Baker and Jones Ch. 02

"She's a holy woman, Miss Baker. How could she possibly be drawn towards such a vile act?"

"I don't know," Annette concedes. "But you should see what the Priest at St. Bartholomew's will do and still be considered holy."

"Indeed?" Cordelia makes a face as though to store that information for later. "Why would Lady Wilva then hire me to investigate? Why not just attempt to make his death appear natural without any of the fuss?"

"I..." Annette furrows her brow. "I hadn't considered that."

"You were swept up in the drama of it all."

"No..." she points a finger, picking up the small jar of bones and petals, an idea quickly condensing in her mind. "Lady Wilva didn't have the tools to properly disguise whatever she did to harm him... so she planted evidence of occult involvement, like this... whatever this spooky jar is. Any reasonable detective could've figured her out, so she picked the one with the most eclectic background, expecting you to be carried away with the strangeness and be distracted."

"It rather sounds like you believe my reputation to indicate that I am a poor detective, Miss Baker," Cordelia frowns.

"Ahem," Annette clears her throat, flushing nervously. "Clearly you discovered her intentions, Miss Jones. Perhaps she underestimated your ability."

"A serviceable save, Miss Baker," Cordelia smirks. She rises from the floor, stretching her arms above her head for a moment. "Go grab your coat."

"Miss?"

"Would you rather return to kneeling?"

Annette shakes her head. Confused, she quickly dashes up the stairs and retrieves her new coat, throwing it over one of her casual dresses. She rejoins Cordelia in the foyer, where she has acquired her jacket as well.

"After you, Miss Baker," she says pleasantly, opening the door and gesturing for Annette to step out onto the porch.

"Where are w-,"

"Yes, Miss Jones, exactly as you say," Cordelia mocks.

Annette sighs, sticking her hands into her pockets and strolling down the steps onto the dark street below. The air is cool, though comfortable, and a coat is only partially necessary, though Annette appreciates it at least for the steadying weight. Cordelia turns left down Mill street, following it for a few blocks before taking another right onto Delmire avenue, a wide and worn street, carefully manicured and cultivated for the wealthier families who lived here.

She begins to ask another question of Cordelia, only to quickly interrupt herself and remain silent. Better not to invoke her ire or ridicule any further. Cordelia walks alongside her gingerly, a clear and confident swagger in her step as she hangs her thumbs in her pockets. After a few more blocks, she finally turns and approaches one of the larger and more extravagant townhouses, unmistakable as the home of some member of the nobility.

Cordelia knocks loudly despite the late hour, gesturing for Annette to reside on the top step with her. Annette complies, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot while she waits.

"Oh, just ask, Miss Baker," Cordelia mutters.

"What are we doing here?"

"We are testing your hunch."

"Why?"

"Curiosity is its own reward," the detective muses, "Don't you agree?"

"No," Annette huffs.

The door swings open, revealing the form of a tired and somewhat grumpy servant, sporting a more elaborate collar over a formal suit. He inclines his head politely, though his words are sharp and direct.

"It is a late hour," he declares, "To whom do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Detective Cordelia Jones," the investigator nods, then gestures to Annette, "and her collar."

"Good evening," Annette curtsies.

"It's Franklin, is it not?" Cordelia asks him.

"Indeed, Miss Jones."

"Franklin, would you please summon your owner to meet us? Tell her Cordelia has pressing news regarding her inquiry and it cannot wait."

Franklin pauses, likely dreading the thought of bothering his owner this late, but he complies, waving the two of them inside and directing them to wait in the greeting room. Annette timidly sits down upon a luxurious couch, taking in the extravagance of the home all around her. Whoever lived in this townhouse was surely not someone Annette wanted the attention of.

Cordelia stands, holding her arms against her back and squaring her chest as she always does, chin squarely cocked and a restrained smirk on her lips. "This is the fun part," she whispers, leaving Annette entirely confused.

Franklin returns a few minutes later, announcing, "Lady Wilva and her guest await you in the garden."

He leads them through the house and down onto the back patio, where a modest garden surrounded by hedges creates a secluded and cozy environment, lit up by comfortable lanterns. An array of lounging couches have been placed together, creating a pleasant conversation area, currently occupied by two people: a woman Annette can only conclude is Lady Wilva Kent... and Lady Samantha Deveroux.

"What is it, Miss Jones?" The woman hisses, trying to hide her displeasure behind formaily but hardly succeeding.

"I come bearing urgent news regarding Lord Hemslem and the investigation, Lady Wilva," Cordelia answers, gesturing for the noblewoman to take a seat. "Would you be so kind as to dismiss your collar?"

