock, grip, and barrel. She was beautiful, and she was his.
He set the rifle in his armor locker with a clink and closed the door to find Chellick standing there.
“Spirits,” Garrus said with a jump. “Don’t sneak up on a man admiring his new gun.”
“Officer training one oh one: always be prepared.” Chellick laughed and slapped a hand on his back. “Excited for your first day?”
Garrus scoffed. “I’ve been here for four years. This is hardly what I’d call a first day.”
“You know what I mean.” Chellick turned and started towards the exit and Garrus followed up the stairs that led to the central hub of C-Sec.
“I’ve been watching you do this for how long? The cases may change, but the work is still the same.”
Garrus began his work at C-Sec at twenty-four, following in the footsteps of his father, after serving nearly six years with the turian military. Being an officer with C-Sec had its perks, especially when he met Chellick, but he quickly learned that galactic politics, C-Sec, and their methods of justice didn’t always fall in line with what he learned in the military.
“Well, perhaps you’ll feel differently now that you’re the one leading the investigations instead of following orders.” He gave Garrus a quick glance. “You kind of suck at orders.”
As they walked towards the stairs leading up to the second floor, Executor Pallin came from around the corner, and Garrus and Chellick both stopped inches short of running into him. Pallin’s mandibles flattened against his face.
Both Garrus and Chellick stood as straight as they could. “Good morning, sir,” they said in unintended unison.
“Detectives,” Pallin said with a stiff nod. “Questions before you begin your first day, Vakarian?”
Chellick stifled a laugh. In any other scenario, Garrus would have given him a quick jab in the side.
“Yes, sir. Last I saw, there were two empty offices on the second floor. Which do I take?”
“Take the first on the left. I’m putting the new detective that’s coming to us in a few days between you both. I’m not expecting much, so I will need you two to show her how we do things around here.”
“Understood. Thank you, sir.”
Pallin walked around them, and the two headed up to the offices.
“New detective?” Garrus asked as the bright florescent light illuminated the room upon their entrance. It was a touch brighter than he would have liked, but he could fix that, probably install some dimmers.
“Do you ever check your messages? Pallin sent out a C-Sec wide message about her yesterday.” Chellick plopped himself down on a chair across from Garrus and slung his arm around its back. He always made himself comfortable wherever he was.
“Her?” New detective was fascinating enough, but a female detective wasn’t common. In fact, their sector had but one female detective and she was gone before Garrus started.
“Check you messages, go on.” He pointed towards the terminal.
Garrus took his seat at the desk and as he waited for the login to clear, he looked around at the office. His office. The metal walls were off white, almost dingy, the light, besides being too bright, cast a glow that was a hair too sterile, and it was empty other than the desk, chairs at the desk, one storage cabinet against the wall on the right, and a large potted plant on either side of the closed door. It was plain, waiting for him to leave his mark, which wouldn’t be too much—that wasn’t his style, not at work, anyway—but after four years, he was glad to have an office all his own. He earned this.
The terminal sounded the login confirmation. Garrus opened the extranet, navigating the browser to his messages. Sure enough, as Chellick said, a message from Pallin came through early yesterday afternoon. He wasn’t one to check his messages on a day off.
He hovered over the message, enlarging it to fill the screen. It read:
To: [email protected], chellick.f…[+52 more]
From: [email protected]
Date: 01.06.83
Time: 15:37
Subject: New Detective
To Zakera C-Sec Detective Personnel:
C-Sec will receive its first human detective by appointment of the Council. Our newest detective will join us on 1/10. While unorthodox, I am assured it serves a greater purpose to the galactic community, and that she is exemplary of what humanity offers. Her arrival will change none of the work current personnel are doing, though she will be assigned to work with two current detectives that are to be determined.
Pallin
Garrus scanned over the message again, making sure he read Pallin’s words correctly. He looked at Chellick, brow plates drawn together. “Is this for real? Pallin hates humans.”
“He doesn’t hate them, just doesn’t trust them,” Chellick corrected. “Besides, you seem to have no issues with them. How’s Jenna?”
“You know it’s not like that.”
