Right-o! Welcome one and all to the weekly installment of Of Gumshoes and Moonlighters. I would like to take the time now to extend my eternal gratitude to my readers and reviewers. The feedback that you have all offered is fantastic! The warm fuzzy feelings are due to your acknowledgement that this story exists and the time you have taken to let me know what you think. If you're reading this story, I really do encourage you to speak up about what you enjoy and what you think isn't so great.

Disclaimer: Do I have to say it? You're all bright people.

Rachel Roth

Rachel Roth had known it was going to be one of those days where, by noon, she would wish she had just stayed in bed. Seven thirty sharp, Rachel had been jarred from her dreams by a rapping on the door. It was the first week of October and rent was collected on the first day of every month. Unfortunately, Rachel was having a few financial difficulties, so she had been dodging the landlord for the past three days.

"Come on Roth! I know you're in there!" More hammering on the door. The landlord, Mr. Taloose, was a pudgy man with a shiny sheen over his hairless head that caused many to speculate that he used a floor-waxer on it. Taloose resembled a squirrel with one too many nuts crammed into its mouth. In fact, everything about the man screamed small furry rodent, but without the redeeming cuteness factor.

Rachel was pulling on her shoes as Taloose was yelling. For all of his pretended certainty, Taloose had no proof that Rachel was actually in her room. There was a fire escape right outside Rachel's window and for the past two mornings, she'd been climbing down the rusted metal ladders to get out of the building.

As Rachel clambered out the window, she heard something slide into the lock. Rachel slammed the window behind her and jumped down the first mini-ladder onto the landing below. The trouble with avoiding the landlord was that they usually knew the building just as well, if not better, than their tenants did. They also had a key to every room in the building.

"Buenos dias, Raquel," Rachel felt like her heart had just stopped.

"Christ Miguel! You scared me half to death." Rachel hissed at the open window behind her. Miguel was one of Rachel's few friends in the apartment.

"Good to see you too. Would you like to come in for some coffee?" The Hispanic teen asked while moving around his cramped kitchen. Miguel was nineteen and living in the apartment alone. He had some sort of problem with his father. Rachel hadn't pried.

"I can't. Taloose just broke into my room and there's no telling where he's going to check next."

"Ah," Miguel sighed knowingly, "the never ending battle between a landlord and their reluctant tenants."

Rachel didn't bother dignifying that with a response. "Look," Rachel said, "I need to get down to the street but Taloose has a view of the fire escape if he's still in my room."

"And?" Miguel rubbed a bug bite on his arm while pouring himself a mug of black coffee.

"I could use some cover." Rachel flattened herself against the building wall when she caught movement up from the direction of her window. It was only a blue jay.

"You can never be too careful," Miguel laughed from behind Rachel, "those blue birds are a tricky breed."

"Will you help me or not?" Rachel turned to face the window. Her annoyance was getting the best of her, an occurrence that Miguel always found amusing.

"Si, si," Miguel's deep brown eyes continued to sparkle as he stepped outside of his room. A crash could be heard a little later. Miguel had probably broken the yellow flower vase outside Jean's room. She had a pet pig so getting Taloose to believe that it had been an accident wouldn't be hard. Unfortunately, for Jean and her pig, if Taloose got his way, breakfast tomorrow might come with a side of bacon. Rachel was down the fire escape just as Taloose's shouts threw the first shingles off of the dilapidated roof.

Work hadn't been any better. One of the drones from Brother's Blood had the gall to walk into her shop and start a conversation with her. Blood was getting impatient and wanted the artifacts she had been charged with retrieving, immediately. When Rachel had asked for a little of what she had been promised in exchange for what she already had, she'd been told all or nothing.

So, The Raven had struck again. Another poorly guarded safe house, another security guard who was going to get fired because of her, another safe. Finally, The Raven had left with a package wrapped in plain brown paper. It looked like an umbrella, but in actuality, it was a pillar of granite about three billion years old with flecks of red, blue and green sprinkled throughout. There was an indent in the top where it looked like something could be screwed in.

The granite was about eight inches tall and had a three-inch square base. There were miniature stairs on the artifact, small enough to be used by an ant. The stairs moved in a gentle spiral up to the top of the artifact. In place of the granite pillar, The Raven had left a granite slab of the same general dimensions that she had picked up off the ground. Where there was an indent on the original, the replacement had a painted black raven.

Rachel had then driven toward her apartment, dressed in civilian clothes with her cloak secured under her seat. She would have just gone home and slept until she remembered that Taloose was probably sitting on her bed, grubby hands outstretched for a check Rachel couldn't pay. Rachel turned her car around and decided to go to one of the places nobody would ever look for her.

Richard had been scoping out the club and the people in it for ninety minutes. Very boring work and the music was probably worse than bad for his ears. There was a young teenage girl, probably nineteen, who had just been brought a drink. Richard would have stepped in and done something but he remembered the person giving her the drink had walked in holding her hand: probably a couple so no danger there.

