Wolf’s Rain (open)

Crunch crunch crunch

The sounds of crunching filled the tiny office.  Between crunches the whirling of fan blades gave a soft gentle hum to the even softer back drop of lofi that came from the phone on the desk.  No less than 4 fans ran continuously to chase away the southern heat.  A glass of sweating sweet tea gently clinked as fresh ice cubes cracked before the heat.  Signing thank you to the elderly figure, Isaac say back in his chair.  Eyes watched the open door and windows ahead of him in the converted sunroom, and his ears caught the sound of the Haitian women re-entering her home.

He’d set up shop here just over a year ago now.  The deaf women had given him a great deal on a room upstairs, and for a nominal added cost he’d been able to convert her sunroom into an office space for his private investigation business.  Granny had been good to him, and her pastimes made his business all the more easy.  He suspected he wasn’t the only one getting something from the relationship, as she was always eager to pass on her craft.  The relics of this craft lay littered across the rooms.  Various symbology and trinkets, the room could be mistaken for a voodoo pawnshop, sans the sales.

Taking a sip from the tea his head gave an involuntary shake.  How the woman lived to be as old as she was drinking sugar like that he’d never know.  Standing up he moved some papers across the desk into various folders.  “Shit” he’d say shaking the condensation from the tea from the now water stained papers and photos.

Isaac stood just a bit under 6 foot, and was undeniably about half a pound of muscle above “gangly”.  At present he stood shirtless, a light sweat over his body in the afternoon heat.  Dark purple shorts that rested much shorter than modern fashion dictated where his only attire as he walked barefoot around the tiny room attempting to straighten up.  Hair matted down from his morning run, with lack of a shower due to the lateness of the night before.  He swore he’d get one in before his client arrived, though he was playing a dangerous game with time.  

A loud squawk caused him to grab a pellet off the desk and toss it, only to be caught by a brilliantly plumed macaw.  A gentle clinking from his necklace as he made the movement.  The silver chain bouncing against its varied charms.  Opening a desk drawer he’d throw the bag of dried chickpeas inside, only to reside with a variety of other half eaten snacks of varying types.  Hands on hips, and back to the door he would look around the room.  It was neat enough.  At least his clientele clean enough.  Reaching up he’d scratch underneath the throat of the large stuffed crocodile that hung from the ceiling.  “Another day another dollar aye Louise?”

Releasing the alligator, Isaac would scratch the back of his neck. Feeling wetness, he’d resign himself to that shower before the paying customers arrived. Turning his back from the doorway to the alley he’d start for the one that would enter into the old southern home. He’d taken two steps before a voice unfamiliar broke his thoughts. Head cocked he’d look just stopping himself from running into the women posing as a door in the doorway.

“Umm hello?” He’d say, taking a half step back. Unable to help it a confused look breaking out across his face. The client he was waiting for was a guy he’d thought, though he’d been wrong before. Especially during Mardi Gras. Looking her up and down as one with poor manners does he out of habit stuck out a hand, “Isaac Hellsinger, private eye. Are you……..Ben?” His voice still carried a confusion and lack of much social grace. He could navigate and interrogate with a level of charisma, but usually after a good shower, and perhaps a stake out before hand.

A loud cawing came from behind him as though Harlequin was deciding to have a laugh. He’d roll his eyes and turn from the woman, though keeping her in some line of sight to indicate he was listening to her. He’d make a couple quick moves, tossing another treat to the bird, throwing on a slightly damp tank top to at least be decent, and hitting the pause button on his phone to stop the lofi jazz music that had filled the humid room.

Presuming the woman would in fact deny that she was Ben, he’d gesture to a chair across from the desk. He’d take a sip from the tea, and ask simply “so what can I help you with ma’am?”

“Well that’s good. I wasn’t really ready for on time clients.” He’d say shrugging as he was throwing on the tank top. At her introduction he’d simply smile and say “no relation to who?” An odd thing to say, but not really out of the ordinary. The pause led him to think she was probably giving a fake name of some sort. Likely the last based off the timing of the pause. In the business of looking into things and not being with the police, this was not an uncommon occurrence. Still, it was a touch unusual to have people come into the office from the back door.

“I tell myself that every day.” He’d say with a light chuckle and smirk at her comment of not knowing why she was there. That….was halfway true. “Does anyone know exactly where they are supposed to be? Seems a rather boring way to live if you ask me.” He’d take the pitcher of tea, ice still cracking away under the heat and pour it into an empty glass. “Granny’s special…tea”. He’d say with a wink at the pun. See, totally can navigate social discourse when he was ready for it.

