After two years of deficits at Justin's Best Waffles, Gabe felt he could safely say that 2026 was going to be the year of the waffle. He had finally gotten a new chef-- two years was a little long to torture your poor waitstaff, Mr. Justin, even if you were mourning your fiancee-- and while it pained him to admit, the increase in waffle quality was obvious. In turn, there were more customers, and critically more money. Closing JBW would have been, like, super sad.
"Hey, with more customers maybe you can finally do something about this dump," commented Will, one of the stray bitches Gabe had been forced to put up with every morning, "you know, before a health inspector shuts you down." Gabe rolled his eyes; he'd scrubbed the shop top to bottom that morning, and he didn't need any negativity in his crystal-clean life.
"Fuck you, this shop is perfect," Gabe declared.
"I'm just looking out for you, idiot. You want to keep your job, right?"
"As if I'd let a health inspector shut this place down." Gabe would probably just kill them if they tried. Or just burn their inspection papers. Or maybe slash their tires. Or cut the breaks on a loved one's car, just so the health inspector knew it was serious. Maybe all of the above, save for the killing them part. They couldn't run away screaming if they were dead.
"Not sure it's your call." Just went to show how much Will knew. Stupid motherfucker.
"You taking a seat, clean freak?" Those patchy booths and water-stained tables gave the waffle shop character. Like- it was basically a hipster establishment. Gabe juts needed to start writting the menu in chalk, rather than relying on the printed menus that had been there as long as him, and he would be able to raise the price of everything by ten dollars. That was, of course, if he wanted to make it a hipster place, which he didn't. Hipsters were lame.
"One strawberry waffle and two coffees to go, child." Gabe scribbled down Will's order on his handy-dandy booklet and scowled.
"Do I look like a child to you?" His birthday had been, like, nearly a year ago. Will had been there.
"Is that a trick question?" Will asked, like the pompous asshole he was.
"Twelve thirty-seven." Gabe ordered, putting the order into the ancient cash register and copying it into his phone, hidden beneath. He really had to get a new register, one that actually took card. As it was, Will held his card up to a chip reader sneakily plugged into Gabe's phone with a frown.
"It was eleven thirty-seven yesterday." Well dammit.
"Insulting the server charge," Gabe explained, tapping the white chip-reader pointedly.
"I'm fairly certain that doesn't exist," Will said, raising an eyebrow, "and even if it did, isn't there an 'insulting the customer' discount to negate that?"\
"Nope." If there was, Gabe would basically have to hadn out free waffles. Well, it wasn't like they hadn't deserved it. They all totally had.
"No to it not existing?" Will tried.
"Pay the bill if you want the waffle." Gabe wasn't sure what was so special about a waffle with some chopped strawberries and jam that attracted a dumbass like Will, but the guy never failed to pay up. Maybe Gabe could just keep subtly raising the price until Will was fucking homeless, like he deserved. Will sighed and pressed his card to the chip reader. Gabe patiently waited for it to go through before pressing a button on the register, bypassing the payment. Genius, if he did say so himself.
"One day you're going to get fired, rat."
"As if." Hard to fire himself, wasn't it? Justin sure as hell wasn't about to show up and do the deed. Stupid. Gabe made Will sign the receipt slip and then handed him the customer copy, before turning to Goldwyn through the service window. "One strawber..."
It was already there. The waffle. It was already there. What? What? Gabe made eye contact with Goldwyn.
"He always gets the same thing, doesn't he?" That shrug. That stupid shrug. Gabe wasn't about to give Will stellar service just because he was a regular. He glared, attempting to make that very clear to Goldwyn, and went to fill two cheap coffee cups. Once done, he turned back to Goldwyn.
"Hand me the syrup."
"Uh-"
"Hand me the syrup." Reluctantly, Gabe's subordinate complied. Syrup in hand, Gabe carefully re-arranged the strawberry slices to depict a murder scene. The completed product was an artistic masterpiece, if he did say so himself, which he carefully put on the counter. "Order for Will!" Will, who had been standing awkwardly near the door on his phone like a weirdo, startled, approached, and took in the scene.
"...right. Thanks." Then, probably the only reason Gabe hadn't banned tall assholes named Will from Justin's Best Waffles, Will shoved a ten dollar bill in the tip jar before collecting his order. Gabe grinned as he left; yeah, he could deal with a stray bitch or two.
