Sunday Story Segment, writing

Asena Chapter 5: Marlene

Marlene had a boyfriend who had liked to spoil her a few years ago. Fancy dinner dates, trips to exotic locations, purses more expensive than my college tuition, and, of course, flashy jewelry. Marlene loved the attention and didn’t care at all that most of it was stolen or paid for with stolen credit cards. It wasn’t out of desperation, either. She had the money to buy pretty much whatever she wanted since her father owned a large tech company in Silver City. She would take over the business someday probably, but at twenty two, she was having much more fun being one of Silver City’s only trust fund babies. And of course that meant dating the bad boys.

I wasn’t sure what her ex’s name was, but Marlene had come to me on his recommendation. Apparently if the cops found the ruby, they would be able to trace it pretty easily to a robbery a few years ago and that might put both of them in some hot water.

She was definitely paying me well, but I was not looking forward to the whirlwind I was about to get. My plan had been to see her once more, when I dropped the ruby off and picked up my hefty check. I didn’t like to chat with clients before a case was over because they always had a suggestion or a critique. Marlene seemed way too much like an airhead for our conversation to be remotely productive. Our first meeting she had given me the bare details, spent most of the time texting, and rushed out the door for a nail appointment.

The knock was heavy when it finally came  and I figured it was the bodyguard. Without waiting for an answer, they entered and walked through my open inner door. I quickly dropped a pile of files on top of my notebook with all my scribbled information on the case.

Marlene was beautiful, though it wasn’t all because of her fiery hair and brilliant smile. She had a splattering of freckles that made her look young despite the dark eyeliner rimming her emerald green eyes. Her lanky limbs tended to feel less than graceful but she managed to make the awkwardness seem cute. Her smile was vivacious and she seemed to glow with energy and spirit. Despite my hesitation, I smiled at her.

“Asena,” she said, bouncing into the room.

“Hi Marlene,” I said, gesturing to the two tan chairs in front of my desk. Her security goon hovered near the door, content to stand. He looked to be somewhere in his forties, extremely fit, which his tailored suit showed. His cropped graying hair and tactical stance made me think he was former military. I watched as he scanned the room for signs of danger and rolled my eyes.

Marlene took off her coat and draped it over the left chair while she plopped into the right. Her jeans had pre-made, ragged holes with bleach stains and her black sweatshirt had a band name I’d never heard of whose logo was a lightning bolt hitting a tree. She yanked her hat off and tossed it on the chair. Her hair was full of static, but she didn’t even try to smooth it.

“So, do you have my ruby?”

“Not quite yet. It’s only been a few days, give it time. I’ve got a name though and a possible location. As long as everything goes according to plan, I should have it in a week or two.”

“I thought you were really good and, like, had an underworld connection.” She frowned at me and I tried to keep a straight face.

“It sounds like you’ve got one too,” I retorted. “Does your thief have any idea who did it?”

She smiled and I crossed my arms.

“He’s heard that it’s a big mob boss who did it,” she said, squirming in delight.

“A mob boss?” I repeated. I tried to hide my laughter. “Silver City doesn’t have a mob to be a boss of.”

“I don’t know, I’ve seen a dark side of Silver City,” she said, sticking her lip out a little.

“Marlene,” I said, glancing at her security guard to see if he found it amusing still. Like a good hired hand, he remained emotionless. “What darkness have you seen?”

She bit her lip and I couldn’t tell if she didn’t have an answer or if she just wasn’t willing to share it. She started to fiddle with the edge of a file on my desk, avoiding my gaze.

“Can I come with you?”

I leaned back in my chair and ran my hand through my hair, yanking at the snarls.

“Marlene, I know you’re anxious to get this back,” I started, trying to figure out a way to let her down without telling her she’d just be in my way.

“If the police find that ruby, Terry is going to go to jail,” she said flatly. Her voice had some steel in it this time.

“Yes, I know. Which is why I think it’s best if you left it to a professional.”

“C’mon,” she said and rolled her eyes. “You’re barely older than me.”

“Age doesn’t matter,” I said and breathed deeply through my nose, trying to calm down. I had heard the argument that I was too young to do this line of work a million times before. “I have a degree in Criminal Justice, I have field experience, and I have a track record of numerous solved cases. This business requires finesse. You need to know what you’re doing, who you’re talking to, and how to get them to do what you want.”

