Tainted Flare: Chapter 1
It was two in the afternoon and I was sitting at my desk, looking through the blinds of my office window to the street below. So many people down there, going about their day, never knowing what truly goes on in this city. Yet, some do know what goes on and a few of those end up coming to me. Inspector Rhine, that's what it says on my door. I decided to become a private investigator after witnessing that even cops are crooked in this town. I've seen cops do drug transactions, needlessly beat up criminals, frame innocent people, and even partake in prostitution. Even my weasel father, a cop himself, framed his wife for a crime. Now his ass is behind bars and my poor mother is all but insane.
I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, held it up to my mouth, lit it, and breathed the warmth in. I'm told by some of my clients it's a bad habit but I always give them the same reply. Truth is, it's the only thing in this city that I find still gives me warmth. On those cold nights when it just seems that this city is nothing but crime, the fire in the cigarette gives me the warmth to go another day.
Things this particular day had been slow, nothing but phone calls about lost pets or angry wives' husbands. Not that I don't care, but that's not the reason I took up this job. I was beginning to think I wouldn't see any real action today and then she came in, the broad that would end up turning my whole life upside down, not necessarily for the better.
"Inspector Rhine!" she spoke as barged her way into the office, oblivious to the fact that one is supposed to knock before entering. "Inspector, you must help me!"
I looked at her, took puff of my cigarette, and I looked at her again. "Why is that you came to see me today sweetheart?"
"Its my brother!" she cried. "Somebody has taken my brother!"
Great, more family issues. I really don't like getting involved with things like this, family drivel, it always gets to me in a way. Now this woman who just ran into my office looked to be a tiger, and a very strongly built one at that, about twenty years old and was wearing one of those high class dresses that let the whole world know just how much money she had. Surely her brother could take of himself and if not? What was I supposed to do? I'm a P.I, not a superhero.
I told her, "Sorry lady, I don't get involved with family members. Murder, missing jewels, want me to tail someone, sure. But I've always found that family members get way too involved. Besides, if your brother is any bit of strong as you look, he should be able to fend for himself."
"Please inspector, he's only ten years old. I-I'm so worried about him."
Ah, kids, that's the weak part in the heart.
"Miss, have you spoken to the cops about this, filed a missing person's report?" I asked her before taking another deep breath of my cigarette.
She looked at me with big round eyes and told me "I did but they weren't much help, They pretty much told me that he is long gone by now. I don't believe that though. I cant! I wont accept that my brother is gone. Please, please help me."
Typical, kids are a waste of time. They don't add revenue to the city and that's all the cops in this city care about. Half of them only joined the force to get breaks from the government.
"What's your name miss?"
"My name? Its Amelia Luckwell."
"Alright Amelia," I said to her with a bit of resentment, "I'll take your case." She looked joyful and was about to say something but I held up my cigarette to my mouth to stop her. "I'll need plenty of records on you and your brother, as well as all immediate family members. I'll need phone numbers, addresses, and any information you can give me on possible suspects."
"Yes, well I-"
"Not here," I said. "I don't even trust everyone in this building. Go home, get your information, and mail it to this address," I told her while giving her my business card. "On that card is my home address and home phone number. Call me if something should come up."
She took the card and was beaming with hope, something I found troublesome. My clients, they act as if me simply accepting their case is an automatic guarantee. Sorry, but I'm a realist. I am no savior and I work in the real world where things go wrong more often that not.
She turned to leave and I called her, "Amelia. We will discuss payment later over the phone, you will be home tonight right?"
She nodded and walked out my door and down the hall. I watched her as I sucked the last bit of my cigarette down to the filter and ground it into the ashtray. Then I turned back around to my window and started to look through the blinds once again. This city...
Ten o' nine pm. I stood in front of my home mirror as I straightened my tie. A burgundy tie against a pure black suit. It was simple but I liked it. Looking my self in the mirror, I saw my white furred weasel face with slightly closed hazel eyes and remembered just how much I looked like my father. I gave a light sigh, grabbed my trench coat and stepped out the door. I decided to take a stroll through Hero's park, thinking the winter air may calm my mind down a bit. The park gates were not that far from my house and I quickly reached the steel sign with the park's name. I walked into the park, taking in the night air and avoided eye contact with anyone I saw.
There was another motive for my entering of the park other than clearing my mind. Sitting on a park bench was Ms. Luckwell, still in her red rich girl dress. What was she thinking? Dressed like that and walking alone in the park at this time of night. Its almost as if she wanted to be mugged. I avoided eye contact and made my way over to the bench, sitting down beside her. We did not speak right away or even acknowledge each other. Instead we sat in silence and stared at the statue that stood in front of us on the other side of the sidewalk path.
"Was it really necessary for us to meet in the middle of the park?" she finally asked me.
"Sorry Ms. Luckwell, but you see, I'm the paranoid type."
"Is there any reason for that though? I mean you told me to mail the stuff to your address and the I see on the card that you had written down to meet you here at this time. Why go through all the trouble?"
"To answer you first question Ms., its really not something you should concern yourself with. Just accept that this is how I work. Secondly, as I stated before, I do not trust anyone in that building. They may very well be going through my mail as we speak."
"What on earth on you talking about? They don't even know me. What reason would they have to-"
"Here's a tip Ms. Luckwell. Don't wear an expensive dress when you go into a place where the people can get warrants to go through your things. Some don't even get warrants and just take "evidence" illegally. Soon after that, you'll find yourself set up for a crime you didn't commit, end up in jail, and all your assets split among the real criminals."
She looked at me with quite a skeptical expression. "Come now Mr. Rhine, you can't really believe everything you just said."
"I've seen it happen a total of four times over my seven years."
