Chapter Text
The Meridian is an Orca class Sand Steamer. It is brand new, on its maiden voyage, and it is about to play host to a murder. But first, the stage must be set.
Within the hulking hull of the Steamer, two people walk side by side: an old man, rich as they come, and a young woman, a coquettish ingénue. Though both are dressed opulently, the young woman wears her finery with well-concealed discomfort; she wobbles just slightly on her delicate high heels. When the man next to her isn't looking, she tries to covertly adjust one of her sleeves, though she immediately stops when he looks her way again. He talks the entire time. The ingénue says not a word.
The two reach the top of a flight of stairs. They are all alone in the hallway. Instead of offering to help the young woman down the stairs, the old man continues on. Out of the corner of her eye, the young woman sees a pair of hands push the old man's shoulders. She tries to catch him, but to no avail. It's a long flight of stairs.
The young woman looks around. She is all alone in the hallway.
—
Far away, in the cheap part of the Sand Steamer, two men and two women make their way on board. The corridors are narrower and more crowded here, but this soon into the ship's maiden voyage, no one's had a chance to ding up the paint job yet. Even the second class cabins sparkle.
All four in the group consult their tickets as they walk down the hall until they reach a pair of cabins side by side.
"Here we are! Last chance to trade roommates, ladies."
"Don't waggle your eyebrows at me, preacher man. It's not happening. Milly and I will share, and you and Vash will share, and I won't get my wallet stolen by either of you. End of story, got it?"
"Jeez, got it. I was just offering."
"Besides, that huge cross of yours will take up all the room."
"Okay, okay, you made your point!"
Meryl huffs her way into her cabin. Milly, who might be incapable of huffing, waves at the boys over her shoulder and says, "See you at dinner!"
Wolfwood glances sideways at Vash and jerks his thumb at the second cabin. "You and me, needle noggin."
Vash looks at the cross over Wolfwood's shoulder, which only narrowly avoids scraping the ceiling, and says, "Meryl's right, you've already got a roommate. Maybe I'll find another cabin…"
Rolling his eyes, Wolfwood unlocks the door and shoves Vash inside. "Sure, and then you can give us all the slip on this big, fancy Steamer and get into something dangerous. I don't think so, pal."
“Hey! That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”
“Shut up. I want to take a shower before dinner.”
“You can still take a shower if I’m talking.”
“You’re gonna make me forget something! You’re distracting!”
“Who, me?”
—
The first class passengers have a fancy dining room with huge picture windows so they can see the desert in all its majesty while they eat. The first class passengers eat under beautiful chandeliers, dripping with cut crystals that break the light into rainbows. The first class passengers enjoy the finest the Meridian has to offer.
Second class gets a cafeteria.
Meryl and Milly stake out a table while Vash and Wolfwood get food for everyone. They're flush with cash for once, thanks to a town mayor so eager to see the back of them that he was willing to bribe all four to take the next Steamer as far away as possible before disaster struck. It's the only reason they bothered with the second class tickets instead of just booking four bunks, and the boys bring back a veritable feast.
"Why are neither of you talking?" Meryl asks after a suspiciously quiet minute.
"Blondie here made me forget my soap when I took my shower because he wouldn't shut up," Wolfwood mutters into his rice.
"I told you to remember your soap!" Vash protests. "And you told me—" he puts on a big scowl and imitates Wolfwood "—don't tell me what to do, needle noggin."
"You could have borrowed my soap, Mister Wolfwood," Milly offers.
"Thank you, Milly. Your soap does smell very nice. But I didn't realize until I was already in the shower, thanks to him, and now it's too late!" Wolfwood swings around to glare at Vash.
"Can you get out of my face?" Vash asks primly. "I'm trying to enjoy my dinner."
Wolfwood grabs the front of his jacket. "I haven't even begun to get in your face, you—"
The ensuing scuffle draws some curious glances while Meryl and Milly continue eating. To one particularly nervous passerby, Meryl says with an embarrassed smile, "Don't worry, it's fine. They're always like this," while Wolfwood shakes Vash back and forth and says, "I'll throw you off the back of the Steamer, and then you'll be sorry!"
"Uh…hello? Excuse me?"