“You might be right,” she said. She stood up and her security tensed. I had a feeling he must have a hard life. “But I think I’d be an asset. And I can prove it. I’ve done some digging into you.” Her smile suddenly felt wolfish as she came and perched on the side of my desk, pushing papers and books out of the way, glancing down to make sure she didn’t sit on a stapler.

“What did you find out?” I asked with a smile. I had had clients come in trying to leverage my dad, his arrest record, and dozens of past cases, but none of them had ruffled my feathers yet. Marlene certainly didn’t scare me.

“I know that you look like your mom,” she stated. I frowned as she continued. “I know that Moira was an antiquities dealer. I know that you’ll let a criminal go if you think he’s a good person and isn’t hurting anyone. And I know that Francis is at The Carson and if you don’t let me come with you, I’ll go on my own. And then I’ll probably really mess up your plans.”

I stared at her, wide-eyed. She may have come in looking like a naive, young, silly girl, but I couldn’t believe it. My past was a hard thing to find info about, especially my mom. My personal ethics weren’t that unknown, any criminal that had tangled with me knew I drew a line. But I couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten the information about Francis.

“How do you know all that?” I leaned towards her, placing my hands under my chin.

She smiled, kicking her legs out for a moment and leaning back like she was basking in the glow of victory.

“Easy.” She laughed and I stared her down. Apparently deep pockets could get her places. That was the only way I could think of that could get her so much info in such little time.

“Who did you pay off?”

“You.” She hopped off the desk and stared at the window, drawing a small heart with her initials in the condensation building on the glass.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell you any of that,” I retorted. I clenched my fists. Who was out there willing to sell that much information about me?

She turned back towards me. “If I can prove to you that I got that all from you, will you let me come with you? I want to help.” Her smile was gone and she looked at me with big doe eyes.

“Fine, if you can prove without a shadow of a doubt, that you didn’t get that from some low life or something, you can come.” I leaned back and crossed my arms. Marlene may be more clever than I had expected but there was no way she was going to be able to lie to me convincingly enough. I had learned all the signs. Being a con-man’s daughter taught you how to spot a liar and how to wipe all signs of guilt away yourself.

“You look like your mom was a bit of a guess but I know you didn’t look like your dad. His arrest record is still on your computer and his description is black hair, fair skin, and dark eyes. So I figured that golden brown hair and baby blues of yours came from your mother,” she said and sat back down on the corner of my desk. I flicked the screen off, realizing she had a straight shot from that vantage point.

“Your mom dealt antiques because that little hourglass has a plaque that says ‘Moira’s Antiques’ and since it’s the only decoration on your desk, I figured it was important. Plus, Moira is listed as your dad’s spouse on that little sheet thing.” She stood up and started pacing, her smile growing as I clenched my hands together, my frown growing. The security guy watched her, frowning too. I bet he didn’t want her to win this either because that would definitely make his life harder.

“Terry filled me in on the criminal ethics,” she said shrugging, “You let a friend of his slide. He stole some guy’s husky.”

“The one with the thousand dollar reward?”

“Yup and apparently you found him but somehow he stayed out of jail and the guy stopped the search.”

“Well, the owner had been abusing the dog whenever he got angry. He had some high stress job. I just told him if the dog was found, the cops might look into pressing charges for animal cruelty.” I remembered that case fondly. I occasionally still saw them out walking and the husky was healthy and happier than it ever had been with that creep.

“Hmm, I figured it was something like that.”

“And Francis? How did you get that lead? I got that last night.” She kept pacing and when she turned away, I quickly tucked the hourglass behind the stack of books to keep it out of her sights.

“I know you did,” she said. She turned back towards me and smiled brightly. “You wrote it down there.” I followed her finger to my notebook. The entire bottom half was sticking out and all of my notes from my conversation with Pete and Danny about the case could be clearly seen. Both ‘Francis’ and ‘The Carson’ were underlined.

“So you’re telling me that you got all that information from walking around the room?” I wouldn’t have believed she was capable of such spying if I hadn’t been here.

“Yup! I know people think I’m some shallow, stupid, rich girl. But I see things. I pay attention to people. And because they don’t expect me to be smart, they’re not on their guard around me either.”

I knew from experience how annoying but ultimately helpful it could be when people tended to underestimate you. I looked her up and down. She would fit in better at a place like The Carson than I would, even in her grunge look.

“Okay, but you’re driving and he’s staying in the car,” I said, standing up and pointing at her security.

She grinned. “Deal.”

