by Matt Doyle
And with that, she resumes her walk. Being as dense as I am, it takes a moment to realise what she meant. “Someone left you because of Ink?”
“So, how did you find it?” Lori asks, ignoring my question.
I sigh and make a mental note to think before I speak more often. Or at the very least, to speak to Jane before I put my foot in it some more. “Honestly? I was really surprised. I’m tempted to see if there are any shows available on download. What about you?”
“Less hammy than I expected, but a little too cheesy for my tastes. If you enjoyed it, though, then that’s good enough for me. Getting you to relax and not think about work for a bit was more than worth it.”
I take Lori’s hand this time and give it a tight squeeze. “Thank you, Lori,” I say, and the warm smile that rises on her face is better than anything I saw on stage. It goes deeper than the smiles I saw when I was working her case. It’s warmer, more content .
We’re about to leave through the main doors when a man in a suit comes running up to us. “Excuse me. Sorry, but are you Cassandra Tam? The private investigator?”
I turn to face the man and frown. “I prefer Cassie or Caz, but yes.”
“Ah, good. Kitsune thought that they recognised you. You were in the fifth row, right?”
“Good eyes,” Lori says. “The audience lights were off.”
The man shrugs. “Fox spirits, right? Look, I know that it’s a bit cheeky given you were here for a show and all, but Kitsune would really like to speak with you.” He turns to Lori and adds, “They said that they saw the two of you holding hands and that you’re welcome to come along too.”
“Wow,” Lori replies. “Well, now I feel totally spied on.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I sigh and turn to Lori. “What do you think?”
“I think this is going to completely negate the idea of this being a work-free evening. You probably should go, though. I’ll come too, if that’s okay If nothing else, you still owe me some evening, even if we spend it working.”
I nod and look back to the man. “Lead the way.”
KITSUNE’S CHANGING ROOM is pretty small by celebrity standards. Looking around, I can see a long, leather couch against one wall. There’s a mid-sized table containing a fruit basket and a bottle of water in the middle of the room and, flanked by a couple of armchairs, a television by the door. A mirrored desk stands opposite the couch and a fold-out panel screen near the back wall. It looks like there’s some clothing hanging over the top of the screen, but I can’t tell what. At a push, I’d guess a plain top and a pair of jeans. Like I said, small by celebrity standards.
The room is also well lit. There’s a nice, stain-free carpet on the floor, and not one speck of dirt is visible anywhere, so celebrities clearly haven’t quite fallen to my level of living just yet. That’s a big, high-earning thumbs-up to the human obsession with other people’s lives, eh?
I thrive in clutter , I remind myself and move my gaze back to the couch. Stretched out…no, make that luxuriating, on said couch is Kitsune, still in their mask and kimono. While the mask retains its markings, the kimono is in a state that the theme park performers of the past would refer to as “breaking the magic.” Yes, it’s still tied and worn with the same elegance as during the live show, but the markings are gone. Instead, several runs of small black nodules are protruding from the fabric like some sort of bizarre dead LED pockmarks. I’d wonder what they are, but I’ve seen them before; they’re short-range holographic projectors. Way back when I was choosing Bert’s design, the store had a bunch of them set up in a cube layout so they could show me a 3D representation of his final shape. Kitsune must have them set up so that the stagehands can alter the design as and when they change characters.
The man in the suit, who we have learned is named Mr. Smitt, clears his throat, and a quiet yawn drifts out from Kitsune’s muzzle, but their eyes don’t open. “I have Cassandra Tam for you, and her partner, Miss Redwood. Miss Tam prefers Cassie or Caz, and Miss Redwood is not giving a first name.” Smitt pauses, then adds, in a gentler tone, “Did you want me to stick around?”