The cash was worth it.
"I- I guess I'm just worried," Gabe's chef admitted, as though Gabe couldn't fucking tell. His roommate Vivian practically strutted through life compared to how anxious the chef had been since his sister went missing.
"So let's fucking look for her." To be honest, Gabe hadn't actually expected his chef's sister to be missing missing. Gone to Vegas for a night? Sure. Missing? Maybe Goldilocks was more important than Gabe thought. Why else would his sister be spirited away on a Wednesday night? Someone's traumatic backstory was happening, Goldwyn's or otherwise.
"Well I- I mean- the police are looking for her." The police were king of useless, if Gabe was being honest. They still thought that there was nothing shady going on in the private defense industry, no sir. "But-" Goldwyn paled, "but they haven't found anything." Ha! Gabe knew it.
"And would you be okay if she stayed missing?"
"No!" Goldwyn gaped at Gabe with pure horror.
"So we'll just have to sort this out on our own!" Gabe declared, "I'm helping, naturally. The search begins!" He glanced around the waffle shop, which was as empty as it ever was, and flipped the sign on the door to 'closed'.
"Er- how?"
"Well, do you have a photo of your sister?-" Goldwyn nodded- "We go around, show that photo to a couple folks, threaten 'em with knived if they don't spill, and find out where your sister is." Someone was bound to know something if she had been kidnapped, and if she'd just been dumped in a ditch somewhere they'd either find that ditch or someone else would report it.
"That-" Goldwyn frowned- "Won't someon ask quesitons?"
"They know better. Tell them you're just helping your parents or something. You know, lie." Goldwyn knew how to lie, right? Gabe could not have hired a bad liar. The chef had just gotten interesting and Gabe would hate to see him go, but as a good businessman he would have to fire a bad liar. That was just common sense.
"Oh, right. So... why are you helping me, exactly?" Did he mean the cover story or the truth?
"Because you just got interesting?" Gabe offered. He'd been so bored working at Justin's Best Waffles-- not for any fault of the glorious waffle shop itself, but it was a far cry from the adventures of Gabe's youth. There was hardly any action, barely and drama, and very little illegal activity save for the health code violations. Well, and going behind Justin's back to hire a chef. Gabe just needed more drama in his life, that was all. The waffle shop was a good money-making scheme, but...
Who was he kidding? He hated the gig. Fuck Q for firing him, man.
"Er- should I be insulted?" Goldwyn asked.
"If you want. I am helping though, so hopefully that comes first." Hopefully. Goldwyn shot him an odd look.
“You’re really strange, you know that?”
“I am completely normal,” Gabe lied. He headed out into the dining room and unplugged his phone. “Now, you gonna send me that photo or are we going to be sticking together?” In any case, Gabe probably needed to know what Goldwyn’s sister looked like. Goldwyn stared at Gabe’s phone for a moment, expression blank.
“We… We stick together, I think.” Alright, so he was a little hesitant to get his boss’s phone number. Whatever. Gabe shrugged.
“Can I see the photo, at least?”
“Sure.” Goldwyn fiddled with his phone- the password was 0221, that was good to know- and pulled up a photo of… Well, basically of an older Goldwyn, just with longer hair, makeup, and smiling. Had Gabe ever seen Goldwyn smile, actually? “That’s her- Margaret Carroll.”
“Alright.” Well, Gabe had certainly never seen her before. That had to count for something- it probably just confirmed that her disappearance was someone’s origin story, not a continuation. Well, he’d weasel his way in there. “Wanna work from your place out, or from here?” Either way, Gabe removed his backpack from its place under the counter and started strapping on his roller blades.
“Er- here? I-”
“I already have your address.” Gabe also had Goldwyn’s phone number- already as a contact, even. He didn’t just get a resume with all of Goldwyn’s information and forget about it, alright? That stuff was valuable.
“Oh.” Goldwyn frowned, obviously having forgotten that he had basically given all his information to Gabe. The poor, oblivious fool. “But still. Unless you have a car, it’s like… a thirty minute bike ride to my apartment.” Oh, so he was travelling to get to Justin’s Best Waffles every day. No wonder he had been desperate enough to accept Gabe’s offer of employment.
