Art Reasoner looked into the eyes of a desperate man.
"When was the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Norton?"
"A few days ago. She came home from court--"
"Court?"
"A neighbor of ours was on trial for murder. Maybe you saw it in the news. Agatha Kitchnnner and her husband were tried for the robbery and murder of that jewelry shop owner here in Port Pinnebog."
Belinda Doyle, Reasoner's administrative assistant, looked up from her notepad. "Remember, Artie? She tried blaming the Void even though she admitted she took the diamond necklace."
"Must have slipped by me in the funny pages," Reasoner said. "You were saying, Mr. Norton?"
"Phyllis came home from our neighbors' trial. I could tell she was bothered by the outcome."
Reasoner leaned back in his chair. "Your neighbors were convicted, I take it? She must have been upset."
"I wouldn't say upset. More like anxious."
"Anxious?"
"She said Agatha--that's our neighbor-- asked her to clean out her icebox."
"And that bothered your wife?"
"She just spent two weeks giving her friend emotional support only to be asked to clean out her freezer? I mean, I'm not a sentimental guy but where's the gratitude?"
Art Reasoner thought it over. "What was in the freezer?"
"A couple pounds of ground beef. Some lamb chops. A roast. At least, that was what Phyllis brought home along with five pounds of potatoes, some dried peas, and a crate of apples. I didn't complain. Not much work at the shipyard lately. It's not like the Kitchners were going to eat all that food. He got ten years. She got twelve."
"Frame job," Miss Doyle said. Her pencil scratched over her yellow notepad.
Art turned his stare at Belinda Doyle back to John Norton. "And that's all your wife brought home? Food?"
"Yes, I'm telling you the truth. She unwrapped the lamb chops and made them for me that night."
"And the next morning?"
"She fried me an egg and slipped it on top of a hamburger patty for my breakfast before I went down to the docks to see if there was any work. Used to be a ton of it from the taconite mines. Supply is running low. If we don't start stockpiling..." John Norton trailed off. He stared out the window at Wolf's Head Bay. "None of that has nothing to do with Phyllis. I came home that night to an empty house."
"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"
"None, Mr. Reasoner. That's why I'm here. Can you help me find where she is? If I've done something to upset her, well, I just couldn't live with myself."
"My team and I will get to work on it right away."
"I appreciate it." Norton hesitated. He smiled uncomfortably at the four people around him. "I hate to ask this, but what are your rates?"
"We charge two hundred dollars for the initial investigation. After that, it's eighty-five a day plus expenses which we try to keep to a minimum."
"Oh. I was hoping this would do for now." Norton slid a gold cigarette case across Reasoner's desk. Engraved on the front were the letters D and M, both letters punctuated by a small diamond.
"Where did you get this?" Reasoner lifted the case from his blotter. He handed it to Paul Cooley, one of his assistants. Cooley examined the case.
"I found it in some of Phyllis's things. I thought maybe I'd find a picture or a letter or something that would give me a clue where she went. All I found was that cigarette case. Inside there's a book of matches for a place called the Swann Club. Two Ns. If that won't buy your help, Mr. Reasoner, I don't think I can afford you."
"Let's see what the Professor has to say. Dr. Cooley?"
"It's real. So are the diamonds. This should cover a couple of weeks."
Cooley held it out to Reasoner only to have it intercepted by Jillian Proust, the fourth member of the Reasoner crew.
"I'll be putting that in the safe," Jillian said. "Where it will remain."
Reasoner chuckled. "Your retainer is safe, Mr. Norton. Leave your phone number with Ms. Doyle here so we can keep you updated."
"Thank you, Mr. Reasoner. All of you."
Belinda Doyle led Louis Norton to the outer office area. The door behind them barely closed when Jillian Proust confronted Reasoner.
"Honestly, Art. A cigarette case for a retainer? How do we pay bills with that?"
"It gives Norton two weeks to come up with the cash. If he doesn't, we pawn the case."
Jillian scoffed. "For a third of its value."
"Take what we can get, Jilly," Paul Cooley said. "You heard the man. Work is hard to find in Port Pinnebog right now."
"So let's get to it," Reasoner said. "Paul, you and Jilly go talk to the court clerk. Find out what you can about Agatha Kitchner. My gut tells me there was more than frozen meat in her freezer."
"Kitchner's hiding something?" Cooley asked.
"Without a doubt," Reasoner said. He pulled on his hat. "I'll meet you two for dinner."
The door opened. Belinda Doyle stuck her face into the office. "Reservations for four at Nello's?"
"We're all going to be downtown-"
"While I'm stuck uptown..."
"Make them for the Taconite Lounge on Pier Forty-nine."
"Seven o'clock?"
"Better make it eight. If I'm not there, order me the T-bone."
"Where are you going?" Jillian asked.
"The Swann Club."
Jillian grumbled. "Of course you are..."
***
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Doing this scene without A.I. prose felt better. I'm toying with using it to write a description of the Swann Club. I might as well, This is my experiment. Why not?
I don't know if it's a creative writer thing, a control thing, or just an accomplishment thing but I found the story more plausible, the writing less clunky. The characters felt and sounded more genuine.
As for the A.I. artwork. I tried a different generator. Still, I got some messed up images. A few faces looked like they were built from cutting bits and pieces from a magazine and taping them together. Others were quite amazing. I'm still just giving basic info-: type and setting. The more info I give it, the more abstract the images become.
I realized midway through the scene the story was taking off. There will probably be more than three chapters. Not that it matters. Analytics say no one is visiting the blog. Doesn't matter. I now have a hobby novel that will be available as long as the internet is around.
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