Sunday Story Segment, writing

Asena Ch. 4: The Office

hourglass in close up photography
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

I knew that I had to find Francis. I laughed inwardly, enjoying my own Marvel reference. So far, I had caught a few lucky breaks. Emmett had heard of him at one of my favorite bars and Danny had been the cop to throw him out. I was feeling good about myself though I didn’t want to jinx it. Emmett had said there was another player involved. But, if this Francis was as stupid as he sounded, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had this case wrapped up before the end of the week. I could hand him over to Danny and maybe ease a bit of my guilt.

I had let myself enjoy last night, catching up with Danny and mending the damage from the past few months. It had been so easy to focus on cases and just ignore my cell phone every time his name popped up. Part of me was surprised he hadn’t broken down my door sooner. I had admitted that if the situation was reversed, I would have camped out on his doorstep until he had no choice but to talk with me.

My smile disappeared as I looked at the screen in front of me. My fingers hovered over my keyboard for the fourth time that morning and once again, I snatched them back. I stared at the fading letters painted on my door, ‘Asena Patterson; Private Investigator’. The ‘r’ at the end was almost completely scraped off and I wondered if I should repaint. I looked around the whole place, trying to direct my mind anywhere else than the screen and its temptation.

I liked my office. It was on the third floor in a building a few blocks from Main Street. It was small, that was for sure, but I preferred the term cozy. It had a tiny front reception area where a secretary could sit if I ever had the money to hire one. The floor was hardwood, though it had its fair share of nick marks. The walls had a wood paneling that felt like we were still living in the seventies but I kind of loved. It reminded me of all the old detective sitcoms from back then and made me feel like I belonged to a different era.

I had gotten a couch for clients when they were waiting and for me to crash on occasionally. I placed it where a reception desk would normally sit, across from the door. The couch was more modern than anything else I owned, a simple black fabric and all ninety degree angles. I had to lint roll every day but I had picked it up at a thrift shop for only thirty bucks so I deemed it worthwhile. Two doors branched off from my lobby. One went to a kitchen, the walls painted an obnoxious shade of yellow that made me think of egg yolks. It contained a grey counter with cabinets underneath. My coffee maker, a small toaster, and a microwave lived on top with not much else besides a bottle of Lysol underneath. The fridge stood at the end of the narrow space, blocking one of my cabinets. It was old, but worked just fine. I had a stash of leftovers in there from the past few nights.

While everything else in the office space felt sparse, my actual office was cluttered. I knew where almost everything was, but I had stacks of papers on every corner of my old wooden desk and on top of most of the file cabinets which lined the walls. I didn’t have many picture frames, but I did have my degrees and my PI license in frames on one of the filing cabinets. There were nearly dead tulips sitting on one corner of the desk, a gift from a client a few weeks back. A black desk lamp was nearly hidden by the stack of books I had to read but it shed some light in the room. The large overhead light always seemed too bright and fluorescent so I tended to just keep the window shade open and use natural light paired with the small lamp.

A small wooden hourglass sat near the books. The sand inside was electric blue and always made me think of some tropical beach. It had been a gift from my mother on my tenth birthday and it was one thing I had never left behind no matter where I had moved.

There was a small safe in the corner behind my desk and an assortment of coats and sweaters piled on top.  The walls were a soft sky blue and had come with a few pictures of serene mountains hanging on them.

The blue walls had actually been my deciding factor. The price had been the thing to catch my interest and the location made it a steal. But, I had walked in and felt a sense of calm, which I knew was so unbelievably necessary in my line of work. I was glad that the previous renters had only painted the kitchen yolk yellow because there was no way I could have spent all day staring at that.

My computer faded, going to sleep, and I shook the mouse to wake it up. I wasn’t sure how long I had been staring at it, but my eyes were dry and I blinked a few times to clear them.

“Screw it,” I said and broke my own policy, typing ‘Harold Patterson’ and his social security into Danny’s police database. Danny didn’t know I had his password but it had been invaluable over the past year. I flipped the hourglass over and watched it as I waited for the new page to load.

The first result was an arrest in New Hampshire four months ago. He had been released the next day on a technicality. He’d always been good with technicalities. I scrolled down. He was a person of interest in quite a few cases. I finally stopped when I saw an entry for Silver City.

Bernard Palmer had been the main suspect and under surveillance for months following the incident. Harold and him had conned an old woman out of nearly ten grand, claiming to be IRS agents. They hadn’t been able to get Berny on anything, since they never found the money. Shoot, he’d never even acted like he had ten grand. He’d been conned too, which explained his actions at the bar. Harold disappeared before they could question him. That had been five years and three months ago. I had started college just around the same time.