He’d watch her, and take her in as she looked about the room. The many bracelets, her clothes, the look of someone who didn’t seem entirely pleased to be in the hot southern sun room. He’d see her eyes move over the many voodoo instruments that lined the windowsills and any unoccupied surface. That part wasn’t unusual, but he thought he noticed a spark of difference from a typical person. A sort of unfamiliarity look of curiosity typically was associated with it. That’s not what he felt he saw, instead someone who had their own craft, Looking at the craft of another. He couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t hurt noticing things, and while jumping to conclusions can be dangerous, it can also keep you ahead of the danger.

“I guess context is important when identifying crazy. For example, there is an alligator above your head. I see it, that doesn’t make me crazy. Now in some other settings it most certainly would. So I guess my natural first question would be, what kind of things do you see?” He’d ask leaning back in his chair. Crossing his leg so his ankle rested on his knee. Hands holding his bare leg, eyes looking directly into Claras’. Call it habit, but he was looking for tells. This wasn’t work….yet anyway. Still practice makes perfect.

He’d listen to her explanations of the future and visions etc. To some that may seem out of the ordinary and he’d give a whistle to show he was impressed. No-maj he might be, but he’d learned enough about the magical world to match and normal magical folk. Maybe even more, given he had to fight a bit harder for the knowledge. Seers weren’t too common, and good ones where even fewer and far between. At her words of danger he’d lean back and look out the window in contemplation. His mind ran through a couple different jobs and clients, and while it was potentially an outcome…..he failed to come up with any real suspects.

“Give me on sec.”. He’d say shooting out of the chair and walking out of the room. Navigating the house and allowing Clara to have unsupervised access of his office he’d make his way upstairs to grab his laptop before returning. The whole endeavor probably only took about three minutes. “Sorry about that.” He’d say booting up the laptop and loading a website. “Well, looks like we might know more tomorrow.” He’d say with a shrug while turning the laptop for Clara to see. On the screen was a website with an icon showing a delivery date of the next day, and a caption of “thank you for your purchase of one for glass”

At her question of what he did he gestured around the room at a variety of novelty objects. “Private investigating mostly. Standard cheaters and rich folks pay the majority of my bills. Though sometimes I go on some gigs with the coppers. Forensics mostly. Give Um a push in the right direction and all that ya know? Are you needing anything? Don’t want to take your money for nothing.” He’d say smiling a pleasant smile. “Are you missing anyone? Having a jealous lover problem? Need to communicate with the recently deceased to find the location of a missing will? Or just want a reading?” With each phrase he’d pull out a different object. The final leading to a no-maj card trick moving a deck from one hand to the other and then flipping several cards out.

To his delight, Clara seemed interested in what he had to say. Perhaps even intrigued. He was in sales mode half the time, and if there was one person who enjoyed Isaac Hellsinger, it was Isaac Hellsinger. As he finished, she even began to mention a job. Score.

Though when she mentioned New York, his face fell a bit. “Mmmm it’s not that I’m not interested…….and it’s possible………but we are a long way from New York ma’am. Let’s look at the calendar.” He’d tap on the computer opening up the application. He’d give a couple more taps that really were to anything, but sounded busy. He’d give a whistle, “well let’s hear it at least….maybe I can make it work, for the right gig.” His eyes reviewed the almost empty calendar, but he was in sales mode after all.

At the mention of the name he typed it in and scrolled through the top couple hits, mark any social media presence, and begin making a profile in his head subconsciously. Wouldn’t be that hard he’d reckon. His jobs with anyone famous mostly was around government officials and businessman, but despite having the money to pay for security they were typically easier to find. You always had an idea where they where, follow the crowd.

“Fairly vague, but I mean I could do that. It helps if you want something more specific. Or if you have any hunches, but we can discuss that if I decide to take the job.” He’d tap on the desk a couple times, mulling it over. He might not have much coming up, but there was always a chance, and he wasn’t made of money to just fly that far up the coast. Leaning back close to falling he’d snatch a deck of cards off the counter behind him. Giving it a shuffle he’d place two cards. Flipping them he’d see the ace of pentacles and the devil. “Mmmm quite the duality of a draw.” This was the sixth time in a row a random drawing at a random moment had shown the devil. A bit of bad luck he’d say, though he wasn’t convinced it was for him. Though denial had long standing been a close companion.

“I guess the real question, is what’s it worth to you, and how much do you want to know really?” He’d say, a smile that had the ability to look genuine, though undoubtedly hid something behind it.