AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, here's another one haha. Just gonna stop apologising for frequent updates since y'all seem to enjoy them. Anyway, as a bonus, here's a couple pictures I used for inspiration while writing and imagining the vibe for this story. I know I rarely ever post inspo pics but whatever lol.

There's a lot of talk of Seulgi's car in this. If you're wondering what I was thinking of, it's this white Ferrari Testarossa. Sadly I can't find any cool looking pictures of the car in Miami Vice (it was introduced in Season 2 of the show, and most of the posters are Season 1) but here's a couple cool pics of Crockett and Tubbs - here, and here - because, let's face it: Miami Vice is the coolest show of all time. Even today ;)

Anyway, keep the love and comments keeping, and please leave a Vote if you're enjoying, means a lot to me. You guys are (as usual) amazing <3

Having a lot of fun writing something lighter/funnier for once haha

Enjoy!

5

If Looks Could Kill

She dreamt of nothing memorable and she was awoken by an enormous and sudden beeping somewhere in the house. It was not something she could remember hearing for a long time. Immediately she threw back the covers and rose and looked about. All was dark in the bedroom. The door still closed. It was coming from the kitchen and she knew by that point that it was the fire alarm but as to the reason she had no idea. The clock read just past nine. She opened the door and went out into the terrible whining soundscape, the howling and the buzzing and the little red switchbutton monitor on the kitchen ceiling beeping a deep red repeatedly.

It wasn’t until that moment she smelled smoke but she could see it. Small gouts of it coiling blueblack in the air like some wicked mist and the stink was general. She coughed into her hand and winced and already she was almost crying. The alarm was still going – beep beep beep. In the doorway Seulgi stood and peered in. It was still somewhat dark even with the blinds halfway up. Irene was stood by the sink with a wet dishtowel in one hand and a pan in the other. A small lash of flame danced and lurched wildly in the bottom of the pan and she set to wafting it with the towel and coughing and setting the pan into the sink and running the water and only then did the fire extinguish.

Seulgi took a chair from the table and stood and adjusted the alarm until it rang no more. Irene had not even seen her come in. She stood by the sink in only a pair of boyshorts and a thin black shirt and she coughed into her hand and wafted the gouts of blacking smoke from the pan and across the room while it sizzled and spat and bubbled. The remnants of her food lay about the plughole blackened and heatcharred and slowly smouldering in their own greasy grave.

‘What the is this?’ Seulgi said.

Irene turned to her with a smile. ‘You’re awake.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

‘What?’

‘Irene. What is this?’

‘I was cooking breakfast.’

‘And you decided to burn my ing house down?’

‘Well,’ Irene said. She folded the wet towel and set it on the drainingboard. ‘I didn’t plan on burning it, no. It just sort of happened. Guess I’m out of practice.’

‘Is this some sort of joke?’

‘I’m used to just picking stuff up to go. Takeaways and . And we had everything prepped for us in prison.’

‘Irene.’

‘Guess I genuinely forgot how kitchen equipment works.’

‘Irene-’

‘Except toasters. I can still work a toaster fine.’

Seulgi pushed the chair back under the table. ‘I want you out of my house,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘I’ve got nowhere to go.’

‘Don’t start that with me again.’

‘It was an accident,’ Irene said. And there, right there – that grin on her lips, that delicate faux innocence just teasing Seulgi. Just daring her in. As if knowing she wasn’t sorry and didn’t care and offering such to Seulgi in a different way. How absurd it was, that smile. How truly dangerous. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I just wanted something to eat.’

‘So you burnt down my kitchen.’

‘It’s just a bit of smoke.’

‘I don’t care what it is.’

‘You say that a lot, you know? I don’t care. Is there anything you do care about?’

‘Irene.’

‘What time is it?’

