I can still remember the day this whole thing started. It was a pleasant sunny afternoon. I had drawn the blinds and popped open my windows, allowing for a brisk breeze to blow through the office. The cream and olive wallpaper was peeling around the edges, and the door had been misaligned when some lug attached it to the hinges; you couldn’t get it to stay shut unless you pulled up on the brass knob. A pane of frosted glass was set into the oaken exit; bold lettering across the window read, “Shadow Private Investigations”.
I leaned back in my chestnut chair, and propped by feet up atop the mahogany desk. I had found the thing in a backstreet in Rooktown. I couldn’t believe myself when I found it. It was perfectly good except for the ink stain on the corner, I liked the stain, gave the thing character. I had a black rotary telephone. I hardly ever used the thing I usually waited for someone to call me, someone always did. The lamp was opposite the phone and was joined with the glass ashtray. A glass of whiskey was perched within easy reach. The bottle was stashed in the second drawer on the right, along with another glass.
There were two filing cabinets in there. One was a wooden one, which was behind me, and the metal one which was on the left wall. Shitty thing, and I mean the metal one; if you didn’t oil the rollers routinely the damn thing would get stuck or squeak. A small desk fan sat a top the wooden cabinet along with my typewriter and radio. I had some shelves on the wall too, mostly filled with books; my camera sat on the lowermost ledge.
My diploma from St. Vincent’s Academy was next to a withering cork board which hung over a tawny davenport. The davenport was another item I found in a back alley. It’s amazing what those rich types throw away. A flat pillow clad in white cotton with a red strip around the opening was tossed haphazardly on the leather cushions, accompanied by a knit blanket.
There was a bathroom. I always hated the stupid tiled floor and walls but I never could afford to change it. It had a shower, no tub, a large basin sink, and a mirrored medicine cabinet. I kept my shirts, and underwear in the bottom two drawers of the desk, and hung my jackets and trousers in the closet with my coat and hat.
I pulled a cigarette from the pack in my breast pocket. I flipped open my lighter, and held the flame to the tip. I puffed on the fag and a wisp of smoke floated upwards, but was soon dispersed by the cross breeze.
My skin was pale with a tinge of red, though not for lack of sunlight, it was always like that. A pair of dark-wine horns protruded from my forehead, just below my hairline, and my tail hung off the seat and toward the floor, flicking rhythmically. Yeah, I’m a Setenak. Most folks just call us tieflings. It’s just easier in conversation; rolls off the tongue.
I kept my raven hair short and parted. Sometimes if the light hit it just right it would appear as a dusky mauve. My face was round. It wasn’t distinctly feminine, but it wasn’t completely androgynous either. I’m not a looker, but I am a jane; though at a distance, you probably couldn’t tell. I always hated dresses and heels, they made me feel exposed and unprotected. I preferred my loafers and slacks.
My piece was tucked into it’s holster that hung from my shoulders. An Arnurson .45 Runekaster Double Action Revolver; In layman’s terms, it’s the style of gun that Felix Steel uses to fight outlaws in the flickers, and double action means, you don’t need to cock the hammer every time you want to throw some pills. A .45 was more powerful than the .38 that the coppers would carry; couple that with hex-slinging… Hell, I bet it could take down a aurochs; don’t quote me though.
My thoughts drifted to my partner. Well, former partner, David Wolfe. He was one of the best gumshoes money could buy. He retired, found himself a cute bird and decided to settle down. She was a laekanorn, or mender, as most people called them. You know, healers.
David bought an automobile service shop up in Sabine; he sure did love his cars. Last I talked to him, he and Mary, were trying to have kids; that was almost five months ago. When he had decided to leave, I got a smaller office. Not out of spite or anything, I just couldn’t afford it. See, when you have two private dicks on a case, you can wring a bit more dough out of the client.
The radio was rebroadcasting the Corsair-Tigers game from last week. The Tigers were up two runs at the bottom of the 6th. I didn’t care for baseball all that much, it was just something to pass the time. I heard the creak of the floorboards out in the hall and there was a short rap on the door.
“It’s open!” I called. I quickly pulled my feet off the desk and hastily smoothed my blouse. That’s when she walked in.
Now understand, usually I don’t make scissors or daddle, though I’m not opposed to kissing fish. But this dame… If I had met her down at the bar after I’d dipped my bill a bit, you can go all in on me chatting up this chick.
She dressed conservatively, not like those roundheels that you can find down in the Pearl District. Her gams would make any jasper swoon, and I felt my thumper quicken. She wore a muted cerulean dress, and a matching jacket. Her tawny curls framed a beautiful and mature face. A hand bag was slung over her shoulder, and a pair black suede gloves were clutched in her finely manicured mitts. She tried to close the door, but it hung open.
