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Dennis Collins whistles along to the tune keeping him company in the drab, cold interrogation room. A tune only he can hear, his constant companion even behind bars. They can take his freedom--for a time--but they can’t take away the music.
The lock on the door clicks and the hinges creak. They didn’t make him wait long.
“Don’t have much more to tell ya than the last time you marched me out here,” he says conversationally. The hostility is more entertaining if he doesn’t bite. Maybe they’ll get rough with him. That’d be a treat. “But I appreciate the change in scenery--” He turns to look at which detective they’ve thrown to him this time.
Oh. He is in for a treat.
“Well, if it isn’t Arthur Lester,” he breathes, eyes twinkling with delight. “The one who got away…”
“Butcher,” Arthur greets him simply, walking past him and around the table he’s cuffed to.
“Ya must’ve gotten in real good with that detective friend of yours.” Collins shifts his weight in his stiff, uncomfortable seat. “Lettin’ you in here to see me. Don’t usually let the prey interrogate the predator. ”
“I’m a private investigator, Butcher,” Arthur says, as if that gives him permission to pull him out of his cell and use police resources.
“Are ya now?” Collins asks lightly. “Thought you said you were a pianist.”
That gives Arthur a moment of pause, as if he’d forgotten he’d told him that--or is surprised he remembered. “I was, ” he says, pulling out his chair across from him and taking a seat. “Not anymore.”
“Ah.” Yet another tale he would love to unravel from this enigma of a man. He has so many questions… “Well, from where I’m sittin’, looks like a costume.”
“A costume?” His eyebrows draw together, and his eyes--his eyes are wrong. Different. What’s wrong with your eyes, lad? Collins is dying to know.
“Pretty way to dress up for a killer.” Collins laughs at how Arthur Lester scowls at that. “Only statin’ facts, lad. You said yourself. No point in pretendin’ innocence now.”
“I’m not innocent.” At least he’s honest. That’s refreshing. Admirable, even. “But I’m nothing like you.”
“That so?” Collins asks, almost wistfully. “Here I thought we had much in common.” He tilts his head, watching that brutal scar on his neck move as he swallows. Beautiful.
“I don’t enjoy killing. I don’t enjoy being the-- hunter.”
“No,” Collins murmurs. “No, I see that. But you’ve got what it takes.”
“I do what I have to do.” He really believes that. But he lacks the pride of a hero who absolves himself utterly of blame in the name of justice.
“Ya carry the weight of duty, do ya,” he says, but he already knows Arthur Lester is not a proud man. He just wants to hear him say it.
“No. Not duty.”
“ Devotion, then,” Collins whispers.
“What?”
“My line of work’s not easy, lad. Not for the faint of heart.” Collins grins as Arthur snorts. “Don’t scoff,” he scolds him. “Same as yours. Seein’ folks on the worst day of their life, over and over again…”
“You’re a harbinger of the worst days of people’s lives.”
“ Harbinger, ” Collins echoes. “Now there’s a title.”
“I think Butcher suits you.”
“Simple. Clean,” Collins agrees. “Got a good ring to it--a good weight.”
“Evocative,” Arthur says wryly. Almost… conversational.
“Evocative, yeah,” Collins says, the beginnings of thrill pattering in his chest. Where are ya going with this, lad? “Most folks don’t have the stomach for it. Facin’ death, lookin’ into the eyes where the light’s gone out.”
The light’s not gone out in Arthur’s eyes, but it’s different.
“Ya have an intimate relationship with death. Don’t ya, lad?” Collins is an incurious man about most of his prey. He doesn’t need the details to get the job done. But not Arthur Lester. His love affair with this singular predator prey animal is only just starting to blossom. “That scar on your neck says so.” He gestures to his own neck while his eyes move hungry over that plump scar.
Arthur swallows. “What does my scar have to do with anything?”
“Self-inflicted, my guess.” His smile curls. “Ya give yourself away, lad.” He sits back in his chair. “Ya don’t strike me as the suicidal type. No. You had somethin’ worth dyin’ for--somethin’ worth killin’ yourself for-- before somebody else could beat you to it…” His eyes twinkle with wonder at such a thing, Lester stripped bare, but his eyes--angry, defensive.
“What--” That scar bobs again. “What point are you trying to make?”
“Point-- ah, point is devotion, boyo,” he says. “I’ve seen it in every move you make, every note you play in our song together.”
“Our song?”
“Yes… Quite a pretty melody we made for a while there,” Collins says fondly. “Shame that’s over now.” Why is Lester smiling like that? The patter of his heart, the thrill of anticipation, picks up in tempo.
“Not quite yet,” Arthur says.
“Oh?” Collins doesn’t hide the intrigue in his voice.
“You’re right. About… my motivation,” he says, and the cold weight of his tone sends a delicious chill down Collins’ spine. “Devotion.”
“Keep talkin’, boyo. I’m all ears,” Collins says, hunger growing.
“You’re in a position to further my purpose here.”
The wheels begin to turn, the cogs click in place. “Larson,” he says, a grin spreading wide across his lips. “Oh, Arthur, ” he purrs warmly. “Killin’ two of his kin in cold blood didn’t whet your appetite?” He laughs, delighted. “Ya continue to amaze me, lad.”
“He deserves to die.”
“Oh, I think that might be a matter of opinion.”
“He needs to die.”
Collins has to shift in his seat as those chills threaten to travel elsewhere. “Now you’re talkin’,” he rumbles deep. “That passion , that’s the devotion I’m talkin’ about. I think you’re finally beginnin’ to understand me,” he says with pleasure, and the strings swell.
