Well I've also been toying with the idea of changing the pov of the main story from third person to first person. I've done just that in the first couple of chapters and here's the result, tell me what you think:
Chapter One
“I’m sorry, Liam, I just won’t be able to make it,” my pinheaded little brother said. I’d just finished getting dressed for the day and come into the main living area of my apartment for some coffee and here he was, making a permanent ass print on my sofa. His cell phone was cradled against his shoulder as he manipulated the game controller and the game he was playing screeched ‘Final Lap!’ “I’m really swamped at work, you know.”
Shaking my head, I poured myself a cup of coffee and rubbed my eyes. A crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes lay on the counter in front of me, so I lit one and glared at Josh. I’ve never understood what he saw in those games. I played games on my PC, of course; it was hard to be as involved with computers as I was growing up and not get drawn into gaming, but I’d always preferred RPGs or action games. I never saw the point in either racing or sports games.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling there was about an inch past my fingers. Almost time for a haircut, I thought. Finally, I got fed up listening to Josh hem and haw around Liam’s questions. I stalked over to Josh and yanked the phone out of his hand.
“Hey!” he squawked half-heartedly before turning back to his game.
“Liam, hey, it’s Kaleb.”
“Hey, Uncle Kaleb...Is he really working next week?”
“Kid you should know better than that; your old man hasn’t held down a job in nearly six months.”
“Kaleb, don’t tell him that!”
“Hang on, Liam,” I said and pressed the phone to my chest. Glaring, I brandished my cigarette at Josh. “Liam deserves the truth, so why not tell him? You told me you were gonna tell Sheila anyway. You swore you were gonna tell her. Guess you didn’t.” Josh muttered something I didn’t catch, and I didn’t care enough to ask about.
“Hey, I’m back, buddy,” I said, putting the phone back to my ear.
“Will you be there?” Liam asked.
I stuffed the cigarette back into my mouth, driving my teeth deep into the filter, almost severing it. “Of course I’ll be there, Liam.”
“Awesome!” Liam sounded excited for the first time since I’d taken the phone from Josh.
“Tell you what, kid. How about after you get out of school tonight, you and me, we’ll head over to the ballpark and you can get some batting practice in?”
“Sounds good. Have you been practicing any, Uncle Kaleb?”
“Oh, ouch, kid, that hurts!” I chuckled. Liam was twelve and nearly as good at baseball as I’d been in high school when I played center field for my school’s varsity team. “I’ve been taking it easy on you. I used to be able to pick off runners at home from center. You hit off me, you got any pitcher licked.” I stopped and thought. “Except maybe Davis, Herrera and Holland,” I laughed.
That got a laugh out of Liam, too. He was a lifetime Royals fan, as was almost every kid in Kansas City who paid attention to baseball. Wade Davis, Kelvin Herrera and Greg Holland were part of the team’s unstoppable bullpen, and the kid idolized them.
“Sounds good, Uncle Kaleb,” Liam said. “Hey, I gotta go- the bell’s about to ring.”
“Alright, kid. Wanna say bye to your dad?”
“No.”
“Kay. I’ll see you after school. Bye.”
Liam hung up and I looked at the cell phone in my hand thoughtfully before spinning on my heel and chucking it at the back of Josh’s head, in the hopes that either one or the other would break.
Josh squawked and jumped up, grabbing the back of his head. I saw, with more than a little satisfaction, the virtual car he’d been driving plow into the race track’s wall and explode. Josh was three years younger than me, but to my displeasure we looked just alike. We’d both been athletes in school, and were built well, but my detective work and keeping up with Liam had forced me to take better care of my body than Josh. Years of sitting on his ass had caused Josh to lose the muscle tone he’d had in school. A steady diet of junk food and beer hadn’t helped matters much either.
We had the same blue eyes and sandy hair and had often been mistaken for twins in school, despite the age difference. I kept my hair brutally short, hating to have to do more to it in the morning than run my fingers through it. Josh preferred to let his grow probably because he was just too lazy to go get it cut.
“OW, fucker; that hurt!” Josh shouted.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I cooed in mockery. “Should I get you some ice?” I tried to drag on my smoke and noticed that it had gone out. I re-lit it and growled at my brother. “Are you ever gonna fucking grow up? You can’t make it to your kid’s fuckin’ ball game because you’re ‘working’?”
