Crow – Chapter One & Chapter Two

The second installment of my week of samples comes courtesy of the inimitable Crow. While shorter than the sample of Ascension, the purpose is the same. The two chapters set up the basics of the world and the strange open leaves the reader wanting more. Enjoy 🙂

 

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Ashley H. – Midday, April 17

Well, shit.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation that you find unenviable? It would be different for everyone of this I am certain. I do not mean to generalize when I say I am certain that if you were in my peculiar situation, you would see why I think that dangling from a height equivalent to a twenty-floor building by a thin leather belt is perhaps the worst sensation in the world.

So how did I get into the particular situation wherein all the hemoglobin in my body is rushing to my brain and pooling at the crown of my skull? Well that’s a long story but I guess that I have nothing but time, and watching the cars go by on the street below is rather repetitive and many of the drivers are quite obnoxious. The red Ford Escape that just went past was going at least twelve miles per hour over the speed limit yet I see no sign of any police in any of the surrounding blocks. At least not in any of the blocks that I can see in any case.

Perhaps I should not worry myself with my environment, but you should prepare yourself for a whole lot of that, as I possessed a near perfect photographic memory. That was perhaps the main reason I decided that I would become a private investigator. It was something I had always wanted to do ever since I was a little girl. Sure, the remuneration might start rather awful but the experiences and situations one can find themselves in is rather perplexing for the most part.

For the most part, the investigations I took on board were mundane and relatively simple (if you have the appropriate know how and a host of trustworthy contacts) and my latest job was meant to be one such task. That was what I thought anyway, but it did not turn out that way. Allow me to paint the scene for you so that you can actually understand my thought process and reasoning for believing that reasoning.

Every Sunday is usually for me to relax and kick my feet back as any sufficiently devout Christian would tell you. I go to church every weekend and I say my prayers though I do not buy into the extremist doctrine pushed by the small minority of zealots because much of what they say hurts me. I will go more into detail with that in a little while, but to bring you back to the start of the story it was Sunday, April 9.

 

 

Ashley H. – Morning, April 9

 It was supposed to be like the previous one thousand, two hundred and fifty four Sundays of my life (the math for that is fifty two times twenty-four plus six for all those interested) and the purpose of my Sunday is to have that fun. Do not get me wrong, I had everything all planned out. The sun rose at approximately 5:46am and I had been awake for sixteen minutes prior. You see, I stuck to a very strict schedule of sleep unless I was on an intensive investigation. I was not expecting anything for two more weeks, though I think that the blame for what happened that morning lies mostly in my forgetful hands. I might have an incredible memory but, like any normal person, I did tend to forget the more mundane things.

I did not rise from my bed when the sun comes up. I liked to stay under the warmth of my blankets and I felt the need to catch up on some rest. I was up late that previous night poring over notes on my laptop, and the revenge my body took out on me was swift. It was still another fourteen minutes after sunrise before I managed to crawl out from under my sheets and the first thing I did was plant my slender feet on the woolen rug that I use to protect the bedroom floor of my second story shared apartment. It warmed my feet greater than any heater ever could, which said a lot about how desensitized I was to heat.

It took me several moments to stretch my neck and back and the whole time I kept my eyes closed. The sound of multiple pops in my vertebrae felt so good and I let out a relieved sigh. If there is any better sensation than the release of tension in the bones of the human body, I have not found it.

When I straightened out my back and opened my eyes, I had to shake my head when I saw my toes painted in a cute candyfloss coloration. That, I deduced, was the work of at least one of my roommates. I guess it was only fair given that three days ago I did replace Brittney’s hair care product with bleach. The look on her face was priceless but for the most part she took the pranks that me, her, Sara and Elise did to each other in stride. I guess that is what made us so unique and kept our friendship strong. We knew what annoyed everyone, and Brittney was already platinum blonde anyway, so the bleaching of her hair really did not do much at all.

 

Now, I know what you are thinking. “What’s so wrong with pink nail polish?” I do not have anything against it, but my entire life I have never been a feminine girl, even as people tried to make me be one. I had three boyfriends in as many months tell me that I need to be more like a female in their usual condescending tones. None of those relationships lasted a day longer than that. Christ (I apologize for using the Lord’s name in vain and beg for forgiveness. Amen), it is twenty-twenty-three and these misogynistic and domineering males still exist? Then again, most of them seemed to possess a profound amount of jealously for my success whereas they seemed to be stuck in mediocrity and floundering like… well I do not have a good metaphor on hand for that, but you get the idea of what I want to say.