Seulgi sighed. The last of the smoke wobbled and coiled about the ceiling and a thin mist hung. She went and opened the little windows overlooking Seoul from the fourth floor and ran a hand through her hair and stood a moment longer not knowing what to do next. Whether to go and try and sleep another hour or get dressed. She looked at Irene. Irene looking back at her, stood there by the side of the countertop, as if almost unsure of her, grinning ever so slightly, that devilish grin, the soft falling of her hair, the accent of her hips in those shorts. Seulgi turned away.

‘Seulgi.’

‘What?’

‘What time is it?’

‘Just after nine,’ Seulgi said.

‘When are we going?’

‘What?’

‘When are we going? To this place. And why won’t you look at me?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Tonight?’

‘It doesn’t open until tonight.’

‘Makes sense. You want some breakfast?’

‘No. I don’t.’

‘Just toast this time. I promise.’

Seulgi shook her head. ‘I’m going to get changed,’ she said. ‘Don’t ing burn my house down while I’m in the shower.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘So am I.’

When she had dressed and changed and come out Irene was lounging about in the livingroom. She sat splayed on the couch with the TV remote in one hand and the case folder in the other. At the sound of Seulgi she craned her head and shifted. ‘Can I shower now?’ she said.

‘Whatever.’

‘Is that a yes or a no?’

‘It’s a whatever. Do what you want.’

‘You want some toast?’

‘No.’

‘You sure?’

‘If I do,’ Seulgi said, ‘I’ll get it myself.’

‘Can I use your shampoo?’

Seulgi sighed. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips looking about. As if unsure again of how to proceed in Irene’s presence. Or what to do with her. Irene sat there crosslegged. Almost in some sort of anticipation. ‘Just do whatever,’ Seulgi said. ‘I don’t care. Don’t take too long. I don’t want you wasting water.’

‘Sure.’

While Irene busied herself in the bathroom she sat there on the couch in the spot Irene had been in watching the windows. The turning of the world beyond them. A cold blue day had come up and almost cloudless. Tender white sun. She thought perhaps Irene was right. That there really was nobody like her. It felt as if they had been together for months in less than forty-eight hours and in truth she wasn’t sure how much longer she could last. That incessant, constant complaining, the questions, that attitude of hers, the way she brushed her hair gently out of her face, the soft and purposeful smile on her lips, the blush of her cheeks, the way she looked so delightfully sinful in all her clothes. The standard concerns, of course. Nothing but the standard concerns.

It was nearly an hour when Irene emerged again fully dressed. ‘Sorry,’ she said, standing again in the doorway. So that the kitchen and beyond were obscured against her figure. ‘Didn’t think I’d take so long.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

‘So. What now?’

‘What?’

‘What do we do now?’

‘You can do whatever you want,’ Seulgi said. ‘I don’t care.’

‘Right. Of course. You don’t care.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Is this what you do when you’re not on the job? You just sit around and do nothing all day? How very boring.’

‘Whatever.’ Seulgi turned to her. No less Irene. No less whatever she was. ‘What is with you anyway?’

‘What?’ Irene said.

‘Why aren’t you freaking out?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘We saw two dead bodies yesterday. Murder victims. And it’s like you don’t seem to care at all. It’s like you’ve forgotten about it.’

‘I haven’t forgotten.’

‘Then what’s with you? Seen a lot of corpses, have you?’

Irene just shrugged. ‘I’m not a murderer, if that’s what you’re implying.’

‘It’s not.’

‘Well. I’m not. What are we doing?’

‘What?’

‘For the rest of the day. What are we doing?’

‘You can do wh-’

‘Whatever I want, yeah. I got that bit, don’t worry.’

‘Well.’

‘Want something to eat?’

‘Jesus, what is it with you and eating? Didn’t you just eat?’

‘No,’ Irene said. ‘Must I remind you of the smoke? And the burning.’

Seulgi said nothing.

‘Can we go grab a meal or something?’

‘What?’

‘You know. Go to a restaurant. Get something to eat.’

‘Why?’ said Seulgi.

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve got important work to be doing.’