“You’re right. I just like to poke fun at it. But, if you ever get curious…”
“I won’t.”
“Whatever you say,” he said in a singsong voice, mandibles fluttering. The smug bastard.
Garrus pressed his mouth plates shut, mandibles flattened against his face. Desperately wanting to change the subject, he said, “so, about our new detective. We’ll be the ones babysitting her?”
“Yeah, I doubt we’ll be doing much babysitting.”
“Oh? Do you know anything about her?”
“Not too much. No name, so I couldn’t do an extranet search, but I overheard the conversation between Pallin and Sparatus. She’s some big Alliance hot shot, currently grounded after her most recent mission. From what Sparatus said, he believes she’s good. Pallin was less convinced. So, yeah. That message is bullshit, but I think his hands are tied in the matter.”
Garrus carefully considered what Chellick shared. He always seemed to get the best tidbits from overhearing other’s conversations both in and out of C-Sec. It’s part of what made him an excellent detective on the job, and an ass outside of it.
“If they grounded her, something must have gone wrong. Why would they want her in C-Sec?” Garrus asked.
“I suppose it didn’t go wrong enough that she wouldn’t be considered ‘exemplary of what humanity has to offer.’” He mocked Pallin’s tone, making Garrus chuckle. “I’m guessing we can trust her to be competent. If the turian military taught us anything, it’s that we can’t underestimate humans. Especially after First Contact.”
“I suppose you’re right. Guess we’ll have to wait and see. I don’t imagine too many of the officers are going to be pleased with this.”
“No. Especially Harkin.” Chellick’s expression was grim. “But that’s a problem for later. Maybe he’ll play nice.”
Garrus doubted Harkin would or could play nice. Ever since Garrus met him during his early days at C-Sec, Harkin always had a chip on his shoulder, thinking Pallin intended to limit human involvement at C-Sec. The truth was, Harkin enjoyed the bottle more than his job. Perhaps he’d have been made the first human detective if he focused more on doing his job well. Humanity was still a new player in an already crowded galactic community, and even without the complication of Harkin, there were still plenty of qualified officers itching to make detective.
“Today, we’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Chellick said.
“Fish to fry?” Garrus repeated, the expression lost on him.
“Oh, it means we’ve got bigger issues to worry about.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “When I found out a human was joining Investigations, I took some time to learn a few common human phrases used among their law enforcement ranks. If their military is anything like the turian military and C-Sec, there’s a lot of crossover.“
Garrus gave him a blank stare. Overachiever. “Okay. So what fish are we frying?”
“Yeah, they don’t respond like that.”
When Chellick was serious, sarcasm was lost on him. Garrus massaged his tense brow. He glanced at the time on his terminal screen. Somehow, they only made it twenty minutes into his not-first day. “Tell me about the case.”
Chellick pulled up his omni-tool, and in a few seconds, Garrus received a new message. He opened the attached file and looked over the preliminary info. Shock contorted the plates of his face into harsh lines..
“Hell of a way to start your first day, I know. Keep reading over the case. Come see me after lunch. We have a few leads to check out.”
Garrus nodded, eyes glued to the screen. Alone in his office, he read over the details multiple times. The victim’s girlfriend had come into C-Sec nearly two weeks ago to report her boyfriend missing, a batarian named Cogan Seskechar. Last week, someone found a body in the lower wards. After calling his girlfriend back in, they positively identified the body as that of Seskechar. Only twenty-six years old. Garrus shivered at that detail.
The autopsy performed revealed his insides were a mess. He had a missing kidney, but that alone wasn’t cause for concern. Nestled beside two of his organs were smaller versions of each organ, as well as places on his abdomen and chest where it was apparent someone had cut him into many times. This was the work of organ traffickers on the Citadel, something C-Sec thought of as a lower wards bogeyman. It existed, but it wasn’t often seen or dealt with.
During his time working under Chellick, he often internalized the gritty details of the lives of victims in cases he was on; it was hard not to. It crossed his mind—what if Garrus’ own life had ended two years prior, at the same age as the victim?
