Well. I know it ain't that great, but I have to start somewhere. (I actually finished the story and found something that actually sticks for once)
Nine years of working as a detective were finally catching up to him. His partner retired already, so he has his work with a new partner, Hartman, and a new station. Blackthorne enters the run-down old station house. The scent of coffee hangs thick in the air. The rain beats down on the roof. Blackthorne goes into the homicide unit and sees his partner absorbed in his work. On the desk, there are multiple closed cases. He finishes typing something on the typewriter with a few missing keys. He looks up at him.
Hartman: "I guess we're partners now. I just hope you're able to do your part well."
Detective Hartman leaves his seat to make himself a cup of coffee.
"We've been underfunded lately, because the Mayor is using the tax money to enjoy a vacation while the city goes to hell. Typical politician bullshit."
Hartman lights up a cigarette
Hartman: “So, about you, Blackthorne. The captain didn't give me more information. He passed out drunk in the office when he told me about our partnership.”
Blackthorne pulls the seat across from him and also lights up a smoke.
Blackthorne: “Well, I served during the war, got injured, and retired. I joined the police force shortly after I recovered. You?”
Hartman flicks the ash into the ashtray.
Hartman: “I’m a college boy. I joined the force hoping to make a difference. Boy was I wrong.”
“They didn't assign me a partner throughout my 5 years here. I feel like a ghost here, despite being good at my job.”
Blackthorne raises an eyebrow.
“So you're an outsider? You seem to be a good detective and a decent person. How come?”
Hartman frowns even more.
“I’m not so sure. I always felt like I never fit in amongst my peers. Even having support from my parents and my sister.”
As soon as the two were working on their paperwork and having a conversation, the captain stumbled into the office, drunk as can be. Slurring his speech and making it hard to understand.
“You boys have a new case. A real estate agent was found dead in his hotel room.”
He slams the door and leaves.
Hartman sighs and leaves his seat.
“Alright, we'll take the case. Come on, Blackthorne.”
Blackthorne grabs his heavy stick and heads down the stairs of the station house. However, Blackthorne realizes he forgot his umbrella and sees Hartman already outside the station house waiting for him.
“Here, Blackthorne, we can share the umbrella. I noticed you forgot it.”
The weather was bleak and dark, and the weather couldn’t be bothered to look decent.
Hartman enters the patrol car.
“Well, it's old, but it gets the job done. I don't care how it looks.”
Blackthorne follows suit and enters the passenger seat. The car coughs to life. Blackthorne looks at Hartman with concern.
“Hartman, I think we should get the car repaired.”
Hartman grabs the wheel tightly so much that his knuckles turn white.
“If you want it repaired, then you have to pay for it yourself.”
Blackthorne looks out the window and feels the cool air radiating from it, and then looks at Hartman again.
“How often is our Captain drunk?”
“Almost every day. He's a sweetheart until you don't get enough leads in the case.”
“Has he let out his anger onto you?”
“He hasn't, but I've seen it occur to other detectives. You know the hole in the wall?”
“Well, it's from the captain slamming the desk into the wall.”
“Hartman, did you get the case file?”
Hartman grabs the case file on the dashboard and hands it to Blackthorne
“Here you go. I grabbed it from the captain's office.”
After 15 minutes, Blackthorne and Hartman entered the hotel. The scent of mildew and iron hangs thick in the air. They enter room 305.
The room was trashed, and the windows were shattered. There lies Arnold Stravinsky on the bed. His limbs were torn off, and a look of anguish was frozen on his face. The sheets are painted crimson red. There were markings that looked like an animal attack. He looked to be on the more wealthy side. He was very out of place for a man of his status.
Blackthorne’s expression shifts into one of disgust and weariness.
Blackthorne: “Christ Hartmann, I've seen. Terrible things during the war, but this is something else.”
Hartman: “Tell me about it- Why is he naked?”
Blackthorne: “People are fucking weird. I guess he was trying to do something to get his jollies off and was killed in the process.” Blackthorne lights up another cigarette. “Hartman, how about we search the place to find any more leads?”
