DETECTIVE VANO IN THE CITY OF ANGELS
What a gloomy day here in the city of angels. It had been raining for days, so much so that you’d think that the streets would’ve flooded by now. The soft drum of the rain against my window was no longer comforting, now a annoying song on the radio that I couldn’t get out of my head. Another long summer storm, drenching the city in a deep, stern grey. But even if this town was swept up in a hurricane unlike anything before, nothing much would change. Things would keep going, whether I like it or not. Something about that fact just…paralyzes me.
But enough with the poetics. I get all soul-searchy whenever business has been going slow. And unfortunately for me, it’s been going slow all week. Another uneventful day sitting in my office, waiting for the door to open, for a letter to come my way, for anything to happen! As if reading my mind, the phone perked up with dull ringing that filled the air, replacing the light tap of raindrops on glass with the bit-crushed sound of bells. I picked up the receiver, the ringtone ending with a click. All that was one the line was heavy breathing. Heavy, gurgling gasps that continued for far too long as if whoever was on the other side struggled to get simple words out. I took the cigarette out of my mouth, grumbling into the phone as I hung up without a goodbye. This is the third time this hour, these salesmen are getting pretty bold with the sales pitch nowadays, huh?
I slumped back down into my chair, putting my cigarette out in the ash tray piled up with the corpses of a whole cigar still stuck inside it before continuing to do absolutely nothing. I stared up a the ceiling, the worn floorboards of the apartment above me that were illuminated by the weak light of the lamp on my desk. As I studied the pattern of the wood grain, my mind began to wander. I just couldn’t believe that this city had run dry of all it’s crime. The thought of it is impossible, and yet here I am doing nothing. I don’t even know why I stayed here this long. Maybe because of the persisting, nagging thought that something will turn up eventually. It was just a matter of time. For now, I’m stuck sitting in my stupid little spinny chair, spinning the day away. I was about to go home (and throw up) until there was a knock at my door.
Whoever it was knocked again, their knuckles thumping against the wood with alarming urgency. I put away my lighter and near empty pack of cigarettes, stuffing them into my coat pockets as they knocked one last time. “The door is open!” I groaned, flicking through the papers scattered all around my desk as the knocking stopped, a strange silence filling the air.
It creaked open not a moment later, letting in a dame with long, lanky legs. And way too many. 17, maybe 18 in total? She looked more centipede than girl as she kept walking in, the click of her heels deafening that sounded like a stampede of wild horses. Her body radiated a bright white, casting a glow upon the dirty floorboards. Only when all of her entered the room did I start talking. “A lotta legs for a lady like you,” I said, looking her up and down which took a comically long time. She gave me a glare and rolled her eyes. I picked them up and rolled them back.
“What brings you in today?”
She opened her mouth and, honestly, all that came out was garbled gibberish and words that didn't sound like words. Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to me but it really did sound like T.V. static. She must've seen my confusion, going silent as she just stared at me with eyes as bright as headlights. The only sound that filled my office was the rain against dirty windows, until I finally spoke up.
“Sorry, ma’am, not all of us know Heaven Speak.”
She looked at me funny, maybe because her eyes weren’t all the way in. The next second and she quickly composed herself, fixing the wrinkles on the tube top she was wearing and cleared her throat.
“I have a case for you. And a dire one at that.” I hummed a note of fake surprise, kicking my feet onto the desk. “Oh, really? What, somebody steal a pair of your favorite boots?” She scoffed, almost sounding like a snarl. “Dear detective, my father has been murdered in his estate just this past Monday!”
“Oh wow!” I laughed, “What a way to start conversation!” A loud growl came my way, sounding like the bellow of a moose as if she was threatening me. It won’t do it though, I’ve had my fair share of empty threats. I know a bluff when I see one. “Ah, calm your ichor, honey, I was only joking.” She huffed at me, this one definitely like a moose, before going to take something out of her handbag. As she does that, I take another look at her figure. Now that I think about it, she really does look like a moose. A moose and a centipede combined with only the top half of her body resembling a girl. Not in the ugly way, mind you, but in the literal way. Two grand antlers grew out of white flowy hair, with just as many pairs of wings to match the amount of legs. Not that many eyes however, despite having that many wings, the eyes she does have cold and unblinking. I didn’t notice this at first but her feet were actually hooves, trimmed and painted with a clear coat of nail polish. Whoever this was must be pretty important if I could tell anything, though her exact name eluded me for the longest time. I was so caught up in it that I didn’t realise that she had her hand outstretched with a business card this whole time.
“Is something bothering you, detective?” she mocked, her arm still out towards me. I shook my head. “Nah, it’s just been a while since I had an intriguing case.” The glow of her body brightened when I said that, seemingly flattered at my remark despite our little situation at hand. I took the card from her, tracing my fingers along the gold and silver lining of the card. I reread the words on the front, written in such fancy cursive that I could barely tell if it was actual letters.
“So tell me more about this case of yours?” I murmured, tucking the card into my coat pocket.
“My father, Tsayir Immonia, was found dead in his bedroom two days earlier.” she explained, “I haven’t been able to see him myself, but the police said he committed suicide with a personal handgun.”
“An Immonia!” I declared, first out of surprise, then out of fear. I quickly straightened my posture in my chair in front of her, cursing myself internally for leaving the whole office a mess last night. “What an honor to have such royalty upon these dirty floorboards.” She chuckled, huffing quietly as her halo shimmered much brighter than before. “Your father was a real man, y’know? I knew him actually!”
“Really?”
“No, I didn’t.” I said, “But I apologize for your loss. I can only imagine how it must feel.” Despite how I might’ve looked, I really was sorry for the gal. Never really knew a sort of parental figure in all my life, but I guess the feeling is akin to losing a dear friend. My heart sank at the reminder, though I tried my hardest to remain cool under her gaze. She nodded solemnly, her eyes eerily distant and cold. “I never knew him that well but I just don’t believe it, how he killed himself despite how successful he was. I fear he was murdered by a jealous adversary, one of his colleagues that couldn’t bear to see him in the spotlight any longer.”
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions now, honey.” I leaned back in my chair, mindful not to fall back again, “From my time in this dirty business, those who swear they know how the victim died always had something to do with it.” This seemed to set her uneasy, as her eyes suddenly filled with guilt. I tried not to notice, though I did anyways as an awkward silence arose. She cleared her throat, straightening her clothes again. “I’ll pay you handsomely for your work.”
“Oh, don’t worry honey, you’re talking to the angel who solved Mr. Matar’s disappearance in under 24 hours!” She looked more hopeful now, bowing to me after giving the location of the crime scene. “I hope you deliver justice for my father, detective.” she whispered, winking at me with her ghostly eyes before taking her leave. Once all of her had left my office, I leaped out of my seat, my excitement practically through the roof. I packed up my stuff and put on my hat, dialing up a number that’s been gathering dust for far too long.
“Get up. We’ve got a job.”
