pursuantstrain:
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Lia mused as she strolled towards the crime scene, barely glancing at the bottle he was nursing. “Now,” she began, stopping only a few inches away from the man himself. “Are you going to get out of my way or are we going to have to play the long game? ‘Cause I have better things to do with my time then stopping a drunk from contaminating my crime scene.”
That may have been a small, white lie. She didn’t have much better to do because there just wasn’t much to do, not until this case popped up. Well, that and she was generally left off the teams for more ‘menial’ cases. They’d usually tell her that she just wasn’t needed, but she had a hunch that the real reason was a lot less innocent. Still, this case was big enough that they couldn’t find an excuse to leave her out of it, so she supposed that she shouldn’t complain.
“Aww, what? Can’t trust little ol’ me? I’ve got all the proper paperwork from the Mayor to be here this time around,” the trader smirked a bit. Sure, he’d stuck his nose in a few places where he wasn’t allowed to be, but it wasn’t his fault that part of his occupation called to be almost intimately knowledgeable of what’s going on in town. “The back looks a lot less pretty than this end -- well, minus the scratches on the lock of the front door. Guess the assholes didn’t take a class on undoing enchantments when they took up lockpicking, and that warranted a blast.”
Though the clerk moved out of the way for the demon to go through since he didn’t exactly have any of his usual deterrents on his person, he still tailed close behind while she went through the door. They went down one of the aisles of freezer and refrigerator units – both commercial and industrial, all fixed up to work off the generators over time, easily over fifty in total.
As they got to the back, one could make out the hole, residue from explosives still bordering around it and rubble cluttering about ten feet inside this corner of the building. “Guess their shitty lockpicking skills warranted taking the easy way out. Must’ve been a homemade explosive ‘cause this thing’s barely four feet high and wide. That, or they’re slightly folk. Oh, and there’s this.” Going back to one of the units, which was still wet all around from long-ago melted morning snow that had been tracked in by the criminals, he gestured at a note, crudely constructed out of newspaper clippings to form abrupt sentences. “These three units are the ones that got emptied out. All that’s left are a few wrappers that kept the meat and veggies fresh.”