I stepped over the yellow police tape and made my way to the scene of the crime. The moonlight found a way to light the street through the foggy haze, but the nearby buildings were as dark as my trenchcoat. I knew the citizens of DPF were peering at me behind their windows, trying to get a glimpse of what all the ruckus was about. I knew I was flirting with disaster, as this would most likely blow my cover, but I also knew that I had to make a move before things started to spiral out of control.
All that was left at the scene was a white chalky outline, and the words “BANNED”. I knew exactly who it was. It was an alternate account.
Johnson.
He was an undercover sleuth like myself, although a little more cocky. That’s what got him banned, and it’s the reason why I work alone. I knew I would see his ugly mug again, but I didn’t know it would be like this. Above me, I saw someone peak out of a window. I called out to him, but he quickly scurried back into the darkness. Something was going on, something bad. I poured myself a midnight snack and sat on the bench next to me. Elbows on my knees, I hung my head below my shoulders.
‘Think Noir!”, I said out loud.
Johnson took the fall this time, but who’s next? When does it stop? I grinned to myself and took another swig. What a classy crowd this is.
