The Scrabbleclaw Affair PT1 (Rat PI)

 I realized it has been forever since I posted something to Hybrid. Here I am remedying that with one of my newer characters: Skreet Snickertooth a Private Investigator who just happens to be a rat. This character was created with the input of several contributors, my challenge was to bring the character and stories to life. Here's his first outtingm the Scrabbleclaw Affair!

The rain pattered against the window of my office: nothing but gray skies and the dingy New York City streets as far as I could see. My window overlooked an alleyway, but the New York skyline loomed distantly over the meat packing building across the street. It was a lousy day to be out, which meant it would be a lousy day for me and my business.

I leaned back in my swivel chair and set my feet on my desk as the rain pattered against my window. I might as well make the most of things, I set about polishing my incisors. The name’s Skreet Snickertooth. Thirty-five years old. Brown rat with brindle fur. I’ve got a lean, muscular build. My headfur is the same color as the rest of me, except thicker and messier.

I’m on the average size, but relatively healthy despite some unhealthy habits.

Most important fact about me, though: I’m a private eye.

My office is rather bare: just the desk, chair, file cabinet... Beige walls, and a window. The walls are pretty scuffed up: a few clients tend to lose tempers and take it out on my wall with claws and fists. Sometimes people try to take their personal problems out on me, too.

You need someone found? I can usually do it.

Want to know what your doe’s doing out late all the time? I’m your rat.

Feel like there’s an insurance scam going on? No problem, I can look into it.

Is there strange noises happening like clockwork every midnight? Now you’ve really got my attention. I’ve lived in the big apple most my life, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it's that the world is a strange place, and that New York is an epicenter of strange things.

Back to that particular day, though: I was there, polishing my incisors. Drinking my juice.

I looked up and nearly fell out of my chair when my door suddenly opened. My surprise was doubled when I saw what had opened my door.

A swell looking doe - a female rat, to be specific. She had white fur and a haughty look about her, dressed in a business suit and skirt. Really complimented her figure.

“You are Mr. Snickertooth?” She asked. Her voice was just what I expected: Just as haughty as the rest of her, with a trace of some accent. Her eyes held nothing but disapproval.

I sat up straight - my ears twitching as I studied her.

“The one and only, but please call me Skreet. What brings a gal like you to my dingy office?”

She tilted her head, tail twitching behind her before she took a seat across from my desk, after dusting off imagined dust first, of course.

“I’m told you are a detective.”

I nodded, “That’s what my door tells me.”

Her nose crinkled at the end of her snout, I could tell she was trying to further scrutinize me.

“I’m having trouble placing the detective I heard of with the rat before me.”

“Well what did you hear, sister?” I asked. I stood up and looked at my bookcase. I ran my long finger over my first edition of the Principles of Investigation while I sipped my freshly-poured apple juice. It was only three in the afternoon: Too early to drink.

“A clever mind, and one who solved a case with little evidence, yet somehow managed to do what the entire NYPD could not.”

I chuckled, “Afraid that’s not entirely true.”

“Oh?” She asked, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

“Yeah. It was a federal case, the entire FBI wasn’t able to figure it out.”

Okay, so I was exaggerating. It was actually a case in New Jersey: that one precinct had been stumped on. Hey. Exaggerating is not the same as lying, exaggerating is just putting a bit of extra garnish on a dish. It had the intended effect - she wasn’t fidgeting as much with her dress.

“So what’s the case?” I asked.

“I have a missing rodent case.” Her delicate hands with the manicured claws reached into her purse and pulled out a photo. A small white rat much like her, but very much younger.

“This is my younger sister. She vanished without a trace near Broadway.”

“Quite a bit younger than you.” “She’s all I have, our parents passed a few years ago. I am her legal guardian now, it’s hard being both a sibling and a guardian.” I steepled my claws, peering at her. It was my turn to scrutinize her. I noted every ear twitch and tail swish.

“Let’s get started then. First off, who are you?”

“My name is Neesha, Neesha Scrabbleclaw. My sister is Lexa.”

I jotted this down on my notepad, before asking my next question.“When did Lexa go missing?”

“Two days ago.”

“Have you contacted the police?”

Neesha fidgeted: interesting.

“Yes,” she said eventually.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

Neesha scoffed. “I just told you I did!”

“My mistake. Is it possible Lexa ran away from home? Did you and her have a disagreement?”

“No, she would never do something like that. We had had a lovely day on Broadway: seeing shows, shopping for clothes and jewelry, eating at a nice cafe... Then she was gone, just like that.” She had a nice accent. Soft and lilting.

I tapped my pencil against the notepad, “She just vanished? How did you get seperated?”

“A crowd surged into us and I lost her hand. When it cleared I could not find her. Of course, New Yorkers were their usual apathetic selves.”

I shrugged, “Fair enough. Anything else? Please, any minor detail can make a big difference.”

Neesha shook her head. “I cannot think of anything.”

I stood up handing her my card, “Well if you think of something else, please give me a call.”

She took the card with a nod, “Does this mean you’ll take the case?”

“It appears so. There’s not much to go on here, though.”

“I realize that. But if anyone can find her, I think you can.”

She turned to leave before handing me something else from her purse. It was a small music box, finely made of hickory and inlaid with gold olive branches. “It plays our song. If she needs to trust you, this might help gain her trust.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Neesha fidgeted and nodded. She left and closed the door a little more daintily than she opened it. Her perfume lingered in the door a little after her tail disappeared out into that dark hallway.

When Neesha left I opened the music box: it played a sad little tune... familiar... I’d heard it somewhere before. But where?

More curious to me though: why did she lie to me about going to the police? She sure did fidget quite a bit. Something didn’t add up. I could feel my whiskers twitching already. Well the only way to get to the bottom of this was to head out.

I pulled the black rain slicker over my business casual clothes, then walked to the little stand next to the window and grabbed my umbrella. From my desk I grabbed the fingerprint kit, flashlight, lockpick set, a tazer, and - of course - my magnifying glass. It was an antique with a wood handle made in London back in the 19th century. It was the last thing I had of my uncle.

Shepherd Snickertooth had left it to me when I was young, he was something of an explorer who vanished on an expedition to Antartica in a rented submersible of all things. I’d done some digging, and the details are sketchy and smell of coverup. Somehow it’s connected to the ‘Bloop’ event.

That’s all ancient history now, though.

I was ready for the case. Or as ready as I’d ever be, because no amount of preparation or past experience can ever really prepare someone for a new case: Something could always go wrong.

First thing I was doing was going right down to glitzy Broadway.

Original story on DeviantArt

The Scrabbleclaw Affair PT1 by MercenaryBlade on DeviantArt