I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t believe he had been here. Only a year after I’d left my dad and his constant cons, he had been in the same city and not said a word. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

I stood up and walked to the only window, which faced the parking lot. I could see my old CRV in the parking lot, rust creeping up the left side. Snow was pushed into piles in the corner and more was starting to drift down, making the whole world look gray.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.

A black SUV pulled into the parking lot, leaving twin lines of black in the fresh snow. I straightened as a tall woman stepped out of the passenger side and a large burly man in a peacoat and hat stepped out of the driver’s side. I recognized the woman. She wasn’t much older than me and she had flaming red hair, which I could see even though it was partially covered by her hat. I turned from the window and started straightening up my desk with a sigh. It had barely been four days. I was ahead of schedule but I had a feeling that might not matter. Marlene Pembrook was here for her stolen ruby and I was empty-handed.

Sunday Story Segment, writing

Asena: Chapter Three

Curious to learn more about Asena’s backstory? Meet Danny, a friend with insight into her family! Remember to comment to add your own ideas, character names, and thoughts to the story! You might just see them pop up in the next chapter!

girl staring at the sky
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

 

I stared at Danny as he turned away and started to bark out orders to the onlookers. People started to dwindle out the door or sit back down, laughing at all the ruckus. Peter came out from around the bar and walked over to Bruce, who waved a hand at him, saying he was fine. He had a split lip, but besides that seemed unhurt.

Danny looked good in his police uniform. He had loved being in a uniform ever since his boy scout days when he used to show off his wilderness skills to my mom in our large backyard. His chestnut colored hair was no longer greasy and lanky, but instead was short and styled nicely. His nose was slightly crooked from the time he had run into a tree playing cops and robbers. He had decided that he needed to be blindfolded to make the game harder. The stupid boy had always loved a challenge.

I stepped away from Berny, who was struggling to get to his feet , and sat back down on a stool. My drink surprisingly hadn’t spilled  so I reached down the bar and pulled it close. I sipped it as I watched Peter tell Berny that he wasn’t welcome anymore and that next time he would press charges. He pointed at the door and Danny marched him out with a hand on his shoulder. Berny glanced back at me and I stared him down, my mouth a firm line.

Danny came back in and his eyes fell on me. He walked over, his grin growing with each step he took.

“Asena,” he said as he took a seat next to me.

Peter walked around the bar and leaned towards us.

“Thanks for coming in Danny,” he said. “Next drink is on the house.”

“You already owe me for last time. Bruce is your bouncer, don’t forget that,” Danny said. He couldn’t hold a straight face for long though and Peter just laughed at him.

“Kid, you’re lucky I even let you in here.That uniform is bad for my business.”

I shook my glass, the ice tinkling loudly. “Peter,” I said, happy that I now had his attention. “You were talking about that guy, remember?”

“I don’t know much,” he answered. “Danny is the one who walked him out. He’d probably know better than I do.” He walked away as another customer flagged him down at the the other end of the bar.

“So you’re searching for a guy?” Danny asked. “You know, there’s these things called dating apps now. Way simpler than asking the local barkeep.” He grinned as if he had said something hilarious and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s work,” I replied. I took a deep breath, loathe to ask his help after not speaking in so long. “His name is Francis. You apparently kicked him out last week.”

“Yup, the really drunk one, right?” He pulled a bowl of peanuts closer and popped a few in his mouth. “What about him?”

“Any idea where he might be?” I tried to keep a straight face, but even though he was smiling, I could feel the elephant in the room and it was killing me.

“How about you answer some of my questions and I’ll give you some answers,” he countered. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Don’t you need to go back on duty?” I asked, squirming in my chair.

“Nope, it’s the end of my shift. I was headed home when Peter called,” he answered. He leaned on his palm and squinted as if trying to figure me out.

“Where have you been?”

“Right here in Silver City,” I answered and took another drink. I knew that wasn’t the real question.

“No, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in months.” The joking tone was gone, replaced with undisguised pain.

I squeezed my glass tightly, the cold helping center my thoughts. “I just needed some space. After the Lowell case…,” I trailed off. I had followed a wife who was cheating, a pretty routine case. After I showed the photos to the husband, she ended up at the hospital the next night, a broken arm and bruises everywhere else, having barely escaped her house with her life.

I was always careful on accepting cases like those to avoid anything like that. Danny had done his best to persuade me against it, sure that the husband was bad news. But I trusted my gut feeling that he was a good guy and I still had a hard time sleeping over it. After I testified in court to put the husband away, I had avoided Danny like the plague. He had never said I told you so, but every time I saw him, I felt that guilt all over again. And then at some point, I just didn’t know how I could call up after all that time had gone by.

