Every alleyway in Hell looked as one would expect: dingy, covered in graffiti, with trash strewn everywhere. Sometimes there was an overflowing dumpster, people having sex, stabbing one another, doing drugs, or all of the above. In general, it was best to stick to the main streets as it gave more room to maneuver when chaos broke out. But Claire was armed with an address today and that address led her down an alleyway that only had one passed out sinner strewn across it and a minimal amount of garbage, so that seemed like a good sign.
She approached a door that was partially ajar, double checking the note she'd written and the number on the door before gingerly pushing it open further. She met some resistance and had to use both hands, stepping inside an office that looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Furniture was tipped over; every drawer was in disarray, emptied on the floor or every available surface.
"Yikes, what happened here?" She asked a weaselly looking fellow who was kneeling amid the disaster sorting things into piles.
He glanced up with a wary, suspicious expression on his pointed face, "Someone trashed the place. Looking for money or drugs—I dunno." He sorted through another bunch of papers and stood up, walking away from her towards the only upright desk in the place. "They must've gotten mad when they didn't find anything. What do you want? I'm a little busy right now."
Claire followed him further into the room, trying not to tread on too many of the various items strewn over the floor. "I'm investigating Orkas' death and I was told this was his office. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"You're trying to solve a murder in Hell?" His voice was more than incredulous and he shook his head, tapping the bundle of papers in his hands into a neat pile, "Lady, I don't have time for that level of crazy."
"I'll make it quick," Claire promised, flipping her notepad open to a new page and getting her pen ready. "I heard that Orkas worked with new sinners—what exactly was the deal there?"
For a second it seemed like he wouldn't answer, giving her a long, judgmental look. Then he shrugged, turning to shove the papers into a briefcase, "Orkas'd offer to protect them in exchange for their souls. Ingenious business model, really. He'd get those suckers before they knew what was what," he said with a wistful nostalgia. "I was his assistant. Kept all the details in order. It was a good gig till he went and got himself killed."
Quickly following up in case he changed his mind about talking, Claire asked, "Do you think one of them might've come after him once they realized what was going on?"
"You'd have to ask them," was the dismissive reply, though he turned to rifle through another more disorganized stack of debris, "We kept a list of the people Orkas had on retainer. I haven't been able to find the original in this mess, but I kept a copy just in case. Hold on."
He pushed over a chair and then dug his arm under a filing cabinet, pulling out a small folder, which he offered out to Claire. "Here. It might be missing some people since I last updated, but it's better than nothing if you want to waste your time."
Claire eagerly took it from him, tucking her notepad under her arm so she could flip through it. It contained rows of names, dates, and addresses in neat handwriting that went back a few years. Not every page was full, but there had to be a few hundred people listed in there from her quick calculations.
"This is great, thanks!" Claire replied, snapping it shut, "Do you mind if I take it with me?"
"Burn it for all I care," the assistant said with a shrug, turning to pick up a couple of boxes and grunting under the strain, "But maybe think twice about trying to find out who killed him. Taking down an overlord, even a low level one, is no small thing. Speaking of," he inclined his head towards the door that she'd managed to wedge partway open, "Can you get the door? I want to get out of here before those fuckers come back."
"Sure," Claire shifted more things out of the way so that the door could fully open, holding it for him as he passed. "Thanks for the list. And your time."
She watched him as he rounded the corner of the alley, opening the folder with the list of names once more. A lot of the addresses were familiar enough that she knew they'd be nearby. Suddenly her afternoon looked very busy.
The next couple of hours were busy, though Claire was soon reminded that busy and productive didn't necessarily go hand in hand. Most of the time when she knocked on a door, she barely had time to get out a half-hearted greeting before someone would shout an expletive or twelve and slam it shut in her face. One person just threw a mug of coffee at her.
Claire could still smell it in her hair as she trudged through the front doors of the hotel with slumped shoulders. She barely even noticed Niffty dusting some of the furniture, certainly didn't notice that her menu had once again been tampered with ('Lemon Chicken' was crossed out, replaced with a hastily scrawled 'JAMBALAYA'), and headed straight for one of the couches, falling face first onto it.
Niffty paused in her work and shuffled over, looking down at her curiously, "…bad day?"
"I'd sell my soul for a lead right now," Claire replied in a voice muffled by cushions.
After a beat, without looking up, she added in a flat, still muffled tone, "Keep walking, Radio Demon."
"Aw," Alastor chided from where he'd manifested from the shadows, leaning on the back of the couch and looking down at her with far less sympathy than Niffty, "is playing detective not panning out for you?"
Claire pushed herself up to give him a quick glare as she made her way to her feet, "I'm not playing and it's early days," she told him firmly, squaring her shoulders. "I'll get back out there tomorrow." She wasn't sure if that last part was for his benefit or hers.
Alastor watched her, still casually leaning against the back of the couch, though his gaze was as sharp as his tone, "New sinners shouldn't be wandering around Hell unarmed," he warned her, "It's dangerous."
"But I'm not unarmed," Claire countered saucily, turning to head up the stairs with new resolve. "I've got my smile."