《The Coming Rain》 Chapter 1 Fog, again. It always seemed to fill the streets after a storm, blanketing it all in white. It wasn¡¯t too bad today. He could still see the stone walkways on the street below, the black lamplights, the stray cats. The little bastards always prowled in the mornings. Jack Oakley sat back in his chair, lifting his feet onto his desk as he read the file in his hands. A cold case from his predecessor, nothing he could do about it. All of the cases he¡¯d been left were cold, no more than afternoon time-wasters at this point. They weren¡¯t interesting, either. At least, not to Jack. A lost wife who probably just ran off. A runaway whose case was older than Jack was. And three ¡°murders¡± that lacked so much as a suspect, all ruled suicides by the police. All together, every case in the office could be written down on two pieces of paper, one if you had small handwriting. But Jack was thankful for one thing. The office. Technically, it was an apartment, a green door on the side leading to the kitchen fitted with a black iron gas stove and a single sink, the kitchen in turn having a door on both ends, one to a bedroom as sparse as his office and another leading to a simple bathroom. One toilet, one bathtub. It was nice. Nicer than what he¡¯d had before, and that¡¯s all that really mattered. The office itself was simple. A green rug in the middle of the floor. Two doors, one to the kitchen and the other to the hallway. No furniture, save for the desk, which was off to the side, letting him look out the window on his right. It had a nice dark finish at one time, but it was starting to wear away. He¡¯d gotten a damned splinter just this morning. If he got any cases, a new desk was the first thing he¡¯d buy. It was mostly bare, just like his office. Only a stack of folders, a rotary phone, and a coaster for the glass of water in his hand. He sipped from the glass, all the while pretending it was some hard liquor, and nearly jumped when the phone rang. ¡°Detective Jack Oakley speaking,¡± he said. He hadn¡¯t picked up the phone. It¡¯d been a few days since he spoke, and he needed to clear his throat. Detectives lived a lonely life. At least, he did. He let one more ring sound out before lifting the handset. ¡°Detective Jack Oakley speaking.¡± It went well enough, he thought. ¡°Hey Jack, it¡¯s Bob. Hey, I¡¯ll cut to the chase. Would you mind comin¡¯ in for a bit? I want your help with something.¡± An eyebrow raised at the thought. Something exciting, for once. ¡°Sure. Is it a case?¡± ¡°Something like that. We¡¯ll pay.¡± ¡°Say no more, Sarge. I¡¯m on my way.¡± Did he look greedy? Maybe. But he was a detective now. He had a reason to be greedy. He stood, taking the brown coat hanging from his chair and slipping into it as he left his office. He closed the door and locked it, turning to look at the hallway before making his way down it. It was clean enough. At least the paint wasn¡¯t chipped, though he wasn¡¯t a fan of white walls, nor of the green carpet on the floor. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Ocean greeted his nose as he stepped outside. A pungent aroma of seaweed and salt mixed together, blowing in from the south seas. That and fish. Where sea greeted his nasal cavities, grey and white greeted his eyes, plus all the other colors that were dulled by the fog. He walked north, giving only a cursory scan of the area. He¡¯d seen all these buildings before, most of them apartments, a few stairways leading down to basement pubs and restaurants, a few neon signs without power. No one was active in these parts at this time of day, and Jack savored the lonesome walk. The buildings were grey stone and red brick, maybe an occasional brown, but that was it. Clarity greeted him as he traveled, the fog fading away for the day. It¡¯d be back tomorrow. That or rain. Center Alley was busier than his little section of the city, and he started to pass by people of all sorts. Businessmen, the homeless, a few cops, some he knew, most he didn¡¯t. He waved at a familiar face, but no words were exchanged. They were both busy, it seemed, and Jack wasn¡¯t too sure he remembered the mans name. No one so much as looked his way as he walked into the precinct. Bob was at his desk in his own little office off on the side of the second floor. It was a nice desk, a good dark wood with a nice finish to it. No splinters were coming from it anytime soon. ¡°Hey Bob,¡± Jack said. Bob motioned for him to close the door, so he did and pulled up a chair. ¡°It ain¡¯t another cold case, is it?