Perpetual Motion by Jeff Fulmer Page A

girl standing, more or less, by herself, drumming her
black fingernails on the counter.
    Sifting through the thirsty throng, he
situated himself next to a young woman with straggly long black
hair, black eyeliner and lipstick, and an unlit cigarette hanging
out of her mouth. She wore a short velvety dress and was almost
sexy in a damaged kind of way. It was definitely not the girl in
the photo, so he assumed it was her friend.
    “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be Lorisa, would
you?”
    The drunken girl looked up with a confused
expression on her face. “Do I know you?”
    “No, I’m a private detective,” he said as he
pulled out a lighter. “My name is Cynical Jones.”
    “So?”
    Flicking the lighter, he held out the flame.
“I’m looking for Karen Norton.”
    It took a couple of attempts for the girl to
connect the cigarette with the flame, and when she did, she sucked
hard. Looking up, she tried to look smoldering, but it came off
more like a grease fire. “And why are you looking for Karen?”
    “I think she might be in trouble.”
    When the bartender brought over a cocktail
for the lady, Cynical put down a twenty. It was enough cash to pay
for the drink along with another generous tip.
    “What kind of trouble?” Lorisa asked, a cloud
collecting around her head.
    “Actually, it’s her boyfriend who might be in
the trouble.”
    Lorisa laughed hoarsely at that one, choking
on her own smoke. “Michael Poindexter!” She coughed up more
exhaust. “What did he do?”
    “I think people may be after something he was
working on.”
    “Karen acted like he was working on some big,
important deal, but she wouldn’t actually say what it was,” Lorisa
said dismissively, rolling her heavy mascara lined eyes. “Karen was
always talking about how brilliant he was. Personally, I didn’t see
it. I told her he was a loser, but you know what they say: ‘love is
blind.’”
    “Yeah,” Cynical agreed. “So, do you have any
idea where I could find Karen or Michael?”
    “Michael works in some dump, a factory
building downtown, but I don’t know the address or nothing,” she
said with a shrug. “Karen lives just off campus - University
Circle. I told her to meet me here tonight.” She glanced around
with annoyance. “But she won’t show. She never shows – not since
she met him .”
    “Does Karen have a cell phone or any way I
could reach her?”
    “Yeah, but her cell phone has been turned
off. I don’t think she’s even checking email and she never used
Facebook or Twitter or anything.” Lorisa paused, as if for the
first time considering the implications of being interviewed by a
private detective. “Is she okay?”
    “I don’t know,” Cynical answered truthfully.
“If you see her, will you ask her to give me a call?” He held out
his business card.
    “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled, taking the card
and giving it a brief squint.
    “How do you know each other?” Cynical asked,
just because he was curious.
    “Oh, we were roommates in college our
freshman year. We always stayed in touch….until now.”
    With that, Lorisa walked unsteadily away,
delving deeper into the nether regions of the club. He didn’t know
Karen, but he couldn’t help but think she was better off not
hanging out with her college roommate anymore.
    Looking down, he noticed Lorisa had left his
business card on the bar. Deciding it was time to cut his losses,
the “x-detective” took his card back and headed for the door,
making it outside without further incident.
    The thumping bass began to fade as Cynical
strode up the sidewalk and away from the wasted evening. It was a
depressing part of being a PI: chasing down leads that turned out
to be dead-ends. Hoping he would at least find his ride in one
piece, he
quickened his pace.
    Almost at his
car,
he heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind
him. Someone was hurrying to catch up. Wondering if the shirtless
kid from the club wanted a rematch, he slipped into a doorway