Retrospective: Paris - How things got messy

4.1. Francesco De la Cruz - New evidence
Fall 1993, Paris police headquarters

Francesco was in deeper shit than he ever had thought he could end up.
When the police had shown up at their door, his first suspicion was that they had found another witness to the murder case. But it was much worse.
While another witness would have only proven him and Mae lying about not being at the crime scene when it happened, the recent finds in the investigation suddenly put him in a position where it didn't matter anymore if he pulled the trigger himself or not.
They found Diego's keys.
Or rather, what they opened.
One of them fit into a warehouse, about 280m² big, down in the harbor.
Stocked up to the roof with brand new Mendoza HM-3s and a few kilograms of pure black tar. Only the finest quality, of course, freshly imported from Mexico.

Diego never accepted less than the best, Francesco thought with a grim smile.
All in all, everything was worth millions.

"That's why you murdered him, isn't it so?", the inspecteur had asked, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. "You both had a little business, but you got into a disagreement."
"And been so stupid to leave those keys on him?", Francesco had countered.
"Monsieur De la Cruz", the pendejo said with his shiteating crooked grin and a smooth voice, "in this chair many stupid criminals have sat before you, and I have brought them all to justice. Might be you did not know your - partner" he emphasized the word, "had keys to the warehouse with him. Might be your henchmen messed up. Or you simply had not have the time to take the keys, considering your little lady friend has looked out for you and maybe ran into you a little too early..."
"Vete a la verga", Francesco spat.

The noise of the pendejo's hands slamming the desk almost let Francesco jump up.
The man had more force in him than he looked like.
"Scum like you will not. Disrespect. Me.", he hissed.

And that's how Francesco had ended up here.
In a single cell, waiting to be transported to custody the next day.
Based on the fact that he had shared his life for almost five years with a grand criminal and l'inspecteur expressed his serious concerns that Francesco might flee the country before it could come to a trial.
Because of course Francesco had somewhere hidden hoarded a ton of money, and an army of henchmen greedy enough for it to help him out of any pinch.
What a bullshit.
If that were true, he wouldn't sit here, first of all.

Soft footsteps pulled him out of his grim pondering. 

"I think I'm deaf on my right ear", Arthur joked. Francesco had to smile. Mae's high-pitched voice hurt when she got upset. The young officier had promised to call her when it was clear that Francesco wouldn't come home tonight.
"Charlotte is there, she'll take care of her", he added.
"Thanks", Francesco said, cursing that he even wasn't allowed to talk to Mae on the phone.
Precautions.

But at least the inspecteur had limited his delusional crime fantasies to Francesco alone, and left her out of this mess.

"François...", Arthur still stood there and shifted uncomfortably in his place. "I'm sorry... if it was for me to interpret the evidence, I'd say it points to another direction, but -"
He scratched his head and didn't finish the sentence.
Francesco didn't say anything. He knew Arthur believed him. Despite keeping a watchful distance to Francesco at first, the blonde man had still warmed up to him quite fast in the last weeks.
Not that it was any helpful now, though.
"I think you should contact your family lawyer", the blonde man added.

Francesco cracked up. "Dude... I just barely make enough for food and rent. And... I don't have a family." These rich people, like Arthur, certainly lived in another universe.
"Oh... uhm...", the officier seemed even more uncomfortable now. 

"Anyway, thanks again Artie, and good night", Francesco offered him to escape his embarrassment.
Visibly relieved, Arthur told him good night back and left. 

And Francesco leaned back and returned to his dark ponderings. A selfish part of him wished Mae would be here with him.
How stupid.
Of course they would have locked them in different cells so it wouldn't make any difference.

But he missed her cheerful optimism, as irrational and naive as it was. Unwittingly her joy for life, her kindness, and most of all, her unconditional love for him had changed his whole perspective. And to what previously had been solely a grim determination not to give up, she had woken something that had been long lost.
Hope.
There was more in life for him than just success, there was love, happiness, passion. He just had to let go of all the fear and anger and desperation. 

"It will be fine. We'll find a way out", he could almost hear her voice.
He smiled at so much naivety.

The next morning a guardien returned and opened the cell. With him was another man in a suit jacket. Francesco hadn't seen him so far.
"You may leave now, Monsieur De la Cruz", the guardien said. "Please pick up your belongings at the reception."
Francesco was still drowsy, certainly this must be a weird dream. 

"My name is Etienne Armand", the tall man in the suit introduced himself. "I'm your lawyer now, and your imprisonment here is not justified concerning the lack of hard evidence. Please join me for an hour or two so we can discuss your case."

