Title: Music for the Soul: Part IV
Author: Katherine Eve
Summary: Okay, no flashbacks yet. Danger is looming closer, but our heroes are having their own personal problems.
Characters: Angel, Doyle, Eve, a couple of bartenders (sorry, there is no Buffy)
Disclaimer: Angel and Doyle are not my creations, but the other (probably less interesting) characters are all mine.
Note: My box is always open, and I'm always listening to comments. Thanks for the feedback (it makes my day!!)
Chapter IV
With bare shoulders victim to the violent winds and rain that pelted down upon the earth, the girl paced silently through the shadows, clutching her guitar case with her slippery fingers. Aware of her stalker, she maintained her present course toward home. It was early morning, but the sun was blotted out by the turbulent storm that blanketed the sky. She seemed, however, to be in no hurry to escape the raging tempest.
On the roof tops of the buildings lining the street, the girl's stalker studied her intimately. Silently moving from roof to roof, the stalker kept a watchful eye on the musician, never loosing sight of her through the density of the rain.
As the girl rounded a corner and entered a large apartment building, the stalker descended from above. Following the girl through the doors of the building, the stalker kept a good distance behind her. She reached her final destination and unlocked the door to her apartment on the third floor. Making a note of her address, the stalker continued past her door and to the nearest elevator. After reaching the ground floor, the stalker flung open the building's doors and proceeded onward back into the rain.
***
The late-morning sun finally began to struggle free of the passing clouds when Angel closed the mansion door behind him.
"Cutting it a little close there aren't you, Angel?" Doyle stepped out from the shadows covering the floor. "Where'd you disappear off to?"
Angel shrugged slightly. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd take a walk."
"Oh, just a walk? Well, that's funny 'cause it seemed to me like you were out doing a little solo Angel stalking. You know. Without me." Doyle's voice was as cold as the accusation .
Angel rolled his eyes and began to strip off his rain-drenched coat. "Doyle, don't be ridiculous. I just have a hard time sleeping during the night, that's all. And even if I was investigating without you, I have a right to. You're my employee, not my partner. Remember? I give the orders and you follow them. That's how a boss/employee relationship works."
"Oh. Then I'm sorry, man, 'cause for a minute there I thought we were working together on this thing, but I guess I must have misunderstood." In frustration, Doyle stormed past Angel and forced open the doors. Angel staggered a few quick paces to the left as the sunlight streamed into the mansion. He swung around in time to see Doyle's figure vanish into the blinding light where Angel could not follow.
***
What was wrong with that crazy vampire, anyway? First he had snuck out during the night, and then denied he had gone behind Doyle's back! Further more, he shoved the boss/employee relationship in Doyle's face. What had happened to being friends? What had happened to the vampire Doyle thought he knew? Angel had never been the friendliest of heroes in the world, but he had never been mean. Something was eating away at him.
All these thoughts tumbled through Doyle's head as he meandered the streets of Sunnydale. He knew he had overreacted and handled the situation badly. It was unfair of him to have walked out when he knew Angel couldn't follow. It was up to Doyle to go back and fix things. The trouble was, Doyle didn't know if he really wanted to.
As he pondered his future, Doyle turned into the nearest bar. It was early in the morning and the real drinkers were still in their beds with hangovers, so the place was almost empty. The bartender glanced up at Doyle as the half-demon entered the bar. Doyle plopped himself down on a bar stool and politely asked for a beer. Normally he was glad to see an overflowing pilsner, but it just didn't seem to capture his appetite.
After a moment of silence as Doyle stared longingly into his glass, he shot a quick look at the bartender. "Well, aren't you gonna ask me if I want to talk about it?" he half pleaded, half-asked. "I've been trying my best to look all mopey over here and you haven't said a word. Isn't it your job to do the whole talking thing? Come on, man. It's not like you're busy or anything."
"Sorry, lad. It may be like that on television, but most people get upset when I try to poke into their personal lives. I figured you were the same. But, like you said. No one's here, so why don't you pour it out. I can listen for awhile. I'll warn you though, I'm not real good at this sort of thing." The bartender finished wiping off the counter and awaited Doyle's life story.
"Well, then. It's pretty simple, really. Just a little misunderstanding between friends is all. Well, I'm not really sure if we're even friends anymore. You see, he's actually my boss and..."