Garrus skimmed the details under the ‘suspects’ heading for the third time. They marked all information as unknown with location labeled ‘at large.’ Hell of a way to start his not-first day, for sure. Two days ago, he was just an officer, privy to details passed down to him by Chellick. Today, he was one of two detectives on a murder case.
He shook the idea from his mind. A few hours was more than enough time to familiarize himself with the case and the information they had, which was quite limited. If this was his only task until after lunch, Garrus would have some time to kill. He opened another extranet tab and typed in ‘human military,’ and checked out the top results, including an extrapedia entry on the Systems Alliance military. Garrus backed out of extrapedia and went to the next entry on the list, a new article titled “Shockwaves of Torfan Still Felt by Families of Fallen.”
The article began with an image of a soldier in bed, tubes surrounding his damaged body. Unfamiliar with human medicine, had the picture been shown to him without the context of the article, Garrus might not have known for certain he was looking at a human. Most of his body was bandaged, and what wasn’t bandaged appeared horribly discolored or had medical equipment extruding from it connecting him to the machines that surrounded him. The sight chilled him to his core, bringing back familiar memories he preferred to keep hidden in the recesses of his mind.
As the article continued, Garrus stopped on the next image. A young woman looked back at him. Dressed head to toe in dark blue with gold accents at the shoulders and sides of her torso, she stood between two older men. In her hands was a navy blue ribbon with a gold star-shaped medal hanging from its end. Each of the men on either side of her smiled a thin, hard line, but she stared forward with a stoic look. There was no happiness or displeasure apparent, only a dignified soldier. She stood out, unique compared to most of the humans he saw on the Citadel, with bright green eyes, short red fringe that was messy, and freckles smattered across her face. The caption under the photo read:
Commander Jane Shepard (middle) accepting the Star of Terra from Admiral Steven Hackett (left) and Captain David Anderson. Her heroic actions saved the colony of Elysium from a surprise attack by batarian slavers in 2177.
The rest of the article denoted the impact of Torfan, the slaver casualties at the hands of Shepard and her unit, as well as the losses they suffered. There were quotes from family members of the deceased, but the last word was from Shepard.
In a question from the reporter regarding her actions and the consequences, she said: “We followed our orders. Every soldier knows the risks. What matters is that the job was done. I only wish the cost on our side wasn’t so great. My heart goes out to the loved ones of those that perished. I hope they know the sacrifice was not in vain.”
Garrus carefully considered the words, a stark comparison to the image above depicting a distinguished soldier, a war hero just years prior—still a war hero if the turian way of doing things was considered. He could see exactly what Sparatus saw in such a person and thought Pallin might like her too if she wasn’t human. As soft as humans were, this article highlighted a unique side of humanity that Garrus hadn’t experienced himself; ruthlessness. He couldn’t say he disagreed with Shepard’s assessment of Torfan, though he wasn’t there. Others quoted prior to her in the article didn’t seem to feel the same way about her decisions, but Garrus could understand it completely and still say he’d have made the same decision in her shoes.
He perused through a few more extranet links before re-evaluating the case file from Chellick. He thought to himself as he looked over Seskechar’s case that perhaps a human detective with military experience wouldn’t be a bad addition to C-Sec. Maybe, if they were anything like Shepard, they might even get along.
Date: January 7, 2183
Time: 13:32
Location: Lower Zakera Ward
Garrus walked in stride with Chellick as they made their way to Z’Lago Fabrications, one of the largest employers on Zakera and certainly the largest in lower Zakera. They produced a lot of the metal parts that were used to repair frameworks on the Citadel and sometimes shipped elsewhere in the galaxy as needed. The surrounding area of Z’Lago was slummy for blocks out, and the air was heavy with a metallic odor as they neared the building’s entrance where two armed guards stood.
The complex was a large box, only a few floors high. Tinted windows lined the gray metal walls at each floor, circling the building. Of all the buildings within a few blocks, this was both the simplest and the most well kept, unfitting of the lower wards in its upkeep but not its aesthetic.
Seeing it made Garrus’ stomach churn. Though he was fortunate enough to grow up in an esteemed turian family, he never believed in having a few at the top holding all the cards. When it came to the ultra-wealthy of the Citadel, Hajat Z’Lago was towards the top.
