Nightmare on Vine Street

Cold Lakes, Cold Cases

Special Client #13 and Client #311

I never took much of a shine to fishing. You end up cold, wet and if you do everything right, you might even get some nice slimy mackerel flopping all over your trousers. Sounds like a real ball to me. Yeah.

But fishing is what we had to do last few nights. Sad to relate, Ms. Henrietta was more than a little bit entrenched (if you’ll pardon the euphemism), so we had to fish her out. At this point it’s probably prudent to clarify who “we” are, if that’s a suitable pronoun to use at this juncture. Fear not, Specs has not lost a few marbles and started using the royal ‘we’. Actually, I guess we Bound are all entitled to use that particular tense. I digress.

I’ve been working with Charles again, to our mutual benefit. He’s sharp as a tack and, though I’d never admit it to him, probably a better investigator than I am. But something about him crawls under my skin. I don’t get his angle. The guy just likes… death. It borders on a morbid fascination, as if we ever have any other kind in our line of work. I met a Sin-Eater in Lansing once, called those kind “Necromancers”. Suitable title.

It has been my dubious pleasure to associate with that speakeasy musician as well. He’s a weird sort, all of life’s a game to him, and all the men and women merely gamblers, to paraphrase a book I read once. But he’s no slouch and he’s well connected.

I don’t have a great spread on the Wop yet. He keeps his cards close to his chest, like most Italians do. He doesn’t talk much, unlike most Italians. Maybe he’ll open up more, soon.

In less morbid news, got a garden variety snooping case from a little frail works as the personal aide-de-camp for Mrs. Grace Upjohn. She didn’t tell me that: I pulled the Holmes routine and I think it impressed her. However you cut it, she’s a broad that turns heads fast enough to make you take a trip to the chiropractor, and she was worried that her beau had a wandering eye. She should’ve looked in her own house before hiring a shamus. It’s not her squeeze with the itch. It’s the little bird work’s down at Burdick’s. But I did my job and got my retainer. Dames. What can you do?

Stray notes—

Henrietta’s not very good at backgammon. I’ve noticed that our special clients usually aren’t too capable of learning things.

The sister with the Sister is fiery, sparky and overall the kind of dame you’d expect not to have some nun hovering over her shoulder. Or maybe you would? I haven’t been to church in a while.

I need to update the old BloodHound maneuver. Something’s messing it up.



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