"Stop right there, my good fellow. I may not know a whole lot about the real world, but there is one thing that I can say for sure. If he's your boss, he's not your friend. The world just doesn't work like that. You can't take orders from a guy at the office and then go to his house for a friendly game of pool or whatever. If that's your problem, you've got to learn how the relationship works. I'm sorry, but you've got to make a choice. He can be your friend or he can be your boss. He can't be both," the bartender firmly stated.
Doyle sighed and pushed his beer aside. A nice talk with the bartender was supposed to make him feel better. Now he felt worse than when he had come in. "You know something. You're right," Doyle said as he looked up from the counter. "You're not very good at this sort of thing."
The bartender shrugged in confusion as Doyle stood up and slowly paced out of the bar. "I thought it was pretty good advice," he muttered to himself as he resumed wiping his counters.
***
Angel had patiently waited the day away. The storm still clung to the skies, but didn't block out the sun enough for him to go looking for Doyle. Angel knew Doyle had been upset, but he couldn't figure out why. Why would Doyle have stormed out over Angel taking a walk? Where had Doyle gotten the idea that Angel would betray him like that? This case was hard enough as it was without a tiff between friends.
Doyle had not returned when night fell. Without hesitation, Angel grabbed his now-dry trench coat, slipped it over his broad shoulders and stealthily moved out the door. He had already made his decision not to wait for Doyle any longer. Angel knew there was no time for that sort of nonsense.
The vampire was relieved when he saw the car still resting outside the mansion. At least Doyle hadn't taken it when he had left. Angel opened the door and sunk back into the leather driver seat. Calmly, he closed his eyes and blocked out all thoughts of his angered friend. He needed to be focused on the case, on that girl. Not on a personal relationship. Angel opened his eyes and turned the key in the ignition. With Doyle out of his head, he was ready for all the night had to offer.
At the Bronze, the party had started when the sun had gone down. Anyone who was anyone at Sunnydale High stood gossiping with friends or shaking on the dance floor. Anyone who *wanted* to be somebody at Sunnydale High had casually been forced off to a dark corner and condemned to sit alone. Each had glued a smile to their face, trying to look as though they were enjoying watching those they hated most dancing at the foot of the stage. Angel ignored all, both popular and rejected, as he made his way to the bartender standing behind the counter in the center of the room.
"That girl who performed here last night. Who is she?" Angel forcefully questioned. Only a few months ago it had been so hard for the vampire to talk to anyone. Angel remembered the first time he had met Doyle and was forced to strike up a conversation at a coffee shop with a girl he had never met before. That had almost turned into a disaster. After becoming a detective, however, Angel found he could now confidently question anyone he needed to.
"A little pushy there, aren't you?" the bartender replied. A sense of dread entered the man as he stared directly into the rock-solid face across the counter. "Oh, the girl," he laughed innocently. "Well, she plays here a lot. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her before. She's a favorite. You can't exactly dance to her music, but everyone seems to enjoy it.
"Anyway, she calls herself Eve. She started performing about a month or two ago. No one really knows much about her. I haven't seen her around anywhere except on that stage. I hear she rarely shows up at the high school. Whoever she is, she's pretty much a loner. No groupies for her."
Angel's expression had not changed during the man's explanation. "Do you know where I can find her?"
"Hey, buddy. I don't want to be responsible for sending some freaky stalker dressed all in black and a trench coat after her. I know even less about you than I do about her, and I definitely can tell you're not looking for an autograph. Besides, like I'm supposed to know where she lives. I just serve the drinks. I don't follow our performers home at night."
A small sign of frustration appeared on Angel's face. "Well, can you tell me when she'll perform again?"
The bartender nodded his head and pointed to the stage. "Turn around."
Angel had been unaware of the previous band's exit, and that a new performer had been setting up on stage. Her fiery hair had been pulled tightly back from her face to reveal her slim, white face. Her silky skin seemed to shimmer underneath the glare of the lights, and her shocking-blue eyes emitted a glow all of their own. Her outfit consisted of all black except a silver chain around her neck connecting to an intricate, silver cross that rested on the material of her high-cut shirt.
All socializing had ceased, and every eye rested on Eve as she slipped the guitar strap over her head. Again, no introduction preceded her. Again, the eerie music filled the room and sharpened the hairs of everyone's arms. She had played for an hour the night before, yet the crowd was still mesmerized by her. No one's interest faded. No one's attention flickered away from the singer.