Meryl looks up at the newcomer. The boys freeze in a tableau of slapstick violence. Milly continues blithely stealing food from everyone else's plates.
Standing a couple feet away, clear of any flailing limbs, is a young woman. More of a girl, really. She stands very straight with her hands clasped in front of her, which might be the only way she can stand in her high fashion attire. Her dress is certainly not meant for someone who regularly uses their arms, nor are her heels meant for someone who cherishes their feet. With her perfectly coiffed hair, she is hilariously out of place in the second class cafeteria.
Nobody speaks for a minute, too busy all staring at each other. Luckily, Meryl has manners, so she says, "Hi, were you looking for some place to sit? It's crowded down here, but there's room at our table."
The young woman looks surprised to be invited, but she quickly schools her features back to a mask of pleasant neutrality. She says, "Thank you, but I'm actually looking for someone. The captain of the Sand Steamer said that he'd heard a rumor that Vash the Stampede is on board. I understood him to have blonde hair and a red jacket…" She looks at Vash, who hastily climbs back into his chair. Wolfwood retakes his as well, though he does it as if it was his idea to stop fighting all along.
With profound earnestness, Vash answers, "I heard he's also incredibly handsome and dashing. But may I ask why you're looking for him?" (Across the table, Meryl rolls her eyes so hard that she nearly gives herself a hernia. She is truly stuck with the corniest man alive.)
"My name is Eleanor Forthright," the young woman explains, "and my stepfather's just been murdered."
There's another moment of staring and silence. Weakly, Vash says, "It wasn't me, I just got here."
Eleanor blinks, and then she presses her lips together. "No, sir, I'm not accusing you. I'm asking for your help to find out who did it. Could we go somewhere quieter and talk?"
—
They have to go up to first class to find any place quiet. Eleanor leads the way to a small salon, a room with cozy, padded chairs and books on the shelves and a frescoed ceiling. A man of indistinct middle age seems to be waiting for them, judging by the way he stands when Eleanor enters the room. He wears a charcoal gray suit, and he looks tired in a way that bypasses a few nights’ poor sleep and suffuses his being. Eleanor introduces him as Mr. Murphy, her stepfather's business manager.
Everyone takes a seat, except for Wolfwood, who opts to lean against the wall and look out the window into the dark. He, Meryl, and Milly had insisted on joining, despite Vash's fervent wish that they would all mind their own business, and the room feels significantly cozier with six grown adults in it. Well, five adults and Eleanor. Still, she forges ahead with admirable composure.
"My stepfather is—was Franklin Blake. Have you heard of him?"
"The wealthy water magnate?" Milly asks.
"That's the one. We were on our way to Augusta for a meeting with some investors. He and I were leaving our rooms to go to the casino, and when we reached the top of a flight of stairs…" Eleanor takes a shuddering breath. "You may not believe me, but I saw someone's hands out of the corner of my eye. They pushed him down the stairs. And yet, when I turned around, there was no one there. It was all alone in the hall, and he was…"
The room seems colder, suddenly. Meryl, Vash, and Milly glance at each other, Milly in particular looking as though someone walked over her grave. Wolfwood is unaffected, continuing to stare out of the window. (He is fantasizing about a second shower, with soap.)
Eleanor turns in her seat a little to face Vash more directly. Her dress creaks with the effort. Gravely, she says, "Sir, I know what this sounds like. But I'm not a murderer. He's the only father I've ever known. I could never do any harm to him."
"Not least because he keeps you in high fashion and pocket money, right, sweetheart?" Wolfwood asks.
Mr. Murphy protests, "Sir!" at the same time that Vash scolds, "Wolfwood!"
He shrugs, unabashed. "Just saying, you've got a vested interest in staying rich. He leave you in his will? Got a good life insurance policy?"
"I don't think you know how life insurance works," Meryl mutters.
"Enough," Vash says. Wolfwood's mouth snaps shut on a sharp retort, and he shrugs instead. When he's sure his instructions are being followed, Vash looks at Eleanor again. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, ma'am. Of course, I'll help you find out who did this and bring them to justice."
"Oh, sir, thank you!" Eleanor says. "There will, obviously, be a reward. Just name your price."