“I don’t hold that against you. Everyone makes mistakes,” he said softly. He put a hand on my arm, but I shook it off.

“I hold it against me. I should have known better. A woman ended up in the hospital thanks to me. I’m not just gonna let that go.”

“But you’re willing to let a life-long friend go?” His words stung and I bit my lip.

“I didn’t let you go,” I answered slowly. “I just couldn’t…,” I didn’t know how to finish so I just let the words dangle. I couldn’t deny it and I hated that.

There was a beat while neither of us said anything and the noises of the bar washed over us. Glasses clinked together, people laughed loudly, the jukebox played an old rock song, and the billiard balls kept thwaping each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Danny swallowed and nodded and I knew he was forgiving me. I wished I could wipe away the hurt still on his face.

“Well what was that about?” Danny said, forcing a smile. “He looked furious.”

“Oh, that one wasn’t actually my fault.” He raised his eyebrow at me in disbelief. Usually it was my fault. “Seriously.” I smiled and felt the tension ease.

“Well what did he do to get tased?”

“He thought I was my mom,” I said. My smile slipped a little.

“You do look a lot like her,” he said. “So he knew her back then. And he got tased for that?”

“Not surprisingly, it was thanks to my dad. He apparently was in Silver City a few years ago and pulled a job. Berny got cut out, I think, and just wanted to get even. His wife, or rather his daughter, seemed like a good place to start.”

“Hmm, I might be on Berny’s side a bit,” Danny teased. “Your dad conned me out of my Halloween candy five years in a row.”

“He was always good at spotting an easy mark,” I joked back. I took another sip and swirled my ice cubes. It was almost gone and I debated on ordering another one. I bit my lip, enjoying the familiar banter.

“So you’re looking for the drunk from last week? Why?” he asked. He put a few more peanuts in his mouth and frowned. He stuck his tongue out and pulled a shell off from it.

“Gross,” I said. “Francis is for a case I’m working on. He didn’t tell you where he was going, did he?” I asked.

“Yes, the drunk guy I was kicking out of the bar told me his life story and exactly where he was going.” He stared at me for a beat and then rolled his eyes dramatically.

“C’mon, he didn’t spew out anything useful?” I said doubtfully..

“Not really,” he shrugged. “He seemed like he had some money to burn. I think he had tried to buy a lap dance from Hannah. And he offered me a couple hundred not to arrest him.”

“Which of course you didn’t take, you boy scout,” I answered.

“I could lose my badge over that,” he retorted.

“You were going to let him go anyways.”

“Not the point,” he said, laughing. “But I dropped him off at a hotel. The Carson, I think? It was down on Williams Street somewhere.”

“You couldn’t have led with that?” I asked.

“No way! You would have disappeared in a hurry.” I rolled my eyes at him. “This time when you pull your Cinderella act, can you leave a shoe? Or just call me back?” His voice was teasing, but mouth was in a tight line and I knew he was serious. I hated the pain I saw in his eyes and silently promised to be a better friend.

“I’ll call, I promise,” I swore to him. I had lived next to Danny for ten years and been friends with him even after I had moved with my dad when I was fourteen. I had never seen him this hurt before though and my stomach rolled at the thought.

Danny was one of the only people still in my life who had known my mom and knew my dad before he relapsed into his old criminal ways. He loved to joke that his best friend was a con man’s daughter and despite the uniform, I had told him about every con my dad and I had pulled together during those three years on the road. Danny had been the first contact on every burner phone I bought and the first person I called when I got back to Silver City. He had helped me finish my GED and then helped with my college essays.

There were times where we hadn’t talked for three months before this, especially when I was on the road. But, since I had gotten my PI license, he had been my best police contact and we talked a few times a week. This silent streak had been sudden and, I could see now, painful for both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I know you must have been worried about me.”

“Well,” he started with a sheepish smile. “I did check up on you.”

“What?” I asked sharply.

“I had Jeggerson knock on your door,” he answered and leaned back in case I tried to swat him.

“The stupid noise complaint cop? He woke me up in the middle of the night. I had spent the whole night before tailing a guy and the rest of the day helping the wife file a restraining order and move. That was sleep of the dead he woke me from,” I said and huffed as I crossed my arms. I wasn’t really upset, though. I had missed him and his meddling ways.