Kitsune opens a relaxed eye and glances over towards Lori and me. “No, no, it’s all right, Kevin. If you could just make sure that we aren’t disturbed, that would be fantastic.” Kevin Smitt nods in response and leaves the room. Kitsune sits up and grabs the bottle of water from the table. “Drink? I’m afraid that I only have water. They don’t allow anything else other than tea and coffee back here and I’m afraid that, since the Tech Shift operation, I’ve been displaying some mild allergic symptoms to caffeine.”
It’s interesting. Even without the vocal filters, Kitsune’s voice is very light, but it doesn’t give away a specific gender any more than their promotional photos do. Thanks to years of hard work, I’m pretty close to Andrew Hoover, the Captain of the local PD, and I’ve had the pleasure of meeting various members of his family over that time. He has a nephew, Jimmy, who has a similar way of talking, at least when he’s not ramping up the machismo in an effort to placate his father. Jimmy has a definite male edge to his voice, though, while Kitsune doesn’t. The mask muffles their accent too, though I think that it may have a hint of Japanese to it. But that could be my mind trying to rationalise the voice with the cultural connotations of the show.
“I’m fine,” I reply, and Kitsune looks back to Lori. Lori shakes her head, and Kitsune waves us to the armchairs. “I’m sorry, but did you want to get changed before we speak? We’d be happy to leave the room while you get ready. It must be hard work performing in both the TS gear and a kimono thick enough to house projectors without them moving out of line with each other, even if they are the smaller, lightweight models.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Kitsune sighs. “There’s a wireless motion detection system in each hand too,” they add, waving two metallic, clawed paws. “You’ll note that my tails are missing. They don’t yet make multi-tailed suits, you see, and the number is important within the folklore, so we had to find other solutions. The projector tucked under the obi sash keeps the back open nicely, and it allows movement, both in animation and in the actual device, but it’s a bit stronger than the main ones.”
“Meaning that it’s heavier,” I reply.
“Indeed. The way the system works is identical to the tail guidance in regular suits though.”
I frown, and Lori clarifies, “Regular Tech Shift gear uses two small wireless touchpads to control tails, one for the bottom half, and one for the top half. They’re embedded in the hand rest of Ink’s front legs. For hybrid-style gear, they usually sit inside the thumb of each hand. It’s the same concept in each one, but animal-style gear allows for bigger movements, while hybrid gear measures micro movements.”
“Which would be rather fiddly, given the level of movement that I require. These are built into the paw pads and are set to register larger movements so that the tails can move in time with the different dance routines and my more flamboyant gestures,” Kitsune explains, demonstrating one of the hand flourishes from the show. They pause then and chuckle. “Ah, but I’m rambling. I am afraid that changing is, contractually speaking, impossible. Will my appearance be a problem?”
“No, I’m used to Tech Shifters…”
Lori laughs and cuts in with, “You are so not used to us yet.”
I laugh quietly, despite myself. The miserable old loner that still lives in my head says I should be angry about that; I’m working after all. But the part of me that was enjoying the evening is far more prominent and reminds me that this was supposed to be Lori’s evening too. I can allow her a small jab or two on that basis. “My early experiences with Tech Shifters were not positive,” I say, addressing Kitsune. “I’m getting better, though. What do you mean by ‘contractually speaking,’ if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all. It is essentially as it sounds. The Kitsune brand is a joint venture between myself and Kevin, and there is a lot of paperwork involv
ed dealing with how the whole thing is to be played out in every mundane situation that you could imagine. What it means is that I can boss Kevin about and make him my dogsbody as much as is required, but at the same time, I must respect his rather brilliant marketing strategies. Part of that means that the mystery of the Kitsune’s true identity is to be protected at all times. As such, I do not meet with anyone without my professional face on. It seems a little strange, I know, but he was previously a historian of certain old-world sporting brands by trade and thought that applying a degree of what he called kayfabe would help give the whole thing a new edge. I can’t say that he was wrong.”
“So, are you Kitsune when you’re around family too?” Lori asks. “Or partners?”