For Richard, clubs were uncomfortable places. Still, he'd always been a bit of a people watcher. Ironic really. He got a thrill from creating stories and fitting them to people. The best part was if and when he got conformation about his fictions.

As time had passed, the dance floor had become even more crowded. Richard was just sitting in a corner with a bottle of spring water. Richard didn't like drinking. It impaired his judgement and reaction time. As Richard scanned the mass of people around him, his eyes landed on a gorgeous woman who was navigating along the walls. She looked mildly uncomfortable but was shrugging it off nonetheless.

She moved with confidence but it was a quiet thing. She knew what she wanted and who she was but she wasn't domineering. She was dressed conservatively in black jeans and a short sleeved blue shirt. Richard's eyes followed the woman as she went to the bar, bought a light beer, and headed for a secluded booth.

Richard took some time to further examine how she moved and how she was dressed. She wasn't a usual clubber. In fact, she looked about as out of place here as Richard felt. She was here for a reason – maybe to meet somebody. Richard's fiction continued to unfold.

She wasn't here for fun. That was obvious. No, she wanted to lose somebody. Maybe a jealous ex- or a guy who was too perfect to be true was tailing her. She didn't seem like the type to get involved in a fling of any sort, even one that took place under the influence of drugs. The small sips she was taking from her drink didn't seem indicative of an alcoholic.

Her clothes weren't the latest fashion, at least not to the best of Richard's knowledge. Admittedly, he wasn't the best person to ask for fashion advice. The beer she'd bought was one of the cheaper drinks offered by Big Moe's. Financial difficulty? If that was the case, she owned her own business. Richard only had to look once to tell that she was smart enough to earn twice his salary. Garfield interrupted Richard's story exercise.

"Pretty isn't she?"

Richard jumped at the sound of Garfield's voice. "When did you get here?"

"Few seconds ago." Garfield slid into a seat across from Richard. "I don't know, Dick. She seems out of your league."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Richard really didn't know what Garfield was talking about. Sometimes, it was as if the two friends spoke different languages.

"Great," Garfield said before bouncing out of his seat. "That means she's up for grabs."

Richard rolled his eyes behind his shades as Garfield trotted off toward the woman. Now he understood. That was just like Garfield. Richard couldn't help thinking that he had seen her before. But where? They were new to Jump City and he hadn't met a whole lot of people. Then Richard remembered. This was the woman he had tailed earlier.

Richard got up and started toward the table that the mystery woman and his partner were occupying. Garfield looked like he was trying to engage her in conversation. She looked like she was trying to find the nearest exit.

As Richard got closer, he caught a little bit of their conversation. "So, what brings you here tonight?"

"Nothing really. I just want to kill a little time." Richard smiled to himself. He'd been right on at least one count.

"Really? Would you maybe like to dan…"

Richard cut in before the question could be asked; "Leave her alone, Gar."

The woman looked up at Richard and he caught a good look of her face. Had he thought she was gorgeous before? He had been wrong. She was stunning, amazing, unbelievable. The way the lights bounced off of her alabaster skin gave the illusion that she was glowing. Her hair was a flowing mass of black that caught the light when she moved her head. Then there were her eyes: such a piercing violet. Richard felt like he would get lost if he looked directly into those eyes.

"You know him?" Her voice was a steady pitch that bounced around in Richard's ears like so many tinkling bells.

"Yes, this is my partner, Garfield Logan."

"Rachel Roth," she introduced herself but made no move to shake either of their hands.

Garfield leaned back in the booth seat. "Gar and Dick, operators of Logan and Grayson."

"Never heard of you," Rachel said before taking another small sip from the glass of amber liquid in her right hand.

"You wouldn't have," Richard broke in before Garfield got the change to speak, "we're private investigators. Just moved here from Gotham City." Richard noticed that Rachel had just swallowed. "Nervous?" He wouldn't have asked but the action seemed more exaggerated than it should have been.

Rachel shook her head quickly. "Just surprised. I've never met private investigators before. Didn't all of you die out with the discovery of electricity?"

"Yeah well, Dick and I just happen to be some of the best Pi's around," Garfield said, smoothly ignoring the barbed humor.

Rachel raised an eyebrow before turning to Richard again. "I really need to get going." As she got up Rachel seemed to think about something. "Do you guys do missing people?"

"Sometimes," both Richard and Garfield responded at the same time.

Rachel nodded to herself. "Thanks, maybe I'll get in touch with you guys later."

After Rachel had left, Garfield smirked at Richard. "You like her. You like her a lot."

"I just met her." Richard waved Garfield's accusation away.

"You're in denial. That's okay, Dick, we can work this out." Garfield was coddling Richard and, at any other time, it would have bothered him. Right now, he was more interested in Rachel.

"Did that seem at all strange to you, Gar? She wanted to kill time but barely spent ten minutes in here." Richard's sixth sense was drilling a hole in the back of his head. What was going on here?

"You really need to relax, Dick. Over-analysis can wait until tomorrow, can't it?"

"Yeah, I guess. Are you ready to go?"

Next Update: Wednesday, August 2, 2006