Retrospective: Paris - How things happened

3.6. Tristan Leroux - Suspicious
Fall 1993, Paris police headquarters

Tristan shuffled mindlessly through the notes in the folder. Mademoiselle West's statement hadn't differed much from his main suspect's. The young lady put it in a lot more words than the young man, but in most parts they matched perfectly. Maybe... too much?
He knew from long years of working in the police force that testimonies on one subject could vary a lot depending on the witness. In fact so much, they could contradict each other without intention. And his job as investigator was to separate the truth from the imagination and belief.
But nevertheless, these two testimonies were astonishingly alike, despite the difference in how they were told.

Mademoiselle West elaborated in wordy descriptions of their walk home this morning. She depicted so many details, Tristan was convinced half of them were made up by her overflowing imagination. He chuckled. Those young girls were all the same and it was easy for him to spot the important information in her picturesque tale.

The man was quite the opposite. It took Leroux many questions and suggestions to get any useful facts out of him.
Tristan sat back and closed his eyes. He recalled the man's every gesture, the crossed arms, slender but strong, the occasional dance of his long fingers with shorter than average fingernails, crossed long legs. Raven-black hair, too long for an honest citizen, that kept falling in his face with every move, no matter how often he tucked it behind his ears, giving a glimpse on his neckline. His mimics, composed, but with a hidden restlessness and a slight curl on his curved lips every time their conversation touched Mademoiselle West. On the other hand, the absence of any emotion when they talked about the poor victim, Monsieur Santiago.

Tristan tried to make sense of that when he had found otherwise so many emotions in the man's golden-brown eyes. Anger, nervosity, fear covered by the determination to be courageous.
And an overall tiredness. Of what? His questions? Tristan went hard on him, but he felt as if it was more a tiredness of life. This man reminded him of the tragic antagonist of old mythology. Proud, but without his usual suspects' cockiness, and afraid, but without losing his composure, so unlike all the other criminals Tristan had interrogated so far.
This young man was a mystery, and Tristan had to dig deeper, to the core of his rotten heart.
Know your culprit and you know your case. That the man was involved in a darker secret, appeared most certain to him, he just had to -

"They're gone now", lieutnant intern Roux entered the room and pulled Tristan out of his ponderings. He looked worried, and Tristan could understand. It must have been hard on him to see the dear friend of his younger sister possibly involved in a crime.
Tristan growled.
"They are hiding something."

Arthur looked at him, openly clueless and like always, Tristan had to explain more to the light-headed lieutnant. He gave a short summary of both testimonies.
"The statements make perfect sense", Arthur said when the inspecteur finished. "And the time is about the same when Charlotte and me met them on the street this morning -"

"What?!"
Arthur almost shrieked back at Tristan's outburst, but then he told him how he had met the two young people.
"And?", Tristan asked impatiently, as soon as the lieutnant intern finished, "Anything suspicious? Were they nervous? Faster breathing than usual? Restless eyes?"
Arthur winced. "Not that I could recall any of those..."
Of course his partner wouldn't, he always lacked the observation skills so neccessary for a police investigator, and Tristan was still surprised how the cheerful blonde had made it so far in this department. Oh, there was something about relations, of course.

"But Charlotte and I have also heard the shots", Arthur continued. "We were worried that Mae would be hurt in one of those gang fights that happened recently. We were so glad to see her unharmed."
"Have you also heard a car?", Tristan asked his younger colleague.
Arthur looked as if he had to think hard. "I'm not sure...", he admitted.

Of course, shots could be louder than a car and therefore heard farther away, depending on the weapon and the type of car.
Tristan would have to question Mademoiselle Roux, too. Maybe Arthur's sister had better memory.
Making up the story of a car that wasn't heard or seen by anyone else would be a stupid idea, but Tristan had already heard a lot of stupid lies from his suspects.

Would this man be also so stupid? His instincts told him he was not.

He paced around the small room in frustration.
No matter how hard they had tried, they had not found any other witnesses. There were not many residencies close to the crime scene, and the few tennants they had questioned so far didn't see anything besides the body of the poor victim on the street. They had been asleep, or gone from home on their night shifts, or god knew to what other dubious establishments when the crime happened. Tristan was grateful one of them had at least the decency to call the police in this rotten part of the town.

"Inspecteur... do you honestly suspect Monsieur De la Cruz to be our vicious murderer?", Arthur asked carefully.

Tristan broke out in a desparate groan.
"And why should I not?! You haven't seen him when I showed him the photos of his dead lover! No reaction, not even a flinch! I don't want to go overboard, but if I must, I could say I sensed a hint of satisfaction on the sight of the marred body of the man he had shared an intimate relationship with!", Tristan laughed bitterly. As if their shameless relationship alone wasn't disgusting enough!

