"Ssi-bal!" He shot up in his desk. The man was seriously close to falling asleep. Now that his heart is jumping all over the place, he kinda wishes that he was. "Huh?" Herrera is here and has info. "Ohhh. Right…" Though initially frowning, he gave the furry slinky a little scratch on the top of its head.
Damain did not look at Herrera the whole time the guy spoke. He mainly paid attention via listening while jotting things down in his notebook. Every now and then he would mouth a word or phrase to make sure that he wouldn't forget it. With his pen hovering over the paper, he lifted his chin up to look across the desk.
"Did Dane feel differently around you? No comments about me or giving you some sort of stare?" He tapped the pen against his lip before holding it out, pointing at Herrera. "Did anyone interact with you this time? Or was everyone just keeping to themselves till the game ended?"
"Dane was the same, maybe a bit more depressed than last time if I'm being completely honest." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. The man's dark brown eyes held such a melancholy aura, a deep sadness that was rooted much, much deeper than just the death of an opponent and attempted murder of another. "We theorized that he and Valentine were involved, right?" He puts finger quotations arond the word.
Felix then pauses to think of any interactions. For the most part, people were in and out. Dane stopped by the bar again afterwards, and Felix caught a wink from the fairly handsome bartender. Blake exited with a bowed head and fierce stride. Rivers disappeared onto the dance floor after miserably losing all three rounds. Harima, per usual, remained in the room even after everyone else had left.
"No, no interactions with them." Felix shakes his head. "I don't think Dane is guilty. He's old, slow, and I doubt he had the willpower to strike Valentine over the head or the time to construct a car bomb." He leans forward in the chair, propping his head up on his fist, his elbow on his thigh. "Harima feels apathetic about it all. Not even fazed, if I'm being honest. Blake and Rivers are mostly the same… Anxious, but nothing too down or excited." Helsie Rivers's enthusiastic comment about Valentine's death a few weeks prior rings in his ears. "But I don't think we can rule any of them out on being suspects."
-
(also I doodled Clyde while pretending to pay attention in econ)
(oh that looks so good! i love it)
"More depressed…." He scribbled the phrase down then leaned back into the chair. Could be guilt or remorse for something; beats him. Then again, he doesn't expect the old man to go the lengths of making and planting a car bomb; same goes for killing Valentine. Damian crossed his arms in the middle of his chest. "More or less, yes."
Lightly tapping the side of his left arm, he listened to Herrera but again didn't make any eye contact. He agreed with it not being Dane, obviously. Herrera's use of the word apathetic when describing Harima made him wonder something. They didn't really include him into the equation or ponder the possibilities of it being him.
"No we can't, but maybe we can rank them all on the likelihood of them killing Valentine, attempting to kill Clyde, and then both. It might be a dumb idea, but I can see some more likely to do one over the other- yet one of them's has to be tied to both."
Damian glanced over at Herrera while picking his pen up for not particular reason. He went to crossing his arms while lightly clicking the pen. "Do you know anything more about Harima or Rivers? Things like relationships especially with Valentine and Clyde, to you, or anything significant? Rivers talked to you awhile ago, right?"
"Rank them?" Felix repeats quietly, cycling through his brain of who seemed most to least likely to commit straight-up homicide. The brief variables he factors in include motive, resource, and mental fortitude. Hell, even petty(ish) crimes that Felix has done in the past still weigh heavily on his mind.
"I think Rivers might be the highest possible suspect. They're the one who came straight out and said that they were glad Valentine got beat over the head, and I doubt Valentine's cause of death is even public knowledge yet." Felix huffs. "Blake and Harima are practically the same. I can see them both having the drive to be able to kill someone, but I don't think that they'd be thrilled at the prospect. Clyde and Dane seem unlikely–they feel to soft for the crime."
He checks his watch. Shit. He promised his friend that he'd meet up to help her plant flowers around her house in just half an hour. (Not that Felix would actually kneel in dirt and filthy his hands. No, he'll just sit back. Make some lemonade (spiked maybe) and dictate what flower arrangements would look best next to each other.) "That all makes sense, right?" Felix confirms, hoping his intuition at least makes sense.
"Rank…Organize…You know what I mean." Damian had no idea if this was something that could work. It was a strategy he used for murder mystery games and assignments back in college. Then he'd go on with process of elimination once he had everyone in categories. There are multiple niche details that could make him throw this whole plan out the window, but hey, he can't waste time just sitting here thinking; he'd be like the rest of the losers in LVPD.