"I'm fighting a new battle now
Not just for me, but for all
It's not only inside me
It fills the soul of everyone
the call..."
Angel stared intensely into the singer's piercing eyes as she glanced up from her guitar. Her gaze swept over the room, studying the bodies that stood motionless around her. Her eyes probed the audience as her head remained stationary. Angel stared closer into her eyes only to recognize his own reflection staring back at him. The two locked gazes briefly, and the music abruptly stopped.
Immediately, the audience was awakened from their trance back into reality and began looking around anxiously. A low murmur rose from the crowd as the redhead stepped back from the microphone. Within seconds, she had snapped shut her guitar case and silently vanished off stage. After a few moments passed, music was blasting from the speakers, and the Bronze began to return to normal.
***
Doyle hadn't expected Angel to still be at the mansion when Doyle returned a few hours after sunset. Angel had a clock to work by, and straightening things out with Doyle was not a top priority. So, the question was, what was Doyle going to do for the rest of the night? He could always track down Angel and go back to being under-appreciated and disrespected. Or he could go after the girl himself, without Angel. Sitting and doing nothing was a non-option. Doyle was going to help this girl, whether he was working with Angel or not. Within a few moments, Doyle had made his decision and headed back out to the streets of Sunnydale.
The Bronze was the first place to start. If anyone knew anything about this girl, Doyle would find out at the club. As he paced the sidewalks under the midnight skies, he noticed the older the night grew, a fewer number of people crowded the streets.
"Well, I guess when you live in 'vampire-land,' you don't stay out very long after dark," he muttered to himself.
As the midnight hour approached, cars packed with teenagers bound for home fled the parking lot of the dance club. Doyle found it easier to maneuver to the counter where he and Angel had been the night before now that the building was emptying.
"I'm looking for someone," Doyle stated as he slapped his hands down on the counter. "Well, two someones actually." After a slight pause, Doyle continued when there was no reply from the bartender. "The first is a tall guy. Big shoulders, all in black, pretty brooding looking. Some might consider him handsome," he added with a hint of distaste in his voice. "His name's Angel."
Still, no reply came from the bartender. "All right," Doyle nervously said as he rubbed his hands together. "The second is that girl who performed here last night. The little redhead. You've got to know who she is."
"Your friend was better at the interrogation thing than you," the bartender finally spoke. "Well, Eve is pretty popular tonight."
"Eve. That's the girl?"
"Yep. Your friend asked about her earlier."
"Well, where are they? That's kind of the whole point of this conversation," Doyle pushed.
"Why do you want to know?" The last interrogator had been intimidating, but the bartender found toying with this one rather amusing.
"Well, I figured we could all get together and play a little game of Twister. Maybe catch a movie afterwards. You're welcome to join us," Doyle replied. "Its none of your business why." His voice was full of force. "I'm asking *you* the questions, got it. Now, how about you telling me where they are."
The bartender gave a small sigh and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. The girl just stopped performing halfway through a song and walked off. It really confused the heck out of this place. She just packed up and left. Your friend left a few seconds later. To follow her, I'm sure. Where to, I don't know."
"Great. Well, this is not what I'd call a promising start." With the music still blasting Doyle could barely hear his own voice. "Does she have any friends you know of? You know, anyone she hangs with a lot. A performer like that always has some groupies."
"Look, I'm getting a little tired of this. I'm not the all-knowing bartender you seem to think I am, and I'm getting kind of freaked out about all this. I don't know who you and your friend are, but I'm sure Eve doesn't want to see you." The bartender ignored the calls for drinks as he leaned over the counter to stare Doyle in the eye.
"Look, man. I know this seems weird, but its not what you think. We're just here to help. I can't tell you much, but this girl is in some serious trouble. All we want to do is find her and help her out a bit. That's not such a bad thing, is it?" Doyle explained, trying to draw some sympathy from the man.
"Trouble, huh? What are you guys? Detectives?" the bartender questioned. He sighed and looked closely at Doyle's pleading face. "I guess you don't look like much of a threat. There is one girl she seems to be pretty close friends with who might be able to help you out. Her name is Amanda Swanson. She's goes to the high school."
"Amanda Swanson, huh?" Doyle smiled. "Thanks for the tip."
"Hmpf! This dectecting stuff isn't all that tough," Doyle muttered to himself as he walked out of the club. With a renewed sense of confidence, Doyle was ready to take on whatever came his way.
To Be Continued...will Doyle save the day?!
