In the original draft this came after their meeting with the first client. Now this comes before client meetings.
Another conversation in a police office…
Shouting police officers, suspects, and victims wagged an auditory war with the numerous blaring holos and vid screens around the booking room. The constant barrage of noise bothered Whiskers deeply. Folding his ears down only muted the noise in the police station a little.
Waiting gave Whiskers time to ponder the wisdom of coming to the SCPD office; there was a risk in reporting their actions to the police. Detective Orte, their contact, forwarded him to Officer Tanx, an officer familiar with Tumbledown. A plus in Whiskers’ book, he may have information, a minus in that he might want to charge them for the deaths of the gangers. Always a risk.
“He can see you now,” a young female Illietheril officer said from behind her desk.
“Thank you officer,” Whiskers replied.
Whiskers stepped out of the crowded booking room into the back offices. Silence or the closest thing to silence in the hallway. With each step quiet and quieter, until Whiskers stood outside an office for a giant. Standing in the doorway Whiskers could stretch his arms out to either side and not touch the doorframe. Sitting, Whiskers hoped, behind a giant desk, Officer Tanx beckoned Whiskers in with a wave of a large four fingered hand.
“Whiskers, come on in,” Tanx said.
Stepping into Tanx’s office Whiskers said, “You have a very spacious office.”
“That’s funny,” Tanx’s laughter rumbled around his office, “Haven’t heard that one before.” Another rumbling laugh, “Spacious office, indeed. Detective Orte sent you to me because I might know something, did I get that right?”
Until sitting in Officer Tanx’s office, Whiskers thought he was tall, staring up at Tanx’s face brought home lots of uncomfortable memories of sitting at the children’s table for holidays. “That is correct. He said you are an expert on Tumbledown and the gangs that make Tumbledown home.”
“I am your expert then. What did you want to know?”
Sitting straighter, Whiskers consulted his data-pad, “Recently, an investigation took us into Tumbledown where we found a well-equipped gang defending a clean room.”
“And you want to know who is providing the equipment and the clean room?” Tanx interrupted while manipulating his holo-desk display. “Is this your investigation?” Tanx sarcastically asked, enlarging the holo-display. Images of several dead gang members and a demolished clean room.
Clearing his throat, thankful Puddles was not there, “Yes. That looks like our investigation. A Doctor Marlowe hired us to find his three daughters who he thought were with their boyfriends in Tumbledown,” Whiskers rushed. “Additional information led us to investigate quickly. My partner and I encountered the gangers who attacked before we could ask any questions about the three women,” Whiskers finished with a gasp.
Tanx did not stop looking directly at Whiskers while he spoke, “First, relax. Second, you and your partner are not going to be charged. Unless you make a habit of killing gangers.”
“Really. Gangers attacked you, evidence shows that and you will file a report to make it official. Does not hurt that all of them were registered offenders.”
“I will file the report.”
Tanx gave Whiskers an “of course you will” look, “As for the gangers they were members of Black Myst. Nothing special about them, just another Tumbledown gang. The personal shield found on this ganger is an Oakenshield model. Again, nothing special. The clean room, by the time investigations arrived, was no longer clean and…”
“Let me guess,” Whiskers interjected, “Nothing special.”
“You guessed it. The only special in the entire place, the clean room. Our technicians are still running tests and examining the computers. I can send you their findings when the come in, but that could take weeks.”
“Thank you, any information is appreciated. Where do I file that report?”
“Right here,” Tanx brought the form on the screen and then offered his hand to shake. Shaking hands with Tanx, Whiskers was once again reminded of times at the kiddie table.