I sat in my office, feet up on the desk, my hat tipped over my eyes. It had been a slow day, but I suppose that could be considered good, since there were no robberies or murders or anything like that, so I was plannin' to go out with some of my "buddies", one travels in a holster, the other in a hip flask, but then you decided to show up, so I suppose that would have to wait...
The name's Bullet, Samuel Bullet. I'm a Private Eye, at least that's what it says on my door. Whatever you want to call it, I solve crimes and get paid fifty greenbacks or more in return for my services. Although, one particular time would probably get me an immensely hefty sum after all the trouble it put me through...
It was pouring hard, as I lifted a bottle of alcohol to my lips. I had been out late that night investigating The Addams' Jewel Heist, and I needed a drink or two to calm my nerves. The only good thing that came from all that was the fact I had gotten paid, and paid well for that matter. That's where it all began...
It was in tune with the claps of thunder coming from outside, the knocking on my door. I hadn't noticed the sound until the roars of Mother Nature stopped and it was just the simple pitter-patter of raindrops for the time being.
"Who is it?" I called out, sitting up straight and setting the now empty bottle onto the floor next to me.
With a thin cloud of smoke, the dame was in the room. She was thin and blonde, with short hair that fell to her shoulders and curled at the ends. She held a cigarette in one hand, a purse in the other. She had a long dress on, with a fur collar, and white elbow-length gloves. She had all the right curves and features that every man would want...
"Hello, Samuel," she said, her voice smooth and gentle, but with an underlying tone of harshness.
"How'd you know my name, dollface?" I asked.
She looked at my door, that read, Samuel Bullet: Private Eye, "Just a wild guess."
"Well, what's a nice girl like you, doin' in a dirty town like this? It ain't safe, doll, especially not coming to a low-life like me."
"I came here, sir, because I need help, a murder has been committed," she told me.
I looked at her as tears began to fall from her brown eyes, she was very convincing. Of course, most dames are somehow..."Alright, ma'am, I have two questions. One: How do I know there was even a murder?"
She reached into her little purse and pulled out a photograph of a brutally attacked body that lay on a carpeted floor, the image was slightly blurred, implying that the camera wasn't being held entirely still. I put two and two together and figured that the shock of finding this in her own home must've frightened the doll. "Okay, and two: Can you pay for it?"
Reaching into her purse once again, she dropped a stack of bills on my desk, "Will that cover it? It's half of what I have on me," she told me.
"Alright, baby, you've got my interest," I said, leaning forward and looking the woman in the eyes. "What's your name, anyway?"
She smiled, that disturbed me slightly, since she had just been crying her little brown eyes out moments ago, "Derkins," she told me, "Annabelle Derkins."