"Neighbours claimed there have been loud arguments between them before. He has left the appartement weeks ago, without having another place to stay. Who would do that? Unless our poor vicitm had thrown him out for a reason unknown to us yet! I am more than convinced that this man has a strong motive to murder his ex-lover, I just have to find out exactly what has been going on between them!"
This man was depraved through and through, no matter how handsome his face and sad his eyes were.

Arthur furrowed his brows. "But if he is our culprit, then that must mean their testimony is false. And I cannot believe Mae would lie to protect a criminal - no, that doesn't look like her at all! If I was asked on the stand, I would put my hand in a fire for this girl!"
And Arthur must have known her well, he had spent much time with her while watching over his younger sister, but -
"A young innocent lady can be corrupted so easily by a pair of fiery amber eyes", Tristan shot back. In particular, when they had so much expression, so much passion -
He resumed his restless pacing.
"But he is not interested in women, we have found that out already - ", Arthur still tried to protest, but Tristan didn't give him that chance. "That doesn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of one, if he could. Don't forget he's living under her roof at this time."

Arthur sighed, and Tristan felt almost guilty for the misery of his partner. "Arthur - I am not saying that their statement is completely false. Maybe it's just a tiny detail. Maybe he convinced her to just forget that one small detail that would help us close the case, and Mademoiselle West trusts him without knowing the consequences. Maybe their statement is even correct, and he killed his ex-lover before Mademoiselle West arrived at their meeting point, and the 'shots' they heard were in fact, an engine backfiring and a lucky coincidence he took advantage of to distract us and her from the truth -" and in this case the connard had even the nerve to rub it under his nose!
Arthur looked a little happier, at least. "It might be", he agreed, "the time frame for the victim's death would allow this. But we will still have to prove this, and I cannot think of how, without any other witnesses."

"As usual, my dear colleague, we will have to make them talk until they get entangled so much in their own lies that they cannot get out of them anymore and eventually tell us the truth", Tristan stated with grim confidence.
And it also wouldn't hurt to have someone watch over that connard. Not Arthur of course, he wouldn't recognize anything important if it was presented to him on a silver plate. But Tristan knew just the right man for that task.

Arthur sighed. "In all respect to you, but I still don't believe this young man is our murderer. It's just a feeling", he added feebly.
Oh, that poor lieutnant intern. Tristan wasn't sure where the younger man would be without his guidance. Arthur was so guillable and always saw the good in everyone, even the worst and conscience-lacking criminal.

"Time will tell, Arthur. We must be patient and do everything in our power to find the truth." And by truth he meant the hard facts that proved that this man was indeed the murderer.
There was so much filth and deprivation in this world, and he, inspecteur Tristan Leroux of the préfecture de police de Paris, would fight it until his very last breath.

Retrospective: Paris - How things happened

3.2. Mae West - Shots
Fall 1993, Streets in Paris

Three shots.
Before she caught her composure, Mae was already heading backwards. Her guts were telling her to run to the opposite direction, but her fear for Francesco was stronger.

Relief washed over her, when she saw him standing in front of a corner. He was unharmed.
But he didn't react to her call, and instead kept staring in front of him. She followed his view around the corner.

A few meters further, the crazy man was lying on the floor. Blood came out of a hole in his head, and two in his chest.
He was dead.
And Mae's guts took over.

She was running as fast as she could, all the way back home.
Something hindered her speed.
She noticed she dragged Francesco behind her.
And everything spinned, this was not real.
This was a bad movie, that had started the moment she had left her home this morning, and it got worse every second.
What happened next in movies? People would open their windows, and they would see them. Then the police would arrive, and ask questions.
They had to get away, as fast as possible. With Francesco being found in front of his dead ex-boyfriend, and without any witnesses that saw what happened in the still empty streets, Mae knew what would happen then. She couldn't let him get locked up for a murder he didn't commit.
Because that's what happened in movies, they always thought it was the ex-lover.

They had to run.
Ah, yes, they were running already.
Good.
She almost stumbled.
Francesco had stopped abruptly.

"Francesco?"
He was quiet for a few seconds, looking confused. Then he found her face.
"I can't go with you... if he finds out where you live...", he said, but he was completely absent minded.
He was in shock.

"He's dead", Mae cried out. Oh no. She couldn't even pull herself together.
But they couldn't waste time. They had to get home. 

He furrowed his brows, and touched his forehead, trying to process what just had happened.
"Dead...", he repeated.
"He got shot... oh god, I'm so sorry", she added, remembering that that man must have meant something to Francesco, no matter how crazy he was. She gently stroked his arm, hoping he would find back his composure.

