09-08-2015, 10:08 PM
The office was dark through the glass paneled walls as Ellie walked down the corridor towards the door. She glanced at her wrist watch. Quarter past eight, hmm, he's late.
Barry, her secretary, a sweet older man of fifty-two, who lived across town in Ealing, usually arrived around eight. She frowned to herself as she balanced her bag and a paper cup of coffee in one hand, and wiggled her keys out of her pocket with the other, and unlocked the front door. She sometimes wondered why he bothered to make the arduous commute across the city every morning, but the old guy never complained of the decrepit tube lines, and was usually on time. Well, almost always. Ellie knew people his age had a hard time finding work, and his story about the loss of his wife six months before, and the desire to do something with his newly found time had struck a deep chord within her, so had happily offered him the position. Their arrangement was working out so far; he was organised where she was not, and that was exactly what she needed to make sure her business didn't fall on its head before it had even taken off.
She glanced at the freshly painted sign on the glass panel in front of her face, as she pushed the office door open. A swell of something akin to pride and regret rose in her, all mixed up in a bitter swirl.
FOWLES PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY
Looks almost too professional,
she thought with a smirk, as she walked into the office space that made up both Barry’s reception desk and a semi-informal waiting area for her clients. She flipped the lights on, passing a quick eye over the room. Everything was as it was when she left it the night before. Barry’s neat and orderly desk covered in plants and succulents of a dozen varieties, the two brown leather couches, or sofas as Barry called them, the water cooler, chrome espresso coffee maker - good coffee was a luxury she couldn’t do without - the tall ferns that stood in each corner, the floor fan positioned in front of the small grimy window, to blow gusts of air around the room in the extreme summer heat that swamped London for months at a time.
Satisfied, she walked through the waiting room to the door of her personal office, twisting the doorknob and gently kicking the door open with a booted foot. She hit the light switch, and again glanced around, making sure nothing was amiss, then hung her bag on a hook by the door. She drained her coffee, and threw the cup in the trash bin next to her desk, then pulled her jacket off, draping it on the back of her chair, and unclipped her gun holster, placing it on her desk.
She walked back out into the waiting room, humming tunelessly to herself, and started to make herself and Barry some fresh coffee. Suddenly a loud bang came from the door, and she started in surprise, simultaneously turning and reaching for her gun. Which of course is on my fucking desk, nice one El
. She snorted in amusement though as she saw Barry, struggling to open the office door with something that looked like a new and rather large potted plant in his hands. She walked over quickly and yanked the door open, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Really, Barry?”
she asked with feigned mockery, in her still strong New York drawl. “More greenery? Damn, it’s gonna be a jungle in here soon.”
Barry looked sheepishly at her though the leaves of the plant held in front of his face. “Sorry I’m late Miss. Fowles. This one is a beauty,”
he said in his clipped Londoner accent, as he held it towards her. “Don’t you agree? I thought she would look splendid on your bookcase.”
She grinned, and shook her head. “Fine, fine, you just go ahead and put it wherever you want. And Barry?”
He stopped enroute to her office, and turned to look at her.
“It’s Ellanor, or Ellie. Please, for the love of the gods, stop calling me by my surname. Its just plain weird.”
He nodded in acquiescence, and she turned back to the coffee maker. Be damned if he is going to listen to me, I have told him a thousand times already.
A little while later, a fresh steaming latte on her desk, laptop open in front of her, Ellie got to work. She had just landed a new case, and was reading through the notes she had taken when she had met with the client, the son of an elderly socialite who lived in an estate in Sussex, and apparently a citizen the Dominance VII Custody, or the shitty and corrupt Met Police, didn’t seem to give a fuck about. Or maybe that they thought she was a crazy old coot, and had chosen to ignore her and her son’s repeated requests for help. Ellie didn’t mind that the Custody and the Met were pretty slack with this sort of thing, to be fair, because it meant all the more work for her.
The son of this woman had shown up at her office two weeks before, informing Ellie that his mother was extremely upset and would be willing to pay her a significant fee if she could solve the case. Along with a very handsome advance, and a promise to double it with the successful capture of the perp. She had whistled to herself internally as she watched him transfer the funds directly into her work account on her laptop, and had pretty much decided to take the job then and there, without even hearing the details of the case.
Perpetrator. Or perpetrators, she supposed, as she read over her notes. The case was all kinds of interesting, but the money made it more so. The poor woman’s precious and expensive horses and breeding dogs were being brutally slaughtered, and her son was at a complete loss to explain it. Probably a gang of local kids, getting wasted and fucking stuff up for kicks.