Hartman smiles slightly at Blackthorne.
Hartman: “Alright, Blackthorne. I'll search the drawers, and you check out the windows.”
Hartman looks on top of the drawers to find red lipstick, a business card, a matchbox for a high-end bar, and a card with an address. While he was searching for more clues, Blackthorne called Hartman to the window.
Blackthorne: “Hartman, look what I found.”
Hartman: “What did you find?”
Blackthorne: “Paw prints. Maybe the person who was here had a dog.”
Hartman: “But the markings on the body and the torn-off limbs. Something doesn't add up.”
Blackthrone: “If the scratches look like one from an animal, then why and how is the door locked?”
Blackthorne: “What did you find?”
Hartman: “I believe there was a woman here since there was lipstick. There was also a matchbox to a high-end bar.”
Hartman: “To further prove my point, about the woman, there was the card. Do we visit the bar or do we visit the address?”
Blackthorne grabs the matchbox and lipstick.
Blackthorne: “We should visit the bar. Maybe we could get more information out of the people about Starvensky.
Hartman starts writing in his journal and documenting the crime scene.
Hartman: “You can drive this time, Blackthorne. I need to go over the case notes.”
As the coroner wheels off the body on a stretcher with a pure white cloth on it. Hartman and Blackthorne head to the patrol car. The drive was a long one. Blackthorne turns over to see his partner very focused on his notes.
“It never gets easier,” Hartman mumbled to himself.
15 minutes later, there's a sudden change in the environment. This part of the city is more extravagant and pretentious. Blackthorne pulls into the bar and realizes how out of place they are.
Blackthorne adjusts his tie and takes the keys out of the ignition.
Hartman gets out of the car and stretches.
Hartman: “I wouldn't be surprised if those fuckers are into some shady business practices.”
They both enter the bar and are immediately punched with the scents of cigars and cologne. Along with a live performance. You can hear the businessmen discussing their misdeeds with each other. The bartender looks up at us and gives us a welcoming smile.
Bartender: Can I help you, boys?
Blackthorne: We're with the Skeleton Town Police Department. Do you happen to know a patron named Arnold Stravinsky?
Bartender: “I do. Is he in any trouble?”
Hartman:” No, he was found dead this morning in the hotel room.”
Bartender: “Goddammit, I knew it was going to end this way.”
Blackthorne: “I'm sorry, but you have a weird attitude about this whole situation.”
“Starvensky and Elliot were at it again, like they usually are.”
Hartman writes in his notes.
Hartman: “Tell us. What was the argument about?”
The bartender: “They always fight, and I had to call Elliot's wife to pick him up when it got too far. This time. They were arguing about some broad.”
Hartman: “Give us a description of the dame.”
The bartender: “Well, she was a fox. She had very long blonde hair in an orange dress. She looked to do modelling for a company. I saw her walk out with Starvensky.”
Blackthorne: “We appreciate the information. Do you happen to have Elliot's business card or any means to contact him?”
The bartender: “Sure, I do. He always gives us business cards.”
Blackthorne pockets the business card and leaves the bar. Both Hartman and Blackthorne enter the car and drive to the address. The ride was silent and long, as they made it to a wooded area full of greenery and wildlife. Not even a single house to be found in this location.
Hartman frowns in annoyance.
Hartman: “The broad has a fake address’
Blackthorne: “You don't say. What next? You're going to say the fork is found in the kitchen?”
Hartman rolls his eyes at Blackthorne’s remark.
Hartman: “I presume we go see what Elliot’s deal is with Starvensky- what is in the bushes?”
Blackthorne: I'll check the bushes.
As soon as Blackthorne checks the bushes, an orange fox jumps out of the bushes, staring at the two.
Hartman steps back from the fox to not disturb it.
Hartman: “Oh, it's just a cute fox. Let's go blackthrone, there’s nothing here.”
They drive back and head to the insurance office.
Hartman keeps reviewing his case notes over and over again. Until he let out a sigh of frustration.
Hartman: “Goddammit. Nothing is adding up.”
Blackthorne: “What's not adding up?”
