The Missing Teen

Coal had always felt it was best to allow walk-ins in the office. Never mind that business was slow enough as it was, and never mind that he was still pretty new to the city, he never felt right making a desperate person go through hoops to get to him. After years of this practice, he no longer jumped when the front door slammed open. With a sigh, he swung up to his feet and opened the door to the lobby. An older woman was there, wringing the strap of her purse in her hands. She looked adequately desperate. 

“My daughter is missing.” She told him. “She’s been missing for a week and the police haven’t found a single thing.”

Now this was the first case that had been presented to Coal from his new location that hadn’t been a marital affair, so naturally this woman had his full attention. He let her into his office and began negotiating a price.

“She went to school last Friday, nothing was out of the ordinary. She acted normal. She didn’t come home when school ended, but that was normal, she often stayed to build sets and props for the school plays. It was when she missed dinner that I got really worried, and when it got to be dark and she still wasn’t home I called the police.”

“And you say the police haven’t found anything?”

“Not a thing!” The woman was close to hysterics. Not that Coal blamed her. “All they could tell me was that she’d missed lunch period, and that no one saw her leave the building.”

Not much to work on, but Coal had been dealt worse hands. The missing girl was named Tia LeBois. He asked the mother, Mrs. Lenor LeBois, a few more questions, if the girl had any friends he could contact, any areas she frequented out of school, if she’d been in any relationships at the time. LeBois was able to give him the landlines for some of the friends’ families, but admitted she didn’t know much about her daughter’s social life beyond the few friends she brought home. She apparently got very prickly if she ever tried to pry.

She paid the fee and left him to it. He promised her to do everything in his ability to find Tia. Looking at his meager notes so far, the best place to start was probably with her friends. They’d be able to tell him more accurately when she was last seen, and about this mysterious social life of hers. Preferably, he would be able to search for clues around the school, but it was usually frowned upon for grown adults to go snooping around such places. 

A certain surname had caught his attention, as he’d heard it before in the numerous times he’d visited the local police station. 

Coal turned up at the Dreadnought Police Department late that afternoon. The place was busy, but orderly as usual under Chief Evan’s rule. He went up to the desk, where the woman working was starting to become a familiar face.

“Mr. Weston,” she greeted, “has something new come up?”

“Another case, if you can believe it,” he teased, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to pester you for case files, again.”

“Since they aren’t public access.” She stared pointedly.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “I was actually wondering if Rina Periera is here right now? I believe she could have information helpful to my case.”

“I can ask for you, but no guarantees.” The woman said, reaching for a phone nearby. Coal found her charming the more she let her annoyance with him show.

-Rina tells Coal she the other friends know something she doesn’t

-Coal meets the group of friends, they explain the partying thing and that they didn’t talk to the police for fear of being suspected

-Confronting the drama teacher, he’s evasive and uncooperative. Coal tries to ask the other faculty about him but they don’t seem keen on gossiping.

-Coal snoops around the little cafe plaza, where the group of friends are. They tell him about Wyatt after he tells them the faculty haven’t told him anything.

Dreadnought had a personality. All cities did, in Coal’s opinion. His old base of operations was spacey, and slow, with dreams of grandeur but a lethargic pace. Bisector made you feel high on inspiration, but it always felt like something disappointing lurked beneath the sensation. Dreadnought was similar to its twin, but distinct. 

This was the reason starting a new PI firm all on one’s lonesome was very much not recommended. But that was how Coal had operated before, and some habits blatantly refused to die.

Coal took a seat at the bar, waved to the red-headed bartender nearby. The man gave him a charming smile as he wrapped up tending to another customer. 

“What can I start you off with tonight?” He said, moving towards him.

“I’ll have a Stella.” He requested. “Are you Wyatt Keyes?”

“I am. Something you’re interested in?” The bartender smiled as he poured out his drink. His eyes were sharp and intelligent. Coal had no difficult time believing this man was the information broker he’d been looking for. 

“I’m working on a case, and I was wondering if you could help me find some leads.”

Keyes hummed, passing the Stella to him. 

“Alright, here’s how this usually works. You can trade or buy, yeah? You give me some info I deem of equal value, that’s a trade, you don’t have anything to offer, I accept tips. Cash, not card. There’s an ATM out front, if you need it. Sound good?”

Not having any objections, and not wanting to offend with any questions, Coal nodded.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the first private booth.” Keyes leaned over the bar to indicate to a roomy, round-table booth next to an Employees Only door. He flashed Coal one more charming grin, and moved on to some other customers. 

Coal took a sip from his drink, and sighed, moving to the designated booth. He had a feeling that he was about to put himself in a little closer to the underbelly of this city than he was really comfortable with. His previous setup had been somewhere much smaller, and while it, too, had an underbelly, it was a mere skeleton to the feel of the darkness around this place. He hadn’t been living there long, and he expected to have to brush elbows with it eventually, but he didn’t have to be happy about it. Even so, he needed some sort of lead, and everyone had pointed him to this man. 

