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    Black Shadow Detective Agency: The Shadows Up Caper
    Black Shadow Detective Agency: The Shadows Up Caper
    Black Shadow Detective Agency: The Shadows Up Caper
    Ebook114 pages1 hour

    Black Shadow Detective Agency: The Shadows Up Caper

    By Sigurd Olson

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    About this ebook

    The name of the door reads Black Shadow Detective Agency and the office is in a building so old that it considered a cultural landmark of the state. The room is clean the furniture isn't new and when you walk in to the office it feels like you just stepped onto the set of The Maltese Falcon.
    My name is Jason Black, I find things, people, and solve the occasional murder. I was given knowledge of both mortal and daemonic magicks from my parents and they are the tools of my trade. I have saved people from soul stealers, tracked kidnapped kids across the ocean with nothing more than a strand of hair, and interrogated the dead. For the right price and a worthy cause I’ll do anything to help a client get the justice that can’t be found from the normal sources.
    My name is Jason Black and I’m for hire.

    A client comes to me fearing for her life from strange men that she's not even fully sure exist. When the police won't help her she comes knocking on my door desperate for any help I can give. Now it is up to me to find out who these men are and why they are after her. Aided by friends who are not always the most pleasent of people one could know it becomes my job to protect my client from anyone and anything tht is after her.

    This book will only be free until August first

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSigurd Olson
    Release dateJul 2, 2013
    ISBN9781301660315
    Black Shadow Detective Agency: The Shadows Up Caper
    Author

    Sigurd Olson

    Husband and father of one, A. Sigurd Olson lives in St. Paul, MN. Having spent more than a little time writing stories for a free literary website he felt that he needed to make at least some money doing what he loved as it was driving his wife nuts watching him write all the time and having nothing but encouraging words from a small but loyal fan base to show for it. After many years finally got up the courage to try and make some money at the written word.

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      Book preview

      Black Shadow Detective Agency - Sigurd Olson

      The Shadows

      Up Caper

      By: A. Sigurd Olson

      I

      I looked at the clock on my wall and found it had been almost ten minutes since I had been on the line listening to the woman rant on about her cheating husband. The problem was; I hadn’t been tracking down her husband to get juicy pictures for the divorce case. No one had yet. Another problem was that I didn’t do divorce cases, they made me feel sleazy, but she hadn’t given me a second to speak since I had answered.

      I jumped in as soon as she took her next breath. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t work divorce cases.

      But you’re a detective; I thought all you guys did were divorce cases.

      I’m sorry that you were under that impression. I don’t handle such cases. If you want, I can recommend you to someone who does and who is very good at it. I gave the ranting woman the name of a detective who specialized in tracking cheating husbands and quickly hung up the receiver before she could begin another tangent.

      There were days I wished I had a secretary and this was one of them. Earlier in the day, I had gotten three other calls to work divorce cases. I used to do the occasional divorce case, but stopped a very long time ago, my last one being back in the forties I hadn’t had any other case in the last few weeks, but I wasn’t hurting for money yet.

      The problem for me when it came to getting a secretary was finding one who wasn’t going to be scared off by the kind of people I dealt with on a regular basis. It was kind of hard to find someone who was qualified to answer a question like, Have you ever dealt with Witches, Vampires, or Daemons of any kind? A question like that I was sure would scare off the average person coming in to apply for the position.

      I also wanted a beautiful, female secretary who’d sit on my lap while I dictated letters... Okay, so that last part wasn’t a real requirement, but I could always dream. I knew I could have hired a Succubus for the beautiful lap sitting part, but from my understanding, they were horrid typists. Apparently, typewriters never made it big in any of the Infernal Realm they could be found in, so it took them forever to learn to use a 'QWERTY' keyboard with any real proficiency. For the time being, I was stuck answering the phone myself.

      At least the office was designed for a secretary. I currently used the front room where normally a secretary would be answering calls and greeting clients. The main thing that was in the back room was an old leather couch that was beat to hell and very comfortable to take naps on. It also had my gun safe, which was home to the weapons that I acquired back when the Twenties roared and before. Back then, my city of St. Paul was run by the mob who made payoffs to the Chief of Police and funded the policemen's ball.

      It was a different time back then, a romantic time, and the office still paid homage to that lost period of history. It may have been the twenty-first century now, but the office still looked as if not much had changed since I first dawned a fedora and trench-coat looking like a hardboiled detective out of some dime store pulp novel by Dashell Hammet. Almost a hundred years after my start as a private investigator and even my furniture had stayed the same, it has just been reupholstered a few times.

      I was getting ready to call it a night when there was a loud, fast knock on the frosted glass window of the door to my office. The silhouette turned its head to look up and down the hallway outside. During those turns, I noticed that the silhouette belonged to a woman. I was glad; women had always brought me my most interesting cases.

      Come in, I called out loudly enough for the woman to hear me.

      This better be good, boss, my crow familiar, Shadow, said directly into my mind. I want to go home and watch television. I ignored him. I didn't want to freak out a client by talking to my familiar if they weren't from the magickal scene.

      The woman, practically a girl now that I had gotten a look at something other than her silhouette, threw open the door and slammed it shut as soon as she was in. She was panting, pressing her back against the door as if to barricade it from someone or something that was coming after her. I had seen that look of terror on other faces before and it always meant trouble; the kind of trouble I'm well accustomed to ending.

      Help me, she whimpered. I was told that you may be the only one who can help me and I really need help.

      I got up from my desk and calmly walked over to where she was panting against the door. Don’t worry, miss, I said in my most soothing voice. I’ll lock the door and I assure you that no one will hurt you here. I reached past her to lock the door.

      Now why don’t you have a seat and we’ll discuss your problem. I took her gently by the arm and guided her over to the recently reupholstered, plush, leather armchair across from my side of the desk. From my chair, I could still see the office window. Having her back to the outer door may have made her uncomfortable, but there was no helping it. I then sat down in my own chair, reached into the bottom left drawer of the desk, and pulled out a bottle of nerve medicine, more commonly known as cheap bourbon, and two lowball glasses. I poured two fingers of the liquor into each glass and pushed one over to her. Here, this will help you relax a little, but just sip at it; it’s got a bit of a boomerang effect to it.

      When she took her first sip, I was almost amazed that she didn't gag. Most of my friends can't stand the stuff, so I knew she really must be scared. With her second sip, I got over my surprise at her lack of reaction to the cheap booze and took the time to really look at her. She was a stunning redhead, at the oldest in her early twenties, and looking like a modern Ingrid Bergman. Bright green eyes were burning with fatigue. Her long, wavy hair was disheveled and wet from the cold April rain falling outside. Tasteful clothes seemed to have a few days’ worth of grime on them, as if she hadn’t had a chance to change in several days. Add everything up and the conclusion was simple. She was, or at least thought she was, being followed by someone or something and was too scared to go home.

      She was shivering a little as the adrenaline that must have been coursing through her system went stale. So tell me, what brings you to my office?

      "I’m being followed by two men. I think. And I think … no, make that I know that they want to kill me," she said staring into her glass which was shaking in both of her hands. It gave her the appearance of a child holding on to a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from the cold. But in this case, the child was a young woman and the hot chocolate was a few shots of bourbon.

      You seem to have been keeping yourself pretty scared if you only think you’re being followed, Miss …?

      Cross, she said filling in the blank. Jamie Cross. I don’t mean that I only think that I’m being followed. What I mean is that I’m not sure if the people that are following me are really ‘people’. I not sure they’re Human.

      I nodded with a vague understanding: this sounded just like my kind of

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