“Here, Let me get it, please have a seat” I said, getting up from my chair. As I stepped around her, I could smell jasmine and rose. She sat daintily in the leather backed chairs positioned in front of my desk. She smoothed her skirts as I made sure the door was closed. I turned down the radio before returned to my seat.
“Sorry about that, the damn thing never closes properly. What can I do you for miss…?”
“Skinner, Kathleen Skinner. But my friends call me ‘Kat’.” Her voice was like a babbling brook, bubbly and cheerful. She smiled as she talked, putting that perfect row of chompers on display; they made me think of my more defined canines. She held out her hand.
“Vera Shadow, Private Eye.” She had a surprisingly strong grip, which took me by surprise. Most twists don’t give you a good shake. Their arms typically are like over cooked spaghetti.
“So, what can I do for you today, Mrs. Skinner?” I asked, stamping out my cigarette.
“I need you to find someone.” My eyebrow raised. Usually when a maid comes in asking for me to find someone, its because she thinks the lug she’s hitched too has run off with some young frill. The dish’s hunch is generally correct.
“Miss, I'm not married,” she corrected. “A student of mine disappeared a couple days ago. She hasn’t been to class, and no one has seen her around campus,” she continued. I took a sip from my pony glass.
“How do you know she’s not just ran off with some husky?”
“She isn’t that kind of girl. She would never do such a thing.” admonished the wren.
“How do you know? When I was in school, I knew tons of broads who ran off to shack up with their sugar daddies.” Her nose wrinkled at my language. She stiffened in her chair.
“She’s on scholarship. Her very attendance of the school depends on her making good grades. I’ve seen how she studies. In fact she’s so focused she cut off her relationship with this young man she met during the summer once school started!”
“Now how does a teach know that stuff?” I questioned.
“I’m her advisor. She comes to me with more than just school work. She’s loner, in a way. She’s comfortable talking with me.”
“Let me guess, you think… What’s her name?”
“Violet Morse.”
“So, you think Violet has been kidnapped by some punk she broke up with?” I said bluntly. Her hand jumped to her throat, as terror washed over her.
“I surely hope not! But it is one of my suspicions,” she exclaimed.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you go to the cops instead of rashing me?”
“I did. They gave me the same answer you did, and then they told me they’ll put out a call for people matching her description; but it could take weeks for something to show up! I can’t wait that long. She’s like a daughter to me.” I pulled another smoke out of my pocket and lit it up.
“Did you call her folks?” I asked the cigarette bouncing like a busty woman’s tits as she walked.
“Yes. They live upstate. They said they would give me a ring if Violet showed up.” I finished my hootch and set the glass on the desk.
“Alright. I’ll take the case. But it’s going to cost you twenty bucks a day, plus expenses.” I watched her face. A double sawbuck a day was twice the scratch I usually charged for this type of case. I wanted to see how she would react.
Surprisingly, her kisser curled into a grin.
“I can give you a hundred now to get you started, and I’ll pay the rest when she’s found.” She pulled a C-note from her purse, and slid it across the desk.
“Looks like you got a private dick on the case!” I grinned nipping the bill off the table, and holding up to the light. I’d been slipped one to many split bills and it had become a habit.
“Looks like your folding is in good order,” I said.
“The dormitory is on the edge of campus. On the corner of South Bayville and Kenter Street. It’s not easy to miss. I’ll tell the guard you’re coming.”
“Guard?” I’d never heard of a dormitory having a hard boy watching the door.
“The academy isn’t co-ed. It’s against the school’s policy to have boys in the dorms. Besides, the city isn’t a safe place for young girls to be left unprotected.”
“Alright… How am I going to get in touch with you?”
“Oh, of course. How foolish of me! I’m the head of the Psionics Department. My office hours are from nine to seven. If you need to get in touch with me at any other time, my home number is 555-4123.” I opened the middle desk drawer and withdrew my notebook and pen.
“What was the number again?” She repeated it and I scribbled the digits below her name. I also took note of the location of the dormitory.
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to throw you a line if I find something,” I said.
“When.”
“When? When what?”
“When you find something.” I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Sure thing, Ms. Skinner.” She closed the clasp on her purse and stood. I matched her.
“Please, call me Kat,” she requested. I agreed and showed her out. I couldn’t help but watch her pendulum hips as she walked down the hall towards the stairs.
As I ducked back into the office a dull pain formed in my right knee. I hobbled over to the window, and looked out towards the bay. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon; a storm was coming…
So, I have been working on an RPG Adventure, for The Blood-Clans of Jorikk Campaign Setting, 
