Welcome back, my lovely reader~
This is a standalone story, no episodic stuff here! So no cursory warnings about reading this first or blah blah blah! I hope you enjoy it, now let's get to the introduction!
♥
And with that out of the way...
NO SEX WARNING!!
Oh, are you still here? Good! So what the hell is this then?
It's a prequel to my Love & Lattes series! One of my lovely readers commented about wanting to see a noir-style story with the male lead of that story and so ya know what?
I've NEVER written detective/noir style before, this was quite an interesting(and challenging!) undertaking.
For context, it's not a genre I have ANY interaction with and this was done for fun, so take it with a grain of salt, and if you're a purist of the genre, I apologize in advance if I butchered it!
Oh! And you can more or less read this without ruining L&L, likewise, you don't have to have read L&L to enjoy this!
Okay, that's enough chatter, I hope you enjoy it! Let's jump right in!
Murder & Gin
I came home late, nearly midnight when I parked the car. I didn't bother getting the umbrella out, it was a short walk from my sedan to the front door of my empty home. That being said, it was pouring down, so by the time I fumbled to unlock the door in the dark to get inside, my ears and hair were soaked by rain. Maybe the umbrella would have been a wiser choice after all.
Running a paw over my forehead I pushed my wet bangs out of my vision, giving both my crimson ears labored flicks to dislodge the clinging droplets on my fur. I really should invest in a hat sometime, but given the duster I typically wore on the job, I didn't want to get any wayward commentary of Tommy guns and mafia jokes for sporting a fedora.
The house was deathly quiet like it always was, save for the sheets of rain pushing against the window panes. It was always silent like this, as it had been for the last three years. I reached to my paw and withdrew the wedding band, setting it on the small mantel in front of a picture frame.
I stared at the picture for a long moment, it was a younger, happier me, another wolf pushed up to me in a hug, her own paw outstretched with two padded-fingers out in a victory or peace sign. My former wife and late-ex, Hazel. It had been a little over three years since I lost her in a car accident. Granted, we were already separated by then, but that didn't mean much, given I never wanted the divorce or stopped loving her.
Her own wedding band stayed in my wallet, while I kept mine on my paw when out. I wasn't ready to try again and frankly, doubted I ever would be. I made note of the small pile of mail the cleaning service had left on the table as I made my way to the kitchen and brought out a small bottle of gin. I wasn't much of a drinking wolf, but after this last case, I was ready to take the edge off.
I had barely mixed the drink and brought the glass to my muzzle to take a sip when my cellphone buzzed in my duster pocket. My teeth clenched in a frustrated snarl but I set my gin and tonic down, reaching a paw in to collect it. The number on the screen was one that was recognized all too well, one of the local police sergeants I worked with, a jaguar by the name of McCreedy.
"Go ahead, Sergeant," I didn't bother hiding the fatigue or edge in my voice as I answered the call.
"Convel, I wanted to ask you about the missing kit you found tonight."
I gripped my drink and took a long pull from it before snarling into the phone, "I didn't find a kit, just a corpse. I already gave my statement to the officers."
"I know that's tough to deal with, Isaac. It's not something you ever can get used to, no matter how long you've done the job," His voice came out in a neutral tone of sympathy, if that were true he must have been the exception, he didn't sound the slightest bit off. Then again, that could just be McCreedy's way of dealing with it.
"We don't have the same job, I'm just a P.I, not a cop." I snarled back in response.
"Yeah, but you've still seen enough of the same shit we do, Convel. I know you get it. Anyway, come to the station tomorrow at nine, I've got some questions for you."
That made my ears lift. "Wait- Am I suspect?"
"When there's a dead fawn involved? Even my own men are suspects until I know otherwise, Isaac. But no, I'm not calling you down here for that kind of questioning."
"Fine," I responded and didn't wait on an answer before disconnecting the call and finishing my drink.
It was a typical case, a missing kit that had vanished from their school playground. The police were involved but the mother asked me to keep tabs on her ex-husband to see if he was more involved than he let on. He wasn't, but I managed to pick the trail up with some digging.
