Braxton Snow P.I. (The Snow Adventures Book 1)

by Danny C Estes

  “I've checked the hospitals, morgues, and all his staff with no luck. A couple days after he went missing, I tried the police. So far no animal has seen or heard from him.”

  She shifted to the edge of the chair and brought up her paws to clasp under her breasts.

  “Please, Mr. Snow. Lieutenant Barkly told me you've experience in finding lost loved ones. Could you please help me find my uncle?”

  I puffed on my pipe, thinking despite her female distractions. Lieutenant Barkly, huh? An image of a fiftyish bloodhound sitting at his desk hours at a time came to mind. Now there's a surprise. I considered the ramifications. That hound hates P.I.s, especially me for several reasons, one of which is for saving his life. A bit short-sighted of him, as far as I am concerned, but pride in one's abilities can do that. Yet to recommend a private investigator to this vixen means the legal trail has gone so cold only those willing to break miner laws can regain it. Save to give her my name means much more. Hmm…

  She was pushing out her chest in hopes of making her breasts more desirable. I ogled them as she wished, simply to enjoy the sight; after all, I'm an arctic wolf with normal male desires. However, knowing I was allowing her to distract me, I took a couple more puffs and continued to consider the matter. In recommending me, Barkly was telling me the search was dangerous, and if this uncle of hers is to be found, I'm more qualified than the other P.I.s. I rolled my eyes up to her large reddish brown ones. Then again, the search could be so perilous I could get killed. This too could have been his reason. Heaven knows that bloodhound wouldn't mourn my demise.

  I took out my pipe. “Kitten, I'll take up your case under one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes shifted and one ear twitched. I sensed she was considering whether she had gone too far with her feminine show and now must decide how far she'd go should I demand a roll or two in the hay for a down payment. I estimated by her looks that I was near twice her age; such an outcome would not be objectionable. However, if it came to chucking our clothes for some hot and heavy breathing, it'd be because she wished it, not because I demanded it.

  “You drop your play at seducing me into the job.”

  She blinked and sat back in her chair, stunned.”I-I, you knew what I was doing?”

  “Kitten, I'd be a poor investigator if I couldn't read animals.” I reinserted the pipe in my muzzle, sat back and puffed. “If you'll give me your name, I'll drop calling you kitten and we can start the paperwork.” I shifted to reach the second drawer of my desk to extract a clipboard with a questionnaire concerning the animal I was to invest my time finding and laid it on my desk before her.

  “Oh, uh, is it that easy?”

  “Not quite. As you read on my door, my fee is two fifty a day plus expenses. Five hundred due before I start. As I may get out of touch a few days into my search, I also need to know up front how many days you're willing to pay to fund my expedition.”

  “Ha,” she blurted nervously and put a paw up on her breast. “Expedition. It's funny you should say that. My uncle was all but set to go on one with his team before he went missing.”

  She reached into her bra, unashamed, and withdrew a bundle of bank notes. She counted out and separated five hundred to lay on my desk.

  I took up the bank notes, a bit surprised she carried so much on her without an escort, and flipped through them as she reinserted the rest into her bra and took up the clipboard.

  “My name is Catharine, Catharine Nelson.”

  “Braxton Snow.” I nodded and dropped the notes in the top drawer for the time being. I reloaded my pipe and stood to lean on the window frame in order to watch the world outside flow by until she was finished with the paperwork and ready to tell me her story.

  “My uncle's name is Mr. Sullivan. Oscar Sullivan. He's a respected archeologist who works solely for the Cat-A-Mite Museum. He and a team of college students were set to travel northeast to a new dig site somewhere above the large glacier. Where, I've no idea. My uncle visited the archives of the museum in search of an ancient map, so one of his staff claimed, and from there he disappeared.”

  “I see.” I accepted the clipboard then flipped though the sheets. “You state here he lives with you?”

  “That's true. My brother and I. When we were but little kits, our parents were killed in an accident. As our father's marriage to our mother was not approved by his family, my mother's brother was the only one who'd take us in. Since then we've become a family.”

  “Hmmm, okay. Are you free tomorrow morning?”