 

Ah, yes, back to the story of how I came to be dangling two hundred feet in the air by my belt. After I finished looking down at my feet (which I did for quite a while because they are damn good looking), I stood up and dragged my feet into the black-tiled bathroom. Naturally, living with three other females resulted in quite a lot of arguments over counter space. The first thing I noticed adorning the sink was a terrible mat of hair. There was blond hair, which belonged to Brittney. Sara’s brown hair intertwined so elegantly with it. Last of all was Elise’s short and mannish auburn locks. How I adored her.

I sighed and shook my head to the hair. Someone would clean it up at some point, but my priority on a relaxing Sunday was myself. The hot water refreshed my skin as soon as it touched my face and in an instant, it woke me up.

 

Right about now you might be thinking, “how is any of this relevant?” and the truth of the matter is it doesn’t in the long run, but it helps you understand how utterly ridiculous it is for me to watch – Oh! There goes a Lamborghini. That is not something you see every day. Anyway, the world I see around me is full of clues and helpful hints for most cases I undertake.

 

I was busy washing my face and preparing for a shower to steel myself for the long day ahead when I heard a noise I never wished to hear on a day such as that. I am sure you know precisely what I mean when you do not wish to be disturbed on a day for you and you alone.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

My primordial reaction was to cease up my entire body. I turned my attention out of the bathroom and to the front door. My worst nightmare had come true and I was going to need to start a case on the Sabbath. I knew this day would come. I wished the door-knock never occurred.

I ran my PI office from the comfort of the shared apartment. It might not be the most glamorous place in the whole world, what with yellow walls and flooring lifted directly from the nineteen eighties making up the majority of the décor, but it was a sturdy home. So long as you did not mind the smell of garlic and grape and wine, then you would find this place rather pleasant and it possessed a certain quality and charm about it.

My office occupied half of what we used to call the dining room. The pine table long ago broke free from its legs from the weight of the dozen and a half boxes full of papers and evidence that I cannot be bothered to get rid of. There were case files from cases I did not remember doing, but I was and still am pedantic about everything that I could not bring myself to toss any of it out.

My hoarding tendencies came from my parents. God bless their hearts and their home, but they were not the best when it came to the welfare and upkeep of the family home. My mother was a short, portly woman with one of the best poker faces you will ever see (she still has it, actually!) At first glance, her bushy eyebrows and wonky eyes would not serve to endear her to you, but that is her charm. I have never known someone more capable than Fidel Castro of talking your ear off. Seriously, my mother might be the only person that can make wood dry out with the inane chatter that escapes her mouth. I do love her dearly and I thank God each day that she was not one of the crazy ones. Well, not crazy in the religious context at least!

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The rapping on the door breaks me from my stupor. With a groan I shamble my feet back into the wooden floored hallway. It was one of the only non-carpeted sections of the entire building and it feels superbly relieving on my feet. I walk past Elise’s room on my right. Several One Direction posters still adorn her door and I honestly think that she keeps them up to spite me, since I do nothing but complain every time I walk past and her door is open. People would always fail to notice is that outside the rosy smell perpetually emanating from Elise’s belongings. I tried to figure out how she managed to do it all the time, but whenever I asked her all she can did was give me that sweet smile that makes her cheeks pop with the same rosy colour that my toenails are right now. I would need to have a talk with her later about that.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

“Hold up, I’m coming,” I said. “Christ, hold your horses. Sorry, Lord.”

When I got to the door, I groaned at the strangely elaborate lock system that we had on the front door. It was not to keep people out per say. Quite the opposite as we never engaged the locks. This was one of the rare mornings where I needed to spend several minutes going through the comical keyring next to the door. I never understood why we needed such a large contraption save for the humor factor. Even then, it was not that funny.

The first of the locks was simple. It was just a chain lock and it was the first thing I unlatched. It stopped swaying and hung there before I could finish a loud and much-needed yawn. The second lock was a tougher deadbolt. At least we engaged this one every night. I fumbled through about a dozen keys before I found the right one.

“Hello? Is this the office of,” the voice outside the door started and paused as quickly as it came. I wish I had thought of a better name and slogan for my services, but it was an impulsive thing when I came up with both of them. I heard the person outside the door ruffle through a few pages and my heart sank. They definitely came prepared to hire me. “This is the address for Ashley’s Investigative Services, yes?”

Ashley. What a horrid name. It is just too ambiguous for my liking, and more often than not, it confused the world around me. I was sure for the longest time that my parents merely misspelled it all the time and that it was really Ashleigh. Nope. I was stuck with the cruddy ambiguity of a gender blender name. I still consider changing it every now and again, but then I would look down and see the five hundred business cards I still had to give away.

I disengaged the last lock and pulled the door open. Before I can say anything, standing there before me is one of the most radiant specimens of humankind I ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. I found myself looking over every inch of Isabelle Ramirez before I even knew her name, let alone why she wanted my help. She infatuated my body and mind from the second I gazed at her, and that feeling will never go away for as long as I knew her and, spoiler, I knew her for a very long time afterward.

