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Dames. Couldn't live with them, couldn't live without them.
The detective waved back at a succubus passing by his fourth story office window, her attentions quickly diverted by the sounds of a rape whistle a couple of alleyways over. He closed the shutters. Poor kid, ain't nobody coming to help him. In a town of predators blowing a whistle is akin to ringing a dinnerbill- and the streets were always hungry. In a couple hours all that would be left is another stained alley and another happily married couple.
He'd seen it happen over and over. His last partner went to check something fishy near the docks cannery; next thing you know he's sleeping with the fishes. Fantastic caviar at the wedding. Partner before that? Dunno. Never got closure on that one, something to do with manticores best he could figure. He liked the guy but wasn't fool enough to run headfirst into a manticore den to find out. You don't get to be old and single by doing that. He lit up a cigarette and poured out some cheap bourbon.
His reminiscence was interrupted by some scrabbling noises at the door. "It's open" he said. The scratching continued while he listened in to light female grunts and adorable curses. Dames. It's always dames. Hopefully this one has the right idea about the private dick sign outside. The knob jittered and slowly turned.
"Fuck I hate doorknobs." He knew she was trouble from the moment she inched in. Tiny hat at a jaunty angle. He loved that shit. "You got to get a lever handle or something." She was quickly distracted by a fern in the corner of the room. He got a good view of her side as she changed direction, the rhythmic motions of her green caterpillar body entrancing him. Who knew false eyes could still pierce into your soul? "You have good taste in plants!" She spoke through a mouthful of chewed leaves as she continued to munch on the ill-fated fern. Even a houseplant was given no mercy in this godforsaken town. He took a long drag of his cigarette as she finished her meal.
"This place smells like my sister!" Her bright orange osmeterium wiggled. He wasn't sure if that motion had significance.
"Is that a good thing?" His chair squeaked as he leaned back to blow smoke upwards. Her adorable little nose wrinkled.
"It's smoky. Not quite as gentle on the senses as hers, though."
He chuckled. "I'd guess she doesn't buy the cheap stuff." Onto business. "I take it you're not just here for a snack?"
After a long pause she blinked a couple times. "That's right!" His eyes were drawn to the delicate sashay of her hips as she shuffled over. Pausing before the desk she turned a chair around. Crawling up it, she placed a pair of silk-gloved nubs on the headrest and rested her chin there. Her unwarranted smug smile agitated him but he couldn't bring himself to hate it. And that fucking hat, god it was cute.
"Uh, um. Well..."
"Need something to settle your nerves?" He offered her a cigarette which her nubs quickly fumbled. Probably should've expected that. Her head connected with desk in a loud, wet thud as she went to catch it. The sound reminded him of an old and moldy bag of potatoes hitting the floor. She made a sad "mwee" noise but otherwise barely reacted. Tough dame. Hat stayed on too; monsters never fail to impress.
"Hey I think it rolled under the desk, can you get it?"
"Sure thing, doll." He retrieved it and held it out again. Before he could flip out his lighter the greenworm had taken a bite of the cigarette, immediately spitting the chewed up bits out on his desk.
"That tastes bad!" She grabbed for the closest liquid, taking a swig out of his bourbon shot glass. She spat that out like a fire hose.
"Wow! That's strong. Got anything" She coughed. "...a little smoother?" He picked the bits of cigarette off the desk and dropped them in the ashtray. Wiping traces of spit on his pant leg, he stood up.
"Yeah, I think I got something perfect for you." He strode to the corner of the room, pulling a few bottles out of the fridge. The finest of store brand apple, orange and grape juice were poured into a martini shaker and mixed expertly. He poured the drink into a glass from an unnecessary height to show off.
"Got any strawberries?" He wordlessly went back to the fridge and washed two strawberries in the sink. "Oh and can you cut them in half?
Keep the stem on." He rolled his eyes, rummaged in a drawer to find a knife, chopped them in his hands and dropped the fresh strawberries in the drink. "How about one of those umbrella things?" This dame...
"Don't have them." She deflated and slid partway down the chair.
"Aw."
"Got a bendy straw though." She perked back up.
"Nice." He sat the drink in front of her which she steadied with two nubs and started sipping. "Damn, that's good." He delighted at her happy expression.
Got caught up in her rhythm again. Need to get back on topic. "So what brings a high-class dame like you here?" She genuinely seemed to have forgotten. While she stopped to concentrate he dabbed a bit of drink dribbling down her lips with a handkerchief. Her blank expression returned to smugness. Suppose she recollected. She leaned away to dramatically flip a lock of hair back with her silken nub. A confident gaze and inviting posture.
"I've heard you can find people." Missing person, eh? All too common in this broken city.
"That depends on who you are looking for." He whipped out a pad to jot notes.
"My husband." His pen froze. Now that was a surprise. He'd expect a little lady like her to be more urgent or distraught about the matter, not sipping on mixed drinks in a strangers office. Let's see if her story holds up.
"How long has he been missing?"
"My whole life." He tapped his pen against the paper. This was going nowhere.
"What's he look like?" Her eyes brightened. It seemed she had been waiting for this question.
"Tall! Dark! Handsome! I think."
"You think?"
"Well I've never met him." Her gaze shifted. "At least, I don't believe I have." His chair creaked against as he leaned back to look at the ceiling. Is she treating this as a matchmaking service?
"Any leads?"
"We could go by the botanical gardens, they have some good tasting foliage there." The botanical gardens. A safe enough place, provided you stay on the path. The dense thickets were a popular spot for romantic escapades. "Oh, and there's a salad bar nearby. We can check there afterwards." Tossed Salads. It wasn't really his scene but he'd heard nothing but good things about the restaurant. The bounce of a barometz waitress ensured an even coating of dressing on your meal.
"With so few details this may take a while." If he didn't know any better this sounded like a date night.
"Rest assured you will be compensated handsomely." She slid a crumped dollar bill across the desk. Her nub settled on top of his hand as he went to grab the money. "In many ways." I'm being played, he thought to himself.
Seemingly forgetting the mood, she went back to happily sipping on her drink. He sighed.
Dames.