Before Vash can answer, Wolfwood informs her flatly, "Vash the Stampede doesn't get out of bed for less than a hundred thousand double dollars."
Vash shoots him a frown, but Eleanor is already nodding. "Yes, yes, of course. That can be arranged, right, Mr. Murphy?"
Mr. Murphy looks like he wants to decline and possibly defenestrate at least Wolfwood and Vash, but all he says is, "Yes, that can be arranged, Miss Forthright."
"Half now, I think," Wolfwood adds, maintaining eye contact with Mr. Murphy, whose face is stony. "And the other half once we find out who did this."
"Half in the morning and half when we arrive, assuming you can solve it before then," Mr. Murphy counters. "It would be foolhardy to carry too much cash onboard a Steamer in the open desert; you never know when you may encounter bandits…or grifters."
"We'll meet you at nine," Wolfwood answers sweetly, ignoring the pointed end of Mr. Murphy's sentence.
Milly and Meryl watch the exchange like a tennis match, turning their heads to watch the barbs fly back and forth. Vash watches Eleanor. Her expression is one of carefully cultivated blankness, but her eyes are sharp and attentive, measuring each person in the room and tucking away her conclusions. Her eyes land on Vash, and she doesn't startle to find him already watching her, just meets his gaze with her own. Vash looks away first.
Ultimately, Wolfwood and Mr. Murphy reach an agreement that everyone will meet in this room the next morning at nine to be given the first half of their payment. No one but Vash seems to remember that Eleanor only asked him to solve this murder, but it would cause more of a fuss if he brought it up, and it's just not worth it. Besides, what would he do with a hundred thousand double dollars, or even fifty thousand? What a ridiculous amount of money. He's going to have to sew Wolfwood's big mouth shut.
—
Once the meeting is over, they all make their way back down to the second class cabins while Eleanor and Mr. Murphy remain in the salon. By silent agreement, they crowd into Meryl and Milly's cabin and make themselves as comfortable as possible.
"You were in fine form up there," Meryl observes dryly, looking at Wolfwood.
He frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That girl just lost her stepfather, and you're haggling over how much it'll cost her to find his killer?"
"Are you kidding me? She obviously pushed him!"
A fine hush settles. Vash looks at Meryl and asks, "Do you agree with Wolfwood?"
"If anything, I think it was that Mr. Murphy," Meryl answers. "He certainly didn't seem too broken up about it."
Vash hums a little and turns to Milly. "What about you?"
Looking nervous, Milly glances towards the ceiling before whispering, "What if it was a ghost?"
"A ghost? On a brand new Steamer? No way this thing is haunted yet," Meryl replies, waving a hand dismissively.
"But what if it wasn't haunting the Steamer?" Milly insists. She shudders. "What if it was haunting him?"
It seems as though the shadows in the room get a little deeper for a second. Wolfwood is the first to snap out of it: "There's no such thing as ghosts. Anyway, needle noggin, you've been asking everyone else what they think. What do you think?"
"I don't know yet," Vash admits. "I don't have enough information. But I don't think it was Miss Forthright or Mr. Murphy; neither of them make sense."
"What kind of detective are you? Everyone's a suspect."
"Oh, everyone?" Vash asks brightly. "Maybe you did it, Wolfwood."
"Wasn't me. There's no bullet holes."
"But you said everyone's a suspect!"
"You're really cruising for a bruising tonight, pal."
The meeting disperses. As the cabin door is closing, Vash hears Milly ask, "Meryl, could we sleep with the lights on tonight?"
"Certainly not," Meryl answers just before the lock clicks.
Back in their own cabin, Vash and Wolfwood prepare for bed, settle in, and turn off the lights. Vash, crammed into the top bunk because Wolfwood claimed the bottom bunk like an asshole, stares up at the ceiling. Quietly, he says, "Wolfwood?"
"Yeah?" Wolfwood doesn't sound like he was sleeping.
"Sorry I made you forget your soap."
"Ah, don't worry about it, blondie. My own fault anyway." He pauses. "Sorry I said I was gonna throw you off the back of the Steamer."
Vash huffs a laugh. "It's okay. That's not even the worst thing you've said to me this week."
"Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep."