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 Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2009 1:33 am
The Police Department. The place is filled with coppers, top to bottom, and even a few legalized dicks, not to mention the occasional crook in cuffs, Lietenant looking prestigious, or yipper in an interrogation room. The whole joint smells of coffee and sweat, an interesting combination. Here's the first place a gumshoe whants to go, and the last place a crook wants to be. They have a couple small holding cells, and files on anyone who's anyone in the city. They also have an abundance of donuts.
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2010 6:00 am
The doll sauntered in, feet in night black lace ups. She walked toward the run down wooden desk. The lazy copper there was snoring like the 23-47 line on the railway coming through. She rang the bell that had seen better days and he woke up, grumpy and battered. "Yes, Miss?" the copper enunciated, mouth curling around each word like a snake slithering through a narrow passage.
"Get me the file on Joseph Q. Moreison, please," she said, sweet as sugar. "I'm working for Henry K. Bants. You put him on the case." Alice pulled out a dingy brown P.I. Lisence, and a Coppers I.D., and last but not least, a battered License of Assistance to the P.I. They were her little treasures, things she had gotten from helping them out in the past. Bants was a friend of hers.
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An Invisible Shapeshifter
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