“Stop,” one of the armed guards said, extending the butt of his rifle to caution the detectives with a blow to the chest if they disobeyed. “What business do you have here?”
Chellick pulled a badge from the pocket of his armor. “Detective Chellick from Citadel Security, and this is my partner, Detective Vakarian.”
Garrus pulled his own badge out, annoyed as he flashed it to the guard before tucking it away once more. “We have a few questions for Hajat Z’Lago regarding a former employee of his. He should be expecting us.”
The guard radioed someone in the building, muttering something Garrus could barely hear, and he wasn’t sure how the person on the other end could understand what was just said, either.
“You’re cleared. Go straight in through these doors, take the first left. The elevator at the end of the hall will take you up. Mr. Z’Lago’s office is on the third floor. His secretary, Nokana, will help you from there.”
“Thank you,” Chellick said, his flanged voice exuding charm Garrus couldn't muster on the job, much less for the likes of these guards.
The guard who did the talking grunted and let them pass.
Chellick’s style contrasted from Garrus’ across the board—this brief interaction showcased it. Somehow, the opposites worked well together. It could have been the camaraderie that came naturally in turian culture, but he assumed it had more to do with the drinks they shared at Flux and Chora’s Den many nights after a rough day’s work.
The interior of Z’Lago Fabrications was like its outside; simple. Though the bright white lights overhead added a sterile quality to the building. The entry way wasn’t all too grand, but it was large, spanning all three floors of the building. A mural hung opposite the doorway, taking up most of the wall. It depicted a group of batarian miners on what he assumed to be Aratoht, the metal rich batarian planet. While the metal work done on the Citadel wasn’t primarily done with materials mined on Aratoht, it wouldn’t surprise him if the Z’Lago himself was from a batarian mining family, and one of the successful ones at that. With what little he knew of batarians, he knew they took pride in that part of their history and how materials from their world took shape as various buildings and structures in many major cities across the galaxy.
Chellick and Garrus followed the directions given by the guard: first left, elevator, third floor. The whole path maintained the simple gray color scheme of the exterior, though the metal panels of the walls occasionally had white accents. Other than that, it was much of the same.
Garrus suddenly appreciated the small accents of greenery throughout C-Sec a little more.
When the elevator door opened, a petite asari greeted them from behind a large white desk. “Detectives?” she asked, her voice sweet. “I’m Nokana. Mr. Z’Lago is on a vidcom right now, but he’ll see you once it’s over.”
“Any idea when that will be?” Garrus asked.
“He didn’t say, but I’m sure he doesn’t intend to make you wait for too long.” Nokana waved her arm towards the empty row of seats to the sides of the room. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”
“Thank you, Nokana,” Chellick said, mandibles flaring in a turian smile.
Garrus stifled the chuckle he felt rise in his throat. If there was one thing Chellick turned the charm up to ten for, even if he didn’t notice it himself, it was a pretty woman.
They sat and waited, the large blank room quiet except for the occasional impatient sigh from Garrus and the clacking of Nokana at her terminal. There wasn’t much in the room to take in with their backs were to the window. During his time as an officer, he spent many long days working in all parts of Zakera Ward. It had a distinct culture that didn’t exist to the same degree in the other wards. Even the slums to their backs had more flavor than the perfectly kept room before them. Every part of the building they experienced was a bland, from the outside to the inside, save for the mural they saw upon entering.
Garrus shook his arm and looked down at his omni-tool. They’d waited twenty minutes so far. Not too bad, all things considered, but he was feeling antsy thinking about the case, and wondering about the new detective they would be meeting. He spent more time that he’d like to admit thinking about who this mystery person might be.
Chellick picked up on his partner’s restlessness. “Something up with you?” he asked.
Garrus looked at Nokana, who remained focused on her work as if they weren’t there. “Big case is all.”
Before Chellick could respond, Nokana spoke up, letting them know Z’Lago was ready to see them.
Chellick gave the asari a nod of thanks as he rose and Garrus followed suit, happy to let Chellick hold the reins.
