<<PreviousWarning: This post may contain mature content.
The rain came down in buckets as Jack exited Cordell’s apartment. He hailed a cab and headed back towards the office. His mind mulled over what he had just told her. He jolted back to meat-space when the cab pulled up to his office. He paid the cab driver and stepped out. A black sedan with tinted windows was parked on the street. He looked at it curiously; it looked familiar, though he couldn’t figure out where he had seen it before. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looked around, there was no one on the street. A hint of movement was visible out of the corner of his eye. He spotted a security camera perched on a lamp post. It’s lens stared at him. He looked at it curiously. His mind strayed to the mysterious voice on the phone. A traffic camera had stared at him only hours before he received the call. He blinked. I have heard about ghosts on the grid. Net-jockeies that could hack into security cameras and use them as eyes for runners. He shivered, turned his back on the camera and walked into the office.
Jack opened his office door. David was standing in front of Jenn’s desk; Jenn was sitting in her chair. Jack stared at Jenn for a moment, taken aback by her clothes and makeup. He pulled of his dripping jacket and hung it on the peg. As he turned around he noticed David was standing strangely.
“So, How was your date?” asked Jack with a sly grin. Jenn put her hand to her mouth, blushed and giggled. David scowled.
“It was fine,” he spat, “We did find a camera though, in the room depicted in the photos. Did you find the location of the computer?”
“Yeah,” said Jack.
“Where?” asked Jenn.
“405 West Wisconsin Street,” informed Jack. The office fell silent. “What?” Jack looked at them confused.
“That’s the address of the dungeon,” stated David. They jumped as the door opened. A man with blonde slicked back hair, and blue eyes stood in the door way. He wore a dark blue suit and red tie, and a London trench coat. An e-cig was balanced between his lips.
“Forgrave?! What the hell are you doing here?” questioned Jack.
“Police Business, we need to talk.” stated the blonde man, his eyes shooting towards David and Jenn, “Alone.” David and Jenn looked at each other.
“We were just leaving,” said David, “Jenn here owes me several drinks.” David and Jenn stood, picked up their coats. David held the door open for Jenn. She smiled and left the apartment, David followed her. Forgrave watched them leave.
“Office Romance? Thought you didn’t like that?” said Detective Maxwell Forgrave.
“What? Jenn? David? They aren’t together,” said Jack. Forgrave puffed on his e-cig. “Why are you here Forgrave?”
“I’m here about a murder,” said the police detective.
“Oh, Let’s step into my office.” Jack gestured towards the door. Forgrave opened the door and Jack followed. He walked around his desk and sat in his chair. Forgrave sat opposite from him.
“So who’s murder are you here about? I didn’t kill anyone,” said Jack.
“The murder of Dixon Malone,” reported Forgrave. Jack blinked and looked at Forgrave.
“Dixon Malone?” questioned Jack.
“Yeah, You know him?” asked the detective.
“I can guess that you already know the answer to that question,” grunted Jack. Forgrave pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket. It contained the scrap of paper that Jack had scrawled his CommNet address on.
“We found this on his body,” said Forgrave.
“I didn’t kill him,” drawled Jack, taking a drag on the cigarette.
“I never said you did,” commented Forgrave, “But what was he doing with your CommNet address?”
“He hired me for a job,” reported Jack.
“So Alderman Malone hired you to do a job?” asked Forgrave, eyebrows raised.
“You got that right.”
“What did he hire you for?”
“To find out who was blackmailing him. He had been receiving letters from a mysterious person for some time now,” explained Jack. He picked the letter that Malone had left and handed it to Forgrave, “He left one here.” Forgrave opened the letter and read it. When he was finished he looked back up at Jack.
“Is this all he gave you? It’s not much to begin to find out who was blackmailing him. These initials could be anyone,” Forgrave stated. “Did he give you anything else?”
“Yeah, This flash drive,” said Jack, pulling the flash drive from his pant pocket.
“What’s on it?” asked Forgrave.
“The pictures he was being blackmailed with,” stated Jack.
“Is that all?”
“Yup,” affirmed Jack.
"Thats not a lot to go on,” noticed Forgrave.
“Yeah, you got that right. But he paid up front. Ten big ones,” replied Jack. Forgrave leaned back. In his seat.
“I’m going to have to ask you to turn over your case file,” said Forgrave.
“I figured you would say that,” said Jack, “All he gave me was the flash drive and that letter. Take ‘em.” Forgrave slid the flash drive and letter into individual baggies.
“Is there anything else?” asked Forgrave.
“No.” Jack lied.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” said Forgrave.
“Anything to help the cops,” smiled Jack. Forgrave stood, tipped his hat and headed towards the door.
“One last thing,” said Jack.
“What’s that?” said Forgrave, turning to face Jack.
“How was he killed?”
“Three shots to the chest,” replied the police detective.
“Caliber?” asked Jack.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Nine-millimeter. Hollow-point,” informed Forgrave.
“Oh, Thank you.” said Jack. Forgrave's gaze lingered for a moment before he exited, leaving Jack alone in the office. Jack reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a glass and stepped to his window. He looked out across the city. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Something is going on. Someone is pulling the strings in this city. I will find out who H.W, is.
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Picture Source: L.A. Noire
Picture Source: L.A. Noire
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