¡± ¡°Afraid it might be, Jack. A family disappeared a few weeks ago. Not sure when exactly. The parents were unemployed, but the kids were attending school up until the 16th of last month. That was a Friday, so they might have disappeared anytime from the end of that day to a week later on the 23rd when the school reported them for truancy.¡± ¡°Anything at their home?¡± Always start with the home. It¡¯s where people get comfortable, and where criminals get lazy. ¡°No signs of struggle or anything, just some rotten food in the pantry.¡± ¡°Got their file for me?¡± ¡°Here,¡± Bob said, sliding the folder to me. It was thin, but the case was recent enough. Maybe he¡¯d be able to fill it up a little. ¡°Anything else I should know?¡± Bob shook his head. ¡°Nothing else, I¡¯m afraid. You know how it goes, Jack.¡± ¡°Yep. What the cops can¡¯t do, they give to someone else who can¡¯t do it either.¡± ¡°If you wanted hot cases you should have stayed in the force.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think being a private detective suits me, don¡¯t you?¡± Jack flashed a smile, and Bob gave a hrmph in response. ¡°What about the neighbors, anything from them?¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t say much. Didn¡¯t hear anything according to them. Might want to talk to them yourself.¡± Jack stood, offering a handshake. Bob reciprocated, and jack went for the door, politely putting his chair back against the wall where it belonged. ¡°If you find anything, give me a call,¡± Bob called out. Jack was already halfway out the door, so he gave a wave instead of saying anything. It would have just been something smarmy, anyways. Opening the file, he noticed exactly why they gave it to him. Detective Notes Current date: May 3rd. Crime: Missing family. Reported April 23rd, possibly missing since April 16th. Victims: Marlow Family. The father Joseph (42), mother Maylene (38), and two children, Sarah (13) and Charlie (8). Address: 67 Broker St. Additional Notes: No signs of struggle according to police. Neighbors might know more. Chapter 2 The apartment was exactly as he feared. It was a simple layout, only three rooms: a single bathroom; single bedroom with a two mattresses on the floor, pressed together, with a bunk bed on the side; and the kitchen/dining area, fitted with only a stove, a small fridge, and a single countertop next to the sink. The kitchen was bare. There were no cupboards, all the dishware settled on the countertop, and the fridge was left with moldy cheese and a few beers. The family was poor, poorer than Jack thought possible in a city. Course, there were no homeless in Saddlebrook, though he¡¯d seen them in other cities. Rain probably drowned them out. He moved on to the bathroom, but there was nothing of value. A toilet and a bathtub, nothing else. The drains were checked, just to be sure, but Jack found only what he expected. Nothing. A thrilling case, it seemed. The bedroom seemed just as lacking as the kitchen and the bathroom. There were only two blankets, both crumpled on top of the mattresses in the bunk bed, and the mattresses were stained and dirty, something that made Jack grateful he carried his gloves with him. He searched the obvious areas first, checking under the blankets and each corner of the room. He looked to the ceiling, which was high and solid. He¡¯d hidden things in the ceiling himself, once upon a time, which was reason enough to check. He moved on to the mattresses, lifting each and checking underneath. He wasn¡¯t expecting much, but sure enough, there was a bag. Black and simple, it lacked even a drawstring. More than that, it lacked security altogether. He couldn¡¯t judge them, though. The Marlows were a poor lot, and keeping their money under a bed most likely seemed like a good idea. Seventeen dollars resided inside the black fabric, made from an assortment of bills and coins. A decent amount to have hidden away, but not much. Enough to cover rent or food, but not both. For a family like the Marlows it was all they could muster. A sad affair, then, that they were missing, and their money remained. Jack sighed as he stared at the door, little black bag in hand. He slipped it into his coat pocket, then left. Down the hallway towards the stairway, on the right, was another hallway that lead to the landlord. Room 200. You¡¯d never guess it was the landlords place, not unless you were told. It was the same as the rest, a green door with its number carved into its surface. He knocked and waited, the door eventually opening to reveal the balding man who¡¯d given him the key. ¡°Ah, detective. Anything I can do for you?