Hartman: “The case. Why do the markings on his back look animalistic? Why does this woman have a fake address?”
Blackthorne: “Maybe this was a staged animal attack. Though the paws look more like paw prints to a dog than anything else.”
After 20 minutes, Blackthorne pulls into the real estate office. The weather was starting to clear up into a beautiful day. However, the door was locked…
*Hartman, after knocking on the door many times*
Hartman: “Alright, if Eliot won't answer, then I'll make him want to.”
Blackthorne: “Hartman, what are you going to do-”
As soon as Blackthorne could end his question, a loud BANG was heard. Hartman has kicked the door clean off the hinges.
Blackthorne: “DAMMIT, HARTMAN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Hartman: “I'm not the goodie two-shoes you think I am, Blackthorne. It needed to be done.”
As soon as they enter the office. The lights were turned off, and there was a dreadful presence looming over the two. Up above on the roof, Elliot was swinging gently on the rope in the office.
Hartman: Goddammit it. Our suspect kicked the bucket before we could interview him.”
Blackthrone: ‘’YOU CAN’T JUST KICK DOWN DOORS”
Hartman: “How else would we get in?”
Blackthorne: Should we call the Coroner?
Hartman: “Not yet, we need to search the place first.”
Hartman looks through the desk and finds photos of Eliot and his wife and medical papers.
Hartman: Looks like what I found.
Blackthorne: “What is it?”
Hartman: “He tested positive for an STD. Maybe that's the motive for the suicide. What a coward. He couldn't hold himself accountable for screwing some broad and face the consequences. I feel bad for the wife.”
Hartman puts the picture back.
Hartman: “What did you find?”
Blackthorne: “I found fraudulent papers. I think it's time to call the Coroner.”
Blackthorne enters the patrol car and radios for the Coroner and a few cops. The cops cut down the rope, and Elliot is wheeled off to the morgue.
They both get back into the patrol car and drive off to the police station.
Hartman: “We haven't gotten many leads. And the captain is going to kill us. I don't think we can solve this one.”
After the long drive. Back to the police department. The captain is patiently waiting for Hartman and Blackthorne. The captain scowls and grits his teeth at Hartman.
Capt: “You. You haven't gotten any more leads.”
The captain slams the desk towards Hartman, jamming his finger really badly.
Blackthorne looks at the captain calmly and forcefully grabs his hands.
Blackthorne: “My partner and I have been trying our best to get a lead in the case. If you do this to me or my partner or me. You will be facing problems.”
The captain stammers in fear, and Blackthorne lets him go. Blackthorne grabs the paperwork.
Blackthorne: “Who does he think he is, acting like that? Hartman, can you move your finger?”
Blackthorne: “Looks like we're going to the doctor's office then.”
As soon as they were about to leave, one of the other cops mentioned finding a woman of the same description.
Cop: “ I found the exact woman of your description near the real estate office you two were in.”
Hartman: “Thanks, officer. We'll go from here.”
After they made it to the real estate office, Blackthorne held his gun at low ready as if he had a bad feeling about the place.
Blackthrone: “Hartman, stay behind me.”
Blackthrone: “Just follow my instructions.
After what felt like hours, Hartman and Blackthrone keep a steady guard up until they see the woman they were looking for appear out of nowhere.
Hartman points the gun at her.
Hartman: “Alright, sister, you’re coming down with us to the station."
Just as soon as Hartman walks up to handcuff her, she turns into a beastly creature that resembles a fox. Could it be the same fox from earlier?
She quickly pounces on Hartman, but as soon as she can get to him. Blackthrone shoots her head. A loud bang deafens the entire room. She drops dead on the ground.
Blackthrone: “Christ, I thought the supernatural was just a legend.”
Hartman: “Me too. That explains the pawprints and animalistic markings on Stravinsky. Let's go, Blackthrone. I need the doctor for my finger.
I’m not rawdogging this shit again bro 😭😭😭
This time I'll write my ideas down in the case file style, instead of just drafting it, and all this other shit that goes into writing detective shit.
Hopefully next story, it'll be better.
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