‘Doesn’t seem like it.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

Irene leant against the other side of the door. ‘Is this all you ever do?’ she said. ‘Be grumpy. Be sullen and stoic.’

‘Whatever.’

‘How very Catonian of you.’

‘Are you finished?’

‘Are you?’

Seulgi turned to her. That wicked smirk now fulltoothed and inviting. Urging her to some sort of action.

‘Please,’ Irene said. ‘Let’s go get something to eat.’

Seulgi sat there a minute. Then she said, ‘Fine. Whatever. If it’ll shut you up. Jesus Christ, you’re like a child. I’ve actually got to shut you up.’

‘Sweet.’

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘How about that place we were at before?’

‘You remember where it was?’

Irene nodded.

‘Alright. Fine. Whatever.’

♣   ♣   ♣

The 161 Waterside Café was busy almost to capacity when Seulgi pulled the car into the end bay about an hour later. It was just after one in the afternoon. The waitress that greeted them in the vestibule was about their age and very smiley. She asked if they were looking for a table for two.

‘Yeah,’ Irene said.

‘We’re just friends,’ said Seulgi. The waitress didn’t say anything. She led them to a table upstairs overlooking the river and seated them and took their orders and left them alone. They sat in silence. Seulgi with her hands in her lap listening to the dim tinrattle murmur of kitchen pans and the hum of voices. ‘Why so glum?’ Irene said.

‘What?’

‘What’s gotten you down?’

‘I’m not down.’

‘No? You look it.’

‘I just don’t have anything to say to you.’

‘Well. Let’s change that.’

‘No thanks.’

Irene made a pout. Seulgi looked away. ‘What’s the matter?’ Irene said.

‘Nothing.’

‘Well. What do you want to talk about?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Come on, Seulgi.’

Seulgi sighed. She looked at Irene across the table, bent over her arms, mouth slightly agape as if ready to laugh and what laugh would come out but that laugh of hers drawing her in, that throaty murmur that was so deliciously unavoidable. She smelled of perfume. ‘Is that mine?’ Seulgi said.

‘Is what?’

‘That perfume.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You used it without asking?’

‘I asked. I don’t think you heard me, though.’

‘Of course not.’

Irene sat back. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Ask me something.’

‘What?’

‘Ask me something. Anything.’

‘I don’t have anything to ask you,’ Seulgi said.

‘Anything.’

Seulgi eyed her a moment. Then she said, ‘Fine. Anything?’

‘Anything.’

‘Why did you become a criminal?’

Irene laughed.

‘What?’

‘Did you think you’d catch me out with that or something?’ Irene said. ‘Like, you thought I’d be shocked you had the audacity to say something like that? Well. Sorry, sweetie. But I don’t mind answering.’

‘Go on then.’

‘What?’

‘Answer.’

Irene was quiet a second. Watching Seulgi with that glint in her eyes. Twinned there Seulgi’s own nervous image. ‘Well,’ Irene said. She folded her arms and unfolded them and then a second time before answering. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. Ta-da! Your answer, sweetheart.’

‘Stop calling me that.’

‘Well. I gave you what you wanted.’

‘When did you start?’

‘Start what?’

‘Breaking the law.’

‘We all break the law, Seulgi.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I don’t know,’ Irene said. ‘Fourteen? Fifteen?’

‘You started stealing things at fourteen?’

‘Sure. Sweets first. Those gobstoppers that you used to get for two thousand won each. Those big red ones. I’d steal a handful of them at a time. Then I graduated.’

‘You graduated.’

‘Yeah.’

‘High school?’

‘No, I mean I graduated to stealing bigger .’

‘Like what?’ said Seulgi.

‘Like TVs.’

‘What? Really?’