“I’m not sure if I have the right place. Are you Ashley?” she said to me.

Her voice was what I needed to break me out of my fantasizing. I was glad that I was not drooling, though I did swallow an uncomfortable amount of saliva and prayed that she did not notice how much like putty I am as I stared at her. She was wearing a rather gorgeous get-up that showed off no small amount of her rather ample cleavage. I had to do everything in my power not to stare at her breasts.

“Yea. Sorry, that’s who I am. Ashley Hudson, at your service,” I said. I had to shake my head before I remembered my full manners. Not to mention I must have looked ridiculous in naught but my orange speckled bra and panties. “Please, come in and, umm, don’t mind the mess. My office is, well, under those boxes there.”

Isabelle gave me a warm smile even though I detected that something troubled her. My thoughts went to my look at first, but my instincts as a detective kicked in and without offering, I helped her move the heavy box she had with her inside the apartment. I did not know what was inside it, but the point was not to get the box. It was to give me more time to get a feel for Isabelle with my eyes before she could tell me what she wants. I inspected all my clients this way.

“Oh, you didn’t need to help me with that, but thank you. I’m sorry for doing this so early. I hope I didn’t wake you,” Isabelle asked.

“Hmmmm? Oh, no, no, no, I’ve been awake for a while. Did you find the place okay? I know the biggest complaint I receive is that it’s nigh impossible to get here easily. That’s my bad though. It’s cheaper to run everything from here than operate from a proper office. Can I get you some coffee or something? It is rather early and I’m sure you might like something to help you wake up,” I said.

“No, this is fine. No, no drink for me.”

It was at this point I noticed that she looked like she had been crying for a number of hours. When a client had tears or cried, then the agenda they have with you as a private eye was one of two things. It was a vengeful hire, or someone important in their life had not shown up in a number of days and the police were too busy to deal with what they called a trivial matter. I decided to forgo my own hot drink as I pushed the front door shut. Lucky I did not need to go far to find my once-dapper trench coat. I know, a trench coat is rather clichéd, but I found it far more comfortable than anything else that I wore. I wrapped it around myself to cover up a little before I drew up a seat next to Isabelle.

“Right. You’re clearly here for a very good reason. I’m sure I don’t need to bore you with all the specifics, so what do you say we get right to the point?” I asked.

I had to wait several moments before I got any form of response. In that period, I tried to read my new client further. I knew that whatever issue was bugging Isabelle was major. In the background, Sara gave an earth-shaking snore. Outside of the occasional sound, the apartment was dead quiet at all hours of the day. Work tended to keep me and the other three occupants busy to a certain extent. It made things easier when I had to deal with my clients.

Isabelle took a deep breath and sat upright with her hands on her thighs. I reciprocated and sat as straight as my worn down body could manage. Something about Isabelle’s pose was elegant and I found her to be quite unlike any other client I had.

“It’s my brother, Ian. Four days ago, he went with his fiancée to go to his new workplace in Florida. The two of them never arrived and their bodies turned up along with his car a hundred miles from where their last known location. They were nowhere close to where they should have been. The police ruled it as an accident, but I know my brother better than that. I need to find out what really happened,” Isabelle said.

I heard the worry in her voice without fail, even over the sudden appearance of Elise as she stumbled forth from her room. I came to expect her Sunday morning tequila breath and this day was no different, though she had more than usual as she throws her arms around me from behind and kissed my cheek. I tried my best not to blush, as I know this must be uncomfortable for Isabelle, since many of my clients were dealing with their own failed relationships for the most part.

“Ash! You know what today is?” Elise said.

With a sigh, I turned to her with a weak smile. “I’m with a client right now, E. Can I talk to you afterwards?”

I loved when Elise’s eyes widened as they did when she sees Isabelle. My green-eyed roommate stared at me and I saw the corners of her mouth spread as a mighty grin crossed her face. She winked at me but otherwise said nothing else. She turned around to head into the kitchenette to prepare herself some breakfast. She whistled a soft tune and threatened to steal my gaze away. I shook my head and rubbed neck before I turned my attention back to Isabelle.

“Right, that sounds simple enough. First, I want to know why you think it wasn’t an accident. I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but the best place for me to start is to get an idea of who your brother is and if anyone out there might profit from wanting him gone. It’s quite common for this sort of thing to happen. I need to go through all possible causes or problems that he might have had,” I said.

Isabelle sighed and reached down to open the box she brought with her. When it springs open, I see it filled to the brim with all manner of possessions and photographs. She started by handing me what at first glance looked like a standard Christmas photo. It would not be hard for one to notice the lack of glimmer that one expected to find on the surface of a photo. I held the image in my hands horizontal to my vision and narrowed my eyes. Something about the photo did not sit right with me. I swear I almost found something before Isabelle cleared her throat. I snapped myself away from the photo and realized Isabelle had placed a multitude of papers on the small table between us.