"That's incredible. I never thought things were that bad."
"And that's just the ones that were so sloppy I was able to realize what was going on."
"Seven years..." She paused. "Just how old are you Mr. Rhine. You don't seem to be all that old."
"Maybe not physically but emotionally I feel as an old man. I'm thirty-two." After a brief pause I turned to her and asked her if she had brought the information I had asked for.
"Yes of course." She proceeded to open her purse, an obviously expensive one, and produced three large envelopes. "One contains all the information I could find on my brother. School records, medical, dental, all the events he's been too. The next one contains the information I could find on myself and our immediate family. The third envelope contains information on our family's business transactions as well information on business partners, long term clients, and anything else I could find."
Business, that's something I hadn't thought to write down on the card earlier. "Excuse me, but what business are we talking about?"
"Luckwell Medical."
Well now the expensive clothes made sense. Luckwell Medical was one of the country's leading medical supply companies. They dealt in everything from instruments to the newest experimental vaccines and were credited with curing quite a few diseases. Still, I never would have guessed that this woman belong to THE Luckwells.
"And you just gave your real name when you asked me to take your case? Did you give that name to the cops too?"
"Yes, of course."
"Christ..." I rubbed the top of my head and breathed deeply. This lady was a complete idiot. Then again, she had said the cops had not accepted her case so it was possible that they didn't believe her. It was also possible that the cops had simply heard the name and decided to investigate for their own purposes. Unfortunately I've seen that happen too many times as well.
"Is something wrong Mr. Rhine?"
I stuck the envelopes into my coat and stood up, looking away from her and toward the statue. "I suggest that you begin to use a fake name whenever you are in Regal city. Also, wear more commonplace clothes. Its much too dangerous for somebody like you to be walking around in such a way. If possible, get a friend to travel with you as I would not advise being alone, not even in a gated community. Even someone of your physique is easy prey for a loaded gun." I rummaged through my coat pockets and found my carton of camels and lit one.
Taking in a deep breath of smoke, I turned to leave but paused as my eyes passed over the statue once again. "Do you know what the statue represents Ms. Luckwell?"
"Jones."
"Excuse me?" I asked a little confused.
"My name is Michele Jones."
I smiled at her. "So it is."
She began to look over the statue and I did as well. It was a sculpture of a phoenix, clutching a backpack within its talons. The statue had been erected after the house fire that had occurred two years ago in which seven children were killed. They say that the explanation for the fire was accidental. A tipped over candle, a spark from an electrical outlet, any one of the usual causes. As much as I would like to believe it was all just an accident, its just not true. The fire was caused by Arson. How do I know this? Let's just say I have my sources, not all of them exactly to my liking.
I took another deep breath of my camel before saying my goodbyes to Ms. Jones and began on my way. It was about half past ten and the night was not yet over for me. As I began my journey toward the east end of town I started to become lost in my own thoughts. I stopped hearing the sirens that always seemed to come from every direction, the sight of junkies on every street corner, even the whores that would call out to me as I passed them by. To me, it was just another night and there was something more important on my mind, something that made both my stomach churn with anger and my heart sink with regret.
It had taken me about forty five minutes to reach my destination but I had wished it had taken much, much longer. I had gone through five more camels on my way and tossed my sixth to the ground, stomping it out numbly as I took in the sights.
It was quiet at the abandoned warehouse district, not a soul in sight. Not even the gangs would come here for there seemed to be an eerie legend of the place and its history. Beginning to think to myself, I crouched under a rusted part of fencing and began my trek through the labyrinth of buildings.
There was a local legend that this land was claimed by the devil and was watched by his servants, an idea encouraged by the murders that were said to have taken place here. In the past, entire groups of gangs would come here as a way of disproving the legend and thereby claiming the land as their own turf, claiming it from the devil himself. Every group that ever entered the place was never seen again, at least not in a clean, living form. Many times their mangled bodies would be found lying outside the fencing the next day. Devil or not, it seemed to be enough to detour any further activity from any and all groups. Well, almost all.
As my eyes scanned the numbers that marked each warehouse, I came to one with the number forty-nine. This was the one I had been looking for. There was a slight opening in the sliding steel doors, just wide enough for someone like myself to slip through. I sighed, took a deep breath and made a resolution to myself. I had come this far and I would not back out now.
I entered the warehouse and fumbled around the walls, looking for a switch. Quickly founding it behind some shelving, I flicked it to the on position. Immediately the lights began to dance in a flicker, something my eyes had become adjusted to over my years of work. I sighed at the lack of light but deep down I knew I was lucky to even have the lights flicker at all, given the age of the building. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I began to walk deeper inside and let my senses take in the atmosphere. The air was cold within the warehouse and I could see my breath fog as it left the protecting warmth of my lungs. I began to huddle in my jacket to keep warm.
Suddenly there was a loud screeching sound and I turned behind me to see two dobermans closing the doors. After sealing the building with a resounding clank, the two dogs turned to face my direction, their backs to the door. Machine guns rested in their hands as they stood, silent soldiers. They were bare-chested, showing off their impressive robust physique, no doubt to insinuating to me that I was not a threat and each wore black jeans and a simple red beret on their heads.
When I turned back around I was shocked by what I saw. He stood there in the center of the room, dressed in his signature purple vest, covering a silky black collar shirt with black pants, white vertical pinstripes adorning them. One hand on his hip and a sly grin on his face, that cat locked eyes with me. I would never forget that snow leopard or what he did.
"Logan Rhine, I wasn't sure if you would actually show up."
I felt my eyes involuntarily narrow at the site of this feline. My neck tightened and my hands balled themselves into fist.
"I never expected to see you again, Dylan Faust."