Of Women 

Onew and Taemin had disappeared to investigate something else, one of Onew’s ‘little ideas’, leaving Key and Jonghyun with the garbled instructions to interrogate the parlour maid. Without a choice, and seeing as they were unfortunately outside after being all but tossed out by a tight-lipped Baekhyun, the duo decided to walk around back and enter through the kitchen door by the servants’ quarters. Jonghyun still appeared a touch disappointed about the fingerprints, and Key felt a little bad about having been so smug about the whole thing.

Just a little. He’d still won the argument, after all. 

“How was your investigation last night?” he asked instead, trying to break the silence.

“Hmm?” Jonghyun glanced up, blinking several times. There were shadows under his eyes. “Oh it was – nothing like a little near shootout to keep you awake and thinking, to quote our leader.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” Key said, with a bemused shake of his head, “You should have brought Minho with you to restrain Onew’s recklessness.”

“Have you tried to restrain Jinki when he’s after something?” Jonghyun responded, cocking his head.

Key raised a finger, thought about it, and then dropped it. “True.” 

“If anything, he’s gotten worse about it,” Jonghyun muttered under his breath. “He’s…changed, looking at him. Everyone has changed. Minho used to be so quiet, Onew was softer, and you were –”

“Nostalgia is a dangerous feeling,” Key told him bluntly, “We might have all gotten on quite well but we were hardly the perfect team back then. I’d prefer how we are now than to return to the past. Don’t you recall that we fought all the time back then?”

Jonghyun appeared startled, but Key merely arched an eyebrow. Odd Eye had been something in its heyday, but they had always been incomplete in a way, rough around the edges. Lines in the sand had been drawn too clearly. “Weren’t you upset when Odd Eye fell apart? You were the most put-together that day.”

“Don’t make me out to be so heartless,” Key reproached, “It was…I loved it and resented it, but it was home. It simply took me too many years after everything was over to finally realise that, damn my arrogance to hell.” 

Jonghyun considered this, eyeing him. “You’ve certainly mellowed.”

Key smiled to himself, running his fingers across the edges of his sketchbook. “Well, one needed to compensate when…you found the clues, Onew was well, Onew, Minho was the strength, and there I was, sketching people and trailing after like a lost child.”

He tilted his head back to look at the bright, blue sky overhead. The light was blinding and perhaps in another lifetime he would have asked himself why he hadn’t simply walked away from all of it. “I can understand Taemin’s feelings.”

Jonghyun was quiet a moment. “You never said this.”

“It’s in the past,” Key said resolutely, making a motion with his shoulders, “And I’d five years to sort myself out.”

“I’m not sure about that sorting out, you’re still quite a pri –”

Key shoved him into a rose bush. “That has thorns!” Jonghyun cried, brandishing his bag threateningly. “This is terribly embarrassing and you’ll never catch me saying it twice, but you’re fine the way you are.”

“That was a terrible compliment.” Key paused. “And really just like you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Jonghyun told him, slinging an arm around him. Key made a face of disgust but he did not remove the offending arm, smiling to himself once more.

There was hope for them all yet, he decided.

By now, they had reached their destination, the faded door on the side of the mansion. And here they came across the strangest sight. The tall, lanky gardener was standing by the kitchen door, the parlour maid looming on the top of the step over him. He was holding his hat in his hands, twisting it nervously. Key stopped Jonghyun with one hand, and the two immediately darted behind a large apple tree, peering around it. “Stop blocking me,” Key hissed, pushing down Jonghyun’s head.

“I’m not that tal – you nearly had me there,” Jonghyun said sulkily, glaring up at him. Key stuck out his tongue and placed a finger to his lips, gesturing at the scene before him.

“Brought some herbs. Thought you might like them,” Chanyeol was saying anxiously, eyes flickering between his toes and the woman in front of him.

“And where are they?” Jessica’s voice was frigid, hardly rising.

Chanyeol started, and then frantically patted down his pockets until he produced a slightly squashed bundle of leaves. Tentatively, he held it out to her. Jessica took it gingerly with one hand. “Thank you.” She frowned at him still standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Is there anything else?”

“No m’m. That is – I thought that in this time – we – you –”

“That will be all Chanyeol.” Jessica turned grandly on a heel, stepping into the house.

“Yes m’m,” Chanyeol murmured, looking rather like a kicked puppy. Glancing about, he jumped when he saw the two detectives gawking at the scene like a bunch of voyeurs. Jonghyun waved while Key groaned. Running a hand through his hair, Chanyeol managed an uncertain smile before hurriedly disappearing into the garden. There was a loud clatter as he tripped over a rake.

