Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Murder and a Music Box ❯ Poor Little Rich Girl ( Chapter 4 )

Author's Notes: Yes, I want reviews!!! Thanks again Sailor Firestar for reviewing and realizing that. But I'm still liking this story a ton so I'm keeping it up. Also, I'm editing another story of mine so this chapter took a little longer to write because of that.

Disclaimer: Duh, I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did I would have a lot more money.

Warning: Slight language and more shonen ai, but if you're reading this fic you already know that.


Poor Little Rich Girl

I spent the rest of the week trying to dig up as much about Chang Wu Fei as I possibly could. Well, I did the other obvious things like eating, drinking, showering, using the bathroom, and playing Candy Land, Life and Risk with Ignatius, which I all lost. Although, I came really close to winning Candy Land. Yeah, I know I live a fascinating life. Anyway, the point is I didn't find much on the man. At least not anything discriminating.

I knew he hadn't been working Chang's Translation Services for long, that was obvious. But I needed to know why he had to move from his nice apartment into a dingy office building. But like I said I couldn't find anything. He hadn't declared bankruptcy. In fact, he had one of the cleanest credit reports I've ever seen. The only info I did find on him was the usual, his car (a Toyota Camery, how boring), where he went to college (Oxford with BA's and MA's in business and accounting). He seemed perfectly clean. But I knew there was something about him I didn't know.

Since I hadn't really found out that much I decided to go see the one person who might be able to shed some light on Chang Wu Fei, Quatre Winner. Yeah, I was still slightly apprehensive about laying eyes on the kid. It was something like guilt, but I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. He could have that effect on people. Or, more correctly, me. I know, what a punk.

I waited until late Friday afternoon to make my trip out to the Winner Estate. I wasn't looking to impress Quatre anymore. Not that he'd be impressed by me anyway, but I like to pretend. So, I just wore some old jeans and a t-shirt. I threw a baseball cap on too in order to hide my fuzzy head. I do that when I don't feel like brushing out and re-braiding my hair. It's a pain in the ass.

When I got there I parked my car and went up to ring the bell. Once again Quatre Winner answered the door, but this time it was his turn to look surprised, and he did.

"Oh, uh Duo," he stammered when he saw me. I'd like to think he was taken aback by my careless good looks, but I really don't think that was the case. "Please come in."

"You expecting someone or going out?" I only asked this because of how the kid was dressed. I'd never seen him in a outfit like that before. Then again I'd only seen him on two other occasions, so I wasn't really one to know anything about his sense of fashion. To put it lightly he looked good. Scratch that, he looked great. He was wearing some black slacks that, well let's just say they enhanced certain parts of his body in a very positive light. It made me kinda jealous. Anyway, he was also wearing a deep red button up that was just form fitting enough to show off his slender build. It gave me all kinds of naughty thoughts that I tried to push out of my mind.

"No," he said as a blush invaded his cheeks. "Well, I was going to go out later, but I wasn't expecting anyone."

"Am I interrupting you? I mean I can come back later, if you want." And I gave one of my award winning smiles. Or maybe it was more of a cheesy grin. I can't really remember.

"No, Duo. I've been wanting to hear from you," he said and walked further into the house as he gave me a polite smile.

"Good, because I need to talk to you. Can we sit down?"

"Yeah, right in here," he said and motioned to the living room. More correctly, one of the living rooms decorated in a charming French Renaissance style. Okay, not really, but it sounded good.

I sat on the couch he motioned at and watched him flit around the room for a second. "Do you want something to drink, Duo? I was just letting a bottle of wine breathe, if you'd like."

I thought about it for a moment, but remembering what happened the last time I drank I decided it wasn't a good idea. No, I wasn't gonna get drunk off of a couple glasses of wine, but I was there on business. Plus, I really didn't trust myself to loosen up around the kid. I was afraid of what I might do. So I said, "no thanks. I'll just have some soda."

He nodded, looked slightly disappointed and left, returning a few minutes later with a root beer for me. It was the really nice kind in the fancy glass bottles. I took a sip and waited for him to sit down.

"Did you find out anything from Mr. Chang?" he asked in a conversational kinda tone.

"Not really. That's why I came here, Quatre. I need to know how Chang knew your father."

He nodded. "They were business partners, as far as I knew. I didn't know a lot about my father's business. I wasn't really very interested in it," he said and gave me a sheepish smile. "I think Mr. Chang did something with accounting as well. Kept the books or something. That's all I know."

