Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction-esque story written about a few of the New X-Men specifically Laurie Collins aka Wallflower. The main character is an OC. So I don't own most characters that show up, but I do claim rights to Edward Griffin.
Author's Note: This is just a silly little short story meant to be written in the style of a 1930's style detective. This is what happens when I read nothing but Dashiell Hammett for a month, am over tired, and have some extra writing time. It's not meant to be great literature, just a fun adventure mystery romp. Please feel free to review, critique, etc. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 1: Doe Eyes
Some say that autumn brings about the change of all things. The continual death and rebirth that the world goes through from autumn, into winter, and then spring once more. It always happens. Every year. Edward Griffin couldn't even imagine what a year would be like if it didn't happen. Perhaps it'd be a lot like not having to clean the gutters, or sweep the leaves off the window when you opened it up.
This particular window was three stories up in an office building that was older than most of its occupants. It was the only window he had, and the outer ledge of it always piled up with leaves from who knew where. Once in a while he'd open it up, brush the leaves off and shut the window again. When work was slow. And work seemed to be slow.
Two divorce cases had just been wrapped up, and that had wrapped up what business the Griffin Detective Agency had open. Now he had to sit, and wait. The familiar staring contest with the door bearing the agency name had been going on for a while now. So far the door was winning. Giving up, he stood to pour himself a glass of scotch. That was when the door rattled with her knock.
She stepped in before he could respond, but held the door half closed, as if hiding herself behind it. She was a real doe eyed doll. She was a beauty, but one that was stuck in coach instead of riding first class through life. She wore a business suit and a sensible pair of heels, if anyone could call heels sensible. Her nails weren't painted, but they were well kept, and her voice was soft, sensitive almost, as if afraid she might be speaking too loudly.
"Are you Mister Griffin?"
He pointed towards the door, then to himself and nodded.
She told him her name was Laurie Collins. He told her to have a seat.
"What can I do for you Miss Collins?" He asked as he put the bottle away and sat down behind his desk once more.
Laurie took a seat across and gazed at him with her crystal blue eyes and then locked them onto the desk and wouldn't move them again. "I'll get right to the point Mister Griffin. My mother's been kidnapped."
"Your mother's been what?" Griffin asked.
"Kidnapped." She responded.
"That's what I thought you said. Look kid, here's the phone, all right?" He handed her the rotary that he kept on his desk on top of a few scattered case files.
"The phone?" She didn't understand.
"Call the police kid. A kidnapping ain't a job for a guy like me. That's official business."
"I don't think you understand…" She started. "I can't call the police." Her eyes started to leak, and she pulled a handkerchief from her purse.
"You mean it's a ransom?" Look at that, a detective can put two and two together.
"Not exactly." She explained.
"Then what exactly?" Griffin countered.
When the girl started crying full stop he surrendered, putting the phone back onto his desk proper.
"All right. All right." He offered her the handkerchief he kept in his desk. It was clean, unlike the one in his pocket. "Why don't you start from the beginning?" He paused. "When you can."
It took her a few moments, but she finally calmed herself down to something of a whimper, enough to tell her story. "I live with my mother in a small apartment in the city. It's not much but we make do." She blew her nose. "My father left when I was little. Mother says he's no good, and we're not supposed to have anything to do with him. I certainly haven't. Well… when I came home today I found the apartment trashed. I mean… stuff was torn up, knocked over, drawers turned out, everything."
"Was anything stolen?" Griffin interjected.
"No." Laurie answered.
"You're sure?"
"I checked. All the jewelry was there scattered, but there save what my mother and I were wearing. Our rainy day money was still in our spot, un-touched. I guess they didn't find it, but there were other things of value that weren't taken. Little decorations and such."
"And your mother?"
"Gone." Laurie answered.
"Any sign of struggle? A note?"
"Well, the place was overturned pretty much, and I wouldn't know what to look for, but there was this." She passed over a piece of paper that'd been folded four times. Pocket size.
It read very simply: 'Sean, if you want to see your wife again you know who to talk to. '
"Sean's your father?"
"Sean Garrison." Laurie volunteered the information as though it were of no consequence. She didn't know who Sean Garrison was.
"Do you know what your father does for a living?"
"Mother always said he was a no good, two bit con."
"Your mother was right. Probably. At the time that she said it." Griffin stood up. "Sean Garrison is one of the city's wealthiest men. He's a confidence trickster all right, but the cops don't have anything substantial that they can hold on him. He's never been charged. It's like he has a way of… controllin' people. It looks like someone's lookin' for a way to control him."
"With my mother?"
"Does your mother still use the name Garrison?"
"No. "
"Did she when she rented the apartment?"
"…Yes."
"That's her legal name still?"
"Well… yes."
"That's how. Whoever it is obviously doesn't know Garrison that well. Or they might be new to this. Either way they probably didn't know about you."
"Why do you say that?"
"Daddy's little girl sells for a lot more than any man's old lady."
"What?"
"It means they probably would have kidnapped you instead if they'd have known about you, but they didn't. They thought the second person in the apartment was Garrison."
"But he-"
"I know." Griffin shook his head. "You still ought to call the police."
"But… but if I do…"
"I know." Griffin tsked. Kidnappers got awful jumpy whenever the cops were called. And if the kidnappers were new to this, then that was all the more reason to be afraid – it meant they weren't very good or very professional. They were liable to make messy mistakes.
"Will you… take the case?" She looked up for the first time since she came in, and her blue crystalline eyes pleaded with him in a way that only eyes could.
"It's twenty nine dollars a day, plus expenses. One day retainer."
She faltered a little but nodded. Taking out the checkbook and writing him one for his first day's pay. He didn't want to take her money really, but he had to eat. "We don't have much money." She warned.
"I'll try to be quick. For anything else we can have you pay it as you can." He shook his head. "I've gotta make a few phone calls. You got a place you can stay?"
"The apartment."
"Anywhere else? Friends? Family?"
"No. We pretty much keep to ourselves." She answered.
"Sounds lonely and inconvenient."
She seemed like she hadn't quite heard that. "I'm sorry?"
"I said you're now under protective custody. You can't go back there. If the kidnappers find out Garrison has a daughter… well, they'll want to add you to their collection. As for now… I've got someone I know who can put you up for a few nights while I work this out."
"Thank you Mister Griffin."
He told her she could call him Griff.
End Chapter 1.