In Which I have been reading too much Raymond Chandler
Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 7:25 pm
Occasionally I get really terrible ideas in the shower, and then I have to write them down and show them to people so that they can talk me out of continuing them. This is one such idea.
KS Noir
I think it was around nine in the morning when the knock first sounded on my door. Looking back, it seems odd that I could have avoided this whole sordid mess if I'd just pretended to be asleep, but I doubt that the person knocking would have bought it anyway. Chances are, they'd done their homework before making contact; and as such would know that my medication usually has me up early. I put down my book and walked to the door, knowing that it would probably be someone wanting something from me. Nobody's got any other reason to knock on my door.
The girl standing on the other side is a familiar but not entirely welcome sight for my eyes. Medium height, curly pink hair, the sort of figure that some men call 'curvaceous' and other men call 'fat.' Golden eyes that are already focusing all their effort on looking vulnerable and in need of protection even though we both know that's bullshit. A mouth with full lips turned downwards into a helpless expression of supplication. “We need your help, Hicchan...”
“That ain't my name. You should know that by now.” I should close the door in her face right now, but instead I step back and allow her to enter my room. She makes her way to my bed and sits down on it, crossing her legs just fast enough to keep modest, but only just. I walk to my desk chair and sit there, noting the brief glimmer of disappointment that flits across her features. This was obviously supposed to be a seduction gig, but I'm having none of it.
“It's the name we gave you, isn't it Mister Nakai?” Simpering cutely and leaning forward now, “Back when you worked for us...”
“Once, sister. I worked for you once, and you repaid me by letting me take the fall when things got twisted.”
She looks offended. “Look, we're all very sorry about what happened to Miss Miki, but--”
“Not another word out of you, Miss Mikado. You didn't come here to apologize to me, you came to ask for something.” I mentally curse myself for losing composure so quickly and quickly reassert control over myself. “Say your peace and then heel it. I've got no time for catching up with old friends today.”
Much to my surprise, Misha briefly looks remorseful—really remorseful. “I'm sorry. I just...we need your help pretty badly on this. There's nobody else we can trust.”
“Trust?” I snort, “That's rich, coming from you. I didn't know that you knew the word at all.”
Ah, that provoked a response. The sort of glare that could take down a full grown elephant, much less a man with a dicky heart. “You wanna play the martyr, Hisao? Fine, but if you're gonna get specific about it remember that we weren't the only ones who could have helped out Miki and didn't.”
Nothing's worse than hearing the truth from someone you've gotten really accustomed to hating. I heave a sigh of resignation. “Fine, I'll keep the editorials to a minimum on this one. Let's hear it.”
“Could you close the door? The walls have ears in this school, I hear.” Misha's all business now, of course.
“The only set of ears the walls have got in here are mine, but if it'll make you feel better...” I stand up, swing the door closed, and return to my seat. “Now come on, out with it. The suspense is killing me.”
“Shicchan—that is, Miss Hakamichi, is being blackmailed.” Misha produces an envelope from her purse and tosses it to me. “We got this after lunch yesterday. It was sitting on the student council president's desk.”
I open the envelope and read the simple instructions contained therein. 'We have photos, we're not afraid to let them out into the wild, but of course we can always be persuaded to keep this sort of thing to ourselves if you're inclined to pay us to do so. Drop the cash in a plain brown bag in the girl's locker room, locker 12 E and we'll contact you again to let you know where to find the negatives and all copies.' The sum is the sort of amount that says whoever's behind it has to be holding something pretty breathtaking. “I don't suppose they sent you proof of their material?”
“Wouldn't be coming to you for help if we didn't think they were serious, now do you?”
“I don't suppose I could have a look at it?”
“I don't suppose that's necessary, do you?”
I shrug. Clearly Misha doesn't want more people to know whatever the full story is than already do. “Could be. It would give all sorts of information—time, place, some kind of guess as to where the photos were shot. That sort of thing helps to determine who could have had the opportunity to shoot 'em.”