  “I'm still a student in college but I can miss a day if need be.”

  “Good.” I removed the pipe and dropped it in my cup of water to extinguish the embers. “I'll be over at eight. I'll start by going over his room and any office in your home he used. After that, I'll see to his office at the museum, after you present me to the managing curator.”

  “Am I to accompany you until you find my uncle?”

  I saw a light spark in her eyes as if she'd relish a chance to go beyond the confines of her normal life.

  “No, Ms. Nelson.” I smiled, dashing those hopes. “As a relative, you can legally gain me access to the two places I've mentioned. Mayhap after introductions to the curator of the museum, the animal may allow me into the archives where your uncle was last seen.”

  She slipped her dress straps back up onto her shoulders during our talk and rolled down the hem of her dress. When we both stood, she looked the respectable modern vixen she'd grown into.

  “Mr. Snow, you don't know how much this means to me. Anything you need, just ask.”

  I nodded. A glance at the clock showed an hour had passed. Darkness spreading out over the sky in the distance through the window meant dusk was well on its way; not a recommended time for females to be out on their own. I'd best see her to a rickshaw. “As it's late, I'll accompany you out to the street and see you settled in a rickshaw.” I stretched out my arm to escort her down to the street.

  “You're very kind, Mr. Snow. But there's no need. I've a driver awaiting me.”

  “As you wish.” I followed her to the door. “Still, to be safe, please ask the security guard to follow you out and see that you're safely installed in the rickshaw.”

  “I will.” Ms. Nelson turned at the door and took a hold of my arm and squeezed. “Again, thank you.” She looked as if she would tiptoe up to give me a kiss, but instead she gave me a bright smile and padded out.

  Once she was through the door and well on her way to the elevator, I closed and locked the door. Briefly I stood there and considered escorting her to the street anyway, but remembered Espen was tonight's guard and he would make certain of her safety. Mind set at ease, I thought, Time to pack it in and get a bite to eat. After I cleaned my pipe and stowed it away in its silver birch case, I pulled the five hundred out. With a fold of the bank notes I slid them into my front blue jeans pocket. After one glance around the room to make certain all my file cabinets were locked, I palmed my keys, and then heard a sound outside my door. Three shadows overlapping each other stalled in their travels to my door. One stood about one hundred forty centimeters, {4'7”}, while the other two were a good two meters, {6'6”}, in height, bearing considerable girth to round out their statures. This had my senses jumping. I'd been around the block enough times to know such threesomes in my line of work normally meant a modest-I.Q. lackey accompanied by muscle animals.

  The time was fifteen after twenty hundred. I parked myself on the corner of my desk to consider if I'd left any signs of my investigation of Mr. Wibert for him to figure it out and take measure against anything I might have found. I rubbed my muzzle in contemplation of this as one of the bodyguards leaned into the door to try to ascertain if I was presently within the office. He stood back up straight with a shrug of large sloping shoulders as I came to the conclusion I'd covered my tracks pretty well. Still, I'm not infallible, I told my ego. I picked up Ms. Wibert's envelope and with a key opened the first file cabinet at p
aw and slid the envelope inside. This in turn made enough noise for the smaller shadow with big ears to hear. At a gesture from him one of the bodyguards knocked.

  “I'm closed for the day,” I threw over my shoulder.

  “Mr. Snow, I'm here on behest of a client of mine,” The I.Q. said close up to the door. “May I have a moment of your time?”

  “I've work I'm finishing up. Leave your name at the guard station downstairs and I'll look you up tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow would be most inconvenient. I'm here now. I promise to make it worth your time.”

  For a moment I considered possible scenarios. I let them in and possibly get beat up, a little painful and costly if it warrants a trip to a local emergency ward. I say no and end up having to pay for a new door after my possible costly trip to the hospital ward. Or he means as he says, and they're here to offer me a job. Having my lights put out is not at all to my liking in either case. Neither is paying for a new door. Presently I can't afford the same quality door as I currently have. So it came down to bank notes, which I was lacking in abundance. I rolled my eyes, laid back my ears momentarily and walked up to the door to unlock it. Once the door was open, I stared at two polar bears barely out of their teens and a fennec fox. Now fennecs were mostly nocturnal vulpes, not really suited to the arctic regions, however, they were clever animals and were currently weaseling themselves into the night life here about, pun intended.