Irene giggled. And there it was – that giggle. To set Seulgi even more on edge. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Of course not. First it was the gobstoppers and then it was sunglasses and chocolate bars. I used to sell them at school for half price. In the evening I’d go and snatch a whole bunch and put them in my backpack and take them to school the next morning and sell them for a thousand won each. They cost two-five on the shelf. Then I started taking energy drinks, too. They had these chilled sections and nobody ever went near them and I’d just grab a whole bunch and stick them in my bag. And then, boom. One day I was selling people’s dinners to them and making a little fortune. Now that’s capitalism for you. Isn’t life grand?’

Seulgi didn’t reply.

‘I used to eat them, too. But I don’t know if that’s technically stealing if it never leaves the store. You know what I mean?’

‘You ate them before you got to the till.’

‘Right.’ Irene smirked. ‘You’ve done your fair share of suspicious activity yourself, Miss Kang.’

‘Tell me more.’

‘Sure,’ Irene said. ‘I don’t even know when I started with proper . Like, jewellery and stuff. Breaking into places. And don’t get me started on the fraud.’

‘Did you ever break into someone’s home?’

‘Nope. Never.’

‘Really?’

‘Never ever. That was my rule – I’d never do anything to hurt anyone.’

‘Could’ve fooled me.’

‘I’m serious. I never hurt anyone directly.’

‘Well,’ Seulgi said. ‘What about indirectly?’

‘Only people that deserved it.’

‘Clerks?’

‘Never hurt a clerk. Never stole from one either. Do you think I went around robbing banks in ski masks and ? Like, waving shotguns in the air? Gimme the loot!’ Irene laughed. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea.’

‘Just breaking into stuff at night?’

‘Yeah. How’d you know? Read my case files?’

Seulgi didn’t say anything. The waitress came with their food and they ate steaks and mixed vegetables and shared a plate of garlic bread with two small bowls of steaming beans. While they ate Irene continued.

‘I don’t know why I did it. Why I started. I didn’t really need the money. But it was this impulse, I guess. Sort of like an adrenaline rush for me, you know?’

‘No,’ Seulgi said. ‘I don’t.’

‘Well. That’s what it was.’

‘And still is?’

‘Sure.’ Irene dabbed at with a napkin. ‘In a way. But not as intense anymore. I guess prison changed me.’

‘Did it?’

‘Well. Not really. But it makes for a better story if I pretend it did. Doesn’t it?’

Seulgi said nothing.

‘What about you, anyway?’ Irene said.

‘What about me?’

‘What’s your story?’

‘My story.’

‘Sure. How’d you get into the police force? How’d you become a detective?’

‘Through my dad.’

‘Police?’

Seulgi chewed and nodded. ‘Sixteen years before he retired.’

‘And your husband?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I aim to please.’ And there – that grin again. Always that ing grin. Seulgi wiped and coughed and watched the cooling day. Mute shapes moving along the riverside below. Dogs on the grass.

‘Well,’ Irene said. ‘Go on.’

‘Go on what?’

‘Why’d you get into it?’

‘I just told you.’

‘Because of your dad?’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi said.

‘Was it ever your dream?’

‘I don’t know. I guess so.’

‘You always wanted to help people?’

‘Jesus, what is this?’

‘What is what?’

‘You asking me all these questions.’

‘I was just curious,’ Irene said. ‘I get curious a lot.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

‘Do you have any friends?’

‘What?’

‘Friends. Do you have any friends.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi said.

‘Who?’

‘You want their names?’

‘Sure. If you like.’

‘I don’t.’

‘What about Wheein?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You told me,’ Irene said.

‘When?’

‘When we were here the first time. You said something about someone called Wheein and then I said: Who the is Wheein? So, is that your friend?’

Seulgi nodded reluctantly.

‘Does she work with you?’

‘Look, why does it matter who my friends are? Or where they work. This plan of yours – to get to know me better – it’s not going to work.’

‘Seems it already is,’ Irene said. She pushed her plate halfway across the table. ‘I’m done,’ she said, teasing out the words. ‘That was great. Thanks, sweetie.’

‘It was your idea.’

‘For offering to pay, I mean.’

‘I didn-’

‘I’ll be out by the car.’