Speaking of the devil, the bartender slid into a seat across from him. He closed the curtains to the entrance.

“So!”  He folded his arms and leaned on his elbows. “What sort of info are you looking for?”

“A teenage girl has seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth. The police apparently haven’t found anything, so her mother came to me.”

“What have you found so far?” 

“Her friends last saw her just before her lunch period. She was involved with the school’s drama program, and the drama teacher has definitely been acting suspicious, but for whatever reason he hasn’t been questioned by police.”

“Sounds like their investigation has been pretty lackluster.”

“It’s definitely suspicious.” Coal agreed.

“I imagine you want to know if there’s any reason the cops wouldn’t put their all into an investigation around here.” He stretched his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Give me some names. The school, the girl, the teacher?”

“School’s called Como High, the daughter is Tia LeBois, her mother is Lenor, and the drama teacher is called Mason Charlie.”

Keyes drummed his fingers on the table. “Yeah, I’ve got some ideas for you. What do you have to offer?” 

“Huh. Let’s see.” Coal thought. This guy wanted something he could sell to other people. There wasn’t much he had to give short of his own personal information. “I have detailed cold cases to offer. People of interest that got off scott-free. That sort of thing work?”

The broker was a master of keeping an even face, Coal found. If the offer was intriguing, or underwhelming, Keyes didn’t give a single hint. He was probably an excellent liar, he would have to keep in mind.  

“That’ll do just fine. Tell me about a cold case from the cities. Names, happenings, theories, evidence. Where things left off. Save the wanteds for next time, right?”

Coal went into great detail describing the story of a couple that went to Bisector airport for their honeymoon, and though their tickets indicate they boarded and their luggage arrived, the couple never turned up. He told every fine detail, every dead end and unsolved mystery, and every name attached. He could swear the other man’s eyes were lit up by the end.

“Were you involved in that case?”

“No, I just studied it.” Coal said. Keyes whistled.

“Quite a memory you got, then. Assuming you didn’t make any of that up?”

“No way,” he chuckled, “I’m not that sadistic.”

“Doubtful.” The red-head grinned, leaning on his elbows again. “Either way, I forgot to mention, but I would highly recommend you not lie to me, it would be easier for all of us.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. I’m sure you’ve been doing this a while.”

Keyes hummed.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” he smiled “What you need to know. For one, Mr. Charlie owns a warehouse nearby Como High. 186, three blocks down on Firage Way. The school can’t store all the drama equipment, such as costumes or paint buckets, the like. The place is loaned out under his name, so presumably he’s sunk his own money into it.

Second. There’s a gang that likes to hang around that area. They try to target the troubled teens that skip class and lurk around the cafes instead. Get them hooked on drugs, that sort of thing. The way up from Como to Firage falls in that area. If you’re going to find anything, I’d wager it’ll be in one of those two areas.”

“What’s this gang called? Is there anything I should know about them?”

Keyes sighed, and his grin dropped a little for the first time that night. 

“Alright, usually I’d ask for more compensation for this sorta stuff. I don’t want anyone tracing whatever you decide to do with this stuff back to me, you understand?” He tucked a few stray hairs back into his bun. “But since this is your first ‘tipping,’ so to speak, I’m fine with giving you a freebie. The gang is pretty low on the food chain, they mostly stay out of everyone else’s way and target people who are vulnerable. Easy wins, you know. They call themselves the Changelings, but if you want to provoke them, they’ve been nicknamed the ‘Blanks,’ as well. Keep an eye out for this symbol, it’ll be in white on often a light-gray article of clothing.”

He pulled out a slip of paper and a pen, scribbled out an image, and passed it across the table. Coal took it.

“However, even though these guys aren’t much of a force to be reckoned with when it comes to confrontations, they seem to have a finger in every pie, so to speak. Seems to me like they’re trying to worm their way into as many shady businesses they can think of, throw it all at the wall and see what sticks. I have reason to believe they’ve got some members in the force. Most of the big ones around here do.”

After staring at the symbol for a while, Coal carefully folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

“Anything else you want to know about?” Keyes was watching him. 

“If there is, I’ll let you know.” Coal gave him a small smile. “Thank you for all this, Mr. Keyes.”

“Wyatt works. Thank me by finding that kid, Mr. Coal Weston.”

Coal left money for the Stella on the table and slipped out from behind the curtain. He stepped outside the bar, head buzzing with the slew of information, said and unsaid. Something told him he’d made an impression on Keyes-- that is, Wyatt. He knew he was certainly impressed himself; the man knew a lot. Coal didn’t like singing his own praises, but he knew himself to be a very observant person, and it seemed this man held a similar skill.

Either way, he had some leads now. He’d get a couple hours of sleep and get on them at the crack of dawn.