to more of what Bill could share. Beyond that, Bill was my first nonhuman friend. Well, I couldn’t exactly call him friend yet. Perhaps if I brought him tacos… I grinned as I caught the wind to return to my apartment.
----
I ignored the bang on my door and the strident voice pleading for me to let her in. Instead, I focused on the message board on my computer screen. A month ago, I had picked up a cheap computer. Jake used the one I had owned previously, and I had sent it with him when he moved with his dad.
Just as Bill said, the website for paranormals came up for me, and after a quick search I found the help wanted ads for various needs, from jobs to information to handy men.
“Tracker Needed,” I read. “No sense in looking at that if I can’t figure out how to track anything.”
I moved on and found other ads for private investigators. There were a couple people offering their services as trackers. Curious, I read them and found both were werewolves. Of course. Their sense of smell must be amazing, and then I laughed at the words in one ad:
“Come on. I know you need my help. I’m not going to eat you. At least give me credit for being honest about what I am. I’m a werewolf. My rates are cheap. Call 555…”
Poor things. I felt sorry for them, but then I wondered if the other paranormals’ fears were justified. I had to admit, I was curious. “No, Rue, focus. You’ve got a job to do. Do it right, and you might have more.”
A kick against the door, and Georgia let out a string of curses. The next instant she assured me she would be glad to see me at her work. Then she called out the address, and another business card slid beneath the door. She wouldn’t give up, but at least she was gone for the time being.
I studied the listings again and spotted the button to add my own. Maybe I could put out a request for information. Then I hesitated. If I did that, I’d have to keep the wording obscure so no one would suspect what I held or what I was looking for. How the heck would I do that?
Over and over I went through the listings and came to a decision. I would place an ad but keep it simple and hope for the best. Doing something was better than sitting on my rump. I clicked the button for posting and created a new account using the email address where I sometimes received messages from Jake. Then I came to the screen for my ad.
“Information needed on a missing shipment. Payment for real leads.”
I frowned at the screen. Okay, that was too vague. I added the date the shipment was lost but held back the name of the company and person it was stolen from. If I got any hits, I would meet with the person, feel them out and decide then if I could share more. Nodding and quite proud of myself, I clicked post and rose to get ready for work.
After showering, dressing, and talking to my precious son, I checked my cell phone and found to my surprise, I had three emails. That board worked fast. Rather than read them on my phone, I sat again at the computer and brought up my email. The first of the replies was a definite no.
“Five hundred dollars, and I’ll find whatever you lost,” I read. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.”
No.
The next one seemed a bit more promising. “Your email didn’t give me many clues to what you’re looking for, but that’s smart. You want to be careful. I’ve been in the investigative business for ten years, so I’m sure I can help. My rates are reasonable. Plus I have contacts on the street. I might already have info on your thief. Call me. Ken.”
I smiled and entered his number into my phone contacts. Just because I didn’t want to ignore the last one since the person was good enough to write, I opened the email. The werewolf begging for work had written.
“If you’ve got access to where the thing was stolen, I can sniff around. Just so you know, I’m a werewolf. I’ve never attacked anyone. I don’t care what you are or what you’re looking
----
I ignored the bang on my door and the strident voice pleading for me to let her in. Instead, I focused on the message board on my computer screen. A month ago, I had picked up a cheap computer. Jake used the one I had owned previously, and I had sent it with him when he moved with his dad.
Just as Bill said, the website for paranormals came up for me, and after a quick search I found the help wanted ads for various needs, from jobs to information to handy men.
“Tracker Needed,” I read. “No sense in looking at that if I can’t figure out how to track anything.”
I moved on and found other ads for private investigators. There were a couple people offering their services as trackers. Curious, I read them and found both were werewolves. Of course. Their sense of smell must be amazing, and then I laughed at the words in one ad:
“Come on. I know you need my help. I’m not going to eat you. At least give me credit for being honest about what I am. I’m a werewolf. My rates are cheap. Call 555…”
Poor things. I felt sorry for them, but then I wondered if the other paranormals’ fears were justified. I had to admit, I was curious. “No, Rue, focus. You’ve got a job to do. Do it right, and you might have more.”
A kick against the door, and Georgia let out a string of curses. The next instant she assured me she would be glad to see me at her work. Then she called out the address, and another business card slid beneath the door. She wouldn’t give up, but at least she was gone for the time being.
I studied the listings again and spotted the button to add my own. Maybe I could put out a request for information. Then I hesitated. If I did that, I’d have to keep the wording obscure so no one would suspect what I held or what I was looking for. How the heck would I do that?
Over and over I went through the listings and came to a decision. I would place an ad but keep it simple and hope for the best. Doing something was better than sitting on my rump. I clicked the button for posting and created a new account using the email address where I sometimes received messages from Jake. Then I came to the screen for my ad.
“Information needed on a missing shipment. Payment for real leads.”
I frowned at the screen. Okay, that was too vague. I added the date the shipment was lost but held back the name of the company and person it was stolen from. If I got any hits, I would meet with the person, feel them out and decide then if I could share more. Nodding and quite proud of myself, I clicked post and rose to get ready for work.
After showering, dressing, and talking to my precious son, I checked my cell phone and found to my surprise, I had three emails. That board worked fast. Rather than read them on my phone, I sat again at the computer and brought up my email. The first of the replies was a definite no.
“Five hundred dollars, and I’ll find whatever you lost,” I read. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.”
No.
The next one seemed a bit more promising. “Your email didn’t give me many clues to what you’re looking for, but that’s smart. You want to be careful. I’ve been in the investigative business for ten years, so I’m sure I can help. My rates are reasonable. Plus I have contacts on the street. I might already have info on your thief. Call me. Ken.”
I smiled and entered his number into my phone contacts. Just because I didn’t want to ignore the last one since the person was good enough to write, I opened the email. The werewolf begging for work had written.
“If you’ve got access to where the thing was stolen, I can sniff around. Just so you know, I’m a werewolf. I’ve never attacked anyone. I don’t care what you are or what you’re looking
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