She turned to grab Irene and Irene had already gone. When she came out a few minutes later Irene was stood there leaning against the Testarossa. In the wind her hair blew about her face and she looked for a moment strangely beautiful. As if not quite human.

‘Don’t do that,’ Seulgi said.

‘Do what?’

‘Lean against my car.’

Seulgi opened the driver’s door and stepped in and Irene followed.

‘You’re an , you know that?’

‘Why?’ Irene said.

‘I never said I was paying.’

‘It’s what people do in a relationship. They offer to pay for their partners.’

‘We’re not in a ing relationship.’

‘No. But they don’t know that, do they?’

Seulgi sighed.

‘Anymore questions?’ Irene said. Seulgi started the car and pulled out of the lot without a word. In a sense she thought it was almost endearing, that incessant need to annoy her constantly, intended or otherwise. Almost. She turned down into the underground lot not forty minutes later and went on up to the fourth floor with Irene following her. Inside she sat at the kitchen table with the red folder opened in front of her.

‘You’re not going to learn anything more from that,’ Irene said.

‘I might.’

‘How many times have you read it? Thirty? Fifty?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘You’re right. Maybe if you read it enough times something’ll magically appear. Maybe it’s like a science! You never know.’

‘Shut up.’

Irene sat opposite. Most of the day seemed to fall away from them with no difficulty or discernibility whatsoever. By the time Seulgi packed away the folder and turned off the lights it was almost nine and they had spent most of the day there at the table. Irene had been unusually quiet. Not that Seulgi knew her well enough to gauge her usual habits. She started up the car and backed out of the garage and into the streets. They could hear the wind through the windows. In the darkening of the day all was beset with an anneal glare. Like candlelit objects observed through a belljar.

‘Where are we going?’ Irene said.

‘The strip club.’

‘I know that. What I mean is – where is it?’

‘Why does it matter?’

‘Well, since that’s where we need to be go-’

‘To you,’ Seulgi said. ‘Why does it matter to you.’

‘I don’t know. I’m just curious.’

About half an hour later she stopped the car in the open lot just down the street from Shakin’ Jakes in Amsa. There were no cars there save two or three at the opposite end. Seulgi sat a moment with the engine turned off not really doing anything. Then she opened the glovebox and took out the Glock and a spare magazine and adjusted her holster. ‘Whoa,’ Irene said. ‘Wait a minute.’

‘What?’

‘Why are you taking that?’

‘Just in case.’

‘Just in case of what? In case we’re attacked by strippers?’

‘It’s security,’ Seulgi said.

‘So if something goes down, you’re just going to start shooting everyone? Is that it?’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Ah,’ Irene said. ‘Silly me. I must’ve underestimated the modern handgun’s capacity for peaceful subjugation. Of course.’

Seulgi ignored her. She closed the glovebox and stepped out into the cold and locked the car and set off down Godeok road with Irene in tow. She was wearing a black suitjacket and black pants and loafers and all were rarities in her wardrobe. As Irene had pointed out. Of course she had.

When they came up to Shakin’ Jakes nobody paid them any mind. There were people stood about smoking and a couple finishing their drinks by the far side of the railing and the bouncers in their winter coats eyed them and nodded and were silent and motionless and save their breath entirely insignificant. The sign above the door was of a woman’s legs in gaudy red LED or neon. A foreign font. ‘Is this it?’ Irene said.

‘Where else would it be?’

‘I don’t know. You didn’t tell me where we going, remember?’

Seulgi ignored her again. On their way to the front of the queue the bouncers stopped them and she showed her badge and holster and they nodded and stepped out of the way and said no more. Inside they stood in a long and smoky room. A number of poles around which people gathered like looming ghouls at a dreamt auction, gazing upon the girls dancing half or fully so on the poles, up and down, splitlegged, languid rotations again and again. It smelled of whiskey and cologne and sweat. A dim haze, dim house music.

‘Nice place,’ Irene said. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘We’re not here for that.’