I scratched all this down on my notepad and asked the next question. "Do you know what happened between them? Chang seemed a tad resentful of Mr. Winner," a massive understatement, I know, "so I know something went down."

Quatre shook his head. "Father just told me Mr. Chang was going to go start his own company and Mr. Chang told me the same thing. He was really nice about it. I didn't know he was resentful at all."

Well, I had to laugh at that. So I did. "I'm really sure that Chang wanted to go start Chang's Translation Services over on 12th street," I said dripping with sarcasm and shook my head.

"Oh," Quatre said. "That doesn't sound like a great start up business."

"Nope, it's not."

He only nodded and I felt kinda bad. But not bad enough to keep me from asking my next question.

"When did Chang introduce you to Heero Yuy?"

Quatre looked slightly taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "Um, about six months ago."

I nodded. "Was it after or before he left?"

"I think it was after," he said after a moments thought.

As I was jotting it down he spoke again. "How do you know Heero?"

I looked up from my paper and smiled. He looked genuinely curious, and his face looked like it was trying to win a who is redder contest against his shirt. "I met him and asked him some questions." Not really a lie, just an omission of the whole truth.

"What did he say?" he was starting to look nervous by now and it piqued my curiosity.

"Not much," I answered simply to see his reaction.

"He's a nice guy," Quatre said and smiled meekly. "Is that all you found out so far? You don't have anymore questions?" he asked a little too quickly like he was hurrying to change the subject.

"Nope, that's it," I said and stood up with my almost full root beer. "Thanks for your help, Quatre."

"You're welcome," he said and stood. "I'll show you out then."

We said our goodbyes and I drove off into the night. It was starting to get murky, but that's the way I liked it. It wouldn't be any fun to solve open and shut cases. Actually, there just wouldn't be any money in it for me since I charge by the hour. So, I drove away thinking about all I needed to do. Since I wasn't tired I figured I could stop by the office for a couple of games with Ignatius, and I vowed that this time I would beat him at Candy Land.

* * *

I spent the weekend trying to find out more about Chang. I came up with nothing. I didn't even beat Ignatius at Candy Land, so by Monday I was feeling a little annoyed. I decided I could call in a favor from my dear friend Detective Barton. I drove down to the station, stopping on the way to pick up a bag of fresh bagels and some cream cheese. See, in order to get cops to do what you want you just gotta know how to bribe them, and I knew Trowa had a soft spot for bagels.

I trotted into his office and found him staring at his computer screen with a cup of coffee resting on his desk. He looked like he was trying to type but with only two fingers. That's the way he was. I don't think he'd have gotten any work done if it hadn't have been for his secretary, the poor girl.

"Still slow, Barton?"

"Still annoying, Maxwell?" Trowa responded and looked up at me, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, pretty much," I said and returned the smile. "I just happened to pick up some breakfast on my way here, so if you're interested. . . ." I let the rest of the sentence hang and dangled the bag of bagels in his face.

"Cream cheese?" he asked and smiled slyly.

"Of course," I answered and set the bag down on his desk as I took a seat across from him.

"I'm touched you remember," he said and pulled out a sesame seed bagel and began to apply liberal amounts of cream cheese to it. I grabbed a plain one and did the same thing.

"I also remember how you have a bad habit of skipping breakfast. Don't you know it's the most important meal of the day?"

He shook his head and his bangs swished in his face like a car wash. "You really aren't one to talk about bad habits, Duo."

He was right, so I just smiled and took a bite of my bagel.

"So," he said after a couple bites and a sip of coffee, "what do you want?"

I took the liberty to look offended. "Me? Want something from you? Hey pal, maybe I just wanted your company. You know, old friends and all."

"Yeah," he whispered as he rubbed one long tapered finger down his coffee mug and stared at me with his visible eye, "old friends."

I nodded but didn't hold the gaze for long. It always made me a tad bit nervous when he looked at me like that. Like he was reading my mind or something. Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I have one hell of an imagination. So I gobbled down the rest of my bagel and artfully avoided looking at him.

Then I cleared my throat and chanced a glance in his direction. He was slowly licking some renegade cream cheese off one of his fingers, and I watched him for a moment before speaking. "I did come here to ask you a favor, actually."