And she lost her breath when he suddenly pulled her in a tight hug.
"He's dead", he whispered.
Her heart raced.
"He cannot hurt you anymore", he added.
She tried to relax, but she couldn't. His quiet deep voice vibrating from his chest, the warmth of his body that made her realize how cold this morning was, and his scent, comforting and exciting at the same time, were overwhelming. She thought that the effect of that damn alcohol should have been gone already after everything that had happened, but her mind was spinning again. The dead crazy man didn't matter anymore. 

The noise of the police sirens brought back the urgency to get away from the crime scene, and Mae pulled back.
"Let's go home, we need to be safe first", she said with all the determination she could pull up.
"Home? Wait - "
"It's safe there, but not if we stay here. We have to go", Mae insisted. First, she needed to take care of him. He had to calm down, get some rest, and probably some food.
He calmed down a little.
"Okay", he said, and followed her.
It hurt her to see him still so upset. And the shock of seeing his ex-boyfriend shot had his impact. But she was grateful that he didn't have enough willpower to contradict her now because of that.

"I'm sorry... for everything", he added quietly. 

"It will be okay", she smiled.

They continued their walk in silence while Mae tried to sort out her thoughts. But the appearance of her friends set her on high alert again.
Charlotte and Arthur came towards them, just in front of Mae's appartement block. Her best friend had already changed from her party outfit to something more moderate.
Oh damn. Mae had completely forgotten she had company at home. How would she explain Francesco's sudden presence? 

"Mae! Thank god you're okay!", Charlotte cried out. She jumped into her arms.
"When you didn't come back for a while we went looking for you", Arthur said. "Then there was some noise like shots..."

Mae pulled herself together in an instant. Behave normal, this was crucial now.
"Oh yes! We got so scared when we heard them a few streets further! Did you see anything?", she asked her friends.
"No, we were far from them, too", Arthur replied.

Be calm, Francesco, she prayed. Don't let them see anything is wrong.

"No way. You ran away to pick up that bar singer!", Charlotte switched her attention to him. She was checking him out, Mae noticed with a grin. How disappointed she would be to find out he was gay!

"Oh - this is Francesco! I almost forgot, but we wanted to meet up tonight after his shift. That's why I bailed on you guys. Franny, these are my friends, Charlotte and her brother Arthur", she introduced the other two.
"Uh - nice to meet you?", Francesco said, somewhat insecure.
Thank god, Mae thought.
"We kinda lost time while walking around", Mae added with an apologizing smile.
Charlotte pulled a sceptical face, but didn't say anything. Good girl. 

Arthur took Francesco's hand and shook it with his typical enthusiasm. "Nice to meet you!", he beamed. Mae could see pain flash over Francesco's face for a second while he tried to smile.
Artie's handshake was strong, but she wouldn't have expect a flinch like that.
Oh god, did he get hurt, too? But there was nowhere blood on his clothes...
She'd have to make sure he wasn't, but she couldn't now.

"Okay, I guess you two need a little privacy", Charlotte might have picked up Mae's tension, but her smug smile showed she had a different interpretation why. "We dropped Dante and Celine off their homes already, and Arthur and me will be almost late for family brunch anyway."
Did she just wink at her?
"I just hope work won't call me to duty now because of the shots...", Arthur sighed. "Maman will be heart broken."
Oh no. No no no nonono.
Mae had almost forgotten that Arthur was a freaking cop! He probably wouldn't smell anything fishy, he was a little bit – slow. But what if he talked about them, and his partner did?
Crap.
Smile.
Act normal.
But luckily the subject was dropped quickly by the siblings, and they just said their good byes after bickering whether or not Arthur could leave their family brunch in case of a call from the police.

Mae took a deep breath when her friends left. Thank god, this went smoother than she had expected. And noone was at her place anymore either.
Good.
"Franny? Really?"

He almost smiled again. Like the Francesco she knew. 

"What's wrong with that?", she smiled back. 

"Let's go up"
They were just around the corner of her apparement and she had a new friend to take care of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note:

This chapter features two gorgeous sims, donated to me by my dear friends.
Thank you very much! <3

Charlotte "Charlie" Roux by Maladi, and Arthur "Artie" Roux, by Froot.

Arthur Roux

Birthdate: 12th February, 1969 (Age: 24)
Height: 186cm / 6'1"
Occupation: police officer
Family: Charlotte Roux (sister), mother, father

Commanded by his parents to watch out for his little sister Charlotte, Arthur joins her on her nights out. His family's influence got him an officer rank inside the police quite fast, and while he enjoys the thrill of having a supposedly dangerous job, he isn't the brightest at it, and anyway prefers the desk.

donated by Froot

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