This seems to placate her, and she pulls out a second envelope. Before she hands it over, she gets a look even worse than the one before and growls in a low and dangerous voice, “I don't need to tell you what happens if people who aren't you get a hold of this.”
“Hey, I never gave you a reason not to trust me.” I snatch the envelope impatiently. I've got no time for theatrics here. Every second this girl's in my room the chances of the wrong sort of people getting the wrong sort of ideas grow larger, and I've had enough trouble on account of Misha and her boss already. The pictures inside are the sort of thing that could make a priest reconsider his vows, and I note with a strange feeling of satisfaction that I was always right about those two. “Cute couple.”
“Always the comedian, aren't you Hicchan?” Misha looks completely and utterly unembarrassed. “So what can you tell from the pictures?”
“Other than how flexible your boss is?” I leer nastily at Misha and receive a slap in the face for my troubles. “For starters, it was taken through the window of a classroom door, if the slight blur is of any indication. Secondly, whoever took the photo was smart enough to keep their reflection from showing up. Finally, you two shouldn't be using the council room for that sort of thing.”
Misha snorts impatiently. “So you didn't pick up anything useful, is what you're saying. Great.”
“I didn't say that. That's just on first glance.” More importantly, those are the only things I feel like sharing immediately. “I'll take a closer look before I start asking anyone any questions.”
“You expect me to leave that here with you?” Misha looks at me incredulously.
“I can guarantee that nobody is going to see this photo but me, and I can also guarantee that if you hang around here pestering me I'll never get any work done.”
Misha considers her options, which aren't that great, and finally scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Shanghai. Six o' clock tonight. If you don't have any new information for us, then we start abusing privileges. Here.” She hands me the piece of paper with the address and time on it. “So you don't get lost.”
“Does this mean I'm on the case? We haven't discussed my fee yet...”
“Show tonight, and we'll discuss it then. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to today.” She sweeps out the door, hips swaying seductively even though I know she's got no interest in a guy like me or any other, leaving me with my thoughts and the picture.
KS Noir
I think it was around nine in the morning when the knock first sounded on my door. Looking back, it seems odd that I could have avoided this whole sordid mess if I'd just pretended to be asleep, but I doubt that the person knocking would have bought it anyway. Chances are, they'd done their homework before making contact; and as such would know that my medication usually has me up early. I put down my book and walked to the door, knowing that it would probably be someone wanting something from me. Nobody's got any other reason to knock on my door.
The girl standing on the other side is a familiar but not entirely welcome sight for my eyes. Medium height, curly pink hair, the sort of figure that some men call 'curvaceous' and other men call 'fat.' Golden eyes that are already focusing all their effort on looking vulnerable and in need of protection even though we both know that's bullshit. A mouth with full lips turned downwards into a helpless expression of supplication. “We need your help, Hicchan...”
“That ain't my name. You should know that by now.” I should close the door in her face right now, but instead I step back and allow her to enter my room. She makes her way to my bed and sits down on it, crossing her legs just fast enough to keep modest, but only just. I walk to my desk chair and sit there, noting the brief glimmer of disappointment that flits across her features. This was obviously supposed to be a seduction gig, but I'm having none of it.
“It's the name we gave you, isn't it Mister Nakai?” Simpering cutely and leaning forward now, “Back when you worked for us...”
“Once, sister. I worked for you once, and you repaid me by letting me take the fall when things got twisted.”
She looks offended. “Look, we're all very sorry about what happened to Miss Miki, but--”
“Not another word out of you, Miss Mikado. You didn't come here to apologize to me, you came to ask for something.” I mentally curse myself for losing composure so quickly and quickly reassert control over myself. “Say your peace and then heel it. I've got no time for catching up with old friends today.”
Much to my surprise, Misha briefly looks remorseful—really remorseful. “I'm sorry. I just...we need your help pretty badly on this. There's nobody else we can trust.”
