"Expanding north, are you, Jeff?" I asked, keeping my tone polite despite the contempt.

"Would appear that way," he said.

"Thought you had ‘staff’ to run your stands nowadays. What are you doing out on the front line?"

"Oh, you know me," he replied with a smug grin. "I like to keep my finger on the pulse. I go where the news is, Jackie boy." He scanned the street before turning his beady eyes back to me with a dubious squint. "So, what brings you back to these parts? You back in the game?"

I gave a nonchalant wave of the hand. “Just passing through.”

Jeff wasn’t convinced. He eyed me up and down, sizing me up. I resisted the urge to smack him - he always loved to play games, act like he was somebody important. But now, after everything that’d happened, all I saw was a small-time con artist desperately trying to hold onto power in a dying city.

A wide, almost eerie grin spread across his face, revealing a glistening gold tooth that caught the sunlight and winked at me. Charming. “I heard you were working local. Trash man, they say. Chasing down local runts. Is that right? That ain’t no job for a man with your... talents.” His voice was oily and smooth, like an old hand at the used car lot, hawking lemons.

I clenched my jaw and fought to keep my composure.

"Work is work, Jeff."

He squinted at me. "You know, you don't look too good, Jackie. You sick or something?"

"Just tired. Long nights, you know how it is."

He shrugged. His eyes glittered with greed as he got down to business. “Can I do anything special for you today?” He gave me a smile that stretched ear to ear but somehow never reached his cold, calculating eyes.

I mentally prepared myself, bracing for the task at hand, as if I were about to plunge my bare arm into a dirty toilet to unclog a stubborn blockage. And I felt just about as dignified.

“Just looking for some news. Two questions.”

"Jackie, you’ve come to the right place. You remember the fee?" Jeff was slick and nearly as greasy as his hair.

I put two silver coins on the counter, each pressed with the symbol of the Midnight Council—a raven in front of the moon. His hand moved over them and they disappeared like magic.

The city felt heavier, the air thicker.

“One: The Rifts, they’ve been happening more lately.”

“Is that your question?” he asked.

“No, it’s a fact. My question is, what do you know about it?”

“You’re gonna need to get a little more specific than that,” he said. “I know a lot of things.”

“Any indication of the cause, Jeff? Why the increase?”

“Ah, now if that ain’t the million-dollar question, Jackie.” He set a silver coin back on the table. “Afraid that info’s been bought and locked.”

“So someone else was looking for that answer? What’s the release price?” I asked.

“More than you’ve ever had your hands on, even in your heyday.”

“How much, Jeff?”

“Fifty gold.”

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Fifty gold coins. Whoever wanted this knowledge wanted it to themselves. You could get a head of state magically knocked off for less.

I took the silver coin back, returned because he couldn’t provide the info. But that fact alone said a lot.

"Fine. Second question. A case a few weeks ago, Robert McGuffey, found in his study, surrounded by his own blood."

"Yeah, I know it. A gruesome way to go."

"He was involved in 'collecting'."

Jeff stared at me blankly, not giving anything away.

"Have you heard any whispers about him? Any talk along the grapevine about what actually happened?"

"I thought you retired from all this, Jackie. You’re asking a lot of questions for someone that’s retired."

"I have, but this is personal. For a friend."

His voice got louder, more polite and formal. "Anything else I can help you with, sir?" he asked.

Just then, a woman walked up with her daughter in tow. The little girl immediately spoke up, demanding a candy.

"You can have a sweet when we get home, Matilda," the woman scolded gently before turning to buy a newspaper.

The little girl looked up at me. I smiled and lifted my hat slightly in a nod. Her eyes went wide and she hid behind her mother’s dress. Right, my face. I needed to get used to this.

Jeff's voice suddenly took on a friendly and surprisingly light tone as he handed a free candy to the little girl. “Here you go, little one. On the house.” She took it, and she and her mother disappeared down the street.

He turned back to me.

As I reached into my pocket to grab a nickel, my fingers closed around something unexpected. It wasn’t the coin I was searching for, but the small silver key. Its surface was adorned with intricate filigree designs that caught and reflected the light in mesmerizing patterns.

"That's quite something," Jeff remarked. I felt a sudden self-consciousness wash over me.

"Yeah, indeed it is. I think it’s connected to the death somehow. So, you got any dope on it?”

He thought for a long moment. “Is this a private inquiry, Jackie, or public?”

“What’s the cost difference?”

“Goes from silver to gold for private.”

“Christ man, inflation isn’t that bad.”

“Prices go up. Just the way it is.”

I didn’t have a gold coin. I spent most of my stock buying my way out of the game.

“It’ll have to be public, you little rat.”

Jeff smiled at me darkly.

“In that case, I can tell you two things. Firstly, it wasn’t no suicide, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”

“And the second thing?”

“You aren’t the only one after that key’s mate, the little jewelry box.”

“Anything else? Can you tell me who is looking for it?”

“Afraid that’s all I got. If you want, you could leave the key with me and I could ask around a bit.” Jeff’s eyes glinted.

“I’m thinking I’ll be fine holding onto it for now.”

“Suit yourself,” he said.

Jeff's expression turned serious. "Some free advice—drop this one, Jack. Nothing’s worth the answers you’re looking for. You’re messing with fire here. If you keep poking around, some people might get the wrong impression. And you don’t have the same protections that you used to."

I gave him a curt nod and pulled the nickel from my pocket, tossing it to him before grabbing the paper and making my escape. As I scanned the headlines, one caught my eye: "Crime on the Rise in New Amsterdam. Artifacts sold to Amsterdam Museum discovered faked."

Jeff wasn’t directly helpful, but in a roundabout way, he’d told me what I needed.

I knew that the now-confirmed murder of Mr. McGuffey was tied to the key and jewelry box, and thus to magic.

And that the rifts were speeding up, and someone powerful was behind it or at least trying to keep it a secret. I mulled over the list of players who could throw that kind of weight around. Couldn't be Calico, could it? Maybe the Council itself?

I wouldn’t put it past those sniveling, power-hungry bastards. They were a bureaucratic nightmare, always hiding in the shadows, their filthy little fingers in everything. They hoarded knowledge like dragons hoard gold, terrified of losing their grip on power. I was all for looking out for your own interests, but these guys took it to another level. They squashed anyone who dared to threaten their so-called "order," not out of necessity, but out of cowardly malice and hypocritical righteousness.

My stomach grumbled loudly, a not-so-gentle reminder that I’d skipped breakfast. Gotta eat. The sweltering heat of the summer afternoon beat down on me as I headed to my favorite breakfast spot downtown. The sun cast a warm glow over the freshly washed streets. Last night's heavy rain had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a thick layer of humidity and a fresh sheen of soot just beginning to form.