Author: Katherine Eve
Summary: Okay, no flashbacks yet. Danger is looming closer, but our heroes are having their own personal problems.
Characters: Angel, Doyle, Eve, a couple of bartenders (sorry, there is no Buffy)
Disclaimer: Angel and Doyle are not my creations, but the other (probably less interesting) characters are all mine.
Note: My box is always open, and I'm always listening to comments. Thanks for the feedback (it makes my day!!)
Chapter IV
With bare shoulders victim to the violent winds and rain that pelted down upon the earth, the girl paced silently through the shadows, clutching her guitar case with her slippery fingers. Aware of her stalker, she maintained her present course toward home. It was early morning, but the sun was blotted out by the turbulent storm that blanketed the sky. She seemed, however, to be in no hurry to escape the raging tempest.
On the roof tops of the buildings lining the street, the girl's stalker studied her intimately. Silently moving from roof to roof, the stalker kept a watchful eye on the musician, never loosing sight of her through the density of the rain.
As the girl rounded a corner and entered a large apartment building, the stalker descended from above. Following the girl through the doors of the building, the stalker kept a good distance behind her. She reached her final destination and unlocked the door to her apartment on the third floor. Making a note of her address, the stalker continued past her door and to the nearest elevator. After reaching the ground floor, the stalker flung open the building's doors and proceeded onward back into the rain.
***
The late-morning sun finally began to struggle free of the passing clouds when Angel closed the mansion door behind him.
"Cutting it a little close there aren't you, Angel?" Doyle stepped out from the shadows covering the floor. "Where'd you disappear off to?"
Angel shrugged slightly. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd take a walk."
"Oh, just a walk? Well, that's funny 'cause it seemed to me like you were out doing a little solo Angel stalking. You know. Without me." Doyle's voice was as cold as the accusation .
Angel rolled his eyes and began to strip off his rain-drenched coat. "Doyle, don't be ridiculous. I just have a hard time sleeping during the night, that's all. And even if I was investigating without you, I have a right to. You're my employee, not my partner. Remember? I give the orders and you follow them. That's how a boss/employee relationship works."
"Oh. Then I'm sorry, man, 'cause for a minute there I thought we were working together on this thing, but I guess I must have misunderstood." In frustration, Doyle stormed past Angel and forced open the doors. Angel staggered a few quick paces to the left as the sunlight streamed into the mansion. He swung around in time to see Doyle's figure vanish into the blinding light where Angel could not follow.
***
What was wrong with that crazy vampire, anyway? First he had snuck out during the night, and then denied he had gone behind Doyle's back! Further more, he shoved the boss/employee relationship in Doyle's face. What had happened to being friends? What had happened to the vampire Doyle thought he knew? Angel had never been the friendliest of heroes in the world, but he had never been mean. Something was eating away at him.
All these thoughts tumbled through Doyle's head as he meandered the streets of Sunnydale. He knew he had overreacted and handled the situation badly. It was unfair of him to have walked out when he knew Angel couldn't follow. It was up to Doyle to go back and fix things. The trouble was, Doyle didn't know if he really wanted to.
As he pondered his future, Doyle turned into the nearest bar. It was early in the morning and the real drinkers were still in their beds with hangovers, so the place was almost empty. The bartender glanced up at Doyle as the half-demon entered the bar. Doyle plopped himself down on a bar stool and politely asked for a beer. Normally he was glad to see an overflowing pilsner, but it just didn't seem to capture his appetite.
After a moment of silence as Doyle stared longingly into his glass, he shot a quick look at the bartender. "Well, aren't you gonna ask me if I want to talk about it?" he half pleaded, half-asked. "I've been trying my best to look all mopey over here and you haven't said a word. Isn't it your job to do the whole talking thing? Come on, man. It's not like you're busy or anything."
"Sorry, lad. It may be like that on television, but most people get upset when I try to poke into their personal lives. I figured you were the same. But, like you said. No one's here, so why don't you pour it out. I can listen for awhile. I'll warn you though, I'm not real good at this sort of thing." The bartender finished wiping off the counter and awaited Doyle's life story.
"Well, then. It's pretty simple, really. Just a little misunderstanding between friends is all. Well, I'm not really sure if we're even friends anymore. You see, he's actually my boss and..."
