Not A Simple Case

Skreet Snickertooth - rat private eye - almost stepped on the envelope left under his door as he began his workday. Looking to the left and right and seeing nothing but his neighbors - an accountant’s and lawyer’s office respectively - he bent down and closed his door behind him.

Skreet walked over to his desk and hung up his wet raincoat, careful to not get the envelope wet. It felt very light as he flung it onto his pile of bills and notes. He turned and noticed some dust on one of the windowsills had been disturbed, but didn’t consider it for the time being.

No return address, no “To Mr. Snickertooth” on the front... nothing. He opened it with slight trepidation traveling up his spine. It was still raining, then sun not making much of an effort to break through. The record player in the front office still dribbled out the waning notes of a jazz record he had picked up a decade ago.

He flipped the envelope over and over, looking for any clues before he ran his letter opener over the top of it. When he dumped the contents - a single black and white photograph - on the table, his trepidation turned into shivers, making the hackles on his back rise.

He picked the photo up in his trembling claws.

“Who are you?” He whispered to no one as the rain dripped onto his office window.

Skreet Snickertooth, the rat private eye, stood up in his dimly lit office - the rain tapping an irregular rhythm on the windowpane. From the angle of the photo, Skreet could tell it was of the alley on the other side of the street, taken from his office.

“I need new locks, apparently,” Skreet shuddered. The figure in the photo was not in the middle, but it was obvious that they were the focus of the picture. They were walking toward the photographer in the alley across the street, and they were strange as well: a tall figure in a fedora and long coat with... brightly shining eyes? 

Perhaps the moon or a streetlight was reflecting off a puddle into the mysterious figure’s tapetum lucidum, making them a canine or feline of some kind.

Skreet checked around his office, trying to see if anything was missing - from the obvious to his best hiding places... But everything was where it should have been. 

The rat’s whiskers twitched as an idea came to him.

He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a magnifying glass. It was a finicky thing on the best of days, but when it worked it performed wonders. With it, Skreet could see echoes of the past or future, but not necessarily what he wanted to see.

Looking through the glass, Skreet’s ears flattened. He saw himself at the window a week ago. That wasn’t useful. 

Just what was the purpose behind the envelope he had been left with? A threat? A clue? He shook it, cursing whatever entity made it, and looked again. 

“This is damn peculiar,” Skreet grunted. 

An idea struck him, and he knew it was a longshot. Rummaging through the desk he found a lighter that a client had left behind long ago. His claw flicked the flint and the flame ignited. 

Carefully, Skreet held the flame below the photo avoiding setting the thing on fire. Slowly the rat waved the flame back and forth. His whiskers twitched as his muzzle formed a smile. 

“Ahhh, but why did you do that? I could have never realized this.”

A message had been written on the back of the photo in invisible ink. 

“Dear Mr. Snickertooth: If you found my message then you are smart and resourceful enough to helo me find this… mistake. 

-A new client. 

The message ended with a phone number to call.

Skreet ran a claw along his muzzle as he listened to the rain pelting against his window. His eyes fell on the ‘Tribune’ newspaper as he picked up the receiver of his phone.

‘Fifteen slain near warehouse district, following suspected arson. - Story by Amber Zazuetta.’ 

Skreet dialed the number from the mysterious message. As he heard the ringtone, he muttered to himself.

“I swear: this better not be another of those pranks…” 

A female voice answered on the other end of the phone. “Hello?” 

“Yes, ma’am did you send me a strange photograph?”

A pause on the other end followed by a timid, “Yes.”

“Why don’t you stop by my office? Seems you have something of a problem.” 

“O-Only if you agree to see me late,” she replied. 

Skreet sighed, his whiskers twitching. “Sure, I sort of live in this place anyway.” 

The rat made himself some coffee and waited for his strange new client to show up, keeping his snubnose within reach. 

Being cautious kept one alive.

Skreet slowly crept off to sleep as the record and the rain lulled him into a calm state of mind. Suddenly, around eight, a rapping came at the frosted glass on his office door.

The rat almost collapsed out of his chair and looked at the window to see the form.

Long ears: A rabbit or hare.