  “Good evening, Mr. Snow,” the fennec fox offered, dressed in a tweed, three-piece suit. He doffed his tweed alpine hat as he walked into my office. His big black eyes took in my small office in a second, his large, alert ears shifting to isolate sounds around him. The two polar bears ducked their heads to follow the fox but bumped into one another trying to enter the door at the same time. The fennec lowered and turned his head slightly to their mumbled words at each other. A sigh escaped the fox's lips before he looked back at me. His face radiated irritation as did his twitching ears and tail.

  “I hope you'll forgive my bungling, adolescent companions.”

  They continued their heated mumbles at each other while trying to enter at the same time. The fennec laid back his ears, having lost any true intimidation by their antics. Not that they couldn't still clean my clock.

  “Hedrick, Olsten,” he snapped. “Why don't you both do me a favor—go up to the roof and jump off!”

  The two polar bears dressed in black cotton vests and pants looked at one another. Both looked back at their boss with disbelief plainly written on their faces. One asked, “Truly boss?”

  “No, you dimwits.” The fennec growled. “Just stay out there and try to look intelligent, even though I know that's impossible.”

  One looked about to question his words but the fennec held up a paw displaying one finger, which clearly meant “Shut it.” The two looked at each other, glaring, then folded their arm and took up positions to either side of my door.

  The fennec sighed, raised his ears and stilled his tail before he turned his attention to me. He looked at the hat in his paw as if seeking to remember where he was in his greeting.

  “My name is Mr. Uchi, and I represent Mr. Nelson.”

  When I didn't react to the surname, as it was commonly used, he clarified.

  “A Mr. Bryn Nelson, whose younger sister, Ms. Catharine Nelson, you met some moments before I arrived.”

  I decided not to stand for whatever came next, so I rounded my desk and sat. “A Ms. Nelson. Yes,” I acknowledged, as there was no point in denying she'd been in my office as her scent was still highly prominent in the air. When I didn't elaborate any further, Mr. Uchi approached my desk with his arms behind his back.

  “Mr. Nelson employs me to watch over his younger sister as she is, well...” He rubbed his muzzle. “How may I put this delicately? Uh, prone to excitability.” When I didn't react, he continued. “Yes, well, to the point. Because of her eccentric uncle's profession and habit of disappearing for months at a time without leaving word of his whereabouts, she has cost Mr. Nelson a considerable amount of bank notes in unnecessary fees from the police and private investigators like yourself. Because of this, and as Mr. Nelson pays for her upkeep and welfare, I've been authorized to come in behind her and cancel any investigation into her uncle's affairs she may have begun.”

  “I see,” I said. “May I see this authorization?” I stretched out my arm and set my elbow on the desk, awaiting the legal form.

  Mr. Uchi gave me a look of indignation, as if I impugned his honor in questioning his words, but he acquiesced and opened his jacket to withdraw a thrice-folded paper.

  I accepted the document and took note its well-used condition from being transported, unfolded and folded by other paws like my own. With the paper unfolded, I read the legal words contending to just what I'd been told, with a footnote in highlight. *All bank notes obtained from Ms. Nelson without Mr. Nelson's knowledge or authorization are to be returned to the bearer of this letter.* I looked for the watermark that designated the document was from the city legal affairs office and ran a finger over the notary stamp in the lower left corner as extra verification.

  “Well,” I began, holding my poker face steady to hide my disappointment in losing a paying job. I refolded the paper and passed it back. “This all seems in order.”

  “I appreciate your understanding in this matter,” Mr. Uchi said, placing the paper back into his inner jacket pocket. Once it was securely tucked away, he reached out. “Now, if you please, I'll accept her down payment.”

  I would prefer to return the bank notes to Ms. Nelson herself, but the two hall boys outside my office would object to such an idea if Mr. Uchi told them to. Besides, the legal paper he held gave him the right. Thus, with a mental shrug and a wish not to visit the emergency ward tonight—over a matter I'd clearly lose in court—I stood, withdrew the notes from my pocket, and gave them over.