"Stop right there, my good fellow. I may not know a whole lot about the real world, but there is one thing that I can say for sure. If he's your boss, he's not your friend. The world just doesn't work like that. You can't take orders from a guy at the office and then go to his house for a friendly game of pool or whatever. If that's your problem, you've got to learn how the relationship works. I'm sorry, but you've got to make a choice. He can be your friend or he can be your boss. He can't be both," the bartender firmly stated.
Doyle sighed and pushed his beer aside. A nice talk with the bartender was supposed to make him feel better. Now he felt worse than when he had come in. "You know something. You're right," Doyle said as he looked up from the counter. "You're not very good at this sort of thing."
The bartender shrugged in confusion as Doyle stood up and slowly paced out of the bar. "I thought it was pretty good advice," he muttered to himself as he resumed wiping his counters.
***
Angel had patiently waited the day away. The storm still clung to the skies, but didn't block out the sun enough for him to go looking for Doyle. Angel knew Doyle had been upset, but he couldn't figure out why. Why would Doyle have stormed out over Angel taking a walk? Where had Doyle gotten the idea that Angel would betray him like that? This case was hard enough as it was without a tiff between friends.
Doyle had not returned when night fell. Without hesitation, Angel grabbed his now-dry trench coat, slipped it over his broad shoulders and stealthily moved out the door. He had already made his decision not to wait for Doyle any longer. Angel knew there was no time for that sort of nonsense.
The vampire was relieved when he saw the car still resting outside the mansion. At least Doyle hadn't taken it when he had left. Angel opened the door and sunk back into the leather driver seat. Calmly, he closed his eyes and blocked out all thoughts of his angered friend. He needed to be focused on the case, on that girl. Not on a personal relationship. Angel opened his eyes and turned the key in the ignition. With Doyle out of his head, he was ready for all the night had to offer.
At the Bronze, the party had started when the sun had gone down. Anyone who was anyone at Sunnydale High stood gossiping with friends or shaking on the dance floor. Anyone who *wanted* to be somebody at Sunnydale High had casually been forced off to a dark corner and condemned to sit alone. Each had glued a smile to their face, trying to look as though they were enjoying watching those they hated most dancing at the foot of the stage. Angel ignored all, both popular and rejected, as he made his way to the bartender standing behind the counter in the center of the room.
"That girl who performed here last night. Who is she?" Angel forcefully questioned. Only a few months ago it had been so hard for the vampire to talk to anyone. Angel remembered the first time he had met Doyle and was forced to strike up a conversation at a coffee shop with a girl he had never met before. That had almost turned into a disaster. After becoming a detective, however, Angel found he could now confidently question anyone he needed to.
"A little pushy there, aren't you?" the bartender replied. A sense of dread entered the man as he stared directly into the rock-solid face across the counter. "Oh, the girl," he laughed innocently. "Well, she plays here a lot. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her before. She's a favorite. You can't exactly dance to her music, but everyone seems to enjoy it.
"Anyway, she calls herself Eve. She started performing about a month or two ago. No one really knows much about her. I haven't seen her around anywhere except on that stage. I hear she rarely shows up at the high school. Whoever she is, she's pretty much a loner. No groupies for her."
Angel's expression had not changed during the man's explanation. "Do you know where I can find her?"
"Hey, buddy. I don't want to be responsible for sending some freaky stalker dressed all in black and a trench coat after her. I know even less about you than I do about her, and I definitely can tell you're not looking for an autograph. Besides, like I'm supposed to know where she lives. I just serve the drinks. I don't follow our performers home at night."
A small sign of frustration appeared on Angel's face. "Well, can you tell me when she'll perform again?"
The bartender nodded his head and pointed to the stage. "Turn around."
Angel had been unaware of the previous band's exit, and that a new performer had been setting up on stage. Her fiery hair had been pulled tightly back from her face to reveal her slim, white face. Her silky skin seemed to shimmer underneath the glare of the lights, and her shocking-blue eyes emitted a glow all of their own. Her outfit consisted of all black except a silver chain around her neck connecting to an intricate, silver cross that rested on the material of her high-cut shirt.
All socializing had ceased, and every eye rested on Eve as she slipped the guitar strap over her head. Again, no introduction preceded her. Again, the eerie music filled the room and sharpened the hairs of everyone's arms. She had played for an hour the night before, yet the crowd was still mesmerized by her. No one's interest faded. No one's attention flickered away from the singer.
"I'm fighting a new battle now
Not just for me, but for all
It's not only inside me
It fills the soul of everyone
the call..."
