Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Man-Eater ❯ Man-Eater Pt 02 ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Pet Shop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon+D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai. Language. Violence
Title: Man-Eater
Status: In Progress.





"Happy belated New Year's, Detective Freshney."

Jill glanced up from her paper work and smiled at the man standing before her. "Why, thank you, D," she replied, smiling brightly. "And a 'Happy belated New Year's' to you, too."

For a moment, she allowed her eyes to roam over the Count's outfit and couldn't help but nod her head in approval. He was wearing yet another one of his chiao-fu robes - she'd never seen him wearing anything else to tell the truth - with a matching open front, short-wasted jacket with long sleeves in deference to the day's slight chill. The background was a rich sky blue with artfully arranged bunches of tuberoses dancing along one side with golden ribbons swirling between them. The ribbons matched the mandarin collar and the trim of both the hem of the jacket and the cuffs of the sleeves. A closer inspection revealed that the Count's shoes also matched the ensemble. A nice touch one usually never expected from a man.

"D, you are the only man I know who has such a distinctly feminine sense of style," Jill said, sweeping scattered reports into a pile then sliding them carefully into a manila folder. She then swiveled in her chair and deposited it into her filing cabinet.

"Not that I'm calling you a woman, or anything," she amended quickly. She straightened up and quickly set her desk to rights. A messy desk was nothing but a distraction. Honestly, she didn't know how Leon managed to get anything finished at the junk pile he called a desk. She was not a woman who appreciated distractions, unless they happened to come in the form of a handsome man and the Count was nothing if not handsome. "I just mean that most guys I know couldn't pull off that look. But you manage not only to pull it off, but to also look dashingly handsome in what others would most likely call a 'dress.'"

D inclined his head graciously, his thick black hair falling forward to curtain his face, but not before she caught his amused smirk. "You are too kind, Detective Freshney."

"Hey, enough with the 'Detective Freshney' bit," Jill said with a wave of her hand. "It's way too formal. Just call me Jill, 'kay?"

"Yes, of course."

"Anyway, seriously," Jill continued with a chuckle. "Can you imagine Leon in such an outfit? I'd laugh myself silly if he ever walked in here wearing something like that."

D's mouth twitched in amusement as the mental image of Detective Orcot from Christmas Eve flashed through his mind. The detective's clothes had been wet and rather than run around the pet shop naked, he had reluctantly agreed to wear a chiao-fu D had had made especially for him. While it was certainly odd seeing him in such an outfit, it hadn't looked horrible. And Leon had seemed to like it; at least enough to wear it until his clothes were dry. But he had refused to take it home with him, preferring to keep it at the shop. D had been slightly disappointed but had understood the detective's reluctance in accepting such a gift.

"No, you are right, Detective Orcot's sense of style," D raised his hands and drew invisible quote marks in the air at the last word, "is not my own. But then again, scruffy seems to suit him. And he does clean up well."

D placed one finger thoughtfully against his lips for a moment. He then smiled and continued, "If I remember correctly, he was wearing such a handsome ivory tuxedo at Mrs. Smith's party last year while he was investigating all those high profile disappearances that were eventually connected to the unfortunate Mr. Wong."

"Yes, I remember that case," Jill's face momentarily turned somber but then she laughed lightly and leaned back in her chair with a happy sigh. "You're right. The detective does look rather dashing in a tux, but our Leon will always be a jeans and tee shirt man."

"Indeed." D murmured in agreement.

Jill tucked a tendril of blond hair absently behind one ear and made an inviting gestured toward the empty chair in front of her desk. "Care to join me?"

"It would be my pleasure," D answered, nodding his acceptance.

He carefully set a rather ancient looking suitcase down on the floor besides the chair. Jill, curious, was surprised that she hadn't noticed it before, but then again, he was such a handsome man that such a lapse was almost expected. What girl could possibly thing straight when she had such a beautiful, if slightly odd, pair of eyes staring back at her? He was handsome, polite, refined... mysterious as all hell. Plus he owned his own business. Everything a girl could want and desire in a man.

D slid gracefully into the seat, smoothing the shimmering material of his silk robe primly over his knees as he did so. When he was settled to his liking he turned his attention towards the policewoman. She smiled at him and he returned the smile easily.

"It's almost tea time, Miss Jill," D said, his voice pleasant. "Would you care for a cup?"

"That would be nice, Count."

Nodding happily, D reached down, unfastened the buckles holding the case shut, and began pulling an amazing array of supplies from its depths. First came a shimmering ivory cloth roughly the size of a large handkerchief, which he draped over empty corner of the desk. He laid out the cloth carefully, his long fingers making the softest 'shh-shh' sounds as he smoothed out the creases and wrinkles until it lay pristinely along the desktop. He then reached back into the case and removed a thermos, two beautifully ornate tea cups with matching saucers, a covered sugar bowl, a small round container, several tea spoons, and, of course, a teapot.