“Oh, I have no time for partners, not with my touring schedule. With family, I can be myself, though Kevin did insist upon them signing a gagging order to prevent them from revealing my identity to anyone who hadn’t signed a similar contract. You should have seen my mother’s face when he brought that up. I honestly thought that the rolling pin she was holding was going to be put to nefarious use. Outside Kevin, even my oldest friends do not know who resides beneath the mask.”
“That must be hard to maintain,” I say.
“Oh yes, I have cover stories and everything. It’s somewhat akin to witness protection if television is to be believed. As far as most know, I am simply a touring stagehand for the great performing fox spirit.”
I nod. “Kitsune, as pleasant as this is, I assume there was a reason that you wanted to see me?”
“Oh yes, of course. I saw the news coverage of your recent success with that Gary Locke character,” they say, and Lori flinches slightly. “As far as local detectives go, there are plenty of them about, but you are certainly the most well regarded. I have actually been in town for a week now, and I am due to remain here for a further two. I am afraid that, over that initial period, I was subject to a crime of the nature I am led to believe the police do not take overly seriously.”
“The police wouldn’t be happy about not knowing your identity, regardless of the crime. If it’s one that they won’t usually touch, that doesn’t leave many possibilities. What are we talking about?”
“It is rather lonely on the road,” they sigh wistfully. “A few months ago, we stopped in Toledo, and I was awoken from a post-performance nap by a clattering outside the tour bus. I wandered out, expecting to find a fan or two hunting autographs, and instead found this charming little thing skulking around the bins. I named him Fish.”
Kitsune produces a phone from their kimono, loads up a photo, and passes it over. It shows a snow white American Shepherd dog sitting on one of the tour bus seats and giving the camera a suspicious look. It’s too big to be a puppy, but certainly not big enough to be fully grown.
“You named your dog Fish?”
“It seems strange, doesn’t it?” Kitsune laughs. “There’s a reason, though.” They take the phone back and enlarge the picture, revealing that the dog’s tail is about half the length it should be. It was easy to miss at normal size because the single colouring made it seem like it was tucked under its legs. “When I was young, my parents had some rosetail betta fish. One of them was pure white, and it had a habit of nibbling through its tail fin. When we took Fish to the vet, they said that the tail damage, judging by the angle of the marks, was likely self-inflicted. I couldn’t remember what my parents called the fish, so I just stuck with Fish.”
I nod. “And I assume that Fish is now missing?”
“I am afraid so. It happened yesterday, during the early hours. I was woken by a loud bang and found that Fish was gone, and the tour bus door was open.”
“Could Fish have run away?”
“It would have been difficult for him to open the door, but not impossible. I don’t think that he would have run, though. We were lifelines for each other, you see. He kept me company during the day, and when he had nightmares, I comforted him. If he was spooked, he would usually run and hide near my bed. I heard something else too, a van door being slammed shut maybe? And then an engine.”
“So you’re thinking that he was stolen.”
“Honestly? I don’t know. Do you think that you could take the case? How much would it cost?”
“Cost is a difficult one with cases like this, because it depends on time and what’s involved. To give you an example, I found a missing cat last week, and the case cost the owner $500. A few weeks before that, a missing dog case took a lot longer and led me into a fight with an idiot who was stealing dogs for breeding. That cost $1,000.”
“Well, what if I was to offer a flat fee of $10,000? That would be regardless of whether you found Fish in a day or two weeks. If you can’t find him before I leave, I’ll have to accept that he simply isn’t built for family living, and you’ll get the same fee.”
“That’s a lot of money for this sort of case.”
“Cassie, was it?” Kitsune asks, and I nod. “If that is true, then it should tell you how important Fish is to me.”
I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my chin into my hands. It is a lot of money, and I don’t want to screw Kitsune over. At the same time, with the number of jobs I’ve had recently, there’s no telling how much time I’d be able to throw into it if comparatively bigger cases keep coming.