Z’Lago’s office contrasted with everything else in the building they saw. The walls were still gray metal, but there was art. Plants were at either side of his door, similar to Garrus’ own office, but the deep jade green leaves also had magenta hued flowers with light pink centers. Z’Lago’s desk was an ornate wooden executive style, deep brown with an animal carved into the front that Garrus hadn’t seen before. The animal’s expression was ferocious, its mouth open in a snarling roar with sharp teeth on full display. A head of the same animal was mounted on the wall behind Z’Lago.
Behind the desk was Hajat Z’Lago, a middle-aged batarian. Half of Z’Lago’s grayish face was scarred with vertical lines, from his forehead and down past his jaw to part of his neck. Garrus’ eyes scanned the lines that covered Z’Lago’s face as they approached his desk, all men quiet until seated.
“It’s a Jeskari,” Z’Lago said, his deep voice tinged with an accent Garrus couldn’t place.
“Pardon?” Garrus asked.
“The animal carved into this desk, the same animal that gave me these scars.” He pointed to his face and leaned back into his plush, high-backed seat. “Have you ever heard of the human lion?”
“Heard of, sure, but I’ve only ever seen one on the extranet,” Chellick said.
Z’Lago looked to Garrus for his answer.
“No.”
“Ah.” Z’Lago steepled his fingers across his chest, his smile revealing two parted rows of sharp teeth that would interlock when his mouth closed, different from that of the carved Jeskari only in size. “When I turned seventeen, my family visited Earth. In addition to mining, the Z’Lago family hunted. On Earth, the lion is humanity’s version of the Jeskari. That was my first up close experience with an apex predator, and the first time I shot one. The second time was when I got this scar, and that trophy.” Z’Lago pointed above his head to the mounted Jeskari that hung on the wall.
Garrus pressed his mouth plates together, mandibles held tight against his jaw. “Charming.”
“I still have the lion’s head too, but that one I keep at home. The Jeskari stays here to remind those that meet me of who I am.”
“And who is that?” Garrus asked, looking Z’Lago dead in the eye.
“The boss.”
Chellick cleared his throat, but Z’Lago maintained his stare, and Garrus didn’t back down, either. “Mr. Z’Lago, thank you for taking the time to meet with us. We’re here to ask you a few questions about an employee of yours that was reported missing a few weeks ago—Cogan Seskechar.”
“What about him?” Z’Lago asked.
Garrus picked up for Chellick. “Seskechar’s girlfriend reported him missing just over two weeks ago. A week later we had a body, and just two days ago we got positive ID that the remains were that of Seskechar.” Garrus pulled a datapad from his pocket. “We’d like to know if you noticed any strange behavior from him leading up to his disappearance, prior to two weeks ago?”
“None at all.” Z’Lago said, his voice calm and even. “But I am not as familiar with all of my floor workers. The men down there could give you better information, I’m sure.”
Garrus took notes of Z’Lago’s responses as Chellick continued the questioning. Every answer came immediately after the question was asked and gave them nearly no new information to go off of.
“Mind if we go have a chat with some of the workers on the floor right now?” Garrus asked, sliding the datapad back into the large side pocket on the thigh of his armor.
“Please do.” Z’Lago pressed a button and directed Nokana to come retrieve the detectives and show them to the fabrications floor.
Nokana appeared at the door behind them.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Z’Lago,” Chellick said as they left the room.
“It was my pleasure, Detective Chellick and Detective Vakarian.”
Vakarian came out of Z’Lago’s mouth with an unwanted weight that made Garrus’ stomach flip.
Both were silent until they got into the elevator to follow Nokana’s directions to the fabrication floor—back to the building’s entrance, take the right hallway instead of the left, and walk straight down and hang a left.
“That man will remember you,” Chellick said. He shook his head as he let out a low chuckle.
“Good.” When the elevator doors slid open, Garrus exited first. He strode away, wanting to get as far away from the interaction with Z’Lago as he could.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s good,” Chellick said as he jogged to catch up.
As they neared the fabrication floor, the scent of hot metal wafted towards them from the extra large sliding door. It was a more intense version of the scent the caught as they neared the building.
“According to the details from Seskechar’s girlfriend, his best friend also works here. We’re looking for a human named Murphy,” Chellick said.
Garrus recalled that detail from the case file. No listed first or last name, just ‘Murphy.’
The smell increased tenfold when they entered the work floor. The massive room encompassed all three floors of the building. On the floor, workers stood around large tables, operating machinery Garrus had never seen before. Sparks flew from some pieces of metal being worked on.
“Hold up there, gentlemen.” A tall, thin man stopped them and lifted his welding hood to reveal a worn and sweaty face, brown eyes, and a messy crop of dark hair with streaks of white. Human. “Sure you’re in the right place here?” He looked over Garrus and Chellick in their full armor minus helmets as he set down his welding torch.
Chellick pulled out his badge. "Detective Chellick, C-Sec.” He waved a hand towards Garrus. “And this is my partner, Detective Vakarian.”
Garrus flashed his badge.
“Huh. Okay.” He ran a hand down the short, dark beard the framed his jaw. “How can I help you?”
“Well, you can start by telling us where we can find Murphy.” Garrus said. “A friend of his and former Z’Lago employee, Cogan Seskechar, was reported missing a couple weeks back and has since turned up dead. We have a few questions for him.”
His eyes widened and his cheeks puffed as he blew a sharp breath from his mouth. “Shit. Sure. Murphy is here today. Wait in the office and I’ll go get him.” The worker showed them into a small room behind them. The one sided window let them see as he retrieved Murphy.
Garrus looked around the office, spinning back to the window once he took it in—just as empty as the rest of the building. It was strange. He couldn’t wait to get out of the place. There was a distinct unwelcome feeling to the emptiness, or perhaps it was just that they were two detectives in the slums of Zakera inquiring about a potential homicide.
Another man walked towards the office. He was broader than the first man they spoke to, though the welding helmet still covered his face. He was tall for a human, though shorter than Garrus and Chellick.
He entered the office, lifting his welding helmet up to reveal tan skin with brown eyes and light hair. Smooth skin revealed an age younger than that of the first man they spoke with.
“How can I help you guys?” Murphy asked, his deep voice deep and indistinct. From what he expected from humans, Murphy didn’t stand out in the crowd.
“Hello, Murphy.” They did their usual routine of names, badges, then getting down to business. “We have a few questions for you about your friend Cogan Seskechar.” Chellick said.
Murphy’s posture stiffened and his jaw tensed. There was a gulp and the bobbing of a lump from the center of his throat. Seeing those things move on humans always made Garrus uncomfortable.
Working at C-Sec provided Garrus with the opportunity to learn different things about the various species that lived on the Citadel. He learned common tells, certain expressions and mannerisms. Given the situation, he could tell Murphy was stressed, but Garrus looked forward to what more he might learn about human expressions, mannerisms, and tells when the Alliance soldier started.
“You okay there, Murphy?” Garrus asked.
Murphy shut his eyes tightly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Not here,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Keep your voice down. Cogan wasn’t the only one. I can tell you what you want to know, just… not here.”
Garrus nodded, looking around the room. No noticeable cameras, no one immediately outside the door, and no one near enough that they could possibly hear whatever he wanted to share. Still, he accepted Murphy’s response. If he wanted to talk, they could bend a little to get the information they needed.
Chellick spoke up. “You know Chora’s Den?”
Murphy nodded.
“You go there tonight, say nineteen hundred. It’s a great place to get a drink, relax.” Chellick lowered his gaze to Murphy’s, his brow plates drawn up suggestion.
Murphy nodded again, picking up on the suggestion. “Just a drink after work.”
“Exactly.” They thanked Murphy for his time and let him leave.
When they were done with Murphy, Garrus was all too thankful to leave. They headed out of the lower part of Zakera and back towards C-Sec to finish the day. It flew by knowing he’d be going to Chora’s after. He grabbed a skycar when his shift was over to get there earlier than needed. Chora’s den was dim and seedy, but it was a reliable spot to get info and casually listen in on conversations without being noticed. Besides that, their main informant, Jenna, worked there. Garrus had grown to respect her in the brief time since they met. Even though the work was dangerous, she did her job and got them many helpful tips over the past several months, which helped to solve several low stakes cases. But what he and Chellick would task her with now carried greater risk.
Garrus took his usual seat at Jenna’s booth. Chellick hadn’t arrived yet; they never arrived at the same time and often went on different days. Even though Chora’s was more fun than Flux, visits there often meant work, and where C-Sec was involved, he needed to be discreet.
An asari with red facial markings across her forehead and down her nose walked by, stopping next to Garrus and pressing a delicate hand to his shoulder. “Hey there, sugar,” she asked, her voice hoarse. She swung around to stand in front of him, her plum jumpsuit’s chest cut out, exposing ample cleavage at eye level. “Interested in a dance?” She smiled big. The dimples on each cheek and poor lighting made her look more youthful than she probably was.
“I got this one,” Jenna said, stepping on the platform before Garrus.
The asari turned and muttered something to Jenna before giving Garrus a smile and walking to the next unattended patron.
Jenna began moving her body against the wall behind the platform, her back to Garrus as she peaked over her shoulder and gave him a seductive smile. It was all business, and he felt nothing other than friendship and respect for Jenna, but he had to admit she was good at her job. Sometimes, she showed him what was enticing about humans, even if he himself wasn’t enticed.
“How’s it going?” she asked as she swayed her hips to the beat of the synthetic music.
“New case.” Garrus trained his gaze on her. The fluid movements of her body weren’t hard to pay attention to, even if the interest wasn’t the same as the other men who paid her for a dance. “You should receive the details by the time you’re off tonight.”
With Jenna as their informant inside Chora’s Den, they arranged a secure line of communication on Jenna’s omni-tool. Messages to and from it were untraceable if intercepted—the code for the program was too advanced, and of Garrus’ own design, so he knew it was good.
Jenna peeked over her shoulder with a coy smile. Catching him by surprise, she stepped off the platform and lowered herself onto his lap. “What’s going on this time?”
“Suspected homicide,” Garrus said, keeping his voice low. “Meeting someone here tonight.”
Another asari dancer walked by and Jenna rubbed Garrus’ arm as she sat in his lap. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked in a sultry voice.
Garrus chuckled, keeping his hands off Jenna as he reached into his pocket for a credit chit. “You’ve done quite enough, thank you.”
She smiled and took the chit and walked off to the next patron.
Garrus remained in the seat for a few moments longer and scanned the room casually. He noticed a crop of light hair and a tan forehead, the rest of the face covered by the bartender in front of him. When she moved, he saw Murphy. He sat stiff with a drink in his hand and eyes shifting over the room until he saw Garrus’. His shoulders tensed, and he looked as if he was going to be ill.
Garrus calmly walked over and took the empty seat at the bar to Murphy’s left. Luckily, it was evening and the bar seating was rather full so he could sit next to Murphy without drawing much attention.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Murphy sit up straighter. It was still very early in the case, but whatever Murphy knew, he sensed it was critical to helping move the case along.
The bartender approached Garrus, and he requested a double shot of whatever dextro-friendly liquor she could find. There weren’t as many turian friendly options at Chora’s even though many patrons seemed to be turian.
The bartender returned with his double, and he took a brief sip before casually greeting Murphy. “Here we are. What have you got?”
“Keep your voice down. He’s got eyes everywhere.” Murphy barely spoke above a whisper, but Garrus caught most of what he said, though he spoke with his glass in front of his mouth before taking a long drink of his beverage.
“Give me something to go on here.”
He let him take his time in answering. Whatever made him comfortable enough to talk, Garrus was willing to oblige.
From his seat, he saw Chellick enter Chora’s and take a spot at a table near the back of the club. The same asari that originally approached him now approached Chellick, who seemed a bit more receptive to her attention.
“There’s a guy,” Murphy began, “no clue who he is. Cogan would go see him every so often, did side work for him. The last time I saw him, he looked… off. I think this guy did something to him.”
Garrus took a long sip as Murphy spoke, focusing on his words to pass the fiery burn of alcohol as it slipped down his throat. “That’s a bit vague,” he said into the rim of his glass,keeping his eyes forward. “Is that all you know?”
Murphy sighed and set his glass on the bar top with a clink. “He tried to recruit me for whatever he was doing with this guy, said the money was good. He gave me an address, but I never went. I lost it. It was somewhere in Zakera.”
“Zakera ward is massive. Remember any parts of the address?”
“That’s all I got for you.” Murphy’s voice was louder this time. “I’ve already said too much.” He threw down the credits for his drink and left before Garrus could respond.
Garrus sat quietly with his drink and new information for several minutes before Chellick came over to the bar and took the seat Murphy freed up. Chellick ordered his own drink and Garrus relayed the vague details of his meeting.
“I suppose it’s more than we had before,” Chellick said.
“It’s hardly anything.”
“There are five wards. We now have information that reasonably limits our search to one. No need to involve investigations from the sectors on other wards. I’d call that a success for your first day.”
“I guess.” This was not only Garrus’ first case as a detective, but a big one at that. He wanted to find justice for Seskechar. Something about this one was different, if Murphy’s skittishness around the details was any clue. Maybe if he’d mustered more of Chellick’s charm, he could have smoothed over Murphy’s concerns, gotten more out of him. Not all cases were created equal, and homicide was no exception.
Chellick placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Now, we’ve done business, how about a bit of pleasure? Celebrate your first day.”
“Not my first day,” Garrus muttered.
“I suppose you’re right,” Chellick added as he swirled his glass, admiring the blue liquid inside. “Your first day is over now.”
Garrus sighed. Let him have his fun, he thought. And Chellick did. He ordered them two more rounds, though this time he requested the best dextro drink the bartender could make, which was better than their first double, but still not as good as what he usually got at Flux or what Jenna made when she served him. Still, a buzz was a buzz, and this day—this case—afforded him the necessity.
They enjoyed chatting, talking about their lives, catching up on the details. They were about as close of friends as two people who spent most days together over the past several years could be—even if most of those days were spent discussing cases ranging from a garden variety red sand dealer to a gruesome homicide. As usual, even when trying to differentiate work from their post-work conversations, their chats eventually settled back on none other than work.
“I learned the name of that new detective, by the way. The human,” Chellick said, the edges of his words softened by alcohol. “Shepard.”
Garrus stopped mid-sip. “What?”
“Her name is Jane Shepard.”
There weren’t many instances where Garrus found himself speechless. It was one of his best qualities as a detective—he always had a response. When in an interrogation, if thrown a curve ball, he knew what to say and how. When thrown a jab meant to shut him up, he could throw one right back. He was good at words, yet at that moment, they escaped him. The new detective, one it seemed they’d have to work with—or watch over, as Pallin would say—was the same one he’d come across earlier in an extranet search on the human military.
“How did you find that out?” he asked, working to hide the shock in his voice.
“Overheard Pallin on vidcom with the council. She’ll be starting sometime this week.”
Chellick always got these bits of info, but now he finally had one of his own to share: “I know who she is.”
“Yeah, anyone would. You search the extranet for Jane Shepard and several articles and interviews come up. ‘The Butcher of Torfan,’” Chellick said with a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “This should be interesting. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
In his search, he came across one article mentioning her, yet that title wasn’t mentioned. Given what he read, he could understand how it was earned. While he’d reserve judgment until they met, someone that got the job done was someone he could work with.
Chellick and Garrus finished their beverages, paid the tab, and each headed home for the night. Garrus went straight to bed knowing the next morning would be an early one, waking up at oh seven hundred to head into C-Sec.
Instead of his alarm, he woke up to the vibration of his omni-tool on his arm. As he lifted it to his face to see the call coming in from Chellick, he saw it was still several hours before he had to be awake.
"Hello?" he said, unable to shake the worry rooted in his sleepy voice.
“Garrus, you need to come in.”
He rolled over to the edge of the bed and began the groggy shuffle to his closet. “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen. What’s going on?”
“Murphy is dead.”