“Oh, c’mon, I needed to know you were okay. And I wasn’t sure you’d answer the door for me.”

I shrugged, not sure if I would have. He just shook his head at me.

“So,” I said with a smile, “Ellison told me you were on the Burgens case. How did you get caught up in all that mess?” He laughed and asked Peter to refill the peanuts.

I ordered another drink, slumping my shoulders, and leaned forward as he began his retelling of the last front page case.

Sunday Story Segment, writing

Asena: Chapter 2

The Blue Benjo liked neon, cheap liquor, and, despite its logo looking like the dog from Blues Clues, was known for housing Silver City’s lowlife. With a population of 400,000 and a top ten university in the heart of the city, Silver City had quite a few places like this. It was easy to see as I walked into the dimly lit but crowded bar who was a college student braving the place and who belonged here. With my leather jacket, ripped jeans, and messy bun, I could have been either. But the taser in my pocket and the fact that the bar keeper smiled when he saw me definitely put me in the category of belonging.

green translucent glass on table
Photo by Mirco Hunziker on Pexels.com

“Asena.” Peter, the Benjo bartender, had always reminded me of a duckling, with his fine, bleach blonde hair sticking up and his gangly limbs always making him look uncoordinated despite the fact that I had never seen him so much as spill a drop of alcohol. He couldn’t have been much younger than thirty, but I was sure he was carded every time he bought a drink.

“Hey Peter,” I said and leaned against the bar.

“Haven’t seen you here in awhile,” he remarked as he poured a cranberry and vodka.

“Awe, did you miss me?” I asked, dropping down on a stool, dragging my usual drink towards me.

“Last time you knocked out one of my customer’s with that taser that’s probably in your pocket right now. The break’s been nice.” His voice was hard but a smile played at the corner of his lip.

“C’mon, he grabbed her. What could I do?” I smiled a big toothy grin.

“Let Bruce take care of it,” he replied. I knew bouncer, a mountain of a man, would have squashed that guy but not soon enough for my taste.

“I promise I won’t taser anyone who doesn’t really deserve it,” I said and crossed my heart with my finger.

“Are you here to reminisce or harass more of my customers?” he asked wryly, wiping the bar down with a stained rag.

“Just one. Some guy named Francis?”

“That hot shot? Hannah broke his hand for something stupid and I told him next time Bruce will break more than that. That was,” he leaned against the bar, thinking, “last Saturday?”

“Great,” I groaned and took another sip. “You haven’t heard anything about this guy he’s working for, have you?”

“Hey,” a man plopped down on the stool on my left. The bloodshot eyes, the stench of whiskey, and the mussed hair made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I leaned away, my eyes staying on the slightly melted ice cube in the middle of my bright red drink.

“Moira?” I stiffened at the sound of my mother’s name but refused to look over.

“C’mon Moira, you ‘member me. Berny? That rat you call a husband screwed me over ‘bout five years ago. C’mon, I’m sure he told ya ‘bout it.” The words were slurred together but the meaning was clear enough.

“I’m sorry, I’m not Moira,” I answered, my voice biting. I straightened up as I turned and stared him down with as much authority as I could muster. I hoped his blurry eyes could make out the difference between us and just leave me alone.

“Naw, you’re a young little thing,” he said and  his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the bar, pushing himself up from his stool. He stopped though and looked at me through narrowed eyes. His chest puffed up as an idea seemed to take hold. “But he did have a kid.” He sat back down, ordering another whiskey. Peter didn’t move and instead glared, but Berny didn’t seem to notice.

“You talked with ya old man? I can’t seem to find him,” he said. He reached out and twirled my pony tail slightly. I yanked my head away from his sticky fingers.

“I don’t talk to him,” I answered through gritted teeth. I slipped my hand into my pocket and grabbed hold of my taser.

“Every daddy’s got a soft spot for his girly.” He leaned back, looking me up and down, and rubbed his bushy mustache. “Wonder what he’d do to get you back?”

Bruce seemed to materialize from nowhere and set a large beefy hand on the guy’s shoulder.

“I think you should be moving on, friend,” he said. His voice came out in a low deep growl and any sane man would have run away. Or at least any sober one.

“I think you should butt the hell out, pal,” Berny said and pushed the hand off his shoulder. “Me and the lady got some business.”

“Actually we don’t,” I said and stood up. I took a step back and he reached out faster than I expected, clasping my right arm in a surprising tight grip. Unfortunately that was the arm that was holding my taser, which was now pinned to my side.