Samantha's face flushes softly at the sight of Annette and her hungry eyes scan over the servant estatically. They flick back and forth between Annette and Cordelia, ravenous at the secret revealed directly before her. Annette blushes as well, lowering her face to the ground and refusing to meet Samantha's gaze.

Lady Wilva's eyes narrow suspiciously. After a few tense moments she waves Franklin away, directing him to return upstairs and leave them be. "Aren't you going to dismiss yours?" She glares at Annette.

"Under the circumstances I believe you'll want her to remain," Cordelia replies.

"Well, get on with it," she grumbles.

"Should I remain as well?" Samantha asks, though Cordelia waves her to remain in place, undeterred in the slightest.

"Is she trustworthy?" Cordelia asks, looking at Samantha for the first time.

"She's a dear friend, anything you say to me can be said before her."

"Very well," the detective nods politely, "Lady Wilva, I believe my collar here has uncovered your plot. She has gone so far as to accuse you of murdering the late Lord Hemslem yourself."

"What!? How dare she!" Lady Wilva stands, thrusting a viscous finger in Annette's direction and causing her to retreat deeper into the couch cushions. "I am a woman of God, I will not have her slander me so! Please inform me you'll have her whipped, Miss Jones."

Samantha scoffs as well, once again flicking her eyes over Annette. "Scandalous," she murmurs.

"Unfortunately," Cordelia holds out her hands, "Her conclusions have aligned with my own investigation. I also have concluded that you are culpable."

"W-what?" LadyWilva stammers.

"I agree with Miss Baker."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am entirely serious, Lady Wilva," Cordelia nods. "But there is no need for panic, I am sure we can come to a simple resolution."

The noblewoman slowly sits down, eyes rapidly flicking between Annette and Cordelia. Annette's heart pounds in her chest, hiding behind Cordelia as best as possible.

"What do you suggest, Miss Jones?"

"It is easy enough to make a collar disappear," Cordelia proposes.

"What!?" Annette stands quickly, backing away from the two of them.

"Sit down, Miss Baker," Cordelia threatens, her eyes staring daggers at Annette and her voice undertaking a hostility she hadn't known the detective was capable of. Cordelia snaps her fingers harshly, pointing for Annette to return to the seat she had taken when she arrived. After a tense staring contest, Annette slowly lowers herself down, feeling her face grow pale and sweat forming in her palms. She risks a glance over to Samantha, silently requesting her help, only to see the noblewoman shake her head slowly.

"Miss Baker is the only other soul aware of this accusation, Lady Wilva," Cordelia continues. "I would happily remove her from the equation, at only the rate of double my usual services."

"There's n-no need," Annette sputters, "I'll remain quiet. I won't tell anyone!"

"She knows too much, Lady Wilva, and she is highly disobedient, as I am sure you can tell," Cordelia directs. "She wouldn't be missed."

Lady Wilva is quiet, ignoring Annette's frightful pleas. She ponders her options for a long moment, eventually sighing and saying, "Very well, Madam Detective."

"Excellent," Cordelia smiles. "I am entirely happy to maintain your secrets, I can see us having a highly lucrative relationship."

"We simply need to dispose of the collar?"

"No, please!" Annette stands again. "I promise I'll remain quiet!"

"Hush, Miss Baker," Cordelia scoffs. "Have you the same means as with Lord Hemslem?" She asks the noblewoman. "It wouldn't be difficult to make it seem as though they both befell the same demise to a spirit. Perhaps involved in the same occult conspiracy."

"I... I have more poison," she croaks in response.

"That will suffice, Lady Wilva," Cordelia smirks excitedly. "Now, if you'll simply extend your hands, I would like to place you under arrest for the murder of your uncle."

"What!?"

"It seems you just made a confession of guilt before three eyewitnesses," the detective gins, eyes glimmering with victory. "As well as conspired to commit yet another murder."

"I've done no such thing!"

"You just did," Cordelia turns to Annette. "Don't you agree, Annette?"

Annette coughs, trying to recover from the whiplash of the moment. "I-indeed she did, Miss Jones."

"Lady Deveroux will vouch for me!" Lady Wilva cries out, pointing at Samantha and stomping her foot. "No one will believe your baseless accusations!"

Samantha sips a drink politely, observing the scene before her. Annette can't fathom the calculus that must be moving through her head, slowly shifting her gaze from Lady Wilva, to Cordelia, to Annette, and back again.

She locks eyes with Cordelia for a long moment, then quietly says, "Who am I to impede the rule of law, Lady Wilva?"

