It is a dark and stormy night. The clouds are forming a haze across the dimly lit moon, kind of like the haze that is in my mind right now. Part of it is the liquor, and another part is because I managed to pull up half of my pepper seedlings this morning, mistaking them for weeds. Whether or not they'll survive where they're replanted will remain to be seen.

Looks like I'm rooted in the same kind of situation.

It's during evenings like these when I sometimes still can hear the call from the city and wonder if I had made the wrong choice by moving out here. Although I've been here for a little over half a year, things never seem change in this sleepy little town. It's definitely a far cry from my previous job as a private investigator with the big city lights, drama, and hot cases, but I suppose it could be home for some. Here, no one has a past, or at least everyone pretends not to. Things are cleaner that way, I suppose. I was happy enough to adopt the tradition as one of my own. I prop my boots up on the edge of the table and take a sip from my whiskey, looking at the drizzle trickling down the window panes. The droplets race their way down the glass – where they are in such a hurry to get to is beyond me.

I take a long drink and focus on the slight burn the beverage leaves in my throat. Today had been a rough one. I didn't move to the country out of passion for working the land – I'm a lousy farmer. I haven't been able to bring in much money for the past few weeks. No money means nothing to pay the bills, and a shut off notice will make for a very cold reception to this new town. I produce a packet of cigarettes from my pocket and light one, taking a long drag and exhaling deeply. Despite my new lifestyle, some things never change. The mellow aftertaste of a menthol… Yes, sometimes it's the simple things that make life worthwhile.

The oaken door lets out a large squeak as she bursts through the doorway. She is evidence that it is still raining outside. Her blonde curls cling to her face and the dampness from the rain is causing her dress to cling to her body in all the right places – she is a wild vision in scarlet and she has never looked more beautiful.

"Muffy?"

"We need your help, Pete. The Blue Bar is in trouble!"

First it's the peppers, and now this fiery dame needs help. Bad news always comes in pairs. Or is it threes?

She leans on the table, the supple curves of her womanly features on plain display for me to see. Averting my eyes, I silently curse my pappy for instilling in me to remain a gentleman in all instances, but the whiskey in me already has that lesson melting away. I calmly inhale another lungful of menthol. "Tell me what's happening, dollface."

She slowly reaches into the bosom of her dress and produces a small card. "You see, we found this." She holds it out between her slim fingers. "Left on the counter of the bar earlier this evening. No one seems to know when it first appeared there."

I take the card out of her hand and look it over carefully. It's standard white cardstock folded pristinely in half, and the words are written in a flourished scrawl.

I'm going to bless your bar with my presence at midnight for a drink.

~Phantom Skye

"Looks like you have a guest planning a reservation. Seems like you'd be happy about that." It was hardly a secret that the only bar in town was falling on hard times.

Muffy lets out a sigh. "All of our customers bring us joy. Some by coming, others by leaving. I'm not thrilled about having a famous thief planning a robbery, especially one who has the nerve to send out a warning in advance."

I look at her curiously. There was a thief running around in this small town? "What makes you think I can do something about your phantom? I'm just a lousy farmer, after all."

Winking at me, she leans further across the table and pulls my cigarette out of my mouth, taking a drag on it herself and blowing a few smoke rings into the air above us. "I've heard this snake is rather… slippery. I figured you were pretty good at handling pests, considering you're often scaring off vermin from your own fields. Besides, I promise I'll make it… worth your while." A smirk plays at the corner of her mouth.

My mouth is hung slightly ajar at the thought of a reward and she lets out a silky giggle, placing the cigarette back between my lips and giving my cheek a gentle pat. "Well it's getting late. Perhaps we should head over to the Blue Bar to stake him out."

I check my watch. "Damn, it is getting late." Putting out the cigarette in my ash tray, I knock back the remaining whiskey in my glass, the liquid leaving a pleasant warmth within me. Throwing on my cap, I follow stand up and stretch. "The more time we have to prepare, the better. We'd better make like an egg and scramble."

0o0o0o0

Author's Note: I've been having fun experimenting with different styles lately, and I'd love to hear what you think. I've been dying to do something in noir for something as innocent and wholesome as Harvest Moon, haha. The due date on this prompt is June 21, so I'm planning to have the whole shebang finished by then; it might end up taking the front burner for a while.

Here's to looking up your old address, folks.