“Sir, you don’t want to do that,” Bruce said as he stepped as far between us as he could, our arms almost wrapped around him.

“I said, this ain’t your business,” he growled and shoved Bruce as hard as he could, in the process releasing me. I skipped away and the movement caught his eye. “Come back here,” he roared, lunging over the stool towards me.

Bruce, who regained his balance quickly, reached him before his grasping fingers reached me. I backed up even further, knocking into a wooden, round table.

“Hey!” I looked back and I had spilled a bit of beer on one of the three guys sitting at the table.

‘Sorry,” I offered, swiveling back. Bruce had Berny in a tight head lock, with his cheeks turning a reddish purple, and was dragging him towards the door. I exhaled, loosening my fingers from the taser.

Berny thrashed his legs as he struggled against Bruce but the choke hold almost effectively incapacitated him. I started to turn back, ready to make a real apology. Before I had though, I watched as Berny make a connection with a table top. The four guys crowded around it had been laughing at Berny’s misfortune, but started spewing profanities as their pitcher of beer went flying and splattered them all.

Bruce was only steps from the door and chucking Berny out of it, but the soaked men sprang up, red faced with hands in fists. They reached the struggling pair and the first of the four punched Berny in the side. Berny gasped and Bruce was forced to let go as the other three started circling them. Bruce pushed the first guy back while Berny struggled to regain his breath. Before I could blink, the other guys were reacting and pouncing on Bruce. I watched the brawl unfold, speechless. The guy whose beer I spilled stood up slowly, looking between the two sides, unsure of who to join.

“Sit down,” I snapped. To my surprise, he sank back down and heeded my death glare. His tensed and his eyes darted behind me. I turned in time to dodge a tackle from Berny. I banged my hip on their table and felt a hot burst of pain.

I focused back on Berny who had stumbled into a bar stool and was attempting to disentangle himself. I gritted my teeth as I yanked my taser out, doing my best to ignore the steady throbbing on my hip. Berny lunged again and I sidestepped his drunken stumble, able to stick the taser into his side. I pressed down till my finger hurt. He jolted hard as the electrodes spewed out a charge and crashed to the ground. The now exposed end of the taser continued to spark for a moment until I let go of the button. The table guy was standing now, his eyes wide as he looked at my taser. He wasn’t the only one, but most eyes were still watching Bruce struggle with the others. Two were on the floor, either unconscious or staying down.

I debated jumping in with my taser, though I was slightly worried I might hit Bruce. Before I had time to decide, the door banged open.

“Police, break it up,” the blue shirted officer yelled. He quickly took in the ruckus and yanked a guy off Bruce. The last guy stopped and backed away with his arms up. I froze, the taser still in my hand. My lips twisted into a frown as I stared at the cop.

A grin spread over his face.

“Asena, why are you always in the middle of a bar brawl?”

Sunday Story Segment, writing

Asena; Chapter 1

Welcome to Sunday Segment. Each week, I will post another chapter from the ongoing novel. If you have an idea, story prompt, question, or direction you’d love to see the story go, either comment or send me a message using my contact page and I’ll see what I can do.

Today you’ll meet Asena, a 23 year old PI. Let me know what you think.

grayscale photography of person with knit pompom cap sits in front turned on light post at night
Photo by David Bartus on Pexels.com

