Fog, again. It always seemed to fill the streets after a storm, blanketing it all in white. It wasn’t too bad today. He could still see the stone walkways on the street below, the black lamplights, the stray cats. The little bastards always prowled in the mornings.

Jack Oakley sat back in his chair, lifting his feet onto his desk as he read the file in his hands. A cold case from his predecessor, nothing he could do about it. All of the cases he’d been left were cold, no more than afternoon time-wasters at this point.

They weren’t interesting, either. At least, not to Jack. A lost wife who probably just ran off. A runaway whose case was older than Jack was. And three “murders” that lacked so much as a suspect, all ruled suicides by the police. All together, every case in the office could be written down on two pieces of paper, one if you had small handwriting.

But Jack was thankful for one thing. The office. Technically, it was an apartment, a green door on the side leading to the kitchen fitted with a black iron gas stove and a single sink, the kitchen in turn having a door on both ends, one to a bedroom as sparse as his office and another leading to a simple bathroom. One toilet, one bathtub. It was nice. Nicer than what he’d had before, and that’s all that really mattered.

The office itself was simple. A green rug in the middle of the floor. Two doors, one to the kitchen and the other to the hallway. No furniture, save for the desk, which was off to the side, letting him look out the window on his right. It had a nice dark finish at one time, but it was starting to wear away. He’d gotten a damned splinter just this morning. If he got any cases, a new desk was the first thing he’d buy.

It was mostly bare, just like his office. Only a stack of folders, a rotary phone, and a coaster for the glass of water in his hand. He sipped from the glass, all the while pretending it was some hard liquor, and nearly jumped when the phone rang.

“Detective Jack Oakley speaking,” he said. He hadn’t picked up the phone. It’d been a few days since he spoke, and he needed to clear his throat. Detectives lived a lonely life. At least, he did.

He let one more ring sound out before lifting the handset. “Detective Jack Oakley speaking.” It went well enough, he thought.

“Hey Jack, it’s Bob. Hey, I’ll cut to the chase. Would you mind comin’ in for a bit? I want your help with something.” An eyebrow raised at the thought. Something exciting, for once.

“Sure. Is it a case?”

“Something like that. We’ll pay.”

“Say no more, Sarge. I’m on my way.” Did he look greedy? Maybe. But he was a detective now. He had a reason to be greedy.

He stood, taking the brown coat hanging from his chair and slipping into it as he left his office. He closed the door and locked it, turning to look at the hallway before making his way down it. It was clean enough. At least the paint wasn’t chipped, though he wasn’t a fan of white walls, nor of the green carpet on the floor.

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Ocean greeted his nose as he stepped outside. A pungent aroma of seaweed and salt mixed together, blowing in from the south seas. That and fish. Where sea greeted his nasal cavities, grey and white greeted his eyes, plus all the other colors that were dulled by the fog.

He walked north, giving only a cursory scan of the area. He’d seen all these buildings before, most of them apartments, a few stairways leading down to basement pubs and restaurants, a few neon signs without power. No one was active in these parts at this time of day, and Jack savored the lonesome walk. The buildings were grey stone and red brick, maybe an occasional brown, but that was it.

Clarity greeted him as he traveled, the fog fading away for the day. It’d be back tomorrow. That or rain. Center Alley was busier than his little section of the city, and he started to pass by people of all sorts. Businessmen, the homeless, a few cops, some he knew, most he didn’t. He waved at a familiar face, but no words were exchanged. They were both busy, it seemed, and Jack wasn’t too sure he remembered the mans name.

No one so much as looked his way as he walked into the precinct. Bob was at his desk in his own little office off on the side of the second floor. It was a nice desk, a good dark wood with a nice finish to it. No splinters were coming from it anytime soon.

“Hey Bob,” Jack said. Bob motioned for him to close the door, so he did and pulled up a chair. “It ain’t another cold case, is it?”

“Afraid it might be, Jack. A family disappeared a few weeks ago. Not sure when exactly. The parents were unemployed, but the kids were attending school up until the 16th of last month. That was a Friday, so they might have disappeared anytime from the end of that day to a week later on the 23rd when the school reported them for truancy.”

“Anything at their home?” Always start with the home. It’s where people get comfortable, and where criminals get lazy.

“No signs of struggle or anything, just some rotten food in the pantry.”

“Got their file for me?”

“Here,” Bob said, sliding the folder to me. It was thin, but the case was recent enough. Maybe he’d be able to fill it up a little.

“Anything else I should know?”

Bob shook his head. “Nothing else, I’m afraid. You know how it goes, Jack.”

“Yep. What the cops can’t do, they give to someone else who can’t do it either.”

“If you wanted hot cases you should have stayed in the force.”

“I don’t know. I think being a private detective suits me, don’t you?” Jack flashed a smile, and Bob gave a hrmph in response. “What about the neighbors, anything from them?”

“They didn’t say much. Didn’t hear anything according to them. Might want to talk to them yourself.” Jack stood, offering a handshake. Bob reciprocated, and jack went for the door, politely putting his chair back against the wall where it belonged.

“If you find anything, give me a call,” Bob called out. Jack was already halfway out the door, so he gave a wave instead of saying anything. It would have just been something smarmy, anyways.

Opening the file, he noticed exactly why they gave it to him.

Detective Notes

Current date: May 3rd.

Crime: Missing family. Reported April 23rd, possibly missing since April 16th.

Victims: Marlow Family. The father Joseph (42), mother Maylene (38), and two children, Sarah (13) and Charlie (8).

Address: 67 Broker St.

Additional Notes: No signs of struggle according to police. Neighbors might know more.