Chapter One: The Detective's Lament

For those of you who don't know who I am, my name is Detective Dick Gumshoe. For those of you who do know who I am, let me assure you; you don't.

I've been homicide detective down at the precinct for about six years or so. Yeah. I know what you're thinking. You've probably thinking of some fifty- something desk jockey with a wife and kids and a stogie in his mouth, who's spent his entire career growing fat off a pension. But being Detective sure ain't all it's cracked up to be. Every day, it seems I gotta wake up to something ugly. Right now, I want you to take a good look at your life. Chances are, you've got it pretty good, considering you probably haven't seen two different women bludgeoned to death by a stone clock. The same stone clock. Whenever I get up in the morning, it seems the only reason I need to is so that I can rush down to God knows where to find some stiff that's been shot, stabbed, poisoned, crushed, pushed off a cliff or run through with a spear. A spear, for Christ's sake. Every day seems to be a tour of all the evil that people can do, and a reminder of what more they could do if I wasn't there to stop 'em. And being Detective sure doesn't entitle you to any special treatment. After a few years, you develop a stomach for pencil necks who get in your way, unnecessary pay cuts and the delightful people who take the time to shout out "PIG!" at every coffee shop and street corner I pass through. Those guys are lucky I never bother loading my gun.

But my story begins in the wake of a huge court case. Y'see, one of the biggest loan sharks in the city, one Furio Tigre, proprietor of the "Tender Lender," had a client named Glen Elg who had a little bit too much outstanding debt for his liking. So he decided to treat him to a nice meal at a local restaurant, poison him and pin it on whatever patsy he could find, which in this case happened to be the restaurant's only waitress. But to make a long story short, the whole thing came crashing down around him, and he was brought up on first-degree murder charges. However, the word on the street is that his entire enterprise was inherited by his mistress, Viola Caverdini. Problem is, Miss Caverdini just so happens to be the granddaughter of Bruto Caverdini, the city's reigning mafia don. So, basically, we have a network of loan sharks that just conveniently fell into the hands of the mob. It ain't good. But from what it looks like, the whole court case blew a huge whole in the Tender Lender's cover, and it looks like I have an opportunity to hit 'em where it hurts before the mafia closes in on the whole thing.

I got up in the morning and headed down to the precinct. Not that there's been a lot to do around there at the moment. The last thing that Tigre's people did before we caught him was infect the police station's computer mainframe with a virus. Pretty ballsy move; one that ultimately put the noose around his neck for his conviction. But the long and short of it is that all our records are GONE. The city sent a couple of eggheads around to try and recover them, but I'm not holding my breath. I never thought that all that hoidy-toidy, high-tech stuff was that important to police work, but it seems like the entire station house is in shambles. It's just sad.

So, anyways, I get to my desk, and I find I've got a couple of messages, Most of it is just paperwork, but one of them is from Maggey Byrde, an old friend of mine. Says she wants to do lunch sometime. Hell, I could probably fit it in today, after I pay a visit to Ms. Caverdini.

I take my cruiser down to the Tender Lender's main building. Christ, what a wreck. This end of town gives me the willies, and I'm a cop. I open the door, to find Miss Caverdini herself working the reception. Before I can open my mouth, she starts with her whole "hospitality" routine.

"Hello, Detective. How may I help you?"

So she knows who I am. Well, then I can dispense with the pleasantries.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions, Ms. Caverdini."

"Oh, and here I am, thinking you were looking for a loan."

"Like hell. Now, first off, now that you've inherited the Tender Lender, are you going to maintain the pursuit of your pre-existing indebtors?"

"I didn't know you spoke legal jargon, Detective. I'm impressed."

"Just answer the question, will you?" (I had no intention of letting her know I'd spent all last night with a thesaurus looking that up.)

"Tender Lender is not a charity, Detective. If we had any clients from the previous administration with outstanding debts, then those debts will continue to be collected."

"Through legitimate means, I'm assuming."

"Why, of course. Tender Lender has always prided itself on its integrity."

It kills me when crooks do this. They aren't fooling anyone. This entire discussion has just been one long taunt on her part, and I don't take kindly to being taunted.

"Is this the only reason you came here, Detective?

Enough games. Time to wrap this up.

"I'm here to offer a warning to you, Miss Caverdini."

"A warning?" she queried, maintaining her sly tone.

"We know all about this operation. The next time you slip up, you're basically finished. My advice is to close up shop and head someplace else."

Her condescension fades. I can tell I've pissed her off, and this is the sort of woman who's used to getting what she wants. I can see her reaching underneath her desk. I've got a good idea of what happens next.

"Now, Detective, I want to be clear. I have absolutely no idea what you are referring to. Now if you don't vacate these premises immediately, I'll have you charged with police brutality."

She's good. A guy like Tigre would have lost it right now. But she's kept her cool the entire time. Almost admirable, in a way. I was planning on pressing her a little harder, but at that point, two large men in black suits and sunglasses marched in from the back room.

"I believe these men can show you to the door."

"No worries, pal. I can show myself out."

I walk out the door, trying as hard as I can to smile on my way out.

You're probably thinking that showing her my hand like that was a dumb move. I don't think so. I had quite a few reasons for visiting Miss Caverdini. First off, I like an opponent that's on edge. They're more likely to screw up. After our visit, she'll either be angry or nervous or both. Either way, she'll try to cover everything she does, and the more she covers, the more there is to uncover. Second of all, I kind of feel sorry for her. She's smart, she's attractive. She probably could've gotten ahead in the world if she wasn't related to a dirtbag like Bruto Caverdini. I'm a nice guy, so I thought it wouldn't be fair to go after her without giving her a chance to get out.

Another thing is that now that I've made the first move, I can expect her to retaliate and plan ahead. I'd rather know that she's planning to strike back than get caught red –handed snooping around. I've known too many cops who were whacked because they had no idea the wrong kind of people had found out what they were up to. There's another reason I had a chat with Miss Caverdini, but that's for later. I've got a lunch date to head down to.