‘Can’t we at least have some fun?’

‘No.’

‘Just a little?’

‘Would you be serious?’ Seulgi said. ‘We’re here on business. People’s lives are at risk.’

‘Are they?’

‘People have died.’

‘That’s not what you said, though.’

‘Shut up and stay behind me.’

Irene said no more. Seulgi made her way to the far end of the room. A single door covered by a curtain led into a longer hallway and darker still the tiny ceilinglights. A fat man stood with his arms folded in front of him as if to ward off anyone who would even talk to him. Seulgi turned to Irene. ‘Wait here,’ she said.

She went and spoke to the bouncer and not a minute later came back and nodded to Irene to follow and she did. They were led through into one of the back rooms and left there with only a red curtain hanging over the doorway and a thin and red and sordid light in the corner of the room. There were two couches. The walls were a dim and hazy grey. ‘What are we doing?’ Irene said.

‘Waiting.’

‘For what?’

‘Just be quiet.’

They could hear still the vaguely rhythmic hum of the bass in the other room. About five minutes later a woman stepped in and saw Seulgi and smiled awkwardly. She was tall and slim and wore her dark hair just below her shoulders. ‘Seulgi,’ she said.

‘Joy.’

‘Nice to see you.’

‘Likewise.’

Joy looked at Irene. Perhaps a nervousness on her face. Or perhaps not. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said.

‘This is the part where you say: Business, not pleasure,’ said Irene.

‘Shut up,’ said Seulgi.

Joy smiled another awkward and polite smile – too polite for that place. Much too polite. ‘Is this your friend?’ she said.

‘Something like that,’ said Seulgi.

‘Why are you here? To see me?’

‘On business.’

‘Not pleasure.’

‘See?’ Irene said. ‘I told you.’

Seulgi ignored her. She motioned for Joy to sit but she did not. ‘We need to ask you a couple questions,’ she said.

‘About what?’

‘About an incident that’s happened.’

‘What incident?’

‘Two men who might’ve frequented this place a couple times. We need to know if you know anything about them. Any information at all could be helpful.’

‘Who are they?’

‘We’ve just got their names.’

‘We know people by names,’ Joy said. ‘Regulars.’

‘Kim Taeyang and Jang Joonyoung.’

Joy looked at them each in turn.

‘Do you know them? Seulgi said.

‘Yeah I know them. They were regulars. Anyone you know by name around here you’ll know by face. All the girls will.’

‘What do you know about them?’

‘Nothing much. They used to come in twice a week, them and this other guy. None of them really said much. Except Taeyang, I guess. He could get quite talkative when he was drunk, you know? Why? What’s happened?’

‘They’re dead.’

‘What?’

‘Mr Kim and Mr Jang were found murdered in Kim’s apartment yesterday.’

‘Jesus.’ Joy took a step back. As if to collect herself. ‘That’s…Jesus. I didn’t know.’

‘Nobody did.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What can you tell us about them?’

She looked at Irene again. Irene was watching her with an expression that was unreadable. She turned back to Seulgi. Perhaps fear on her face or something even worse. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know anything about a murder.’

‘When was the last time you saw them alive?’

‘The week before last, it must’ve been. They came in together.’

‘That was it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did they mention anything to you?’

‘About what?’

‘About anything.’

Joy shook her head. ‘They were normal.’

Seulgi and Irene shared a glance. ‘You mentioned a third guy,’ Seulgi said. ‘That came in here with them.’

No reply.

‘Joy.’

She had her arms folded in front of her and she pushed her hair back out of her face and bit her lip.

‘Joy. If there’s anything you know, you need to tell us. You mentioned a third man.’

With some reluctance she said, ‘He used to come in here with them all the time.’

‘Who was he?’

‘I don’t know. A friend, I guess.’

‘What was his name?’

Again there was no reply.’

‘Joy,’ said Seulgi.

‘He was a foreign guy.’

‘A foreigner.’

‘Yeah,’ Joy said.