“Fair enough.” Gabe didn’t have a car; it wasn’t that he was bad at driving, he was just too good for silly things like laws. Isabella did all of the driving, anyway, which was sort-of like having an on-call chauffeur. Roller blades worked for everything important. Was it really worth putting on his wheels to probably just go walking around the neighborhood? Gabe glanced down at his shoes- goddamnit, it probably wasn’t. He took off the skates. “To the dog groomers, then?”
Bow Wow Dog Salon was the neighbor of Justin’s Best Waffles, another inhabitant of their glorious little strip mall. Gabe was absolutely going to buy out the business one day- the bitch owning it wouldn’t let him use the shop’s bathrooms! She was an old wench who had muttered something about disrespectful kids and shitty waffles and had shoved him out with her push-broom. She would obviously be of no help in the search for the sister of Gabe’s chef, but it would probably annoy her and that meant it was worth going.
“Alright.” Goldwyn nodded and Gabe slipped his backpack on. They headed out- Gabe in the lead, of course, because where else would he be? He swung open the door to the Female Dog Salon.
“Hello, Miss Bitchwiskers.” Gabe announced. The old bitch behind the counter scrunched her nose in disapproval and Goldwyn flinched with his whole body, which was sort of impressive.
“Uh-” Gabe’s companion began.
“What are you doing here?” Miss Bitchwiskers snarled, quite rudely.
“We came to ask if you have seen or heard anything about this lovely woman.” Gabe pushed a reluctant Goldwyn towards the counter, phone in his companion’s hand thankfully already on the picture of Margaret.
“And why do you want to know?” Miss Bitchwiskers asked, squinting at the picture.
“Well, she happens to be my fine chef’s older sister,” Gabe answered with a grin, patting Goldwyn on the back, “and unfortunately she is missing. We’re trying to collect as much information as possible, ma’am.” Miss Bitchwiskers squinted at him, then. Did she need glasses or something? Her gaze flicked to the picture, then to Goldwyn, then to Gabe once more. Gabe put on his best grin.
“...I haven’t seen her before,” Miss Bitchwiskers admitted, “Now get out of my shop, please.”
“Right away, Miss Bitchwiskers!” Damn, she was telling the truth. Gabe had hoped he could torture her for some information. It wouldn’t even be that bad, maybe he’d just keep her in one spot long enough that she had no choice but to shit her pants, like Gabe had nearly done when she’d refused him the restroom. Something psychological, not even physical. What a missed opportunity.
“Two pesky kids, now.” Miss Bitchwiskers muttered behind Gabe as he left, Goldwyn in tow.
“So you- er- know her-?”
“Hello, ma’am!” Gabe didn’t give Goldwyn enough time to ask annoying questions, already bounding into the little physical therapy place next to the dog groomer’s. He waved at the nurse behind the counter- it looked like Miss Peterson was covering Mr. McKyle’s usual shift. Good- he liked her better, anyway.
“Hello, Ga-” Miss Peterson cut herself off, hand up in a half-wave that Gabe couldn’t help but snort at, “There’s two of you?”
“This is Goldwyn, my new chef,” Gabe introduced gleefully, “his big sis is missing. Goldi, bring forth the picture.” He once more pushed his chef forward.
“Er- this is Margaret,” Goldwyn explained, showing off the image on his phone, “She- er- she didn't come home night. Have you heard anything?” Miss Peterson frowned.
“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”
“Carroll.” Miss Peterson’s frown deepened and her brow furrowed. She pursed her lips and leaned back from Goldwyn’s phone.
“I’m very sorry, Goldwyn, but I don’t think I’ve heard anything.” Well, that made sense. Gabe doubted Goldwyn’s older sister hung around the same circles as people who were going to physical therapy. “Of course, I’ll ask the clients, too. Do you boys need any help for your search? Have your parents put together posters or anything?” Goldwyn shook his head.
“Not yet, ma’am.” He answered honestly. Miss Peterson frowned.
“Well, perhaps you ought to do that? So you can give posters at the same places you talk to.” While that was a good idea, Gabe had already exhausted his print credits on the launch of Justin’s Best Waffles.
“I- er-” Goldwyn flushed, “I don’t have a printer.”
“Well, that has an easy fix,” Miss Peterson smiled, the expression fitting her face much better than a frown, “You two can use this place’s. How about you put together a little document and I’ll print you some copies?”