“I gathered all I could. That’s nothing special. At least I don’t think it is. It’s something he wanted to get for grandmother so she would have something from the family. He never did give it to her. I don’t know why. It looks fine, but I take it you see something I don’t?” she said.

I put the photo down with a nod. My fingers rummaged through the papers and my eyes gave a quick scan over the surface. There were bank statements and tax invoices but what really drew my eye are some odd forms from Crow Enterprises. I picked one of the several page documents up and furrowed my brow. I considered myself knowledgeable, but these papers confused me. They seemed like nothing more than unintelligible gibberish, but I believed them to be important.

“Do you know what these are? They look important enough that I doubt he would leave them laying around. I’m curious because there’s multiple blacked out sections. Most of them look like payments to somewhere, but I’m wholly unfamiliar with the company,” I said.

Isabelle looked over the top of the pages and her face went grim. I continued to glance over the pages but kept an eye on my client as she fell back into the chair. I pretended I did not see her reach into her shirt to retrieve a thick leather wallet from her bra but I’m not the best when it comes to having a poker face.

She seemed to be more seductive with removing her wallet than I thought she should be. I watched her flesh jiggle around as she wiggled her wallet. It did not help that behind Isabelle, Elise was being her usual teasing self, pointing at me and rubbing her breasts. Isabelle blushed when she saw my eyes, though she did not stop. My eyes went back to the Crow Enterprises document before me.

“That’s a long story, but I suppose if it is necessary, then I should tell it to you. Six years ago, my brother was in the last year of his PhD in Software Development. He was never the most social person out there and he preferred to stay nose deep in his books. I don’t know much about what he did, but I know that his Thesis was in Cryptography. At least, that is what he told me. He’s always been super smart and whatever he sets his mind to, and this was no exception,” Isabelle pauses at this point to wipe the tears from her face. “For the past three years he said he’d been getting some well-paying jobs and I saw less and less of him. It wasn’t like him to be so distant when he was around and I grew to suspect he was involved in some not-so-legal activities. He seemed nervous when he left and it rang alarm bells for me anyway. To be honest, I never heard him once mention that company, so I’m as in the dark as you are, I’m afraid.”

I resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh even though I wanted to. Isabelle did not give me much information but I was thankful. At the very least, I had a starting point for my investigation. I shot a smile at Isabelle and placed the pages in my hand to the side. Nothing else I saw caught my keen eye in the pile of notes. A lot of it was bog standard notes that I would use to get a feel for the case.

“You leave all this here with me and I promise that I won’t rest much until I find out the truth. I have a good starting point, but I’d like to try something different, if you don’t mind. I’d like to try to get to know you more. I’m not trying to implicate you in anything, but I do want to determine the kind of person that you are, if that is no issue,” I said.

The faintest tinge of pink flushed through Isabelle’s cheeks. She caught herself and turned away for a brief moment to compose herself. I took the chance to take note of the small and faint tattoo on her left wrist. I could not make out much of it from this distance, but it appeared to contain a couple of letters and a bird of some description. I determined one of the letters is either a lower case ‘L’ or a capital I, given how terrible the font is. Well, that was a lie. I cannot see small things as well as I can when I wear my glasses, so I could have misinterpreted what I saw. By this point, Isabelle turned back to me after having forced the redness from her cheeks. She cleared her throat and drew in a deep breath.

“I should start with a little about myself then. My name is Isabelle Carmody Ramirez. I was born August 16 1993 in Chihuahua, Mexico. At age three, my mother, my brother and I migrated to Arizona, and that’s where I’ve spent most of my life. Well, except for now, of course, but only because I’m doing some work up in Anaheim and San Diego is a lot closer than Tucson. Right, should say what I do. I’m a freelancer with a small film company and most of the time I’m scouting locations or doing work behind the camera. Not very glamorous, but I love it,” Isabelle goes silent.

I can relate with her, as I was not exactly a native. At least not to the West Coast in any case. I was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, so you can tell how I got my religion. I did not mind in the slightest. It helped me through a great deal many things. My accent does not do me any favors. No, that is another lie. My accent did endear me to quite a lot of people though I suspected that lay more in my looks than how honest I was. I dropped my westerner façade and shot my best southern smile at Isabelle.

“We’re like two needles in a haystack. I never would’ve pegged you for a Mexican. No offense meant, of course. Where’d you last see your brother before all this? Please, spare no detail.”

I readied my pen, a pad of paper, and I made myself more comfortable in my seat. Along with my notes, I fully intended to record the conversation as I did with all my clientele so I could revisit what they knew at any point in their own voice. Isabelle swallowed and leant in when I nodded to her to tell her I was ready.