“I got a couple of things lined up,” he muttered.
“I swear to Christ I act more like that kid’s father than you do, Josh.”
“Fuck, for all I know you could be.”
My fists balled up of their own accord and I glared at my brother. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Joshua?”
The blood drained out of Josh’s face. He knew he was in trouble now; I shared that much in common with Mom- the only time either of us called him “Joshua” was when he was in trouble.
“I just mean, ya know, Sheila wasn’t exactly keepin’ her pants on while we were together...And you two spent so much time together.”
I slapped Josh upside the head, the titanium ring I wore to replace my class ring making a thudding sound against his skull. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Josh!” I roared, infuriated. I knew Sheila hadn’t screwed around on Josh and I most certainly had never slept with her. We’d been friends forever; she told me everything. It would have been like sleeping with a cousin, or worse, a sister. “Liam’s yours, Josh. Sheila says so, I say so and most importantly the fuckin’ state says so. It’s why most of your pay goes directly to Sheila when you’re not taking up space on my couch and are actually getting paid.”
Josh mumbled something and sat back down. I stepped around and stood in between him and the TV.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’; I’m looking for a job, I promise.”
“Right. Is that where you were last night?”
“Huh?”
“Last night; you didn’t pick Liam up at school like you’re supposed to and I had to drop what I was doing to go get him. And you weren’t around when we came by to get you for dinner.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was out with a girl. It’s no big deal.”
I was about to reply when the alarm on my cell phone started ringing. I pulled it from the case secured to my belt and tapped the screen to silence it. The calendar was on the screen, showing that I had an appointment in half an hour. Underneath was the client’s name: Theresa Rodgers. I tucked the phone back into its case and stepped back into my apartment’s kitchen to begin getting ready for work. I holstered my firearm on my hip and tucked my wallet which contained my credentials as a private detective, as well as the conceal carry license for the state of Missouri, into my back jeans pocket.
“Try to do something other than play games all day, alright?”
“Like what?” Josh asked without turning from his game.
“I dunno; maybe clean up your fuckin’ mess?” I waved an arm across our shared living room: the floor was covered with empty chip bags, cookie boxes, not to mention soda and beer cans. It’s a wonder we don’t have roaches, I thought.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it,” said Josh, eyes still glued to the television screen.
“You better, or I’m gonna throat punch you and leave you on Mom’s doorstep. Let her deal with your bullshit.”
“Kaleb, you can’t let Mom know I lost another job,” he whined.
“I don’t want to hear it, Josh!” I snapped. “I’ve got an appointment. I gotta get to work. Either clean up or get out.” I pulled open the door and left before Josh could say anything else.
The door across the hall was open just a crack when I stepped into the hall. My neighbor, Geraldine Finch, had been listening again. Insufferable gossip, I thought, but put on a smile anyway.
“Hi, Mrs. Finch,” I said reluctantly.
“Oh, hello, Kaleb,” she exclaimed in mock surprise. “Is everything alright?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Finch. My brother and I were having a disagreement about Liam.”
“Oh, dear! Is everything going to be alright? How is your precious little nephew?”
“Just fine, ma’am. Liam’s ball team is in the running for the state playoffs next week. He was just calling to see if Josh was going to be able to come.” As if you didn’t hear every word we said.
“Oh, I see. Will Liam be here tonight?” Mrs. Finch liked to shanghai Liam and feed him junk food as kind of a surrogate grandchild.
“‘Fraid not, ma’am; I’m taking him out for some ball practice tonight. We’ll probably go straight to his mother’s afterwards.”
“Well do tell him I said hi and good luck, won’t you? Oh, but listen to me blather on; you’ve surely got more important business this morning than talk to a dottery old bat like me, don’t you, Mr. Detective?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Finch, but I do have to get going. But I will tell Liam you wished him luck. You take care.” I said, all in one breath, trying to get away before Mrs. Finch could get a word in edgewise. My feet were moving before the last words tumbled out of my mouth.
“Have a blessed day, dear,” I heard Mrs. Finch say to my retreating back.