“That would be wonderful.” Goldwyn turned his phone back towards him and began, presumably, putting together a poster. Miss Peterson turned to Gabe.
“It’s very kind of you to be helping your new friend, Gabe.” Gabe absolutely did not flush at her praise.
“Of course,” he preened, “I am the most kind person ever, afterall.” Miss Peterson chuckled.
“Miss Finnwickers next door would beg to disagree.”
“Miss Bitchwiskers is a liar.” Even if Gabe was a little rude to Miss Bitchwiskers, it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it.
“Miss-” Miss Peterson was cut off by her own chuckle. Gabe grinned. Take that world, he was funny. “Alright, Gabe.”
“Right.” He agreed.
“Er- done.” Goldwyn announced, still fiddling with his phone, “Are you M-B-777?”
“Actually, we’re Sis323.” Miss Peterson corrected.
“How- er- how many copies should we make?” Goldwyn asked, turning to Gabe. Well, based on the fact that the sun was going to set at fucking five because it was winter, as well as their average rate of three minutes per shop…
“I dunno.” Gabe shrugged, “Few hundred?”
“Maybe just twenty to start,” Miss Peterson suggested, “You can come back tomorrow if it’s not enough, but we only have so much printer ink.”
“Okay.” Goldwyn nodded, and soon enough Gabe was adding twenty black-and-white posters to the contents of his backpack.
“Alright, boys, make sure you’re both home before it gets dark,” Miss Peterson instructed, “and Goldwyn, I hope you find your sister very soon.”
“Thank you ma’am.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning!” The final occupied storefront of Gabe’s favorite strip mall belonged to a baseball instructional… place. He had misread the name as ‘Y Cages - Battling, Apparel & Training’ and thought the place to be much more interesting than it actually was. As it was, the place was closed, so he and his chef skipped over it.
Unfortunately, nowhere else in their search was as helpful as Miss Peterson had been. Most everyone just wanted them to leave and make room for the paying customers, even if there weren’t any paying customers at one on a Monday. They ended up handing their last poster to a chain craft store around four in the afternoon, with a total of zero leads. Whoever had taken Margaret was good. That, or she was just generally easy to not notice. Gabe glanced at Goldwyn. Evidently those same boring, unnotable traits were genetic. Maybe that meant Goldwyn would be good at infiltration? Eh- Gabe would figure it out.
“That’s the last poster.” Gabe informed Goldwyn, who was weak and already tired.
“The last?” Goldwyn echoed, “But we- but we haven’t gotten anything.”
“Nope.” Again- they were good. “Well, is there anywhere specific we can ask?” Admittedly, they had been searching blind. Who knew if Margaret had ever been in that part of the city?
“Well…” Goldwyn trailed off, brows furrowing, “she worked at a department store? But I never knew which one.”
“Well that’s useless.” Gabe scoffed. If Margaret had just run away, which Gabe was starting to wonder if she had, she’d covered her tracks really well. Not even telling her little brother where she worked? Clever.
“Can we- what do we-” Goldwyn huffed, glancing at the empty building beside the craft store, “Should we start to…” Ah. To search the ditches, in case Margaret had just been killed and dumped.
“I don’t see why not.” Gabe did see why not, but he had enough emotional maturity to recognize that telling Goldwyn there was no point looking for a corpse would put him down by one staff member.
He walked around the building, searching for an employee entrance. A regular door. Those electric glass ones were useless without power and he didn’t feel like breaking them in and getting arrested. Goldwyn followed him silently- the perfect, no-annoying-questions minion. Gabe found a door and peeled off the wooden boards, feeling Goldwyn’s eyes on him as he did so. Clearly his minion was impressed by his obvious show of strength. He pulled open the door and headed inside.
Ew, it was dark. Gabe huffed and swung his bag over his shoulder.
“Er- how-” Gabe cut Goldwyn off by tossing a flashlight, which Goldwyn did not catch. Alright, so maybe not the perfect minion. A workable one, though. Mindset was harder to change than the grindset.
“Thanks.” Goldwyn picked the flashlight up and turned it on, sending a beam of light into the dusty building. Gabe took in the ruined shelves and water-damaged floor with a hum.
Well, hopefully Goldwyn would stop looking at the waffle shop’s own damage accusingly now that he’d seen how bad it could get. Gabe glanced at his chef, who was wearing an expression of pure horror. He laughed.
