Silly writings, RP, drabbles and plain brainfarts.

The lad held up his hands as though to ward off blows, but the expression on his face was more one of tired resignation than anything else.

“Yes, fine, keep it down,” he muttered, eyes searching ceiling for some sort of deliverance. “Even with your generous tips, my paper cuts too close to home for lots of folks,” sales have been terrible, “ so they just go buy the local fluff rags instead! They have no appreciation for Truth.” No talent for catchy headlines for interest pieces. “And don’t even get me started on the cost of ink!” Wastes money on booze instead of printing.

“Besides, we’ll need more than a wig for you, detective,” he continued after a moment’s pause. “Do you maybe have a sister a few years younger?”

Was he going to get off easy for that one? Probably not. Was it worth it? Totally.

“Bah! I’m sorry to crush your fantasies kid, but I’m the youngest in my family, so you are stuck with me,” Ritter replied, as on the same moment the waitress came to bring their orders. “Miss, could you leave the coffee pot here? Thank you,” she thanked the waitress and grabbed the cup after the coffee was poured.

Ritter have had a slight headache developing from the lack of caffeine since the wake up at six on the morning, so the first cup of the day was silently blessed in her mind... A sip and she didn’t feel like strangling Daichi over the table anymore and instead, felt like there was sense in the world again. “Besides, if I had a little sister, I wouldn’t send her to play spy in a poker joint with someone like you. That would just be a recipe for a class A catastrophe.” Ritter groaned and took a look of the breakfast plate, which was apparently toasts with an omelet sitting on top of them. It smelled good.

“Waffles,” the lad remarked without making eye contact with the waitress. “Unless Ricky is cooking…” He paused, letting his head drop back against the booth’s cushion to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, no, just waffles. And coffee.”

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Daichi groaned and covered his face with his hands. “You have a sick sense of humor, Detective. For one thing, I’m not down on my luck; I’m up and coming.” Bruised ego or attempt at humor? It was hard to tell without seeing the reporter’s eyes. “Second, and probably more important, I might possibly sorta owe, er, frequent the place. They know my face.” Daichi let his hands drop and slumped backwards into the seat, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

“But yeah, it’s behind Baifong’s place; the cheap noodle joint. Getting you in as a new girl was the only plan I had… Any thoughts?”

“You owe them money?” Ritter crossed her fingers and looked at Daichi with slight disappointed look. One that someone, who has worked on a desk job dealing with people’s complaints can give. “So,” she started “instead of actually saving the money you made from the sales of your stories, for which I’ve been risking my neck to keep my part of the deal, you went there in hopes to make it big in one night?... Are you sure we can’t just make you wear a bigger, poofier boa on your neck?” The detective hadn’t had many things to amuse herself recently, so she didn’t let the joke go away just yet.

But Daichi did have a point. This poker joint was either new or one of the slippery ones that had been managing to slip away from the raids. Even if the place didn’t have any connection with the murders, she would still get the place closed, thus taking away the possible suspects hunting ground.

In one of those rare moments of delightful karma, Daichi hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and while the old junker may not have been harmed by the brush with the curb, his skull fared worse in his impact with the ceiling. The smack to the head was just icing on the cake.

The fine though? That was dumped into a waste basket as soon as the detective turned her back to enter the eatery. The Belhaven PD was down near the bottom of the list of people the lad owed money too… Along with the other less dangerous folks.

“Well, for one,” he stated as he slid into the bench seat opposite the copper, “don’t call it a casino. It’s a poker joint… Or a card house if you want to be old-fashioned.” The reporter waved towards the waitress before continuing. “I do have an idea though… If you can ditch the cop demeanor and quit scowling at everything for ten minutes, I have it on good authority that the Golden Ducky has suddenly had some openings for girls down on their luck.” He grinned. “How badly do you want to get in?”

“Golden Ducky? Good grief... I dare to bet that it’s even located behind a restaurant in Xiaolin Town...” Ritter uttered as she rubbed her tired eyes.  

There are some police officers who know how, either naturally or learning the hard way, to leave the police side of them at the desk when they step outside the door. If Ritter would have learnt that from early on, the divorce papers from Henry probably wouldn’t have been waiting at the kitchen table back then, or that she'd still have the custody over the kid. The scowl only deepened for a moment, but the tone stayed neutral. "Coffee please. Black. And today’s breakfast if you still serve it,” she asked the waitress.