Skreet got his snubnose handy and slowly and silently made his way to the locked door when suddenly - after a spark on the other side - it opened on its own. Faced with a very pretty - but startled - female hare with little glasses on her snout, Skreet slowly put his snubnose away.

“Maybe I should hire you as my locksmith,” Skreet said, unamused as the light from the hallway flooded into his office.

The hare scientist had a strange screwdriver-like apparatus in her paw and let out a scream when she saw that the office was not uninhabited like she thought. Skreet ran forward and caught her as she fainted. She was limp in his grasp and dropped her tool to the ground. Quickly, he brought her and her weird thing inside, gently putting her on the couch in his office.

Skreet took the opportunity to examine the hare’s strange device. He’d never seen anything quite like it before. There was something of note that he did recognize about it.

“HARPA labs.” That name was significant. 

A government funded research lab: always popping up in some nutcase’s paranoid rant.  

There was a soft moan as the hare came to. 

“Oh,” she said softly. “What happened?”  The hare’s left arm started reaching for her nonexistent glasses.

“What- What’s happening?” She said, more confused now that she couldn’t see. Realization hit her, even though she couldn’t really see where she was.

“Apple juice miss?” the rat asked, offering her a glass and her fallen glasses.

A short gasp as she put the glasses back onto her deep brown eyes. She gulped as she beheld the tall rat detective offering her juice, 

“I, I, suppose,” the hare scientist said as she took the offered beverage. 

“So what’s a smart dame like you doing breaking into offices and leaving cryptic notes in invisible ink?” 

The hare, still on the couch, blushed under her fur and adjusted her glasses. “I... I’ve heard of you, Detective Snickertooth. I wasn’t sure of your credentials, so I decided to test you.”

Skreet chuckled, “Hell of a way to go about it. Most detectives would probably not think to check for invisible ink.”

“That’s why you’re the rat to hire.”

The rat held up his paw, “Woah there sister. Let’s talk a bit more about this case. Starting with this.” 

Skreet handed her the photo. 

The hare sat a little up in the couch as she held the photo, then threw it to the bourbon-soaked floor. “What do you want me to say, detective? Do you want me to say I made a mistake? Do you want me to say I have a problem that only you can solve?”

Skreet smiled and sat down, “I’d like to know what you’re wanting me to sink my paws into. Would it happen to coincide with this?” 

Skreet had what was now yesterday’s paper in paw. 

The beautiful hare scientist barely saw the headline before she sank backward into the couch again.

“You’re too smart to play games with, Mr. Snickertooth,” she said, exhausted. “My experiment... he’s loose in the town.”

Skreet ran a paw along his muzzle. “I made the connection when I saw that screwdriver of yours and the location of the warehouses. Your experiment… you want me to help find it before it causes more trouble.”

“Find it, stop it... all without implicating me or my corporation. All without letting that Zazueta journalist know what is going on. We’re willing to pay anything... If you succeed.”

Skreet cracked his neck, “Well I guess that’s the real trick. Amber’s a good journalist. So we’d best get moving on this case. Time to show your cards.”

The hare wobbled to her feet and pointed to the strange tool she had brought with her. Dutifully, Skreet handed it to her. The rat detective steadied her to her feet as she stroked the strange object, completely calm in Skreet’s half-embrace.

“This is the only thing that can stop him. He is... The experiment is... It isn’t of this world.”

Skreet’s tail twitched: 

Not one of those cases. 

“Are we talking about planets, or dimensions here? Dr… what am I calling you?”  

The hare, still a little woozy, looked up into the rat’s snoot. “Dr. L would do nicely,” she said calmly. 

Why couldn’t it be a nice murder or insurance fraud, Skreet? He asked himself. His heart rate medication would have to be upped after this one. Dr. L continued.

“And I think he’s - its - headed to the ports. Dock sixteen as a matter of fact.”

Skreet’s tail twitched and his ears flattened, “I see. Yeah, that place hasn’t been the same since the war.” 

Dr. L paused for a moment, then gently slapped Skreet’s chest as he held her. “Well? Come on!”

That’s when Skreet focused on the ambient noises around him: sirens and screams. He took a glance out the window and saw fires and lightning erupting downtown... and in an unmistakable direction.

Skreet donned his hat and coat, “Your company is going to be getting one hell of a bill from me… if we survive that is.”