‘What was his name?’

‘Sachs.’

‘What was his first name?’

‘I don’t know, he never gave it. It was always just an initial. G.’

‘Sachs. First name starting with a G.’

Joy nodded.

‘Is there anything else you can remember? Anything at all. About any of them.’

‘No.’

Seulgi looked to Irene. Then she turned back to Joy and offered a small reassuring smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She took a small card from her suitjacket pocket and stood and handed it to Joy. ‘If there’s anything else you remember – anything at all – call me.’

‘Okay.’

On the way out Joy called to them and they turned and stopped. She stood a moment, almost indecisive, tapping from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t know anything about any murder,’ Joy said. ‘I don’t know anything about those guys. You’re not gonna ask any more questions, are you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well.’

She made to say something and then fell quiet and Seulgi and Irene thanked her again and left the same way they had come in. Nobody watched them go. Nobody paid them any attention. In the car they sat while Seulgi put the gun and the holster and the magazine back in the glovebox and Irene fastened her seatbelt. ‘Is that it?’ Irene said.

‘Is what?’

‘That. Is that it?’

‘What else did you expect?’

‘I don’t know. A shootout, maybe?’

Seulgi looked at her.

‘Okay. Maybe not. But I thought it’d be more than that.’

‘Someone else’ll question her later,’ Seulgi said.

‘So, what now?’

‘God, is that all you do?’

‘What? What have I done now?’

‘Ask me what we’re doing next.’

‘What else do you want me to do?’ Irene said.

‘I don’t know. How about nothing?’

‘Maybe.’

‘God, you’re frustrating.’

‘Relax, sweetie. It was just a question.’

‘And stop calling me that.’

‘Well,’ Irene said. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘You just going to keep asking?’

‘Until you answer.’

Seulgi sighed. ‘I’m going to ring Hongki and tell him we’ve been and interviewed a key witness, and then I’m going to have to write it all up and report it officially.’

‘And then what?’

‘We find this mystery third man.’

‘Mr Sachs.’

‘Right.’

‘How do we go about doing that?’

Seulgi sighed again. ‘I’ve got a friend who might know,’ she said.

‘A friend.’

‘Yeah. I used to know her back from cyber security stuff back in the day. She might be able to track down this Mr Sachs before anyone else can.’

‘Sounds…less than legal.’

Seulgi looked at her. ‘We need to find this guy,’ she said. ‘Whoever he is, maybe he’s linked to this murder. I bet he is.’

‘So why don’t you just do it the right way?’

‘Because this is serious. Two people are dead. Who knows how many more could be killed?’

‘You don’t even know what this is yet.’

‘So? It’s clear it’s some serious .’

Irene said nothing.

‘My friend might know.’

‘When can we go?’ Irene said.

‘Do you even care?’

‘Not really. I was just making conversation.’

‘Yeah. Well. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’

She started the car and turned and looked at Irene before she pulled out. She was sat slouched and yet so rigid it was strange. As if she were almost posing. ‘What?’ Seulgi said.

‘What?’

‘You’re going to ask me something again.’

Irene giggled. ‘Look at you,’ she said. ‘Thinking you know me.’

‘What are you going to say?’

There was a long pause. A long silence. Then Irene said, ‘Can we get something to eat? I’m hungry.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘I am.’

‘Find something yourself.’

‘What’s wrong? I’ll pay this time.’

‘No you won’t.’

‘You’re a nightmare to have a conversation with. No wonder the only friend you can name is Wheein – who, by the way, I’m starting to believe isn’t real. I mean, listen to yourself. So downbeat all the time. So dull.’

‘Irene.’

‘What?’

‘Please be quiet. Just for a minute.’

‘Alright. Whatever.’

Seulgi turned out of the lot and back the way they had come in the waning traffic and not once on that journey did she look at Irene at all. At that smile, those lips, those eyes. That incredible jawline. Oh, it was very easy, she thought – not thinking about her. Very easy.