Objects of Virtue

Chapter 09

The drive to the station was quick and Harry soon found himself standing besides Niall offering him the large container of food. A massive spread across his face as he grabbed and inhaled deeply, letting the sweet, sweet smell of the pancakes seep into his lungs. Niall loved his food and he loved Harry that much more when he catered to his hunger. Harry made the best pancakes, even though Niall would never give him the satisfaction of telling him so.

"Styles – I'd marry you – I swear! Just what I needed today mate, your fabulous bloody pancakes," Niall beamed as he slapped Harry across the back, hard.

"No need to get violent, Horan, it's just pancakes, look I even slathered on some chocolate sauce. For christssake, try not to get any on your white shirt, you giant baby," replied Harry as he watched in satisfaction as Niall dove head first into the pancakes, devouring them swiftly, large forkfuls at a time. Harry watched on, amused. This was Niall's reaction every single time. He truly loved the man, goof ball that he was.

"That was great, Styles, almost as good as me Ma's. Almost." Niall said pushing away the now almost spotless container. Harry wondered if there was need of washing the thing, since Niall had licked up every single speck of chocolate syrup and devoured every morsel of the decedent pancakes.

"Gee, thanks Nialler, that's high praise coming from you," Harry replied as he took his seat. "So, where do we start today? Should we head down to see Zayn and get some headway there? Also – I was thinking – what if Louis' gun was stolen earlier? He did say he had opened the vault in a couple of months? So what if we haven't looked back far enough?"

"Well Styles, gotta hand it to you – didn't think of that right away, but yeah – its possible. Let's talk to Liam and see if we can get the footage for the last couple of months. Thank heaven's they've cooperated so far. It would have been a bitch to get warrants and the lot if not." Niall contemplated as he sat back in his chair.

"Should we make a move Niall, if we are to get back in time for the funeral?" Harry asked rising from his seat and grabbing his car keys.

"Yea, let head out. Don't want to miss the funeral," he replied pulling himself up and following Harry to his car.

The car ride to Newham was slower than expected. Traffic moved slowly and Harry wished they had started of sooner. Maybe they should have taken the train or something, he thought as he unconsciously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the Amy Winehouse song playing on the radio. Niall, a very devout fan, was already singing along, miming. Exemplary behavior. Harry pushed back his aviators and ignored the very obvious stares the lady in the Toyota next to them was throwing their way. He was relieved when finally the traffic started moving and they were on their way once again. He loved Niall. But sometimes. Just sometimes he wished he could strangle him.

Soon, they were standing outside Zayn's ground floor apartment. Nick was right. This wasn't exactly the neighborhood one keeps their doors unlocked. The old, white Volkswagen van was parked on the curb. The boys made their way up the chipped stone stairs that led to Zayn's front door. The brown paint was peeling away to expose the most obnoxious orange color below it. Whoever lived here previously was definitely an interesting character and Niall as always said so, just as Harry rang the bell. Frowning at Niall, Harry urged him to be quiet as thy heard the sounds of the door being unlocked.

"Who is it?" a familiar voice asked sternly through the crack in the door.

"It Detectives Style and Horan, Ma'am," Harry replied "We'd like to speak with Zayn."

"I'm sorry Detectives, I'm just being cautious you know how it is – let me unlock the door," Zayn's mother replied as she released the chain that kept the door closed. "Please. Come in. The place is still a mess, we've been trying for ages to get the blood stains of the wall and carpet but it's so stubborn." Her voice cracked as she went on describing the situation. Harry felt his heart crumble under the weight of the pain in her voice and he only wished he could take it all away.