Flipping to a clean page in his notebook, he split it into three sections and creating small abbreviations on the top of each one. Following with what Herrera was saying, Damian wrote down the names in the corresponding section. "You also have to think about the work going into killing Valentine and trying to kill Blake. It's a lot for anybody, even someone like me or you."
He clicked the pen then lightly tapped it against the edge of the desk. Glimpsing down at the little chart, he slowly turned to the left. Perhaps he should make more of these, but bigger. The office is empty and no one bothers coming inside minus a few exceptions. If he could get more info from forensics about the murder, he would have one of those cork boards with the red string.
"Huh?" Damian glanced back at Herrera. "Oh yeah, it does….it does. I am going to need more on Rivers. Something about her doesn't sit right with me, you know?"
"Yeah, factor into how much free time each of the suspects has." Felix purses his lips. "I can see next week if I can get an alibi out of any of them. I was the last one to arrive at the game, so it's pretty plausible the suspects could've been at the bar the entire time." He drums his fingers on his leg. "But there could be a remote detonator… Or somebody could be working with a team." Felix huffs, running his fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to cool his racing mind. God, he could never make it as a detective. Too much responsibility and too much brainwork. And paperwork.
Standing, Felix stretches his arms above his head. "Doll, there's a shit ton of variables at play." He takes a few tries to tuck a flyaway back into his carefully slicked hair. "I need to see them again as soon as I can." He sighs. "I need more information and seeing them all in brief windows once a week doesn't give me the time."
Clenching his jaw and pacing to the door and back, Felix clasps his hands behind his back. Suddenly stopping as a glorier than god lightbulb lights behind his eyes, Felix snaps his fingers and stands up straight. "Do you think they regular at the bar?" Two more snaps. "I can check tomorrow to see if I can see anyone there. I'm sure they'd be more willing to accommodate in a casual environment."
"They probably got there at a certain time…before the bomb went off and all that." There was this mode of silence about him. The only noise he made was from pen against paper. On another page, he just kept writing. Hopefully something will about this; probably a hand cramp soon.
His focus was primarily on this chart box thing in his notebook. Damian chuckled, shaking his head. "Welcome to my world." Of course there are so many variables. It's his job to find as many as possible, and even then, he won't have every single one. It's always a gamble.
Saying nothing, he wrote down some things. The once-a-week deal is extremely limiting to this case. It's not like Herrera is actually his partner and working for the LVPD, then he would make the guy do a fuck ton of stuff. They probably would be farther ahead, if only.
He rolled his eyes. "Probably the bar, or some other sort of club," He responded. Tapping his pen on the side of his head, he hummed. "That's a good idea. And with drinks around, you can practically manipulate them into giving answers if you're careful enough."
Nodding and running his tongue over his front teeth, Felix crafts what he could do upon entering the bar tomorrow. He has nothing planned other than a quick video call with his younger–and favorite–sister, Ana Luis, before she goes back to her studies at UTD.
"It shouldn't be too difficult to get some information out of them after a few drinks." The bartender from earlier briefly flashes in his mind. A sly smile momentarily spreads across his face. "Plus, I think I have an in with the bartender there. I don't think he'd mind lending me a few free drinks." Almost unconsciously, Felix raises an eyebrow.
Checking all five of his watches again, Felix whistles at the time. "Sorry to cut this short, doll, but I have a get-together to get to. I hope you don't mind stopping by the hospital to talk to Clyde? I don't think her injuries were… too life threatening." He leaves the I hope unspoken in the air.
He snorted. "Well, less money you'll be wasting on these people then. Only have one glass and drink it slowly…Have those others do the drinking." Damian stared at him for a second. "If you are anywhere near tipsy, forget about it. Go home and don't bother me." Then he returned to his notes.
Seeing Clyde…He closed his notebook. Well, that was his plan in the first place once Herrera's gone. Once he gets the go-ahead that is. He can already imagine what the burns and injuries will look like. So far he hasn't gotten any texts or anything. If he doesn't get anything in the next fifteen minutes, he's just going there: call or no call.
Damian nodded but he followed it with a shrug. "One can only hope. I only the state of injuries once the body has no heartbeat." He clicked the pen, slamming it down on the desk with no purpose. While recling back into the chair, he looked at Herrera. "They heal, but scars will remain and everyone can see them." No matter how hard one tries to hide them. He shook his head. "I will go visit her once we're done."
Felix nods at Mae's instructions, duly noting each of them and tucking them away in his mind. "Will do." Felix checks his watches again, face scrunching at the time. God, he makes a point to be punctual and he was supposed to be there at least six minutes ago. "Now, Damian, we both have places to be. I wish you luck on interrogating Clyde. Hopefully she'll help us find a lead."