“Trust?” I snort, “That's rich, coming from you. I didn't know that you knew the word at all.”
Ah, that provoked a response. The sort of glare that could take down a full grown elephant, much less a man with a dicky heart. “You wanna play the martyr, Hisao? Fine, but if you're gonna get specific about it remember that we weren't the only ones who could have helped out Miki and didn't.”
Nothing's worse than hearing the truth from someone you've gotten really accustomed to hating. I heave a sigh of resignation. “Fine, I'll keep the editorials to a minimum on this one. Let's hear it.”
“Could you close the door? The walls have ears in this school, I hear.” Misha's all business now, of course.
“The only set of ears the walls have got in here are mine, but if it'll make you feel better...” I stand up, swing the door closed, and return to my seat. “Now come on, out with it. The suspense is killing me.”
“Shicchan—that is, Miss Hakamichi, is being blackmailed.” Misha produces an envelope from her purse and tosses it to me. “We got this after lunch yesterday. It was sitting on the student council president's desk.”
I open the envelope and read the simple instructions contained therein. 'We have photos, we're not afraid to let them out into the wild, but of course we can always be persuaded to keep this sort of thing to ourselves if you're inclined to pay us to do so. Drop the cash in a plain brown bag in the girl's locker room, locker 12 E and we'll contact you again to let you know where to find the negatives and all copies.' The sum is the sort of amount that says whoever's behind it has to be holding something pretty breathtaking. “I don't suppose they sent you proof of their material?”
“Wouldn't be coming to you for help if we didn't think they were serious, now do you?”
“I don't suppose I could have a look at it?”
“I don't suppose that's necessary, do you?”
I shrug. Clearly Misha doesn't want more people to know whatever the full story is than already do. “Could be. It would give all sorts of information—time, place, some kind of guess as to where the photos were shot. That sort of thing helps to determine who could have had the opportunity to shoot 'em.”
This seems to placate her, and she pulls out a second envelope. Before she hands it over, she gets a look even worse than the one before and growls in a low and dangerous voice, “I don't need to tell you what happens if people who aren't you get a hold of this.”
“Hey, I never gave you a reason not to trust me.” I snatch the envelope impatiently. I've got no time for theatrics here. Every second this girl's in my room the chances of the wrong sort of people getting the wrong sort of ideas grow larger, and I've had enough trouble on account of Misha and her boss already. The pictures inside are the sort of thing that could make a priest reconsider his vows, and I note with a strange feeling of satisfaction that I was always right about those two. “Cute couple.”
“Always the comedian, aren't you Hicchan?” Misha looks completely and utterly unembarrassed. “So what can you tell from the pictures?”
“Other than how flexible your boss is?” I leer nastily at Misha and receive a slap in the face for my troubles. “For starters, it was taken through the window of a classroom door, if the slight blur is of any indication. Secondly, whoever took the photo was smart enough to keep their reflection from showing up. Finally, you two shouldn't be using the council room for that sort of thing.”
Misha snorts impatiently. “So you didn't pick up anything useful, is what you're saying. Great.”
“I didn't say that. That's just on first glance.” More importantly, those are the only things I feel like sharing immediately. “I'll take a closer look before I start asking anyone any questions.”
“You expect me to leave that here with you?” Misha looks at me incredulously.
“I can guarantee that nobody is going to see this photo but me, and I can also guarantee that if you hang around here pestering me I'll never get any work done.”
Misha considers her options, which aren't that great, and finally scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Shanghai. Six o' clock tonight. If you don't have any new information for us, then we start abusing privileges. Here.” She hands me the piece of paper with the address and time on it. “So you don't get lost.”
“Does this mean I'm on the case? We haven't discussed my fee yet...”
“Show tonight, and we'll discuss it then. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to today.” She sweeps out the door, hips swaying seductively even though I know she's got no interest in a guy like me or any other, leaving me with my thoughts and the picture.