Key winced. The two men exchanged glances, Jonghyun with his mouth wide open. “Stop that, you’ll catch flies,” Key said absently, pushing his mouth shut. “Interesting.”

“Onew’s supposed to say that.”

“I’m borrowing it.”

“You can’t do that!”

“You just want to say it too!”

“Inter –”

“I’ve already said it!”

Jessica Jung was an attractive young woman with long, straight brown hair, and an expression that suggested she was not the least bit pleased about anything. She wore a simple black and white maid uniform buttoned to her chin, and rested her hands respectfully in her lap. She appeared a queen greeting her subjects. By comparison, Jonghyun’s weather-beaten coat and Key’s expensive but bizarrely coloured sweater looked positively out of place.

They sat across from her, and it dawned on Key in that moment that neither of them had ever interrogated a suspect without Onew present. True, he had often assisted his leader with it as the resident jack-of-all-trades, and observed countless questionings, but this was decidedly different. He clutched his sketchbook tighter to his chest and told himself to remain calm. They were grown men, they were perfectly capable of going about this intelligently. Provided Jonghyun did not put his foot in his mouth.

Some things that in his heart of hearts he actually enjoyed, did not change.

Taking the lead, he began, “Miss Jung, we are from –”

“I know who you are,” she said in clipped, abrupt tones. “I do not understand why I need to be questioned when I was not present that night. Sir.”

Key snorted. “Miss Jung, I’m sure you are aware of how much money you could potentially hold now that Yifan has passed.”

“And what of it?” her tone was not defensive, merely cold and poisonous, as though she were attempting to belittle any idea within their head.

“No offense meant, m’m,” Jonghyun cut in, “And I don’t strive to insult your profession, it's hard work is what it is. But you are a parlour maid. Not to mention the only servant of this establishment whom Yifan left anything to.”

“What was your relation to Yifan? Good friends, perhaps you helped him out in some valuable way,” Key added, in case she was prepared to be coy about things.

The woman dropped her eyes to her lap almost demurely. “Certainly nothing so romantic, sir. My sister is…unwell, and one finds it hard to support her alone. Mr Wu – and Mr Kim – was aware of this and no doubt he felt it proper to lend a hand.”

The look she gave them suggested that further questioning would get them nowhere. Key’s brow furrowed. “And how was Wu Yifan aware of your sister’s illness?”

Jessica did not even flinch. “I informed Mr Kim of this fact. Mr Wu was likely informed by him, sir.”

Internally, Key cursed. Strictly speaking, he had no way of proving whether or not she spoke the truth aside from a feeling. How was Onew able to so easily tease out information in exactly the way he wanted to hear it? “Miss Jung, I do not believe it is that simple.”

“You may believe what you wish sir, but I speak only the truth.” She raised her brows as though in challenge.

“Was there anyone within the household that would have reason to kill Yifan?” Jonghyun asked, changing the subject abruptly. Key had to give the woman credit; she gave no visible reaction. 

“There was no one,” Jessica stated flatly.

“Is Chanyeol your friend?” Key shot back, resting his palm flat on the table and sitting forward.

For the first time, Jessica’s brow furrowed slightly. “Park Chanyeol is the gardener. What of him?”

Key watched Jessica Jung’s face very carefully, studying with the eye of a trained artist the panes and hollows of it. He saw what he needed to see. Then he said, “Are you certain that nobody could have possibly killed Yifan? Do you expect us to believe that no one killed Yifan?”

Jessica remained silent. “There was no one, “ she repeated at last.

Outside the house, Key and Jonghyun looked at one another. “I can’t say for certain – dammit, how does Onew manage?” Key said, feeling his respect for the other man grow.

“She was lying about Yifan. That much I can say for sure,” Jonghyun concluded, and Key nodded.

As they walked down the long road out of the estate, the wind whipped at their jackets and nearly tore Key’s large hat off his head. “Did you see her eyes?” Key said. His voice was nearly lost to the wind, but Jonghyun heard him all the same. “Her eyes…she had been crying.”

Taemin was at a loss as to what was occurring. He was beginning to accept that this was his lot in life. Onew had, with a surprising amount of strength, gripped his arm and tugged him out of the estate, telling the remaining detectives – Minho had vanished – that they were doing some rather important detective work. Without much