With two fingers, Felix salutes the detective and walks out the door. And then he walks back in. "I forgot Jackpot." The ferret squeaks as Felix picks him up around the middle and sets him on his shoulder. He shakes his head and laughs. "See you later, doll." And then he's gone from the department, already in his car to head to his friend's house just outside Vegas limits. God, Paisley is going to chew him out.
-0-
About an hour later, Daphne Clyde blinks awake in her hospital room, bandaged heavily on the left side of her face. "Miss Clyde–" A nurse startles her from the doorway. "I'm glad to see that your injuries aren't too extensive. The surgery went well and you're set to make a full recovery."
"That's–" She starts, her voice a croak. "That's good…" She doesn't quite remember what had happened. She was driving, she was on edge, there was an explosion-
"And Miss Clyde," the nurse begins again. "If you're up for it, you have a visitor waiting."
Daphne furrows her eyebrows, feeling a pull of stitches along her jaw. "Yeah… Send 'em in."
(this is medically inaccurate but i am choosing to ignore that for plot's sake aslkdf)
His brows swiftly rose. Hope, he can't count on it much. Damian pulled his sleeve back, checking his watch. They don't have much time; luckily with the time that they did, it was spent wisely. Can't say that will happen much.
Picking up his phone, he impatiently stared at it. He rolled his eyes. Patience was something that Damian only holds for Adonis and Mina. When Herrera was at the door, he flung his hand up to give a lazy wave. "Bye Jackpot."
About a few minutes later, he was in the car and on his way to the hospital. All that he carried in his backpack was the notebook, some pens, and that's pretty much it. Well, he does have a paper that can give him consent to record conversations with consent. Hopefully Clyde will give him it.
When he was in the hospital lobby, he showed his badge and ID, asking to see Miss Clyde. Damian stood in the hallway for what felt like only a few short seconds, but was actually almost a half an hour. A nurse left the room, motioning that he could go in.
He stepped inside, gently knocking on the side of the door. "Miss Clyde? I'm Detective Damian Mae of the LVPD." He held his badge and ID out to her. A plain yet gentle expression rested on his face. Damian closed the door behind him and went to stand at the end of the bed. "I would like to talk to you…ask some questions, if you are up for it."
Daphne takes a moment to study the man. It would usually only take a few brief moments for her to get a detailed report on who he is, but not even her hard-wired nickpick brain can make anything out of him. Why does it feel like she's underwater? He shows his badge and ID. Damian Mae. Not a name she's heard before.
"I– Uh, yeah. Sure." She can't think of any reason why the police would need to question her. Harima's poker deal is extremely exclusive but entirely legal. Her divorce went smoothly, her taxes are payed, she– Oh. The realization hits her unpleasantly in the chest. This has to be about Crystal. "What about, detective?" She asks, just to be sure. She itches to tap her nails up against her thigh, but that's a nervous habit. Don't show her ticks. She learned that early on in the poker world.
He did his best not to give a constant stare. Damian looked for signs, mannerisms that could tell him things. There's always a way to say something without saying it, even he does this. He sighed then went to take the chair against the wall and sat it down at the end of the bedside. It slightly moved forward as he sat down. Sitting up straight, his back did not touch the chair.
The backpack was placed down resting against his left leg. "Anything you are willing to about Crystal Valentine and your accident," He responded while getting the form out. With a click of his pen, he rested it on top of the paper and held it over to Clyde. "And I would like to record our conversation, if you give me permission, of course." Make eye contact. Damain looked up at her, giving a small smile.
This is about Crystal. Daphne grits her teeth and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the uncomfortable pillow of the hospital bed. The back is propped up, leaving her in an odd half-laying, half-sitting position. "Okay," she says softly because this may just as well be her ticket out of Harima's Hell Hole. "Let me tell you that Crystal was lucky." She cracks her eyes open to stare at the detective, vision fuzzy.
Her throat feels tight, as if all the forces on earth are working against her words. "Nobody can get in or out of Harima's game." She blinks. Her vision only blurs further. "I've tried to get out, but if you start, you stay. You stay and you're trapped until Harima gets rid of you or you get killed." Daphne licks her lips and stills eye contact with the detective. "It's already perfectly legal. Harima has some sort of contract that I signed when I was young and stupid and wanted to get rich quick."
"Lucky?" To be honest, this is the first time someone started an interview with eagerness. He didn't even need to ask a question first. Instantly, he dropped the paper on the floor. Guess he'll have to take care of that matter later. Unlocking his phone, he pressed record. His hand will fall off from trying to write everything that he needs for the case. If anyone asks any questions, Damian will just come up with some sort of reason or he can just get her to sign it afterwards.
