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Francesca smiled as she entered the familiar building. She walked across the dark wood floors purposefully toward the Private Investigator's office, pausing as a short dark haired man left the room in question.
She could tell he was trying to mask a smile as he started walking down the short hall, his eyes gave it away. Curious, Francesca stopped him halfway down the hall.
"You know Tinsley?" she asked casually.
He looked at her weird, "Yeah, we're friends."
"You wouldn't happen to be a certain, Ricky Goldsworth would you?"
"Who's asking? You his girlfriend or something?" he grimaced.
Francesca laughed, "No, Tins is like a brother to me. I'm Francesca Norris." She held her hand out.
Ricky cautiously shook it, "Oh, he told me about you. What do you want?"
She smiled, "I just wanted to thank you."
"What for?"
"Oh, just everything you've done for him. He really likes you, you know?"
His eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Okay..."
She pat him on the shoulder, "Well, I hope to see you again Ricky."
"Yea... you to Norris." He walked away with his hands in his pockets.
Francesca smiled as he left, taking note of the slight flush on his cheeks. She turned back around and started heading to Tinsley's office, attempting to devise a plan.
_______________
They bumped into each other again a few days later, but this time Francesca had planned it. She had been waiting outside Tinsley's office for a few minutes, she could hear Ricky talking to the PI through the door, although unable to pick out exact words.
When Ricky had finally left the room they made eye contact. Ricky sighed and slowly made his way over to the woman.
"What is it?" he grumbled. He put his hands in his pockets.
Francesca chuckled, "You look uncomfortable, relax."
Ricky glared at her, "Just tell me what you want from me."
"I'm simply curious what your going to do about him."
His eyes widened, "What do you mean?"
She smirked, "You know already that Tins used to drink at least three cups of tea a day. He won't last very long without it."
Ricky sighed. "Herbal tea. It's much healthier and doesn't have nearly as much caffeine. I am already making a list of flavors he'd like."
Francesca smiled warmly, "You're good. He's lucky to have you."
Ricky looked at her weird, brows knit together in contemplation. He tensed up, taking his hands out of his pockets in favor of crossing his arms. He looked to the side and scoffed, "Sure."
Francesca frowned, "Hey, don't bring yourself down. I know more than what you might think, and I know how much he cares about you."
"Wow Norris," he huffed out a laugh, "that was sappy. You're pretty cool too."
She laughed, "I know."
"Of course," he smiled.
She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "I have to go, so I'll see you another time?"
Ricky rolled his eyes with an easy smile, "Like I have a choice."
They both went their separate ways. Francesca was happy with how the interaction panned out, Ricky seemed to be passing her tests. However there was still one imporatant thing she needed to find out more about him. She stopped by a phone and punched in a number. It rang for a few moments before the man on the other end picked up.
"Night? Yeah, I need to talk to you....... I'll see you there."
She hung up.
_______________
The bar was loud and dimly lit. There were more criminals than drunks there than most other speakeasies. Then again it wasn't like most other speakeasies. This was owned by one notorious organized crime network that had spanned throughout the many corners of the city. One that Francesca Norris was well acquainted with. After all, she was part of it.
So were the two men sat in a far corner of the room, chatting expressively. One of them was disproportionately tall with brown slicked-back hair, and the other much shorter with black wavy hair. However, the short one was just as, if not more, intimidating. Fran easily made her way past all the other patrons to the men. She placed her hands on the table making her presence known.
"So the Isdal Woman arrives!" the taller man smirked.
The shorter man flicked him in the head, "Not so loud ya' goof."
"Shortie," he shot back.
"Fat head."
"No aim."
"Bone stilts."
"Lightweight."
"Illiterate."
The taller man hit the table, "I misspell house, ONE TIME!!" He held up a finger for emphasis. A few patrons briefly turned their heads in question of the man's outburst, then went back to what they were doing.
Francesca laughed at the two's antics, "Legs sit down, you'll make a scene."