She gave up reading, and sat back, taking a sip of coffee. Anyway, whatever the case, this advance is a big thing
, she thought. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the work load; cases were coming in thick and fast. To be expected of a city as heavily populated as London, where the Custody gave little care about the lower poor folk trying to live their lives, and the Metropolitan police were a shadow of their former selves. She had told Barry to say yes to pretty much any job that came across his desk, but had approached a cross-roads. She had a choice - start turning down the jobs, or hire an assistant. She hated to say no to people that needed her help, so when this particularly well paying job fell into her lap, the latter seemed like an excellent choice.
Barry had placed an ad in the appropriate enforcement circles, and in the local press, and on notice boards near Met offices the week before. Today was interview day. Of the fifteen that had applied, only two candidates had passed her scrupulous requirements. The first, a guy in his thirties from Birmingham, who had worked as an undercover officer infiltrating some extreme socialist party, and the second was an ex-cop from the Met. The first was her preferred choice; older, more experienced, no doubt good in a tricky situation. The second, a kid really, she had chosen because of his London roots, and of course his experience with policing.
She glanced up from looking at her coffee as she heard the phone ring in Barry’s office, and listened to the man’s english lilt as he answered.
“Hello, you have reached Fowles Private Detective Agency, how may I help you today?...Ah, yes, and how are you?...Oh, oh dear, that is a shame….yes, yes I will inform Miss. Fowles right away...please, yes, you do that...no, anytime will be fine..very well, good bye.”
She sighed as she heard him walk towards her door, and knock gently. “Miss. Fowles? That was one of the interviewees. He won’t be able to make it today, says his mother has taken ill. He was very apologetic, and said he would call to re-arrange the interview.”
Esme tisked. “Goddamit. I bet it was the Birmingham guy, wasn’t it?”
He nodded softly, mouth twisted in regret.
“Fuck,”
she said loudly, then instantly regretted it. “Sorry, sorry, language. Ok, well, unless this Knight kid is a genius or something, or really really amazing, we can get the other guy down as soon as he can make it. Thanks, Barry.”
She glanced at her watch after the man had turned back to his desk. The kid's due in what, thirty minutes? Yep, just enough time to catch up on the news and finish my coffee. Sweet.
Edited by Ellie Fowles, Sep 8 2015, 11:26 PM.
Barry, her secretary, a sweet older man of fifty-two, who lived across town in Ealing, usually arrived around eight. She frowned to herself as she balanced her bag and a paper cup of coffee in one hand, and wiggled her keys out of her pocket with the other, and unlocked the front door. She sometimes wondered why he bothered to make the arduous commute across the city every morning, but the old guy never complained of the decrepit tube lines, and was usually on time. Well, almost always. Ellie knew people his age had a hard time finding work, and his story about the loss of his wife six months before, and the desire to do something with his newly found time had struck a deep chord within her, so had happily offered him the position. Their arrangement was working out so far; he was organised where she was not, and that was exactly what she needed to make sure her business didn't fall on its head before it had even taken off.
She glanced at the freshly painted sign on the glass panel in front of her face, as she pushed the office door open. A swell of something akin to pride and regret rose in her, all mixed up in a bitter swirl.
FOWLES PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY
Looks almost too professional,
she thought with a smirk, as she walked into the office space that made up both Barry’s reception desk and a semi-informal waiting area for her clients. She flipped the lights on, passing a quick eye over the room. Everything was as it was when she left it the night before. Barry’s neat and orderly desk covered in plants and succulents of a dozen varieties, the two brown leather couches, or sofas as Barry called them, the water cooler, chrome espresso coffee maker - good coffee was a luxury she couldn’t do without - the tall ferns that stood in each corner, the floor fan positioned in front of the small grimy window, to blow gusts of air around the room in the extreme summer heat that swamped London for months at a time.
Satisfied, she walked through the waiting room to the door of her personal office, twisting the doorknob and gently kicking the door open with a booted foot. She hit the light switch, and again glanced around, making sure nothing was amiss, then hung her bag on a hook by the door. She drained her coffee, and threw the cup in the trash bin next to her desk, then pulled her jacket off, draping it on the back of her chair, and unclipped her gun holster, placing it on her desk.