Jill's eyebrows rose a notch with each item the Count removed. 'Well, I guess that makes sense,' she thought, her logical nature overcoming her initial shock. 'After all, he did as if I'd care to join him for tea. It's not like it's going to suddenly materialize out of thin air. And D's tastes are simply too refined for the stale instant tea they keep around here.'

D continued to arrange his set, paying special attention to the placement of each item. Jill watched him in silent fascination then turned her attention to the pattern of the china. It was truly exquisite, a pattern she had seen at her great-grandmother's house when she went for a visit just this past Christmas. The only difference was that her grandmother's set had had several hairline body cracks on the pot and D's set looked to be practically mint condition. Surely this set couldn't be that old... and she distinctly remembered her grandmother explaining that this particular pattern had been discontinued in the late 1800's.

Curiosity finally got the best of her and Jill reached out towards one of the delicate cups, then stopped and turned her eyes questioningly towards the Count.

"May I take a closer look at this?" she asked politely.

"Of course you may," D replied as he measured out the loose tea leaves before pouring them into the teapot and adding steaming hot water from the thermos.

Jill picked up the nearest cup and settled it onto her flattened palm. It seemed so small, so fragile. The ornate design depicted fantastically detailed cherry blossoms on a bright, butter yellow band of color with an ornate leaf pattern gilt. Each blossom seemed almost about to leap from the fine porcelain surface, they were that realistic. There were also accents along both the foot of the cup and the rim that appeared to be solid gold.

'This must be a reproduction of the much older set,' Jill thought as she examined the cup critically. `Surely he wouldn't be carrying an antique set about with him... would he?'

"Where did you find this set, D?" she asked in a hushed voice. "I've only seen this pattern once and it belonged to my great grandmother. But the pattern was discontinued a long, long time ago," She raised her head and smiled, 'but your set is beautiful and in such wonderful condition... Surely this must be a reproduction."

"No, this is an authentic antique set that belonged to my grandfather," D replied, taking the cup from Jill's hand. He set it down on its saucer and filled it with fragrant tea. Steam swirled faintly into the air as he set it once again before the astonished detective. "It is but a small part of a fifty-one piece tea service set that was produced by a company by the name of Coalport back in 1830."

"Would you care for any sugar with your tea, Miss Jill?" D asked, indicating the sugar bowl and its tiny white cubes.

"Y-yes please,"

"One lump or two?"

Jill couldn't help but smile at that phrase - one her grandmother had asked her during many of her cherished childhood tea parties. Only the set she had used all those long years ago had been a chipped plastic set with smiling daisies, not an ornate antique one like the one set out before her now.

"Just one is fine, thanks."

"This was my grandfather's favorite tea set," D murmured as he expertly used a tiny set of tongs to place a single sugar cube in the brimming cup steaming in front of the police officer. "It is one of my favorites as well. Using it helps me somehow feel closer to him. That may sound a bit odd, but it's true. I haven't seen him for many years, you know, and there are times when I miss him very much."

'I understand completely," Jill replied as she stirred her tea and brought the cup to her lips and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a small sip. The taste of blueberries burst along her taste buds in an unexpected flood.

"D!" she exclaimed, "this tea is simply divine. Wherever did you find it?"

"An associate of mine sent me some from China just before the holidays." D explained, taking a sip of his own tea and sighing in contentment. He glanced at the woman seated across from him from over the edge of the saucer, his eyes twinkling. "Would you like me to give you some?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that, Count-"

"But I insist," D set his cup down and once more reached into his suitcase. "I have more than I could possibly use," Jill started to protest, but he held up his hand to silence her. "You would hurt my feelings if you were to refuse, Detective."

He produced a small lidded container and held it out to Jill who murmured an obligatory protest, but accepted the gift nonetheless. For the next few minutes the two sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed their tea.

Jill's eyes widened suddenly and she set her teacup down and exclaimed, "Of course! Dangerous pleasure!"

D set his own cup down and looked at her uncertainly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Deadly pleasure." Jill repeated, with a smile. "I noticed the tuberoses in your outfit when you came in and I knew they meant something but I couldn't for the life of me think of what that meaning was."

D shifted in his seat slightly and smiled faintly obviously confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Miss Jill."

"According to many people, and several books, flowers each have their own special meanings. Tuberoses just happens to mean 'dangerous pleasure.'" Jill scooted back in her chair, pulled out one of her desk drawers, and removed a small paperback book. She held it out to D, who took it politely.

"See?" Jill exclaimed, leaning across the desk to point at the book as D flipped through it with no small amount of interest. "This book is one of many that gives the meanings of flowers around the world,” she sighed and settled back into the cushioning of her chair. “There was a time not too long ago when these meanings were commonly understood. People would send their friends, lovers, even enemies bouquets of flowers, each with a unique message, depending on what they were trying to get across."