¡± ¡°Not unless you¡¯ve got the Marlow family back there,¡± he joked, a quick smile forming on the landlords face. ¡°No, just here to return the key, ask a few more questions.¡± ¡°By all means. Would you like to come in?¡± ¡°Won¡¯t be long. Just need to ask if you heard anything suspicious around the 16th of April?¡± The landlord pondered for a bit, a hand rubbing his chin. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I did, I¡¯m afraid.¡± ¡°What about before then? Did they make any comments or seem any different? Any reason they might up and leave?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe so. Joe was good enough, made sure to pay the rent on time. There were a few times when he didn¡¯t have enough, but he¡¯d always pay me the rest. Course he was gettin¡¯ real skinny. Skipping meals, you know how it is.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°All too well.¡± ¡°Yeah, real terrible, that. Have to be thankful for what happiness we¡¯ve got, when we got it.¡± ¡°That we do. Is there anything else you can remember?¡± ¡°Nothing comes to mind. Sorry I can¡¯t be of more help.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine. Would you happen to know if their neighbors are home right now, or when they might be in?¡± ¡°Oh sure. Well, they¡¯ve only got the one neighbor, Ryan Mcdougal in 204. 202¡¯s empty, you see. Anyway, I say Mr. Mcdougal come in a short while ago. Should be home.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Jack handed the key over with a smile, the landlord returning it and then some. He heard the door shut behind him as he made his way back, and as he arrived at the stairwell a man came down the hall from where he was headed. He was middle aged, skin tanned almost to leather, hair a mix of salt and pepper, the smell of sea wafting off of him. He was a sailing fisherman, no doubt. If the smell didn¡¯t give it away, the necklace would. A woman wrapped in a whirlwind of loose fabrics, all made in silver. Rosemary, goddess of the sea, protector of voyages. ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± Jack called out. The man looked half surprised, but the other half looked tired. Sailing was a hard life. ¡°Would you mind answer some questions about the Marlow¡¯s?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a bit of time, but I can¡¯t take all day, I¡¯m afraid.¡± His voice was guff, no doubt the workings of smoking and drinking for years on end. ¡°I¡¯ll be quick. Did you know the Marlow¡¯s?¡± ¡°Knew of them, sure. Only ever spoke to the parents, though, and none too often.¡± ¡°You think they¡¯d have any reason to hightail it outta here?¡± ¡°Looking for better pastures would be my guess. Joe and his wife were startin¡¯ to look pretty bony last I saw¡¯em.¡± ¡°Alright. Now, did you hear or see anything suspicious between the 16th and 23rd of last month? That¡¯s about when they went missing.¡± ¡°Nah, I was on boat from the 14th to the 20th.¡± ¡°What about those last three days? Anything then?¡± ¡°Nah, can¡¯t say I remember anything. Apologies.¡± ¡°It¡¯s no problem.¡± It was a last ditch, anyways. They¡¯d most likely disappeared before then. ¡°Thank you, though. Have a nice day.¡± It was a bust. Another unsolved case to add to his list. The sailor seemed honest enough. So did the landlord. Of course, people lied. It was the way of things, keeping secrets where secrets were best unkept. Still, it seemed open and shut. Family down on its luck, poor to the point of starving and unemployed. Worse still, it was an honest family, making sure their due was paid. It wasn¡¯t a wonder as to why they¡¯d leave. But they didn¡¯t. Not unless it was in a hurry. A poor family doesn¡¯t just up and leave without their money, except when they¡¯ve got reason to. It wasn¡¯t much to go on. Except, of course, that the Marlows didn¡¯t officially leave any money behind. Could only be loan sharks, then. A family hightailing it after taking a big loan, along with all their valuables? Seems true enough. That¡¯d leave him nothing else to do. Wasn¡¯t his job to go out of the city or look into loan sharks. No sir, his job was done, and he was up seventeen dollars more