The snow was cold, the wind biting, and the frostbite a little too close for comfort. I wiggled my fingers deeper into my pockets as I scanned the sidewalks around me. I desperately wanted to enter the coffee shop just a block away, heat and steam rushing out the door every time someone entered.
But, I knew that for a meeting to be clandestine, it couldn’t have a dozen nosy college students listening in to every word in a desperate attempt to avoid studying. Instead, I waited on the bench which opened into Milmones Park, a small patch of land in the middle of the city.
I hated winter in this business. Anyone who wanted to talk to you would want to meet outside where the wind would rip the words away before anyone might overhear. Or being forced to hunker down in a dozen blankets in the front seat of your car because you needed that photo but turning your car on would send up a literal smoke signal to the guy you were tailing.
The guy I was meeting was an informant for the most part, though he’d call himself a friend. He had sold pot to afford his schooling when I was at college and after I tipped him off that the cops were on to him, he’s owed me ever since. You’d think with studying Criminal Justice for four years, my morals would stop me from helping the criminal, but unfortunately, my dad’s lessons ran too deep.
I saw him long before he saw me. He had his head down, avoiding the light snow that was blowing. He walked down the street, busy with cars but barely another person in sight. His jacket was thick and reminded me of a gray Michelin Man. His face wasn’t covered, which I thought was ridiculous. My face was covered with a scarf all the way up to my eyeballs and a hat shoved down so nothing was exposed but my eyes, which I had covered with a pair of bulbous sunglasses to stop the glare coming off the snow.
He was handsome, stupid, and annoyingly good with information. People tended to tell him things, which he took to be part of his charm and I took to be part of the job. It’s a lot easier to get info from someone who’s stoned than someone who’s on their guard.
He stopped at the corner and looked around, his shaggy brown hair standing up as the wind got a hold of it. He saw me and I raised my mittened hand for just a second before he started hustling over.
“Damn, couldn’t we have met in there?” he said, gesturing with his head to the coffee shop.
“You really wanna talk about your clients in there?” I asked, pulling my scarf down to reveal my lips.
“Hey, the government’s making it so things are legal, Asena. I won’t need your protection much longer,” he said, rubbing his face.
“Well, Emmett,” I replied, “when you start telling the government about your business, we’ll talk. Until then, you should be a lot nicer to me.”
He laughed and his dimples showed. I gritted my teeth. “You sure are one feisty lady,” he said. “Bad guys don’t know what to think when you show up, do they?” His teasing annoyed me, since I knew that he was right. As a five foot four woman, most criminals didn’t think twice when I pulled up and explained they would be going to jail. It was beyond obvious I wasn’t a cop, from the ease which I picked locks to the way I had no problem breaking a guy’s finger if he tried to get fresh. But, I had a degree and a PI license which meant I was a problem, even if they didn’t know it yet.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “I need to know about the robbery on thirtieth street two days ago. Have you heard anything?”
“Well isn’t that vague.”
“C’mon, the Pembrook case. Thieves stole a couple hundred in cash, some family jewelry, it’s been all over the news,” I answered. I crossed my arms over my chest, but I knew it simply made me look cold rather than intimidating.
“Oh that one,” he said. “So what? Pretty straight forward, shouldn’t the cops be able to handle this without you?”
“One of those jewels was stolen fifteen years ago from an antiques dealer,” I replied. “Whoever took it seems to know a lot about my client.” His eyes widened.
“Well, I may have heard something,” he drawled. He stuck out his lip, giving me that perfected puppy dog pout.
“The cops have been watching eighth and Broadway, they think there’s been somebody making deals there,” I offered the information I had overheard last time I had been at the precinct. My dealing with the cops put Emmett in a precarious situation. He knew that the moment someone overdosed or got hurt from his dealings, I would become his worst nightmare. But until then, I was his best chance of staying out of jail. So he kept meeting me and letting me know what was going on in our city’s seedy underworld.
“I don’t think you want to get involved in this one,” he said, shrugging.
“I’m already hired,” I retorted. He gave a deep sigh as if to say ‘I warned you.’
“The guy’s name is Francis, I don’t know the last name. But he hangs around the Blue Benjo.” I narrowed my eyes at him. This was specific and very helpful, neither of which Emmett tended to be.
“Someone hired him and he made a good chunk of change off this. He’s tight-lipped about the who, but he showed up at the Benjo a few days ago, talking about this job he pulled and how he’s got a stack of unmarked bills now burning a hole in his pocket. Bit of a creep though, he kept feeling up his waitress. She finally smashed his hand with an empty bottle. Nothing broken, just some bruising but should help you spot him.” He smiled wolfishly and I could tell he was happy the guy had got what was coming to him. I knew he had a little sister and tended to get protective, a feeling I had for years done my best to dodge every time it was focused on me. “But, this guy he’s working for, he’s bad news. Francis won’t say a word. I thought he was just trying to keep the cash cow for himself, but he’s scared. And he’s too stupid to be scared by anything small.”
“So someone is pulling the strings?” I mused. “I hope Francis is as stupid as you say. I’d love to get this wrapped up before the holidays.”
“Asena, this isn’t a joke. This guy is dangerous,” he said, staring at me with a seriousness I hadn’t seen before.
“I’ll be fine,” I answered, smiling and patting his arm. “I’ve dealt with worse, trust me.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ve seen some scum around this city, but nothing that could scare someone like Francis this much. He was drunk and not saying a word.” He stood up, rubbing the tips of his ears to regain some warmth. “That’s all I know. Stay safe out there, Asena.” He gave me a roguish grin, but I could still see the edge of worry.
I watched him walk away, giving him a few minutes before I decided to walk into the coffee shop to unthaw and figure out how to best to become friends with Francis.