I felt myself flinch as I recalled how I found the little buck, his throat cut open. It looked like he'd been in that condition for a day or more. Pouring myself another shot of just straight gin, I took it down, letting the shock of alcohol calm my nerves before I put the bottle away.
Shutting the lights off, I moved to my empty bed, knowing that I'd be having nightmares tonight no matter what I did.
—♥—
McCreedy thrust a solid black paw at me in greeting. "Morning Convel."
I took a long sip of the coffee from the styrofoam cup, the station's brew was the cheapest stuff they could find, and it tasted the part, but hey, coffee is coffee when you're coming off maybe three hours of solid rest. After a moment I pushed my own paw into his, the crimson fur clashing with the black as we gave a few firm shakes and parted grips. "Morning."
The big cat gave a jerk of his head to follow. "C'mon, this won't take long."
We moved through the station and I gave nods to the few beat cops I recognized. For fair or foul, when you're in the private investigator racket, you get to know the local police. You have to, given you're more or less doing everything from stalking to breaking and entering sometimes. Granted, I never told them about the more shady ones like the latter, but they knew, they weren't stupid after all.
I was led into one of the small questioning rooms, another wolf sitting at the table there looking over some reports. I saw my own was clearly there, laid out in the scattered pile of other various papers.
His coat of fur was more of a charcoal color, no doubt matching the habit he had, I could smell the smoke on his fur and clothes even from the door. My fur of course was crimson-red except where it lightened under my jaw and underside.
"This is our homicide guy, Detective Rickson." The Jaguar nodded and the wolf stood from the table, thrusting his paw out. He was bigger than me, and that didn't happen very often as far as wolves go. Sure, someone like a bear, rhino, or even some of the larger big cats like a lion, but not a fellow dog.
We shared pawgrips in a shake and I had to look up at him as he stared down his snout at me, his eyes green but they looked drained of life, faded like a kit's toy that had been in the yard too long. I could see he was sizing me up as my blue eyes narrowed and I broke the pawclasp.
"A pleasure," I drolled the words, looking bored, letting him see I saw right through him and didn't appreciate the analyzing.
"Apologies, Convel. When you're in the game as long as I've been, it's just instinct upon new meetings, it's nothing personal," Rickson spoke the words, his voice matching his eyes, sharp, cold, and a little dead inside.
"It's fine, let's cut to the heart of it, I've no patience this morning after a night of nightmares," I snarled and took another sip of the cheap coffee, letting the taste alone help jar my brain a little more.
The smoky-furred detective gave me a nod and slapped down the case file, the crime scene photographs on full display, including a nice up-close picture of the kit's throat. I snarled and averted my eyes, my brain all too happy to recall the live scene.
"So, how did you get involved with this, Convel?" Rickson's voice faded into an interrogative tone and I shot a glare at the Jaguar in response to it.
"It's in my statement," I snarled as I kept staring down the big cat in the room. "McCreedy, I thought this wasn't an interrogation?"
"Don't get your tail in a fluff, Isaac, it's not," Rickson answered before the cat even parted his jaws. "I think you slashed this fawn's throat about as much as I think you hung the moon in the sky last night. Just tell me yourself."
I pinched at the bridge of my snout and sighed before finishing off the coffee. I made a point to take my time as I tossed the cup in the small wastebasket then met the other wolf's dead-looking eyes.
"His mother, Rita Walkins asked me to get involved. Thought the ex-husband might have been involved in the missing kit's disappearance."
"Yeah, that deer is easy on the eyes, and-"
"I don't like your train of thought, Detective!" I slammed my paw to the table and snarled at him before holding my paw up. "I keep my dead wife's ring on me for a reason! I'm not interested in that kind of transaction, she paid me with a bank account."
"Dead, 'Ex'-wife." The other wolf cocked a brow in challenge.
"You son of a bitch!" I barked out and grabbed the other wolf by the collar, wrenching him forward on the table, spitting the slur at him, my spittle hitting his muzzle. He just looked bored with the display before McCreedy pushed between us.
"Convel, calm down! James, what the fuck are you doing?!" The jaguar snarled at him with a glare.
