We trailed behind Lochlan as he led us to a spacious room that looked like a conference room and not what I expected when he said there were extra offices here.
“I thought you said that there was extra space here. Why are you giving us your conference room?” I asked.
“This was a conference room. I wanted space for you all to be together and it has a separate phone line, so you can still operate as independent as possible from our agency,” said Lochlan.
“A conference room is fine. This is generous and appreciated,” said Sterling.
“If you’re okay with this space, then let’s get desks moved in. What else do you need to get started?”
“I’ll come with you and get the desks. I can tell you what we’ll need then,” said Sterling.
They left and I took that as my cue to leave. On my way out, Callie stopped me.
“Aren’t you going to help us get set up?”
“No. You have more than enough help. The best way I can help us is by working my cases.”
“You should wait –”
“I’m not waiting and I don’t need permission to do my job. Later, Callie.”
Muffin’s head hung out the window and Betty didn’t seem to mind the stream of drool defacing her. We were almost to my next destination.
The Hamm’s neighborhood, Tally Hill, teetered on the edge of Uptown, but was still part of the upper class divide that was Uptown. It hovered close enough to the Mid Line, that you could argue it was also part of that.
Tally Hill was an ugly, manufactured neighborhood that was once part of an industrial area. And, to make the name even more confusing, there wasn’t a single hill anywhere near it. All the buildings were converted to housing, but the outside of each house retained its original design. The result was a hodgepodge of houses in all sorts of shapes and sizes.
To cover up the distinct industrial feel of the place, there was a riotous display of flowers, greenery, and even trees around each of the buildings. It failed to pretty up the place and only highlighted just how ugly the buildings were.
Muffin trotted next to me as I went up to the Hamm residence. I knocked hard on the door and it opened within seconds. It was only open wide enough for the owner to peer out.
“Are you Norman Hamm?” I asked.
The door opened a bit more and I saw a handsome, middle-aged man. I thought over what the intake report said about his appearance. Absent was the white whiskers that Callie mentioned in that report. Way to be accurate Callie.
Getting an accurate description of a client was one of the more important parts of the intake report. Often, we worked cases that we hadn’t done the intake report for, so we didn’t know what our clients looked like.
“Yes, how can I help you?” he asked, while still hiding behind the door.
He didn’t need to use it as a shield. I wasn’t going to attack him and neither was Muffin. Maybe he worried that my being blue collar worker would somehow rub off on him. Some clients were snobby and elitist with private investigators, yet, they always came back when they needed our help.
“Hi, I’m Marty, with the Croft and Sterling Agency. I’m here about your case.”
“Shhh … not so loud. What do you need and why are you here? My neighbors might see you.”
“I apologize for the surprise. I need your wife’s work schedule and anywhere else she goes on a routine basis.”
“Leia works part-time at Something Sweet. She has the afternoon shift Wednesday through Sunday.”
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
“I’d like –”
“Don’t come back here again. I’ll contact you for information.”
He shut the door firmly in my face. Friendly guy. Guess he didn’t want me dirtying his doorstep. What makes him think he’s better than me? Not a darn thing. Although, perhaps I should be glad that he didn’t see Muffin and freak out.
He treated me like an inconvenience, but he was the one needing my help. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision. What was that? It was gone as quickly as it came. I was seeing threats where there weren’t any. The biscuit situation made me fearful and paranoid.
As luck had it, his wife was working today. Luck like this, didn’t happen often. Surveillance time. Normally, I preferred to scope out an area before doing surveillance, but I felt on edge and desperately needed a distraction.
My magic moved around inside of me, pushing against my internal shields. Magic was tricky like that. It reacted to any strong emotion. That’s why mages worked so hard to practice their magic and gain control to avoid the unintended release of magic. And in my case, such an uncontrolled release of magic could be devastating.
The ridiculously small amount of training I’d had with Miles did little to give me better control over my magic, which worried me. Miles probably thought I couldn’t care less since I provoked him every chance I got, but that wasn’t true. I did want control over my magic. If I didn’t make progress, I whole-heartedly believe that Miles would turn me into the Mage Guild if I couldn’t get my magic under control.
Muffin leaned against me, offering comfort, and I couldn’t hold back a smile. Who would have thought a devil dog could be a pseudo emotional support animal?
14
Something Sweet, was a bakery located in the Mid Line and where I’d find Mrs. Leia Hamm. Although, there was only a fifty-fifty chance that she was actually there. As with any case, confirming facts from fiction was critical. Clients can’t be relied on to be truthful. They lied about the weirdest things – they lied about what they last ate, hobbies they indulged in and even what their job was.
Counter to what people might expect, Uptown wasn’t the hot spot for retail shops and restaurants, instead it was the Mid Line. Its