“You wanna wait outside?” It was unfortunate that Goldwyn didn’t have the stomach for one abandoned building- not even a too dirty one, if the lack of brave pests was anything to go by- but oh well. Ugh, Gabriel was going to have to get a different minion for site clean-ups, wasn’t it?
“N-no.” Goldwyn shook his head and Gabe raised a brow. Alright, at least the kid could push through it. That was a very good sign. His empire was growing.
“Great!” He awarded Goldwyn with an approving grin, because positive reinforcement was good and important for child development. Gabe turned on his own flashlight. “Shall we split up to cover more ground?”
“Sure.” At Goldwyn’s confirmation, Gabe bounded down one of the aisles. The place was obviously an abandoned pharmacy store, with most everything being cleared out either by closing sales or scavengers. Bummer
Alright, that meant he had to actually look for Margaret's body. Just a little. He entered the pharmacy secion- all the medicine cleared out, unfortunately- and checked all the obvious places someone would dump a body. Under the counter? Nope. In the fridge? Nope. In the office? Nope. In the employee bathroom? No-
Gabe hesitantly closed the metal door once more. The knob was cool under his fingers- which either meant that nobody had entered recently or that whoever had hadn’t fondled the knob. What? It was pretty cold, there wasn’t much he could gather from a cold knob. He wasn’t a detective! He wasn’t a detective. So why- Gabe opened the door again, pulling it towards himself and resting it on his shoulder.
Alright. That wasn’t Margaret’s body, at least. It was fresh, though. Not as fresh as the one’s Gabriel usually worked with- he was better at disposal than that- but fresh enough that decomposition hadn’t actually set in. Gabriel gently felt the skin… no rigor mortis. No visible signs of bloating, though, which probably meant that the decomposition had begun, just internally. Gabriel looked over the man’s face and body.
He had been young. His cheeks still held the barest bit of baby fat that marked him as a young adult. His skin was reddening and yellowing appropriately, but he didn’t smell yet. Not really, and Gabriel had an incredible nose. The stranger’s hair was brown, but redder than Gabriel’s own. . His mouth was closed. His wound had clotted. His shirt had dried into a brownish-blue- far duller than the vibrant blue of the parts which hadn’t been touched by blood. Those parts were the same shade as Gabriel’s apron.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. The blood- that was strange. The man’s blood didn’t smell at all. He hadn’t been scavenged by wild animals because he didn’t smell. Not of anything. Not of death, but also not of life. Though the obvious cause of death was the bullet wound in his chest, whatever drug had been used to accompany it was powerful. Gabriel wanted it. He pulled his small phone from his backpack and sent Q a picture of the body. Hopefully Gabriel’s ex-boss could put him in contact with whoever had pulled the hit. At the very least, the photo would let Gabriel figure out who the man was, and from there who wanted him dead. Gabriel put the phone back in his backpack. He reached out and lowered the stranger’s eyelids over clotted brown eyes. He closed the door. He washed his hands in the sink, glad that medical-types were germaphobic enough to have a sink outside of the restroom.
Gabe returned to the main part of the store and found his henchman wandering through the snack aisle.
“Find anything good?” Gabe asked with a grin. Goldilocks startled, turning to Gabe sharply. His expression of surprise quickly morphed into melancholy.
“...no.”
“Me neither.” Gabe slung his arm around Goldwyn’s shoulders. Damn, that was a soft hoodie. He’d have to look into getting one. “Gotta head home before sunset.”
“I’ll figure out where Margaret worked,” Goldwyn promised, “Someone has to know something, and I won’t…” Goldwyn stepped out of Gabe’s loose hold, “Let’s go.”
“Got it.” Gabe did not like being bossed around by his own employee, but he was an incredibly mature adult man who did not get angry. Instead, he forced himself to be content with leading the journey back to the employee entrance and then outside. The sun was low in the sky- too low. The streetlights would turn on before Gabe made it home. He hoped his newest minion was safe, between returning to Justin’s Best Waffles to pick up his bike and then riding it home.
Not that Gabe really cared. He had barely started training Goldwyn, so the chef was still replaceable.
The man was Zachary Garcia. Q hadn’t gotten back to Gabe by the time he’d arrived at the apartment, so after a brief interaction with his roommates he had locked himself in his room to search for the body’s identity.
