Richard Barker
"Christine, tell whoever's there to come back later!"
It was nearly pitch black inside the small office, placed neatly on the third floor of a New York building with a clear street view from the open window. The only illumination came from the street lamps, cars and colourful signs accompanying the sounds of a jungle. A concrete jungel, drawn with sharp edges in two colour pallettes - grey and blue. Grey as in the buildings rising up higher than anything else made by human hands, and blue as in the very sky said building tried to reach. Tonight the only blue outside was a blue Ford parked up on the sidewalk and the blue raindrops falling from the sky. They landed hard on the hard surfaces, the concrete and buildings. Some dripped down window panes, leaving a wet trail like a bloody murder.
The window of Richard Barker's Private Detective office, however, was wide open. Who forgot to close it wasn't important. At least to Richard, who woke up from the sound of a car horn, rain dripping down at the floor of his office and running feet outside. He spoke out to his secretary before he opened his eyes, rubbing them as he lifted his head up from the desk. Dark. Who turned off the lights? And where was Christine? The questions of guilt had become so permanent in Richard's line of work that he rarely asked it outside of his investiations, so only the latter question grinded his mental gears. Until it hit him.
"...That late? No wonder she turned it off and left me here..."
It was late in the evening, as told by the ticking clock over the entrance. It read 8:41, and the lack of light indicated it being PM. Perhaps not late for your average Joe, but for an seriously overworked and secertly drinking P.I.? It hadn't been his first time falling asleep on the desk, but tonight felt different. Richard felt it in his leg. The game leg, or was it a heacache? Richard stretched out his arms and neck, listening to the sound of feet going upstairs. They surely weren't ascending the stairs to Heaven, few who came to Richard Barker had the qualifications of angels. Least of all himself.
Richard pushed himself out from the desk, getting up on his feet and trying to wake up from his sleepy state. He looked down at the desk. Nope, no giggle juice in sight. What caused the headache then? Had Christine called a doctor on him? Probably not, doctor's rarely climbed stairs at a slow pace in high-heels, not at this hour. Richard got around to turning on some lights in his office, putting away an empty glass and a case file before he returned to his desk. The footsteps got ever closer. Someone wasn't going to the dentist, that was for sure. No, only gumshoes and lucky fellas got visited at this hour, and Richard was of the first.
The door opened with the sight of a woman. A dame with a striking beauty that could kill a man with just one bat of her eyes. Richard had lit a cigarette that now dangled lously from his lip, his eyes only briefly taking in the whole lady standing in the door. Yeah, she looked absolutely poured in that dress, like so many other clients who had walked in that door. Richard puffed his cigarette, taking it out with his hand and blowing out the smoke, before finally spoke to her. "You're lucky my secretary left early, or she'd turn you away. It's awfully late for you doll to come here, don't you think?" Richard placed the cigarette back in his mouth, leaning up against his desk with his hands rested on it. "Richard Barker, private detective if you couldn't read the sign. I take it you've come to the right place, miss...?"