He kept his eyes down and just chuckled. "What is it, Maxwell?"

I opened my mouth to say, but as if on cue a rookie burst into the office.

"There's been another one, Detective," she said slightly breathless.

"Where?" Trowa asked and stood up grabbing his coat.

"Same neighborhood. 1243 Peach Tree Lane," she said and hurried out.

Trowa glanced at me and I stood up as well. "You can come with, if you want. It's another one of those robberies."

"Fine," I said and walked after him. "I'll follow in my car."

He flashed me a smile. "Don't like my driving, Duo?"

I smiled back and shook my head. "Not right after I ate."

Then we got in our respective cars and drove to 1243 Peach Tree Lane. It was just a few streets away from Quatre's place and every bit as grand and gaudy. This house didn't look like a plantation though. It was more of a French chateau, a towering pale yellow chateau.

I got out of my car a moment after Trowa did, and I heard him whistle. "Never made it to France?" I only asked because he told me he wanted to go there someday. He even spoke pretty decent French.

"No, never did," he said and gave me a regretful smile.

We weren't the first on the scene, far from it. By the time we got there everyone else was almost done. I didn't mind though, after all, it wasn't' my case.

"What happened?" Trowa asked a cop that approached him.

"Same as the others, Detective. The safe was emptied and a couple of Monets were lifted."

Trowa nodded slowly. I could almost feel his brain working. No matter what I think about him I have to admit he's a good detective, and I could tell he was really frustrated by these cases. Yes, I can read some people better than others.

"Who lives here?" he asked after a moment.

"Mr. and Mrs. Peacecraft. But they're on vacation. The only person here at the time was their daughter Relena. She was house sitting."

"Where is she?"

The cop pointed. "Down that hall and to the right in a sitting room. She's pretty shaken up."

"Thanks," he said and turned to me. "Shall we?"

I nodded and we walked down the hall. The room was decorated to the tens and very nice, like all the rooms in a houses like that. The young lady was sitting alone in a cushy arm chair wearing a pink silk robe (with nightgown underneath, I presumed) and matching house slippers. Although she looked like she had recently woken up her golden brown hair was combed and fell just below her shoulders. She was somewhat pretty, but then I'm not really into girls so I don't tend to judge them. Maybe a straight guy woulda thought she was a knockout.

Trowa approached slowly and sat down across from her. "Hello. I'm Detective Barton. I know you've been through a lot but could you tell me what happened one more time?" he asked her gently. That's part of what made him a good detective, he knew how to deal with the victims. I can be a little too blunt sometimes. But hey, I'm still a great detective.

"Well, I woke up and noticed the Monet in the hallway was missing. I got scared then and called the police. I mean, after what happened to Mr. Winner who wouldn't be scared?"

Trowa nodded as he wrote all of it down, and I took a few more steps into the room. "Did you know Mr. Winner?" I asked. See? Too blunt.

"Yes," she said and nodded. "I've been friends with his son Quatre for years."

Trowa threw me a look and went on. "What all did you find missing?"

"Just the Monets and the safe in the library was emptied. I haven't checked the whole house though."

Trowa jotted it down and gave her a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Relena. If you find anything else missing please let me know. Or if you think of anything. Suspicious cars and such, just give me a call. Detective Trowa Barton, all right?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"I'm going to go check out the library," Trowa said as he turned to me.

"Fine. I'm gonna ask this young lady a couple more questions."

He gave me a look of warning before walking out, but I didn't really know what it was about. Like I'm not good a questioning people.

Relena was looking at me curiously, and I realized I should introduce myself. "I'm a private detective, Duo Maxwell. Quatre Winner hired me to investigate his father's death."

She nodded and motioned for me to sit down. "Please sit."

"Thanks. So, how long have you been friends with Quatre Winner?" I asked and pulled out my notepad.

"About twelve years, I guess," she answered after a moments thought.

"Do you know anybody who had anything against Mr. Winner?"

"No, I was only friends with Quatre. I didn't really know his father very well."

"Did you ever know or hear about a Mr. Wu Fei Chang?" I asked.

"Wu Fei?" she said slowly and her eyes filled up with tears. "I knew Wu Fei."

Now this was interesting. "How?"

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes hastily. "He was my fiancé."

* * *
More Author's Notes: So? Was that a surprise? I hope so. I'll update soon. Please let me know what you thought, good or bad! Thanks for reading!