Harry Dresden (i_wizard) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-03-17 20:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry dresden |
An Ongoing Matter [Narrative]
Talking to Rebecca Crist made me want to wring my fingers into my hair and yank it all out, shove them into the phone, and use them to gag the woman. I don't condone violence against women, but she was really pushing some nerves. The uppity woman was going on and on about how Janice and Mortimer should never have been invited to a place like that, clearly they weren't up to the standards of the place. Dropping names left and right as if I were an investigative reporter instead of a private investigator (I had no intentions of telling this woman I was a wizard by trade). The abrasive voice, scratching like an owl, was making me twitch enough that static was bursting through the line every few moments.
Then she said something golden. I asked her to repeat herself. "I said, it just goes to show that true love is a sham. Mort wasn't the first naughty boy to claim he was in love at one of those dinner parties, you know. Some poor young thing winds up making a fool of himself nearly every time. It's a good thing Richard doesn't have the stamina for those waitresses anymore, or the strain might just kill him. Then again, I'd have that bed all to myself, wouldn't I?" Her shrill laughter grated on my nerves again, but I gritted my teeth and asked after the other men.
The woman loved to gossip, though. Thank god for that. It wasn't long before I had the names and addresses of three 'young fools' who'd also found themselves wrapped around someone else in a shady hotel after one of these parties. After (finally!) dislodging myself from Mrs. Crist, I talked to each of the men.
Same. Exact. Pattern. Same freaking hotel! All three were devastated by the loss of their girlfriends, but assumed that they had left. Clothing and valuables gone, no answers to any calls or visits, and absolutely no help from the police.
It's clever. But it's a con. And I'm going to bring it down.