  “Your candor in this matter is appreciated.” Mr. Uchi counted up the notes, then separated out a single twenty note and placed it on my desk. “For your troubles.”

  With our business concluded, he donned his hat and walked out, closing the door behind him. As for myself, I dropped back into my chair in disgust and watched the three silhouettes walk off toward the stairs and elevator. I sat back and steeple my paws under my muzzle. It's possible Ms. Nelson is as Mr. Uchi implied. What bothers me is why Lieutenant Barkly sent her my way if there wasn't any truth to her story. That bloodhound would never willingly send me an easy gig. I pondered this some time to allow Mr. Uchi and back-up to descend the five levels in the elevator and leave the building.

  I stood and took a gander out my window, noting dusk was in full swing. A half-moon had already risen, and in its own way was chasing the sun as we all chase our tails. I sighed and allowed my tail to droop. Without any kind of payment, I simply can't afford to give the matter my time. I re-closed and locked my window, regained the letter for Ms. Wibert, picked up the bank note and locked my door on my way out. Since the building owners charged their tenets five notes for elevator usage after the seventeen hour, I took the stairs as normal.

  “Good night, Espen,” I said in passing the night guard, a very capable black bear working his way through college.

  “Good night, Mr. Snow,” Espen acknowledged and marked me off his sheet of present tenants before he returned to his studies.

  ****

  Chapter 2:

  Once Tweaked, Curiosity Guides the Nose

  Out in the open, I took a deep breath. Ah, fresh air. Being cooped up in my small office could be claustrophobic after six hours, even for those of us not affected by the psychosis. I put my wrists in the center of my back and stretch my spine, leaning back. After this I leaned forward and touched my pads with my fingertips, noting I needed to clip my toenails lest I inadvertently scratch a certain lovely white-tail jackrabbit, whose own toenails would do far more damage to me if she were of a mind to use them on me.

  I stood and smiled at myself for how fate had pla
yed us into our present involvement before a deep yawn took over my jaws. I closed my mouth and shook my head to bring myself back to the present. Then I looked both ways along the lamppost-lit street. At this time of night there were still animals around, though far fewer in numbers. Mainly males out for a stroll or on last minute errands, some couples headed to a local park for some alone time from parents or family. But as the clubs and restaurants were some blocks over, the street was fairly clear.

  The local rickshaw distribution had equally subsided, leaving only those who preferred the night life or those who had yet made enough bank notes to call it a day. One such owner was Tanner, an Amish Clydesdale with a malformed left arm, a side effect that can happen with the special pills pregnant hoofed animals took so their offspring developed two paws instead of four hooves. Because of his deformity, Tanner worked the night shift, as animals roaming the night had far fewer choices in transportation if in need.

  “Hello Tanner,” I called across the street.

  Tanner's big dark eyes looked my way and he smiled. “You're working late, Mr. Snow. Need a lift?”

  “I could definitely use one.” I had no desire tonight to walk the kilometers to my den.

  Tanner picked up the rickshaw pull bar, which had been adjusted to his condition, and looked both ways before he crossed the cobblestone-paved street. Once across, he set the pole down for me to climb aboard.

  “Where to, then?” he inquired as he took my prepaid fare card.

  “To Millie Ann's Moonlight Café.”

  “Right you are.” Tanner nodded, remembering Millie's location after a second of thought. Like all the good veterans, Tanner figured out the distance in his head. “That'll be seventeen kilometers, {11 miles}, give or take four hundred meters, {1/4 mile}. At half a bank note per kilometer, that's nine notes after rounding up.”

  “Make it ten,” I said, and mounted up on the comfortable cushion.

  “As you say.” Tanner smiled thanks, using his teeth and fingers on his good paw to stamp his rickshaw number on the appropriate one-banknote sections of my card to indicate to the dispatch office when I turned it in that he was due payment. Once I was settled in, Tanner nodded to the yellow envelope. “Do you need to drop that off?”