The heat hit me like a hammer when the apartment building’s door swung shut behind me. It was late August, school had just started, but the weather hadn’t figured out that it was supposed to be cooling down. Much to my annoyance, I started sweating as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, it seemed. I made a mad dash for my car and cranked up the AC. Staying outside longer than necessary would ensure me sweating half to death. Lighting a cigarette, I flicked the turn signal and eased into traffic, heading for the office.
Chapter Two
Kansas City is one of those strange cities that stands on both sides of the state line; there’s a Kansas City, Kansas and a Kansas City, Missouri. Talk to someone who lives outside the metropolitan area and they think it’s just one big city, and maybe officially it is, but if you talk to a resident of either side, they act like the two sides are two different worlds. Aside from their mutual love of the Royals and Chiefs, the Missourians and Kansans regard themselves as living in two different cities, as if State Line Road were a twenty foot wall, rather than a street. A lot of the residents of one side worked on the other side of the state line, however, and I was no different. The office I worked out of was on the Kansas side, but the apartment Josh and I shared was on the Missouri side. I call myself a Missourian and I’m damn proud of it.
I rolled across State Line Road to the Kansas side where everything was more expensive: booze, smokes, even gas. Realizing the price difference, I swore inwardly; I’d meant to pick up a pack or two of cigarettes before crossing the state line. They were at least fifty cents cheaper in Missouri than Kansas and I needed to save every dime possible. Being a private investigator wasn’t exactly lucrative, so I wasn’t rolling in dough, especially with Josh living in my guest room and eating all my damn food. Fucker ate my good cookies, too, I thought with another inward curse.
Barely half an hour later, I was standing in front of my office, rifling through my keys, a cigarette clamped in my teeth. When I’d first rented the building it took all of my willpower not to put “Kaleb Davies, Private Investigator” in gold leaf on the door like they did in the old detective movies. Unlocking the door, I stepped in quickly, relishing the blast of cold air from the A/C. I flipped on lights as I made my way through the small building.
It looked like a small two or three bedroom house from the outside, and maybe it had been once. Innumerable lawyers, electricians and plumbers had passed through the place in the nineties; every time I passed it while I was growing up there was a new occupant. When I’d started renting the place, just after getting my PI license, I learned why. The plumbing was bad, the A/C was shot, even the electrical work was shoddy. It took me the better part of a year to get the place sorted out, but eventually I did.
After checking the machine for messages and finding none, I plopped down behind my desk and looked at the clock. My one appointment of the day was late. I picked up the desk phone, looked up the number and was about to dial when the buzzer I’d installed as a doorbell went off.
“Come on in, Ms. Rodgers,” I said, thumbing the intercom next to the phone. “I’m in the back office.”
The door creaked open and I could hear the girl’s footsteps, most likely high heels, on the tile floor getting closer. I climbed to my feet and stepped around the desk to greet her.
Chapter Three
“All I’m saying,” I explained for what seemed like the hundredth time, “is that there’s no guarantee that I’ll find anything at all. Cyber crimes aren’t like normal crimes. There’s no physical evidence left from cyber crimes- no fingerprints, DNA, nothing.”
“So it’s hopeless? Is that what you’re saying?” Tessa Rodgers was young, younger than I was, anyway. She should have known better. She’d been bopping along, firewall disabled, without antivirus or spyware protection. She did all her banking online, using passwords I could’ve cracked when I was twelve. It was a wonder that she hadn’t been robbed before.
“It’s not hopeless. Unless the hacker is incredibly careful, there are ways to trace them.” I knew this bit from personal experience. “But even if I’m able to track the thief, there’s a good chance your money is already gone- either spent or transferred God knows where.” That finally broke through the shell and made an impact on her.
“I won’t get my money back?”
“To be honest, most likely not.”
“Yet you’ll expect to be paid?”
That plucked my nerve for what I decided would be the final time. I pointed to the three frames hung on the office wall. “Do you see those, Ms. Rodgers? Those are two diplomas and a license. Criminology,” I said, pointing to the topmost frame in the pyramid, “which means I know how thieves are likely to think and act.” I pointed again, this time to the bottom left of the pyramid. “That one’s computer science- I tested out
No comments:
Post a Comment