He didn't want note-taking to distract him, so he rested the pen between the folds of the notebook. Certain things Clyde was saying popped out to him. Most of it pointing towards the nature of Harima's game. Did any of it had to deal with Crystal? Damain looked back at her. He cleared his throat. "Why did you try to leave?" Damian tilted his head to the right. His right hand rested underneath his chin. "How long ago was this? I assume Harima wasn't supportive of this. Sounds like he didn't want you to leave."
"I tried to leave because I was done," Daphne says simply. "I had got my fill, I was tired of seeing the same faces every week." She sighs through her nose. "I had a contract, Mister Mae. I had a contract that had my entire savings plus more in the hands of Harima." She taps her nails against the inside of her arm. How did she even get in this situation? She was… she was just out of college and engaged and wanted something nice for the wedding. Daphne had already shown how skilled she could be at a game of cards. Foolishly, she had accepted Harima's invitation to his club to take up some other poor soul's place.
"I wanted out three years ago." She clenches her teeth as she speaks. "My ex-husband and I were on the ropes with each other and I was hoping I could take my winnings and run away with him. I had enough for a large estate on an island and enough money for us to live comfortably for years." Her eyes sting as she speaks. "I was hoping to rekindle something we lost, but Harima wouldn't let me leave. Apparently I was too good of an opponent. I couldn't even be out of Vegas for more than two weeks or he would scrape all the money I ever earned from his rounds and more."
Seems like Harima wants to keep a tight circle. In a way, it makes sense. Keeping the same people in keeps the flow of money controlled. But how does he keep it all under control? How did Harima rope Valentine into this? Did she want to leave too? Damain briefly glanced down at his phone. His brows drewed in together. He returned his gaze to Clyde.
This contract of Harima's, he questioned it. Clyde may say that it is perfectly legal, but there must have been some loops Harima jumped through. To have this specific control over one's assets, it didn't sit right with him. Alas, Damian is only good at crimes that deal with death, not money. He made a mental note to check on that later, but he didn't want to lose sight of the topic either.
He thought about Herrera and how he filled Valentine's chair when she was gone. "I want to know why Harima has all these…restrictions, but I want to breifly talk about something else….Who's spot did you take?" And while it may be obvious what happened to that player, he had to ask, "What happened to them? Do you know?"
Daphne blinks at the question. "Well… I-uh–" Damnit, her head hurts. "The man's name was Rupert… Rupert McDowell." God, it's been a decade since she's even thought about him. "He was on a losing streak, and Mister Harima was tired of him. He went bankrupt and Mister Harima cut him out of the club as fast as you could blink."
"They brought me in afterwards. Sam, Roxanne, and Mister Harima were already at the table. Helsie and the new guy hadn't arrived yet. It was Valentine and another woman…" She snaps her fingers but the woman's name evades her. "Like Rupert, she also went bankrupt and was kicked out. Mister Harima then brought Helsie in. God, they would've had to have been barely twenty-one." She was twenty-five when she got caught up in Harima's gambling business, and that's where she's been trapped for the past nine years. Daphne may still be relatively young, but seeing a fresh college dropout, Helsie Rivers, burdaned her soul. Run, she wanted to tell them. Run or you'll neverget away.
Damn it. Not that he was disappointed in this former member being alive. It's just that Damian was starting to build up a theory, and with her answer, it was knocked down. But Rupert McDowell, he'll have to get info on the man after this; nothing might come of it, but who knows, it will give him seomthing to do in the office. Thank God Clyde remembered him. What else does she remember? What else does she know?
But bankruptcy and murder, so far those two are the only methods to get out of Harima's club. You either become useless or nothing. "Money can pull anyone into anything without a single thought, Miss Clyde. This is Las Vegas after all." Damian cleared his throat. "But…going back to Miss Valentine…When did she join? Did she ever say anything to you about leaving? Do you think she ever wanted to?"
Crystal's murder always struck Daphne as… odd. She was young and pretty and a relatively kind individual. Daphne figured it was a crime of passion or something. Some lover got angry with her in the hotel, and then stabbed her or beat her or drowned her or whatever the hell the murderer did. "No, she never wanted out," Daphne confirms softly. "She was actually the most enthusiastic to go every other week."
She looks towards the door, and then instinctively behind her shoulder, even though there's nothing but a wall. "If you're looking for suspects on who did it, Mister Mae, I can assure you it wasn't Sam." Her breath shakes as she inhales, voice dropping to barely a whisper. "And it sure as hell wasn't me, either. Samuel Dane would never lay a finger on Crystal. He loved her too much; the poor man was broken when he heard the news two days later around the table. As for me, sir, I have an alibi. You can look on all my family's Instagram pages. I was with them at a picnic for the entire week before her murder. I didn't even get back to Vegas until a day after her murder."