Legs sat down with a huff, crossing his arms, "Well if Night Night would stop bringing it up, maybe I wouldn't want to shoot his brains out."
Night was laughing his head off, "Ey, but it's funny!"
"He's got a point."
"Fran I thought we were friends!" Legs mocked offense.
"Nah, she's a cold blooded snake," Night grinned.
Francesca smiled sweetly in response, then burst into a fit of laughter.
After taking a moment to calm down she stood up, "Alright, as much as I love you spivs, I came here for a reason."
Night Night sighed, "Yeah I know, I know," he stood up as well, "best we talk somewhere more private. Follow me."
Legs however, sunk into his seat more, crossing his arms behind his head, "I'm staying here."
"Fine, but you'll miss out on all the gossip."
"Ooh, tempting. But nah, I'm tired."
Night shrugged, "Sucks to be you then."
"Sure does," he chuckled.
Francesca and Night Night made their way to a door in a far corner of the room and went through.
_______________
It was a small darkly coloured room, mostly made of dark brown woods, but had accents of red in the wallpaper, cushioned chairs, couches. There were a few lights in the ceiling and a coffee table right in the middle of the room with most of the chairs facing it. It was sort of like a mobsters only lounge room. Francesca and Night Night were sat across from each other in the chairs.
"So, who do you need me to kill?"
Francesca laughed, "Wow Night Night. You know I wouldn't need to go to you to get someone killed."
"Ouch, right where it hurts," he chuckled.
"Anyways," she took on a more serious tone, "what I actually need from you, is information on a guy."
"Who?" He leaned back in his chair.
"Someone who goes by the name Ricky Goldsworth."
Night's eyes widened in surprise.
Fran querked one eyebrow, "So you know him." It wasn't a question.
He scowled, "Of course I know him, the question is how do you know him."
"Oh?" She frowned, disappointed, "What does it matter?"
Night scoffed, "'What does it matter?' Oh I'm sorry, I don't think I trust you enough with info on my cousin without knowing exactly what you will do with it."
Francesca straightened up, "Hang on, you two are cousins?"
"Yes" he snapped.
She put her hands up in surrender, "Hey, cool down. You don't have to worry about Ricky."
Night sank back a little, still tense, "Then why do you want info on him."
"Because Tinsley is head-over-heels for him, that's why," she was losing her patience.
He put up a finger, "Wait- Tinsley? You mean spaghetti-limbs PI Tinsley?" He looked deep in thought.
"Yes, Charles Tinsley, the tea addict." Night chuckled a little.
He stood up and walked to the side, thinking. He mumbled a few times to himself, then grinned as he turned back to Francesca.
"What?" she asked.
"This is hilarious," he laughed, "I can't believe the PI, of all people, fell for Ricky."
Fran's mouth twitched, "Care to elaborate?"
He sighed, "Now that I know Ricky is in good hands, fine."
Night sat down in a chair next to Francesca. He took a deep breath, preparing for the explanation.
"First and foremost," he started, "Ricky is an honest man with good intentions. Although, he is not innocent and has committed multiple crimes."
"Crimes?"
"Ricky was arrested some years back after being caught flirting with a guy."
Francesca frowned.
"He escaped along with some other prisoners and fled to this town where he called me and explained the situation."
"So he's an escaped convict then?"
He shook his head, "That's not all. Ricky had been living with me when the other convicts started acting up again."
"Oh."
"He uh, decided to take matters into his own hands and let's just say, they ain't around anymore."
Fran sat up, her eyebrows knit together. She thought for a moment. With a little smile, "Well I can see the irony of Tins' situation."
"Speaking of which,” he asked, “do you think he knows?"
"That he's a killer? I don't know."
"Heh, I'm not sure either way would be ideal."
She smiled bitterly, "Indeed."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Okay, but we both agree that we need to set them up, right?" Francesca spoke up.
Night laughed, "Obviously."
"Good, because I need help coming up with a plan."
"How can I help?" He smirked.