Zachary Garcia had gone missing in 2023. Zachary Garcia was survived by his mother, Olivia Garcia, and his fiance, Justin Webbinger. No- the first name was not a coincidence.
That Justin.
Gabe stared at the article detailing the original opening of Justin’s Best Waffles for a long, long moment. Well, the body had not been in a ditch. The connection, though… had someone wanted him to find that body? Had somebody finally realized his obvious importance and come looking for him? It had to be a threat- just as the owner’s loved one had died, so will yours. Well, the joke was on them. Gabe didn’t have any loved ones. Take that, mysterious threat. He grinned.
At the very least, his life was interesting again. Perfect.
"It was the market on 3rd street," Goldwyn declared before Gabe had a chance to greet him. Evidently the chef had not died the night before.
"Well first I have a waffle shop to run," Gabe informed him plainly, unlocking the building, "and you are an employee."
“Oh.” Goldwyn flushed, “Er- yeah. I’ll- I’ll work my shift today. Obviously.” Goldwyn headed towards the employee door, rudely not complimenting the new color of Gabe’s apron.
It was red. If some mysterious person was going to threaten him, he was going to threaten them right back.
"Er- are there any extra hours I could take?" Goldwyn asked while Gabe set up the front of house.
"No?" Had Goldwyn never looked at their hours before? Did he not know that he worked literally all the time they were open?
"Oh." Goldwyn looked down at his ratty white shoes in silence for a moment. "It's just- I mean- there's only one income, now. I... am going to lose my apartment?" Gabe couldn't help but stare at his employee incredulously.
"Already?" Losing the apartment literally- uh- some days after his older sister went missing?
“Rent was due yesterday. It’s policy that a week after it’s due you get kicked out.” That… was probably completely legal, actually. Gabe hated legal things.
“And you don’t have the cash to cover it?” Gabe could, theoretically, just give Goldwyn his paycheck early.
“I don’t have access to Margaret’s account,” Goldwyn answered with a nod, “and rent’s eighteen hundred but then I calculated bills and I can’t... I literally can't make that much.” Gabe frowned.
"You could just get a roommate, like I have," Gabe suggested, "I can give you your paycheck early and then you split the rent."
"In a- in a week? And what happens when our managr finds out the one on the contract is- is missing?"
“Sounds like a you problem.” Goldilocks could figure it out himself… probably. Gabe had, afterall. All he’d needed to do was put up a poster and he’d found two of the best roomies in the city. Actually, that might be the problem. Gabe was hoarding all the good roommates! Ha! Oh well, it sucked to suck.
“It- well- it is.” Goldwyn admitted, “but if I can't guarantee a place to stay I'll have to find a better paying job.” Gabe frowned.
“You play dirty.” Unfortunately, Goldwyn had a point. Gabe did not want to lose his only employee, not after so many people had complimented the 'new waffle recipe'. Goddamnit. “You could… you could room with me?”
“What?”
“Well,” Gabe began, already thinking through the inevitable shift in dynamic, “I have two roommates. They share a room, but I’ve got enough space for one more, or you could take the couch. Until you find a better roommate, I mean, and then your own place. I’d have to talk to them about it.” Gabe had no doubt that Vivian would let Goldwyn stay with him on account of her bleeding heart. Isabella would be a bit of a harder sell, but if Gabe could get Vivian on account Goldwyn both being young and having no family and clearly having some other mental health issue of some sort, Isabella would crack.
“Oh.” Goldwyn moved towards the hole in the wall, away from the batter he’d been mixing. “You’d- you really have room?”
“Yeah, sure.” In hindsight, no. Gabe had a lot of shit he wasn’t comfortable with anyone seeing. He could probably hide that stuff, though. “As long as you don’t go through my shit. Ever. Keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep your hands, that sort of thing.”
“I think I can do that.” Goldwyn was relatively obedient by… well, by nature Gabe guessed. He could probably follow that simple direction. Probably.
“And that’s only if my roommates say yes. Otherwise it’s your problem, got it?”
“Got it,” Goldwyn nodded firmly, going back to the batter bowl to make more delicious waffles. He started stirring. “So, how long have you-” Gabe’s chef was cut off by the ring of the door and Gabe turned to address his new customer.