"Oh, I love it when it all comes together!" Cordelia brags, grabbing Lady Wilva's hands and pulling a small pair of cuffs from her pockets to bind them. "A bold strategy, Lady Wilva, but as it seems, not nearly clever enough to fool even my collar. Annette, go fetch Franklin and request that he call the police."

- - -

Walking back to their home at 167th Mill Street, Annette can hardly believe her evening. After the police had arrived and taken Lady Wilva away into custody, she'd gone on the record with Cordelia to attest to the confession along with Samantha. She'd never seen Cordelia so satisfied, grinning like a madman through the entire process. For her part, Annette had simply stood in the back of the room and tried to recover from the ordeal, unable to wrap her mind around the whole situation, while carefully avoiding any familiarity with Samantha, who was continually trying to gain her attention with little subtlety.

"Brilliant work," Cordelia chimes proudly, strolling at a less leisurely pace than before. There's an eager bounce in her step, as though any moment she could break out into a full sprint.

Annette is unsure of how to reply, walking quietly while struggling to keep pace with the detective. Had she really just used her as a ploy to prompt a confession? How far was she willing to let that go?

"You're quiet," Cordelia observes. "You're never quiet. Why are you quiet?"

"Still processing, Miss."

"What for? We just solved a case together! You were brilliant."

"Miss Jones... were you really willing to sacrifice me so easily?"

Cordelia halts her walk, furrowing her brow and glaring at Annette. "It was never going to go that far. I could tell she'd fold quickly. Honestly I'm considering allowing you to take a look at a handful of other cases with me."

"You plotted to have me killed."

"You weren't in any real danger, Annette." Cordelia shoves her hands in her pockets again, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "These noble assholes... they fold so easily under the slightest pressure, like they want to confess and finally break out of their perfect little lives. Look at how easily her friend abandoned her in her moment of need!"

"She would have killed me." Annette tries to push away the possibility that Samantha would just as easily leave her in danger.

"No, she wouldn't have."

"She already killed her uncle, why would she care about killing an unnamed collar? It wouldn't have phased her at all."

"Like I said, I was there to prevent that from happening," Cordelia sighs. "Are you going to keep complaining about this? We just solved a case, we should celebrate!"

"Did we? It was almost like you were making it up on the spot."

"I had a plan."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because your reaction sold it," Cordelia replies defensively. "Your shock and fear and pleas for your life made her believe it. We should practice that reaction, it's very versatile."

"So you're just fine with doing that to me?" Annette runs her hands through her hair, trying to make sense of it all. "Did Penny have to put up with death threats, too?"

"No." Cordelia crosses her arms over her chest.

"So just me!?" Annette can feel her face grow warm with anger. "Why on Earth would that be oka-,"

"Enough!" Cordelia snaps, silencing Annette. "I won't be talked to like this by a collar. It seems it was a mistake to believe you had an actual backbone."

Cordelia walks away briskly, once again making her way home. Annette wants to remain silent, to simply accept the reality of the situation and move on, but she quickly feels her bitterness and pettiness fester inside.

"You didn't solve it at all, did you?" She accuses as Cordelia arrives at the front steps of her home.

"Preposterous," Cordelia chuckles.

"You didn't! I solved it and you couldn't handle that I figured out something you could not," Annette continues, feeling a bristling heat in her chest, "so you wanted to punish me for it by scaring me."

"I believe we've already established you don't fear me, Miss Baker."

"So I'm right!" Annette jabs a finger at her. "You didn't solve it."

"Enough, Annette."

"I want you to admit it. You were fooled by a pompous, noble asshole."

"Enough."

"Just say the words, I solved a case that you couldn't," she gloats. "It took me an hour to figure out something you were stumped by for a week."

Cordelia whips back, suddenly grabbing Annette's wrist and twisting it sharply. Annette gasps with the pain, feeling her body forced down to her knees as Cordelia's nails dig into her arm and force her descent. In her eyes there's an anger Annette hadn't expected, fresh and jealous, and for a terrifying moment it's impossible to predict what she might be capable of.

"I... I will not be talked to like this by a collar," Cordelia hisses, her voice low and harsh. Her grip tightens, accenting her point. "I will not tolerate your triviality. Do you understand, Miss Baker?"

Annette's face contorts with the pain as Cordelia continues to twist her arm, bending it to an increasingly unnatural position and forcing Annette's entire torso to rotate to accommodate it.

"Yes, Miss Jones," she heaves.

"Never again, Miss baker," Cordelia threatens, releasing her finally. She climbs the fews steps to the door, unlocking it and looking back at Annette with a disappointed fury in her eyes.

"It seems you're afraid of me now," Cordelia sighs. She closes the door, leaving Annette's trembling body kneeling on the hard brick walkway.