"Crystal Valentine had a lot of enemies, but I wasn't one of them. Neither was Samuel Dane, sir. Roxanne Blake has no motive for the crime, hell, she never had a single opinion on Crystal." She exhales. "If you want to know who I think it was, my eyes are on Helsie and the new guy." She pauses. "Mister Herrera."
He hummed, "Interesting." All these things Clyde was saying, he had to tuck into the back of his mind. Worst comes to worst, he has the audio, although he is still focused on getting her to sign the paper for his sake. Clyde is right about him looking for suspects, even though him and Herrera have crossed out some of the members already. He is going to have to check to see if what she's saying about her alibi is true.
Herrera? Why would she suspect Herrera? Might just be that mentality of being weary around newer members or the dog eats dog one too. A murder within a circle always changes people's opinions of others. Damian wasn't sure if he should bring this up to Herrera. He worries about how Herrera would change his way of thinking, he worried about Clyde.
Damian made his face relax. "Helsie and the new guy, Mister Herrera." He almost said their full names. The possibility of what if made him shiver. He cleared his throat again. "I don't really follow what you're trying to say. Frankly, you think it could be one of them. Is that right….why?"
Daphne is nearly taken aback by Mae. Of course, her reasoning is crystal clear but she forgets that people can't quite understand what she's getting at without a little explanation. "I suspect Helsie because theyre a violent individual. I've seen them break glasses for fun and threaten an old-fashioned fist-fight over something as meager as a wrong drink."
"As for Mister Herrera, it's simple, Detective Mae. Someone has to get out to get in." She sighs. "It's very possible he took out Valentine to get himself in. I confess I don't know him well, but he has the most motive out of everyone around that table." Her nails punch crescents into the palms of her hands. Daphne hasn't felt safe since Crystal's murder. She could be next.
The crash blinks through her mind. No– not crash… attack. Daphne was next. Someone tried to kill her.
(azlcjslalzhxks aaaah that is so awesome!!! i love it)
Sometimes detective work doesn't come from the detective. Let everyone else do the heavy lifting. Damain just needs to pull the right strings with Clyde, then he will be getting to the right direction. It's all there for him.
He bit the inside of his cheek before releasing. "So you see Helsie as irrational…Chaotic too." He hummed, shaking his head. "Guess she could have some motivation…" But it seems like Helsie is always under the influence to a certain degree. The pictures from the crime scene flashed in his mind. All the things that were smashed into little pieces. It was the pictures of Valentine that made him unsure of Helsie though. Unless she was sober enough….
Glancing down at her hands, he exhaled. "This…Mister Herrera…." Damian stared back, looking into Clyde's eyes. His bottom lip puffed out as he shrugged. "How is he? When you first saw him, what'd you think? You must have been suspicious of him from the start…." He is curious. All he knows is from is end. He wants to entertain this, see where it goes.
"Helsie hardly ever thinks before they speak," Daphne inputs. She truly doesn't mean to throw them under the bus but… well, she'd rather not have a murderer around her poker table. "So yes. They're violent, irrational and chaotic without any sort of regard for others." Daphne sighs. "But I don't know what their motive could've possibly been with Crystal. Perhaps Crystal said the wrong thing to Helsie and she paid the price." Her lips thin at the thought. I hope that isn't the case.
"As for Mister Herrera, he's nothing but a charismatic con man with an agenda of his own." The words surprise even Daphne with their bluntness, but she still stands by them. "I noticed the second he swaggered into the room that he had a certain game he was playing at. I don't know what it is, but he's clearly in Mister Harima's bar for more than just poker and money." But what exactly, Daphne has no idea. For all she knows, he could just be looking for another person to knock out of Harima's ranks. "I consider myself a fairly decent judge of character, Mister Mae, and Mister Herrera is somebody I wouldn't trust within an inch of my life."
There's something about his eyes. Something Daphne doesn't trust in the slightest. Mister Herrera had sauntered into the poker room merely days after Crystal's death with an odd, cat-like look in his brown eyes. It was like he knew he was going to be there. Like he knew that he would be the one around the table. His name feels familiar too. Daphne's too unstable from the IVs and aftermath of her attack, but she's certain she's seen his smirk on the news before. "And isn't he already a criminal?" Daphne inquires, knowing the detective will know far more than her. "That already puts him higher on the suspect list."