“…Illegal casino. And a new one too because I don’t recognize the logo.“ she said slowly. Casinos without permits were a bad sign as they trafficked from unregulated alcohol and cigarettes to large groups of people, with only their word that the drink was actually liqueur and not paint thinner. Or that the cigar roll wasn’t filled with old sandpaper… “No wonder we couldn’t find their names.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, ma’am,” he fired back at the detective’s retreating back and quickly swapped his notebook and pen for a camera that had seen better days even back when the lad had first come into possessing it. As soon as Ritter was out of sight, Daichi leapt into action; taking picture after picture of the body and the surrounding area at a frantic pace.

He finished moments before he heard the tell-tale clatter of the approaching paramedics and their gurney. Moving as quickly as his legs could carry him, the young man bolted towards the side door he’d picked open earlier and had asphalt under his shoes as the authorities entered the room to claim their body. From there… Well, he wasn’t sure. Head home to work on the article? Celebratory drinking at the pub? Surely he could leave the investigation to the fine officers of Belhaven’s elite police department, right?

If the information was good, it meant there was a dirty casino and their workergirls ended up being dead. A dirty casino that seems to be a new one too... But how? The new mayor of Belhaven had been very keen on purging the criminal activity in their city for five years now, making any sort or unregulated gambling or boozing around almost impossible for small time criminals. Still, three of the women were now found with excessive slash wounds on their body, as if someone was trying to carve ‘decorations’ on them...  Decorations, she thought. Poor girls. The doctor said those were inflicted after they were dead. Was the killer, or killers, interrupted with the other two women, if they even tie up with the case? But two interruptions in a row doesn’t seem likely. Wrong type? Where are the keys?.... Oh, in the engine... Bad habit. 

“Unless you are going to make my job much more easier, and willingly confess to me that it was you who did kill the two other ladies, I think you’ll have a very small chance on providing me new information,” she noted, half-jokingly. “It’s true that the age and type match the previous victims, but Miss Five and Fours skins were unscratched, They didn’t even have tattoos in them for easier identification. We’re still trying to find out who they were, but no-one’s talking to us in this hellhole. So before…“ Ritter fell silent for a moment as a new thought just had popped in her mind. Her posture didn’t change from the usual ‘cop at work’ attitude, but her tone might have deflated by half a note. 

Flipping open his own notebook, the lad began pacing back and forth after Addie’s last question, flipping idly from page to page. “For those of us that call this hellhole home,” he quipped back, “it wasn’t hard to find out who the girls were. Ear to the ground and all that… The stray you found the next town over; Jenny Guttenkopf, right? Pretty girl, but if she acted as badly as she slung booze, it’s no wonder she couldn’t cut it.”

“…Illegal casino. And a new one too because I don’t recognize the logo.“ she said slowly. Casinos without permits were a bad sign as they trafficked from unregulated alcohol and cigarettes to large groups of people, with only their word that the drink was actually liqueur and not paint thinner. Or that the cigar roll wasn’t filled with old sandpaper… “No wonder we couldn’t find their names.”

“Oh, you wound me, detective,” the lad replied with a mock tone of grievous injury. “As if I would stoop so low as to bribe the honorable officers of the illustrious SMPD!” Tipping his newsboy cap in salute, Daichi reached into his pocket to grab his notebook… And to make sure his lockpicks were safely secured in the tiny secret fold at the top of the pocket’s hemming.

“Unless you are going to make my job much more easier, and willingly confess to me that it was you who did kill the two other ladies, I think you’ll have a very small chance on providing me new information,” she noted, half-jokingly. “It’s true that the age and type match the previous victims, but Miss Five and Fours skins were unscratched, They didn’t even have tattoos in them for easier identification. We're still trying to find out who they were, but no-one's talking to us in this hellhole. So before..." Ritter fell silent for a moment as a new thought just had popped in her mind. Her posture didn't change from the usual 'cop at work' attitude, but her tone might have deflated by half a note. 

The rain came down banging the steel roof of the empty warehouse. And laying on the floor, like a ragdoll that was tossed aside, was a body of a young woman. Her large eyes were glazed towards the rooftop. Detective Ritter, towering over the body with the coroner, made notes with a hurried hand.

“Are you sure, doctor?” she asked, pushing the rim of her fedora upwards.

“That I am, detective. The woman was still alive when the….” The doctor let out a tired sigh that indicated how much they did not want to be at the spot. “The carvings of the skin were being done. I can’t confirm it in this lightning but I’d wager the tool was a large knife, a hunting knife maybe? Grimsome sight.”

“It only confirms my suspicions, good doctor. We have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Detective?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you putting on sunglasses? It’s only morning and not to mention, it’s raining.”

Still, rent was cheap and it was just about the only town that would let the Japanese-American peddle his little one-man tabloid rag, so the reporter felt right at home.