Jump to content

World of Darkness: Attrition - [Adrian Moss] Things That Bump Back In The Night

Adrian Moss

Recommended Posts

Paul Krintzki was dead. It was neither surprising, or alarming. Paul had not been a popular guy. He had been a low-down, swindling, dirty, lying scumbag of a human being. He was the kind of Private Investigator that gave the entire profession a bad name. He had been to engrossed in a baseball game going into extra innings to attend his own Son's funeral. He got paid in cash so he didn't have to pay his wife alimony (or taxes). It was widely suspected that he had a hand in the death of two of his 'clients' who he blackmailed until they committed suicide.

What was surprising was how much care and brutality had led up to his death. There were pieces of him found a half mile from the main crime scene. His gun was missing, but the police determined that he had fired it. They had to test his palm and sleeve because they couldn't find (initially) any of the fingers on his right hand. The scariest part of all, though, was that Paul hadn't died of any of his numerous wounds. Paul had died of fright. He had a massive coronary, brought on by decades of chili dogs, greasy fries, booze, and bad coffee. What had finally kicked him over the cliff though was the terror that had him running the last mile of his life.

Someone joked that they didn't know he could run that fast. The response was that no one knew he could run at all. Yes, he was unloved. The two detectives who drew the case groaned over the graveside humor. They groaned inwardly as well. Paul had way too many enemies. He was an easy guy to hate. That made the list of possible suspects in the hundreds. Their key limiting factor was that whomever had run Paul to death was that they ... hell, there were no limiting factors. The attacker, or attackers, could have had a gun. It was likely that they probably had an instrument of terror - maybe a blowtorch the guessed.

When the beat cops finally found what seemed to be the crime scene, the detectives moved in to investigate. The site was a loft apartment that was unoccupied, though it looked like more than one person had inhabited the place. It was cramped quarters. There was Krintzki's gun, empty. They found the seven bullet holes brought about by Paul most likely emptying his gun - a seven round clip without one up the barrel. No doubt Krintzki feared blowing off his dick. What he had shot at, they didn't know. CSI was looking over the site, but suspected that none of the bullets had passed through a living body.

The cops had to think about that one. Seven shots at someone who couldn't have been more than twenty feet away. Was he really that bad a shot? Had he been drunk? What the hell had he been shooting at? One thing was for sure, the shots had been clustered by the mattress near the window. It look like two people had lived, or still lived, there. Had they been involved. Well, hopefully some DNA evidence, or fingerprints, would give them a suspect. Until then, they might as well take a look at the bastard's office and see who he had been working for.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Mr. Moss, we are so glad you would meet with us," began the father. He was a balding man who still vainly tried to hide it with a pathetic comb-over. His wife was plump and had a terribly sad face. She clutched her purse to her like a life preserver. Adrian wasn't sure what this couple wanted, but it had to be bad. Worse, he was pretty sure that they couldn't afford him. Whomever had decided to toss him this case hadn't done him any favor.

"See, it's our daughter." He slid a photo across the table. "She's run away with this local kid - local to Fresno anyway - and has come to LA. We just know she's in terrible danger. She's not used to this kind of lifestyle. She's a good girl."

"Okay, how old is she?"

"She's seventeen and she's never done anything like this before. As I said, she's a good girl. She's never been wild, or impulsive. It's this boy. You have got to get her away from him and bring her home. Please."

'Oh great,' Adrian thought. 'She a Good Girl. That probably means she's been suffocated at home until she finally had enough and bolted. Finding her is going to be a bitch. Getting her to come home is going to be nearly impossible.'

"I might be able to find her, but I can't guarantee I can bring her home. She's seventeen."

"Well, find her and we'll talk reason to her. She must be horribly scared."

"Well," sighed Adrian. He might as well get this part over with. "Do you know my rates? It's $300 a day, plus expenses."

Sure enough, they looked crestfallen. The father looked down at his hands.

"Well, I can get you the money, but it will take some time." He didn't look up. "We paid Mr. Krintzki two weeks ... in advance. He promised us he could find her. I ... I believed him."

Had Adrian been alive, he would have choked.

"You paid Paul Krintzki over $4000 dollars ... in advance?"

"Well, now that he's dead, I don't know how we'll get our money back."

Yeah, Paul was dead alright. Most PI's hadn't shed a tear on hearing the news. The man was a parasite. The only strange thing was that Adrian had heard that Paul had actually been killed running down a case. He'd actually been working on something besides a scotch at his favorite watering hole. Of course, everyone knew he had died badly, though no two stories were precisely the same. The common thread running through it was that Paul had been cut up pretty bad. Some even said his hands had been cut off. Now, who in the hell would do that in this day and time?

"So, essentially you can't pay me."


"Okay, I'll see what I can do. I'm not making promises, but if I find her, I'll let her know that you are looking for her and advise her to get in touch."

The man looked surprised and relief flooded his features. He reached across the diner's table to clasp his hand, but Adrian didn't respond in kind.

"Sorry, I don't normally shake hands. It's nothing personal, just a personality quirk."

The man nodded. The wife started crying and whimpering a 'thank you' over and over again.

Adrian stood up, tossed some money on the table to cover the coffee he hadn't drunk and a nice tip besides. The waitresses around this place were beginning to like him, though they certainly thought the young man was odd. The young vampire picked up the picture and looked at it thoroughly before putting it into his coat pocket.

"I'll get right on your case. I'll start making some calls tonight and hit the streets tomorrow. Go home and I'll call you when I know something."

The couple nodded. Despite his best efforts, Adrian couldn't help but see them as sheep.

Link to comment
Share on other sites


This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Create New...