“Maybe I am,” Arthur says with a smile of grim satisfaction.
“Tell me what ya have in mind,” Collins says cheerfully.
“Larson’s lawyers are hard at work trying to spring you out. Obviously, that’s a tall order…” Arthur says with a wry smile.
“But money talks. Always does.”
“Indeed. Detective Noel is willing to let the lawyers think one of their loopholes worked and sign your release. On one condition: you strike when the moment’s right.”
“Larson’s no fool, lad. Hardly spend a moment alone with me,” he says, grin wicked and sharp. “Not in private. And he’s not a man who goes out for casual strolls…”
“No,” Arthur agrees. “But we know where he will be. Tonight.”
“Oh?” Cold, calculated confidence looks so delicious on Arthur Lester, Collins’ mouth practically waters.
“The Order of the Fallen Star, a secret society Larson is a part of, is meeting tonight at a factory in Red Hook. They’re doing something… big. I don’t.. have the specifics beyond that, but… Larson will be there. And he’ll know I’m coming for him.”
“So he’ll be wantin’ me in tow. To finish the job.”
“Precisely.” Arthur smiles; they work in concert so beautifully.
“Now…” Collins can’t resist playing with his mouse, just a little. “What’s to stop me from double crossin’ you, boyo?”
Arthur smirks. “Well, I could leave you rotting in a jail cell, if you’d rather. This is an opportunity, Butcher. For you to get out of your cage and bite your master. ”
“Master who’s paid me a pretty penny for your head, Arthur Lester,” Collins says.
“And robbed you the chance to sharpen your teeth.”
Collins bursts into laughter as Arthur dangles his own torture before him like a morsel. “Aye, that he did!” He leans in. “How did ya do it? How’d you get out?”
“I--” Arthur sighs, wearily. “A story for another time.”
“You got me curious, Arthur. Not been curious in a long time,” Collins says. He’s not found a man he wants to sink his teeth into like Arthur in what feels like a lifetime. “But time is of the essence, ey? So, let’s discuss my terms.”
“Your-- Butcher, I’m not going to pay you, ” Arthur says, annoyed.
“No, no, no, lad, shh--” Collins soothes him. “It’s not money I want. I want a favor. Just a little favor.”
Arthur looks perplexed and wary. “A… favor. What-- is it?”
“I’d like to hear ya play,” Collins says sweetly. “You still play, don’t ya? When the job’s done, I’d like to hear ya play.”
“Oh.”
Collins smiles at the sweet surprise that softens Arthur’s face. “Want to hear if you play with as much… devotion as you have to ending a man’s life.”
Arthur’s face darkens quickly. “Don’t--” He snaps, sharp as a knife. “Don’t you dare compare the two.”
“Struck a nerve, did I?” His intrigue only grows and grows. “I meant nothin’ by it. My apologies,” he says gently. “Only the songs in my head are the music of my devotion.”
“I think we’re done here,” Arthur says stiffly, his chair scraping as he moves to stand.
“Now, hold on, I’ve agreed to nothin’,” Collins reminds him.
Arthur pauses and scrapes back into place. “Is it a deal or not?”
“Ya haven’t promised to play for me.”
Arthur frowns, his gaze a little distant, a little drifting.
“You’re doin’ that funny little thing.” Collins can’t help himself. He wants to keep Arthur talking. He wants to know what really makes him tick, why he’s so… strange. “Like you’re… talkin’ to yourself.”
“It’s called thinking,” Arthur says curtly.
“What’re you thinkin’, then?”
“Whether or not I trust having my back turned on you.”
Collins chuckles with delight. “Smart lad! That’s what I like about you, boyo. Always thinkin’ on your toes,” he says warmly. “But I wouldn’t cut ya down if ya played me a tune. Wouldn’t be right to cut the music short.”
“... But you still mean to kill me,” Arthur says, suspicious.
“Nah,” Collins says breezily. “Not unless ya give me a reason to.” The hunt is too much the pleasure with this prey. Wouldn’t be right to cut the music short.
“... Fine. Yes,” Arthur finally answers. “If you do this, if you help me take Larson down, I’ll… I’ll play for you.”
“ Lovely, ” Collins sighs. His cuffs clink as he extends his hand. “Shall we shake on it, then?”
Arthur’s fingers twitch a moment, then he lifts them to meet his.
“Lovely hands,” Collins murmurs. “I look forward to hearin’ them play.” He squeezes Arthur’s hand, holds it fast as it tries to pull away. “And I look forward to makin’ music with you. Tonight. Should be a grand concerto.”
Arthur pulls his hand back when Collins finally releases it, his expression twisted with beautiful discontent. “Yes,” he says quietly. “A grand finale.”
“Oh, now… You sound like a man who doesn’t know if he’ll make it out,” Collins muses.
“That’s always the risk, isn’t it?” Arthur says as he stands from his chair, but doesn’t immediately move to go.
“Not if your devotion is true,” Collins says wistfully. “Not if your dedication is stronger than your prey’s.” He studies Arthur. “Is it, lad? Is your will, your devotion, stronger than Larson’s?”
“Yes,” Arthur says swiftly with that cold, calculated confidence.
“Then, we’ll get your man. We’ll put him in the ground,” Collins says with ease, like he’s soothing a nervous animal. “Tonight.”
“Tonight,” Arthur agrees. “This ends tonight.”