“Sorry,” Lori says, “but is there somewhere I could speak to Cassie privately for a moment?”
Kitsune tilts their head curiously but says, “Of course. There’s a door behind the screen. That leads to the bathroom. Is something wrong?”
“Not in the way that you think,” Lori replies and pushes up to her feet. “Cassie, come with me.”
I frown but follow Lori anyway. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the near two months we’ve been dating, it’s that Lori doesn’t try to get me alone for a chat unless she’s genuinely worried about something, and then, it’s usually because she’s spotted something I haven’t. Probably about me. We make our way into a bathroom about the size of my living room and Lori pushes the door shut and asks, “Kitsune’s offer. What do you think about it?”
“I’m thinking that it’s too much money, but that they’re so serious about it they probably won’t back down on it. That’s if I take the case.”
“So it is an if. Why wouldn’t you take it?”
I cross my arms defensively and reply, “Because I’m getting a lot of cases through the door right now, meaning that I probably won’t be able to dedicate enough time to it to do a good job. For that sort of money, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.”
“You told me a while back that missing pet cases are usually pretty easy though. Even that one with the breeder was quick compared to some cases you’ve had.”
“Yeah, but I was in a brief lull at the time. And they were being charged my normal rate. This is…uncomfortable for the type of case.”
“OK, so say you turned the case down. What sort of cases would you need to come through to you to make as much money in the same time?”
I shrug. “Mid-sized theft, maybe a couple of simple missing people cases?”
“And what are you getting coming in right now?”
“A lot of small theft and unfaithful partners.”
“Which are all time-consuming and for less return, right?”
I narrow my eyes at Lori. “And your point is?”
“Take this one as an exclusive case. Turn down all the others that come through until it’s done and concentrate on this one.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
Lori smiles. “Because you need a break. Say you find Fish within a day or two. You get a nice, big payment, and if you feel that you must keep going with your insane schedule, then you haven’t lost much time. If it takes you the whole two weeks, you’ll make more than you would have likely made otherwise. It gives you a chance to relax a little while still bringing money in.”
“And if another big case comes my way part way through it? Then wha
t?”
Lori rolls her eyes. “Then you take it. Just turn down the little ones while you’re on this one.”
I sigh and lean back against the wall next to the disturbingly clean toilet. “I guess I could do with a break.”
“Good,” Lori says and pushes the door open. “She’ll take the case,” she yells and shoots me a wicked grin while Kitsune starts shouting back their thanks.
My jaw drops open in shock. Lori’s argument was sound, but the money is still uncomfortable. Now I really will have to concentrate on Kitsune’s case to make myself feel better about accepting it. Lori knew that I might change my mind and just made it so that I can’t back out. “I can’t…you just…” I whisper-shout.
“Yup,” Lori winks. “You can thank me after you find the lost little puppy.”
Chapter Three
“WHAT?” I GRUMBLE through a mouthful of half-chewed toast. Bert responds by half closing the metal ring that outlines his eyes, giving the impression that he’s narrowing them at me. “You’ve seen me worse than this.”
Bert is a Familiar Unit, which basically means that he’s one of a line of mass-produced AIs. While most serve as family-friendly pet substitutes, some are used as glorified guard dogs. In Bert’s case, I managed to convince the retailer to give him a mix of both the “Family” and “Protector” programming, meaning that my shiny little bat-winged, beaked gargoyle is what would happen if you had a particularly sarcastic cat that was loyal enough to tackle intruders. Undeterred by my statement, Bert continues to stare, completely unflinching.
“I’m allowed to get annoyed sometimes, Bert.”
“Caw,” he agrees, but remains in place.
I roll my eyes and throw my toast down in frustration before blurting, “Ceoi zoeng , I’m pissed off with Lori, okay? She put me in a position where I not only couldn’t turn a case down but couldn’t even take any time to think about it either. And worst of all, she thinks I’m going to thank her for it when it’s all done.”
