Small towns sometimes hold the biggest secrets...
I never know how to begin telling people, particularly strangers, strange tales, so I figure I should just get on with it. This story is about a girl I met due to a domestic disturbance call. If that isn’t weird enough, well I have plenty more to disclose later. First, I need to give you a little background.
My name is Lemar Leilocounti. I’m a private investigator with ties to the Angelus Police Department. Ties that Sammy Hograph, Chief of Police, would rather sever than say he knew who I was. Ungrateful bastard probably is chewing on his fifth cigar tonight. I wish I could say he was a good cop, that corruption hadn’t eaten away at his soul like a cancer, but I can’t be sure. All cops get tempted from time to time, and no one is immune to that. If they are, they’re shot by the corrupt.
The 30 year old Chief on the rise, called me one day to “discuss some matters that need discussing”. Charming fellow that he was, he never knew how to speak without reusing the same word at least twice in the sentence. He told me to meet him in his office.
“I wanna hire you, Detective.” He’s a tall man, but skinny, always with his trademark Macanudo cigar in his mouth. He was sitting in his chair with his feet up on the desk.
“Yeah, what for, prostitution rings?” My appearance always seemed to take him off guard. I wore a black leather jacket that hung down to the floor. My emerald eyes glanced down, hearing the plop of files as they hit his desk.
“Something a little more fucked up I’m afraid. Sit down Lemar.” He clicked a button on the intercom.
“Janice, tell anyone coming to see me that I’m in an important meeting.”
Sammy grimaced at me. “A couple months ago we got a tip on a local gang we nicknamed the Angelus Six. They went around town harassing young teenagers for lunch money. We –“
“Lunch money? Come on Sammy!”
“They started with lunch money, and then went on to drug dealing when they figured selling coke was smarter than buying the cola. A sort of two for one deal, if you get my drift. Suddenly these bastards get pissy when we bust their suppliers in a raid down at Hearn Street. What happens next? These motherfuckers snap and get trigger happy. Their last known target was a lesbian down in Syracuse. Now they’re dead, and that lesbian is M.I.A, or so we think.”
“And you want me to investigate how the hell six people go off the radar? Expect no miracles Sammy.” I grinned. This was going to be interesting.
“You can take the files as long as you don’t show anyone. They’re all you need to know.”
“Somehow I doubt that Sammy.” I flicked my card at him, picking up the files with both hands. “Call me. If anything comes in, I want it.”
“You got it buddy. You’re the only one I know that can figure this stuff out.”
“Expect no miracles Sammy.” I stood up, turning around to the door.