Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

When Delahoy reached the restaurant, he let out a small sigh of relief. The place was actually an old favorite of his: good old fashioned Italian, no gimmicks, no nonsense. “So far, so good,” he said, straightening his tie. He had ditched the usual trench coat that night, though he still had the same suit on from the morning’s events. When he went to freshen up, all he did was make sure he didn’t smell like cigarettes, and called it good to go. Besides, this wasn’t a date; it was business. He headed inside, and took a quick look around. Now where is she? he thought, walking over to the dining section. There were a lot of diners that night, which made Delahoy annoyed. “This is a questioning, not dinner and a movie,” he muttered.

“Over here, detective!”
There she was, sitting down at a small table for two. She had her hair down, reaching a little past her shoulders, wearing a little black dress. Really classy, and very arousing. Well, to everyone but Delahoy. Though he had to admit she was what he would call ‘running on all eight’, he was here for one thing and one thing only: answers. “I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Delahoy,” Catrina said, a small smile on her red lips. “I knew how busy we hawkshaws can be. A real time-consumer, isn’t it?” Delahoy smiled, removing his hat. “I’m savvy,” he said. “Been running all over town on this Zachary Johnson case. That’s why I’m here tonight, remember?” Catrina nodded, though she didn’t seem very interested. “Well, surely you’ll have no problem solving this one,” she replied. “I mean, from what I’ve heard around the water cooler, you’re really putting the Durem PD out of business.”

Delahoy frowned a little bit. “Ma’am, I’m gonna shoot the works with you, just to make sure we’re not dealing with a bum steer. That is-“She put up one finger, and that shut Delahoy up. “-A conversation that’s misleading, no?” The old-school detective was surprised, and stupidly nodded his head. “Y-yeah. That’s exactly what I meant…you know how to speak like I do?” The vampire detective smiled, showing her fangs. “I’ve been around for quite awhile, Mr. Delahoy,” she answered, grabbing her menu. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there. So, before we go any further, let me take on some food before I have to get my fill out of you, okay?” She winked, and he blushed. “Sure thing,” he replied, feeling a little hot under the collar. Catrina seemed to pause for a moment to look him over before saying, “You need to relax a little, Joe. You’ll get your answers, so stop acting like you made a trip for biscuits, will you?” Delahoy almost didn’t recognize that old piece of slang. “I never make a trip for nothing, Ms. Deltorres,” he said, leaning back a little. “I always get what I came for. Even if it means me getting a little gashouse, if you catch my drift.” She smiled, amused, and went back to reading the menu.

As the night went on, Delahoy really lost his common attitude. He was smiling, laughing, and just having an all-around good time. The thing he liked the most was that he didn’t need to repeat himself whatsoever. When he would say something like, “I had to find out where Fontaine was stashing all these bean shooters,” he didn’t have to go back and repeat himself. Catrina was on it like nobody’s business. “So,” Delahoy said, going over a long story, “This cat was my main suspect, and he wouldn’t even give me the time of day. Eventually he gets mad and tries to give me an attitude adjustment.” Catrina was smiling, nodding her head. “Oh really? Then what did you do, Joe?” The detective smirked, and pantomimed punching somebody’s lights out. “I put the ol’ Broderick on ‘em,” he concluded, “And made him change religions, so to speak.” She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re a real hard-boiled man, Joe,” she said. “That’s my favorite kind.”

After dinner (and even dessert; Delahoy was really out of it today), Catrina gave Delahoy a solid alibi for the murder. “You must feel silly, trying to put a nice girl like me away,” she said. Delahoy simply nodded, lighting up a cigarette. “Yeah, I feel like some two-bit flatfoot,” he replied. “Sorry for the bum steer, Catrina.” She shook her head, slowly leaning in. “Nonsense, detective,” she said. “This was anything but a bum steer.” She took the cig right out of his mouth, and kissed him on the lips. Our hero nearly skipped a heartbeat. “I had a wonderful time, Joe,” she said, finally pulling away, sticking the detective’s cigarette in her own mouth. “Hope to see you around the precinct more often, mind you.” And then she walked away, leaving Delahoy (and the check, the clever dame) behind. “Well, I’ll be,” Delahoy mumbled. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been kissed like that.

He still had one problem: With Catrina having a solid alibi (her date stood her up halfway through, so she decided to just leave. Her date would be able to vouch for her, as she came by his place to give him a piece of her mind), this kicked the doors on this case wide open. Who was the killer? “I really hope that Nancy-boy Longfellow wasn’t right,” Delahoy said to himself, leaving the restaurant after paying the bill. “I’m back at square one…oh well. I think I’ll stop by the old clubhouse tomorrow. Just to say hi.”