than he¡¯d thought. Detective Notes Current date: May 3rd. Crime: Missing family. Reported April 23rd, possibly missing since April 16th. Victims: Marlow Family. The father Joseph (42), mother Maylene (38), and two children, Sarah (13) and Charlie (8). Address: 67 Broker St. Additional Notes: No signs of struggle according to police. Neighbors might know more. Neighbor not present during prime disappearance window, reports no activity. No evidence found in apartment. Possibly borrowed from loan sharks and left town. Chapter 3 The little glass box called a phone booth was suffocating. Small spaces did bad things to his chest, and worse things to his vision, but he bore through it as the phone rang in his ear. ¡°Sergeant Bob Diller, Saddlebrook police, how may I help you?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Jack. Just checked the Marlows place. I didn¡¯t find much. Landlord didn¡¯t hear anything, neighbor was at sea for most of when they were missing, and I didn¡¯t find anything in their apartment. My guess would be they hightailed it outta here, maybe took a loan before they left.¡± ¡°Makes sense, but I didn¡¯t hire you to guess, Jack.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know what you want from me. I can check with the bank and some local sharks, but after that there ain¡¯t much I can do. Case is cold as snow.¡± ¡°You¡¯re getting too antsy, Jack. I told you you shouldn¡¯t have left.¡± ¡°Nah, it ain¡¯t about that, Bob. It¡¯s just that there ain¡¯t much I can do if I don¡¯t find somethin¡¯.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t find anything, then don¡¯t do anything. Take the payment and hope for something big next time.¡± Hope for something big. Mankind spent spent every day hoping, with little to show for it. ¡°Alright, fine.¡± And that was the end of it. --- The bank didn¡¯t have anything for him. Didn¡¯t expect them to. They were smart with their money, wouldn¡¯t even think about lending to someone like Joe Marlow. Sharks would, though. Reuben and Associates - Money Lenders. The sign was well-lit, even in the day, the text a gleaming black against the white background. Hard to miss the sign, though the building was dull red brick, just another piece of the background. It wasn¡¯t even as the tall as the adjacent buildings, but the sign was enough for most. Inside it smelled of tobacco, the air itself carrying a mist of its smoke that swirled around. He walked by the receptionist without a word. She knew him, and he knew her. Enough to know they shouldn¡¯t bother each other. Instead, Jack walked through the doors to the side of her desk, releasing a wave of white smoke. It poured out like a broken dam until he closed the doors, and for a moment he could see the room with a bit of clarity, though more smoke came to clog the air. It nearly choked him, the mix of tobacco smoke and incense forming an ocean that he waded through to the back, passing by busy tables of poker games, some cussing at their losses and others exclaiming their winnings, all of them in some sort of formal clothing. They gave him no more than a passing glance as he walked passed them all and through the next set of doors. ¡°You¡¯re back, Jack.¡± He shut the doors behind him and approached the man. Like the patrons outside, he wore formal clothes, a grey lined suit with a white undershirt and black tie, a hat as white as pearl on the desk. It was a nice desk, nicest Jack had seen. A dark brown wood, almost black, and smooth as marble to the touch. It cost more than Jack¡¯s office, Jack knew. The rest of the office was just as nice, a series of drawers and cabinets, and a few bookcases, one to the side and another behind the man, each filled to capacity.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°I¡¯m back, Reuben. Business, like last time.¡± Reuben wasn¡¯t surprised. At least, he didn¡¯t seem so. If anything, he seemed more excited. ¡°Heard you¡¯re a private detective now. What, too much heat for ya on the force?¡± His grin was wide, and the kind that made you want to punch a man, but Jack didn¡¯t dare touch Reuben, nor did he dare show his anger. ¡°Just wanted some autonomy, is all. Get to go where I want, and do the cases I want and all that.¡± ¡°Oh sure, bet you wanted to come here again, didn¡¯t ya? Come now, Jack. What¡¯re ya here for?¡± His only saving grace, Reuben. Getting to the point. ¡°Just want to know if you¡¯ve given out any loans to a Joseph or Maylene Marlow. Both around their 40s, medium builds. Maylene¡¯s got long blonde hair and Joe¡¯s got it short and black.¡± ¡°Ya know I can¡¯t give loans out to married woman. And I don¡¯t recall the feller.¡± ¡°Too blind to look at your records?¡± ¡°Nah, just don¡¯t like ya, is all.¡± ¡°Come now, Reuben-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®come now¡¯ me, Jack. I told ya, I don¡¯t recall the feller,¡± Reuben interrupted. Jack inhaled, though he tried to keep his face still. He didn¡¯t like being interrupted. ¡°What about the woman? She could have lied about her marriage.¡± ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. What¡¯s in it for me?¡± Jack sighed as he reached into his pocket and tapped a paper bill on the table. ¡°I can pay five dollars.¡± Reuben¡¯s gaze turned to the money on the table. Always did, the greedy bastard. ¡°Ten.¡± ¡°Six.¡± ¡°Eight.¡± ¡°Six and a half.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s not play those games Jack, we¡¯ll be here all day. I count dollars not pennies.¡± ¡°Fine, seven even.¡± He took the bill off the table, half afraid the man would steal if from him, and took out two more paper bills, tapping all three back on the table. Up seventeen, down seven. Still ten up. ¡°It¡¯s a deal, then. The woman came in early last month,¡± he said, flipping a book open, ¡°on the 8th, apparently. Happened to owe me seven dollars, so ya have filled that role.¡± ¡°So you haven¡¯t seen her since?¡± ¡°I posted a couple guys at her home. Last they saw her was the 18th, came home at the usual time. She didn¡¯t come out, I took them off, we knocked a few days back, nothin¡¯.¡± ¡°The guards. How long were they there? Did they take breaks or anything?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Nah, we got a system, Jack. If that woman left the building it was after I took my guys off. Simple as that.¡± ¡°And when was that?¡± ¡°Little after the 20th, when the law started snooping.¡± ¡°Alright. Thanks.¡± Jack nodded at him, then turned. ¡°And thank you for payin¡¯ the debt.¡±. Someone would. That was just how Reuben did business. Jack passed through his doors and made his way through clouds of smoke once again, holding his breath as he passed. The smell would cling to him, but it was worth it in the long run. Ten dollars and a case that could keep him busy for a few days, plus the fee from Bob. It was business, and Jack liked business. Detective Notes Current date: May 3rd. Crime: Missing family. Reported April 23rd, possibly missing since April 16th 18th. Victims: Marlow Family. The father Joseph (42), mother Maylene (38), and two children, Sarah (13) and Charlie (8). Address: 67 Broker St. Additional Notes: No signs of struggle according to police. Neighbors might know more. Neighbor not present during prime disappearance window, reports no activity. No evidence found in apartment. Possibly borrowed from loan sharks and left town. Mother not seen leaving by sharks. Chapter 4 Night crawled upon the city, yellow lanterns lighting the grey cobblestone streets. It was raining again. Always seemed to in Saddlebrook. Good old Pluvicael at work. Jack was thankful it was light, barely a sprinkle, and that his day was over. He¡¯d looked around the apartment building again, a red mass of brick taller than the buildings next to it, but there weren¡¯t any spots they could have escaped from. Not unless they jumped, but that was for tomorrow, not today. Today was over. The rain began to pick up in earnest as he entered his own building, momentarily turning back and offering a half-hearted prayer of thanks. He closed the door and challenged the stairs, each step straining his sore legs as he half pulled himself up with the side railing. His office was on the second floor of five, but he still felt it was too much. He wanted a ground office, or an elevator. He opened the door to his office, seeing only the reflection of rain drops coming from the window. Night had come faster than he thought, and so he removed his shoes at the doorway, tossing his coat to the floor as he headed to his room. He removed his clothes and crawled into bed, barely bothering to cover himself with a blanket despite the chill in the air. It didn¡¯t matter much to him. He was quick to sleep. --- White clouds filled the streets, obscuring the view of everything in sight. It had come in from the sea, almost tasting of salt. Black street lights could barely be seen, their lights only just cutting through. It was dense, more so than usual, as if the sky itself had descended. There we no people, no figures to be seen. Just empty street. Cobbled road, buildings to each side so obscured as to be shadows, dull light permeating the area. They passed by, the cobbled bricks below, the buildings, the lights. Each one fell out of view, seen and forgotten in an instant. The lanterns transformed, one after another, each one in succession changing in shape, each ever more bent until finally they bent at the top, forming two straight perpendicular lines, and in the distance, a shadowed form hovering above the ground. As it drew closer the shadow grew more detailed, revealing itself. A hanged figure. Man, woman, child, it was none of those things. It was only human, and hanging from the street lights, a thick black rope around its neck. --- Jack had recalled the dream again and again throughout the day. He recalled it even now as he stared up at the apartment building. He stood upon the rooftop of an adjacent building, staring up a bit at the third floor. The structure of the two buildings was uneven, the windows of the second floor of the apartment building starting below and ending above the roof. They couldn¡¯t have jumped from there, it was too low, especially for children. No, they¡¯d have to have done it from the third floor.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. They could have done it on the building on the opposite side, but they didn¡¯t. The apartments on the opposite side were rented out, while the ones on the third floor were unoccupied and, upon inspection, unlocked. That, and Jack noticed the stained blood on the rooftop when he looked out the third floor window earlier. Someone must have broken a leg, bone piercing through the skin. It wasn¡¯t much blood, but it was blood. The luminol proved that. He knew what dried blood looked like, but proof was nice. Reddish-brown stains lead from the rooftop edge to the entrance he¡¯d come up from. ¡°Of course it¡¯s wood,¡± he whispered to himself. The door handle was wood, which meant no fingerprints. That left him with only suspicion. Walking down the stairwell provided little help. A few drops of blood went down, but they stopped after the first flight. They borrowed money from a shark, escaped onto the roof of the next building when they saw they were being watched, and made there way out. Out of Saddlebrook or just around the corner, he couldn¡¯t know. He left the building and made his way to the nearest phone booth. He took deep breaths as he stood in front of it, preparing himself. Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t be too long. He entered and made his call, counting the rings as he waited. On the third he got an answer. ¡°Hey Bob, it¡¯s Jack. Just checking in.¡± ¡°So what¡¯d you find?¡± ¡°It¡¯s about what I expected. They took a loan from a local shark and they sent some guys to watch them. Say they last saw¡¯em on the 18th. Family probably got spooked and tried to escape, since there¡¯s blood on the roof of the building next to them. Probably jumped from an unoccupied apartment on the third floor, from what I can tell.¡± ¡°Lead anywhere?¡± ¡°Nah, just down the stairs a little. After that there¡¯s nothing.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll send out a notice then, see if anyone¡¯s seen someone hobbling around the area. If we don¡¯t get anything after that, the case is done.¡± ¡°Good to know. I¡¯ll be seeing you, Bob.¡± ¡°Yeah, see you later Jack.¡± He hung up the phone, taking deep breaths as he left the booth. He swore it was getting worse. He walked away as sweat dripped lightly down his back despite the chill of wind from the sea. No sooner after he left, it started to rain. Detective Notes Current date: May 3rd. Crime: Missing family. Reported April 23rd, possibly missing since April 16th 18th. Victims: Marlow Family. The father Joseph (42), mother Maylene (38), and two children, Sarah (13) and Charlie (8). Address: 67 Broker St. Additional Notes: No signs of struggle according to police. Neighbors might know more. Neighbor not present during prime disappearance window, reports no activity. No evidence found in apartment. Possibly borrowed from loan sharks and left town. Mother not seen leaving by sharks. Third floor apartments unoccupied and unlocked, has good view of adjacent roof. Blood found on rooftop of next door building, leads down stairwell.