Echoes of the Past: A Noir Tale

by MrMoonBird

Chapter One - When Opportunity Knocks

Echoes of the Past

A Noir Tale

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Chapter One - When Opportunity Knocks

“Someone very fucking important,” an aged, raspy voice - the result of years of heavy smoking and alcohol consumption - grumbled through the gramophone on my desk, “had better died, Strike.” They ended their statement in a fit of coughs and failed attempts to clear their throat. Naturally, I let their fit pass before telling them why I was calling them in the first place.

“Not quite,” I responded, “but they are certainly going to wish they were once this story breaks through. I’ve got a lot of dirt on them that’ll send their reputation spiraling; shit ranging from bank statements to photographs. It’s not going to be enough, though, which is why I’m calling you. I need a fa-”.

My reply was cut off by another series of coughs and hacks, followed by a very blunt response; one that I had expected from the start of this conversation: “You have some gall asking me for a favor, Strike. We might have been work partners in the past, but those days are behind us and you know it. I’m retired, if you’ve already forgotten. I have no interest in doing some detective work; I just want to live out the rest of my days in peace. That is final. Good-bye, and best of luck in your endeavors.”

With a click followed by the sound of static, mixed with the occasional record skip, my connection was terminated and the gramophone sat dormant once more. I idly lifted the needle from the record and turned the device off. Leaning back in my seat, I let out a deep and heavy sigh, slightly disturbing the dust-covered files that were laid out in front of me. I spun the chair around and gazed through the open blinds of the window to the world below.

Outside the musky office building was a world of neon lights, beggars, bars, clubs, and street vendors. On this particular evening, there was a soft downfall of rain, casting reflections of lights, buildings, and the occasional passerby. It was almost a serene picture; almost, but not quite. Most of the shops had closed for the night, but that never stopped the squatters from hanging around. They usually found a place to hang around, pass a few cigarettes amongst themselves (the occasional drug deal was made as well), and generally didn’t disturb anyone who may happen to pass them. Of course, the local law enforcement still wasn’t fond of their presence; they were seen as a nuisance that brought down the city’s image - not that it had much of an image to begin with. From an outsider’s perspective, Detrot was just a rundown dump waiting to be torn down and refurbished into something more appealing to the eye. There was no saving the city, though. The way I saw it, you could take out the trash as much as you wanted, but then you’d just be left with an empty dumpster.

“Should probably write that one down,” I muttered under my breath. It didn’t appear as if much was going on outside, which was somewhat disappointing; I could have used a little bit of entertainment. I closed the blinds and returned my focus to the case files on my desk. I had been at this one for months, but still wasn’t making enough ground to call it closed. Some shit about some hot shot who was supposedly having an affair, and his wife had come in asking me to affirm her suspicions. It was a less than ideal job, but it was money, and that was something of a scarcity at the moment so I took it with zero complaints. It was basically the same shit every single day: pretty much trail the guy and make note of where he goes throughout the day, take some photos, pull some strings to get his bank statements, and shove it all in a folder until the next day. It was monotonous, and that’s what I hated about it. Every day after the work day was over, he’d high tail it back to who I assume is his secretary’s house, have some “fun”, and would head back home after a few hours. You’d catch glimpses of him and his mistress in the act through the window every now and again, but other than that there was no action worth mentioning. I had debated just giving the lady what dirt I had and leaving it at that, but then there’d be no cash coming in, and the bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I raised my gaze up to the wooden door in front of me with a slight frown. It was the end of the day, well beyond business hours, but there was a shadow on the other side of the frame. Probably some lost soul who wanted help finding their damn cat or something. But it was money.

Letting out a sigh, I called out to the visitor. “Door’s open,” I said in a disinterested tone. What I saw when the door opened took me by surprise, though.

Author's Note:

This will probably be as far as the story goes until the beginning of the next year. I'm selling off my computer within a few days and afterwards will be travelling a lot to visit friends and family after being overseas for the past year, so I won't have much time to work on writing. Chapter Two is in the works, though. Just don't expect anything new until mid-January/early February.