She sighed again, and it sounded rather sad to D's ears. "No one cares anymore beyond the fact that roses invariably mean `love.' But I think it would be so nice to send your loved ones a bouquet of flowers with its own special message. Even if they didn't understand what that message was... It would be like sending a secret note to someone without having to say a word."

D flipped through the book for a few moments, his eyes scanning various pages, pausing here and there to read a passage or admire a spectacular photograph of one floral species or another. "This is rather fascinating, Miss Jill," he finally said as he shut the book and handed it back to the detective. "I'm curious...Wherever did you find it?"

"Actually, I don't know where it came from," Jill confessed with some embarrassment as she tucked the book back in the drawer, "Leon gave me this book for my birthday last year."

"He did?" D was hardly able to keep the surprise from his voice.

"Yes. He did," Jill leaned closer to D, the palms of her hands resting against the desktop. Her voice lowered as if she were divulging privileged information and D had to lean closer to catch her words. "He's a lot nicer than people give him credit for, you know?"

"Indeed he is," D sighed, then glanced up at the clock on the wall, which read a quarter to two. "And speaking of Detective Orcot, shouldn't he have been in by now?

"I should have known he was the reason for your unexpected visit." Jill muttered, then sighed heavily. Disappointment flashed across her face but was quickly replaced by a look of mild concern.

"Leon called in sick this morning," she said, scooting away from her desk. She stood quickly and her long legs carried her easily across the room to cork board that took up almost an entire wall. Calendars, notices, and various announcements on colored paper covered almost every square inch. Without hesitation she moved to some papers stapled together and stuck to the wall with red pushpins. She removed the pins, took down the papers, and flipped through them quickly, her eyes scanning the last page.

"In fact, he called in sick yesterday as well," Jill brought the papers over to D and pointed to a spot halfway down the last page. "See? It was in yesterday's personnel announcement. Today's won't be posted until the evening shift has started."

Jill frowned down at the paper. "He must be really feeling lousy to call in two days in a row. Let's face it, our man Leon lives and breathes the job. I've been working with him for a while now and I've never known him to call in sick before yesterday."

D stood abruptly, a look of alarm on his handsome face. "That would explain why he didn't come over for tea yesterday. And he didn't call…" He began to gather up dishes. The ones that hadn't been used were quickly put away as he continued speaking as if to himself. "I naturally assumed he was working an important case and was unable to get away."

"Is there a place where I may wash these?" D asked, feeling suddenly very flustered. He cast his gaze about him, as if hoping a kitchen sink would miraculously materialize out of thin air. When none appeared he turned his attention back the task of packing away his supplies.

"D, calm down," Jill took the teapot from his hands and set it down on the desk. "You go check up on Leon and I'll clean this up."

"But I couldn't -"

Jill took gentle hold of his wrists and his words fell away as he stared at her, his brow creased with worry. She smiled at him and squeezed gently and he made no effort to draw his hands away. For several moments she simply held D's wrists and stroked his skin with the balls of her thumbs. After a short time D visibly relaxed and his face cleared and only then did Jill release him.

"I'll take good care of your grandfather's tea set," Jill assured him soothingly. "You go check up on Leon. It's probably just a cold, but I'm sure he'd appreciate your concern. The tea set will still be here and intact when you get back. I promise."

D's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you, Miss Jill."

Jill waved his words away with a shooing gesture. "Think nothing of it. Besides, it's the least I can do since you gave me such wonderful tea. Now get out of here. Knowing Leon, he'll need all the mothering he can get.” She grinned and added with an impish smile, “He's such a helpless dope sometimes."

With another murmured 'thank you', D hurried from the precinct, mentally ticking off a list of supplies he would have to get before going to Leon's apartment. The wind had picked up a bit since he had stopped at the police headquarters and now it plucked at his clothes like an insistent child. Determinedly, he lowered his head and pressed on.

D's mind was so occupied with thoughts of Leon that he failed to notice that he was being watched. A man wearing dark shades, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket lounged with studied nonchalantly against a tree less than five yards from the doors of the precinct. He glanced over the rims of his shades at the Count as he walked past, his chiao-fu fluttering behind him like a sail, his eyes never leaving the slender Chinese man until he was down the street and out of sight. Only then did he dig into the pocket of his jeans and pulled a tiny cell phone. With practiced ease he flipped it open, punched in a series of numbers, and held it to his ears.

He spoke into the phone for a moment or two, then listened patiently, nodding his head every once in a while. Finally he disconnected and pocketed the phone. After glancing around to make sure no one was paying him any mind, he stalked off after the Count.



TO BE CONTINUED...