Angel stared intensely into the singer's piercing eyes as she glanced up from her guitar. Her gaze swept over the room, studying the bodies that stood motionless around her. Her eyes probed the audience as her head remained stationary. Angel stared closer into her eyes only to recognize his own reflection staring back at him. The two locked gazes briefly, and the music abruptly stopped.
Immediately, the audience was awakened from their trance back into reality and began looking around anxiously. A low murmur rose from the crowd as the redhead stepped back from the microphone. Within seconds, she had snapped shut her guitar case and silently vanished off stage. After a few moments passed, music was blasting from the speakers, and the Bronze began to return to normal.
***
Doyle hadn't expected Angel to still be at the mansion when Doyle returned a few hours after sunset. Angel had a clock to work by, and straightening things out with Doyle was not a top priority. So, the question was, what was Doyle going to do for the rest of the night? He could always track down Angel and go back to being under-appreciated and disrespected. Or he could go after the girl himself, without Angel. Sitting and doing nothing was a non-option. Doyle was going to help this girl, whether he was working with Angel or not. Within a few moments, Doyle had made his decision and headed back out to the streets of Sunnydale.
The Bronze was the first place to start. If anyone knew anything about this girl, Doyle would find out at the club. As he paced the sidewalks under the midnight skies, he noticed the older the night grew, a fewer number of people crowded the streets.
"Well, I guess when you live in 'vampire-land,' you don't stay out very long after dark," he muttered to himself.
As the midnight hour approached, cars packed with teenagers bound for home fled the parking lot of the dance club. Doyle found it easier to maneuver to the counter where he and Angel had been the night before now that the building was emptying.
"I'm looking for someone," Doyle stated as he slapped his hands down on the counter. "Well, two someones actually." After a slight pause, Doyle continued when there was no reply from the bartender. "The first is a tall guy. Big shoulders, all in black, pretty brooding looking. Some might consider him handsome," he added with a hint of distaste in his voice. "His name's Angel."
Still, no reply came from the bartender. "All right," Doyle nervously said as he rubbed his hands together. "The second is that girl who performed here last night. The little redhead. You've got to know who she is."
"Your friend was better at the interrogation thing than you," the bartender finally spoke. "Well, Eve is pretty popular tonight."
"Eve. That's the girl?"
"Yep. Your friend asked about her earlier."
"Well, where are they? That's kind of the whole point of this conversation," Doyle pushed.
"Why do you want to know?" The last interrogator had been intimidating, but the bartender found toying with this one rather amusing.
"Well, I figured we could all get together and play a little game of Twister. Maybe catch a movie afterwards. You're welcome to join us," Doyle replied. "Its none of your business why." His voice was full of force. "I'm asking *you* the questions, got it. Now, how about you telling me where they are."
The bartender gave a small sigh and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. The girl just stopped performing halfway through a song and walked off. It really confused the heck out of this place. She just packed up and left. Your friend left a few seconds later. To follow her, I'm sure. Where to, I don't know."
"Great. Well, this is not what I'd call a promising start." With the music still blasting Doyle could barely hear his own voice. "Does she have any friends you know of? You know, anyone she hangs with a lot. A performer like that always has some groupies."
"Look, I'm getting a little tired of this. I'm not the all-knowing bartender you seem to think I am, and I'm getting kind of freaked out about all this. I don't know who you and your friend are, but I'm sure Eve doesn't want to see you." The bartender ignored the calls for drinks as he leaned over the counter to stare Doyle in the eye.
"Look, man. I know this seems weird, but its not what you think. We're just here to help. I can't tell you much, but this girl is in some serious trouble. All we want to do is find her and help her out a bit. That's not such a bad thing, is it?" Doyle explained, trying to draw some sympathy from the man.
"Trouble, huh? What are you guys? Detectives?" the bartender questioned. He sighed and looked closely at Doyle's pleading face. "I guess you don't look like much of a threat. There is one girl she seems to be pretty close friends with who might be able to help you out. Her name is Amanda Swanson. She's goes to the high school."
"Amanda Swanson, huh?" Doyle smiled. "Thanks for the tip."
"Hmpf! This dectecting stuff isn't all that tough," Doyle muttered to himself as he walked out of the club. With a renewed sense of confidence, Doyle was ready to take on whatever came his way.
To Be Continued...will Doyle save the day?!