She walked back out into the waiting room, humming tunelessly to herself, and started to make herself and Barry some fresh coffee. Suddenly a loud bang came from the door, and she started in surprise, simultaneously turning and reaching for her gun. Which of course is on my fucking desk, nice one El
. She snorted in amusement though as she saw Barry, struggling to open the office door with something that looked like a new and rather large potted plant in his hands. She walked over quickly and yanked the door open, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Really, Barry?”
she asked with feigned mockery, in her still strong New York drawl. “More greenery? Damn, it’s gonna be a jungle in here soon.”
Barry looked sheepishly at her though the leaves of the plant held in front of his face. “Sorry I’m late Miss. Fowles. This one is a beauty,”
he said in his clipped Londoner accent, as he held it towards her. “Don’t you agree? I thought she would look splendid on your bookcase.”
She grinned, and shook her head. “Fine, fine, you just go ahead and put it wherever you want. And Barry?”
He stopped enroute to her office, and turned to look at her.
“It’s Ellanor, or Ellie. Please, for the love of the gods, stop calling me by my surname. Its just plain weird.”
He nodded in acquiescence, and she turned back to the coffee maker. Be damned if he is going to listen to me, I have told him a thousand times already.
A little while later, a fresh steaming latte on her desk, laptop open in front of her, Ellie got to work. She had just landed a new case, and was reading through the notes she had taken when she had met with the client, the son of an elderly socialite who lived in an estate in Sussex, and apparently a citizen the Dominance VII Custody, or the shitty and corrupt Met Police, didn’t seem to give a fuck about. Or maybe that they thought she was a crazy old coot, and had chosen to ignore her and her son’s repeated requests for help. Ellie didn’t mind that the Custody and the Met were pretty slack with this sort of thing, to be fair, because it meant all the more work for her.
The son of this woman had shown up at her office two weeks before, informing Ellie that his mother was extremely upset and would be willing to pay her a significant fee if she could solve the case. Along with a very handsome advance, and a promise to double it with the successful capture of the perp. She had whistled to herself internally as she watched him transfer the funds directly into her work account on her laptop, and had pretty much decided to take the job then and there, without even hearing the details of the case.
Perpetrator. Or perpetrators, she supposed, as she read over her notes. The case was all kinds of interesting, but the money made it more so. The poor woman’s precious and expensive horses and breeding dogs were being brutally slaughtered, and her son was at a complete loss to explain it. Probably a gang of local kids, getting wasted and fucking stuff up for kicks.
She gave up reading, and sat back, taking a sip of coffee. Anyway, whatever the case, this advance is a big thing
, she thought. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the work load; cases were coming in thick and fast. To be expected of a city as heavily populated as London, where the Custody gave little care about the lower poor folk trying to live their lives, and the Metropolitan police were a shadow of their former selves. She had told Barry to say yes to pretty much any job that came across his desk, but had approached a cross-roads. She had a choice - start turning down the jobs, or hire an assistant. She hated to say no to people that needed her help, so when this particularly well paying job fell into her lap, the latter seemed like an excellent choice.
Barry had placed an ad in the appropriate enforcement circles, and in the local press, and on notice boards near Met offices the week before. Today was interview day. Of the fifteen that had applied, only two candidates had passed her scrupulous requirements. The first, a guy in his thirties from Birmingham, who had worked as an undercover officer infiltrating some extreme socialist party, and the second was an ex-cop from the Met. The first was her preferred choice; older, more experienced, no doubt good in a tricky situation. The second, a kid really, she had chosen because of his London roots, and of course his experience with policing.
She glanced up from looking at her coffee as she heard the phone ring in Barry’s office, and listened to the man’s english lilt as he answered.
“Hello, you have reached Fowles Private Detective Agency, how may I help you today?...Ah, yes, and how are you?...Oh, oh dear, that is a shame….yes, yes I will inform Miss. Fowles right away...please, yes, you do that...no, anytime will be fine..very well, good bye.”
She sighed as she heard him walk towards her door, and knock gently. “Miss. Fowles? That was one of the interviewees. He won’t be able to make it today, says his mother has taken ill. He was very apologetic, and said he would call to re-arrange the interview.”
Esme tisked. “Goddamit. I bet it was the Birmingham guy, wasn’t it?”
He nodded softly, mouth twisted in regret.
“Fuck,”
she said loudly, then instantly regretted it. “Sorry, sorry, language. Ok, well, unless this Knight kid is a genius or something, or really really amazing, we can get the other guy down as soon as he can make it. Thanks, Barry.”
She glanced at her watch after the man had turned back to his desk. The kid's due in what, thirty minutes? Yep, just enough time to catch up on the news and finish my coffee. Sweet.
Edited by Ellie Fowles, Sep 8 2015, 11:26 PM.