“Evening, Isa.” Gabe greeted, stepping over the threshold and into his apartment. Isa looked up from the computer she was working on.
“Evening, asshole.” She said with a smile, “What’s your plan for dinner?”
“Probably soup.” He shrugged off his backpack and chucked it into his room, sitting down across from her. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, though. Viv here?” Isabella raised a single brow.
“You callin’ an official meeting?” She dragged something with the mouse.
“I suppose so.” Meeting sounded so… official, though. Meeting implied he had an agenda other than ‘make Vivian feel bad’.
“Alright.” Isa put the monitor to sleep and turned over her shoulder, “Viv! Get out here!” After a moment, Vivian peeked her head out the door to her and Isabella’s shared room.
“It’s not my turn for dinner?”
“Nope. Gabe’s making soup.” Isabella answered simply, succeeding in making Vivian appear more confused, “We’re having a meeting, though."
“A meeting meeting?” Vivian asked, heading out and taking her place at the table. Isabella turned to Gabe.
“Well, sort of.” Sure, the topic was serious, but was he? Not really. “My chef’s older sister has gone missing.”
“Missing?” Vivian gasped.
“Your chef?” Isabella asked. Right- Gabe had strategically not told them about his job at all, much less that he had gone behind his boss's back to hire a chef.
“At my place of employment."
“And that’s a meeting problem because…?” Isabella prompted.
“He's staying in her apartment.”
“So you want us to take him in.” Isabella finished.
“Basically.” Gabe shrugged, “He’d pay a portion of rent, of course, and it’d only be until he finds his sister or different housing.”
“He’d stay in your room?”
“Yes.”
“And you trust him with…” Isabella gestured vaguely to the apartment. Right.
“Yes.” Gabe had plenty of blackmail collected on Goldwyn. Breaking and entering into an abandoned building, not reporting his older sister missing, being generally in any way connected to Gabe… If the blackmail didn’t work, he could just threaten Goldwyn’s life, too. That was a nice failsafe for if the guy started asking too many questions. “So…”
“Of course.” Vivian exclaimed, like the bleeding heart she was. Isabella glared.
“We’ll think about it,” she corrected, “Can we meet him before we make a final decision?”
“Sure.” Alright, that was logical enough. Hopefully Goldwyn would get along with his fellow lapdogs. “When?”
“I have work tomorrow and Thursday.” Vivian admitted with a frown, “Friday?”
“I’m down.” Isabella said with a shrug, “So long as Gabe cooks.” Gabe frowned.
“That’s your night.”
“And you’re bringing a guest.”
“...fine.” Gabe expected Goldwyn’s waffles to boost sales by at least fifty percent, otherwise it wasn’t worth it. Having to make dinner on a Friday. Really, who was Gabe turning into?
“Then it’s settled.” Isabella decided, turning the monitor back on.
“I look forward to meeting your new friend.” Vivian said with a smile. Gabe frowned.
“Who said he was a friend?” Goldwyn was not Gabe’s friend. He was Gabe’s personal chef. Could he add making all the dinners into Goldwyn’s roommate agreement? Vivian frowned.
“Well, we’ll meet him Friday.” Vivian said with a nod, “What are you making for dinner?”
“Carrot soup.”
“Where are you headed?” Isabella asked when Gabe began putting his skates back on after dinner- when he finally had time to investigate Zachary Garcia's body.
“Gonna go inspect a crime scene.” Gabe answered, knowing that Isabella wouldn’t take him seriously even though it was technically the truth. Aas he expected, she laughed.
“Well, alright. Don’t run into any trouble.” She turned back to her computer, unaware that Gabe was the trouble. Oh well, that was probably for the best. Gabe tied off his second roller blade and headed out.
It was dark, of course it was, being eleven at night in January, so Gabe took a flashlight out of his backpack and used it on his trip like a responsible person. The employee entrance had not been boarded back up in the hours between Gabe visiting, but the boards were decidedly not where he had left them. They were scattered on the ground in front of the door, like someone had kicked his pile askew in frustration. Or with calculated precision, just to see how he’d react. Either someone had just been passing through, or… Well. Or Gabe’s message had already been tampered with. He opened the door and quickly made his way to the restroom in the pharmacy.
The good news was that the body had not been tampered with. The bad news was that it was gone. Gabe found himself grinning. The game was afoot.