A glass bottle smashed against the wall of the tavern, inches away from Brad Asher’s head. The kind of thing Brad had gotten used to over the course of his career as a private detective. It didn’t matter what he was investigating: unfaithful spouses, thefts, or even missing pets. Four cases out of five, Brad would end up following someone, he’d eventually get their attention and ask a few questions, and as soon as they figured out what was up, that someone would either turn violent or take off running.
Or in this case, both.
Because of course the bottle was only a distraction. The suspect, under suspicion for the disappearance of twenty pounds of bacon (that is, real pork bacon, a shockingly precious commodity in the colony) during his shift at the local grocer, didn’t respond well to Brad’s questioning.
Then again, who responds well to a person showing up to your favorite dive not-so-subtly accusing you of stealing a luxury item from your place of work? Admittedly the approach wasn’t Brad’s strong suit.
“Hey, are you Stephen?” Asher asked, sliding up to the young blonde man seated at a table in the corner of the bar.
“Yeah, and you’re Asher. The colony’s not that big, man, I’ve seen you around.”
“Hey, there’s a few thousand people here! I sure haven’t had the chance to interact with everyone yet!” This wasn’t inaccurate. Although Asher had resided at the colony for about a year, most of the people he had interacted with were the aforementioned criminals and cheaters, or their victims. Up until this point, Stephen Tucker had been neither.
“Look, what do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“You sure don’t look busy. You’re almost to the bottom of that beer. I’m sure you can spare a few minutes to answer some questions.”
“I just got off work and I’m trying to relax before I head back to do it all again tomorrow. Or maybe your glamorous life as a private investigator has made you forget about how soul-crushing retail work can be?”
That’s a bit unfair, thought Asher. You get yelled at by customers. I get yelled at by the people I’m investigating. It’s at least equal, right?
“Okay fine, we can skip the small talk, it’s about your job. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the missing bacon?”
“Why would I?” Stephen asked, appearing disinterested.
“Seems like it would be a hot piece of gossip. Something that would be all over the breakroom.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really gossip or hang out in the breakroom at work. Don’t talk much to the people I work with in general, really.”
This statement struck Brad as a bit odd. At twenty-one Earth years old, Stephen Tucker was not hard to look at. Then again if he was half as standoffish with his coworkers as he was being towards Brad…
“You haven’t even heard people talking about it at work? It’s the talk of the town! I mean, how does a twenty pound box of bacon just up and vanish?”
“How does anybody even know about the shipment of bacon when there’s only one box?” Stephen fired back defensively, before realizing what he had just said.
“And how do you know there was only one box? Don’t bother answering, I already know. You were on freight duty that day. You probably saw the box, visions of cash and a ticket off this rock dancing in your eyes, am I wrong?”
“You’re bluffing, there’s no way you can prove any of that!”
“Your own work schedule provided by your boss, the one who contracted me, is all the proof anyone needs. There’s also the cameras. At the very least you could have waited to steal the bacon until you had a clear escape route. After all, you said it yourself, the colony isn’t that big,” Asher finished with a grin.
After what seemed like an eternity of staring at one-another, this was when the bottle flew, Stephen making a beeline for the door.
Brad quickly ducked out of the way of the bottle (though not without getting splashed with some of the dregs of the bottle, this was going to be a pain to get out of his suit later) and started to dash after Stephen.
This was Brad’s favorite part. If his marks were going to either turn violent or try to flee, Brad would much rather them flee, tiring themselves out in the process. It would be much easier to fight someone who already wore themselves out.
At least, Brad loved this part in theory. In reality, he still sometimes struggled with navigating this damn city, especially in the late evening when everyone was hanging out in the nightlife district. While he certainly planned to let Stephen tucker himself out, if he let Stephen get too far ahead he might lose him in the crowd and winding streets.
It also didn’t help that Stephen stopped every few seconds to throw something back at Brad leaving Brad with the difficult snap decision of trying to dodge, catch, or even get hit on purpose in order to stop other people from getting hurt.
If I can just lure him out of the nightlife district…
Brad didn’t have time to finish that thought. As he rounded a corner down another alleyway he saw the flash of a steel pipe flying toward him.
Brad quickly dropped to the ground, wincing at the rush of air inches above his head. He certainly changed his strategy quickly.
This usually happened when the suspect gave up on running, but in this case it was more likely that Stephen knew he would never be able to outrun Brad for long.
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Better stop toying with him…
At this thought, Brad quickly turned over to his side and planted his hand, kicking off the wall of the alley to add speed and power to his sweep. While it didn’t have enough momentum to completely topple Stephen, Brad let his instincts dictate his next move as he quickly spun his other leg over his target, looping around his neck.
Where the head goes, the rest will follow.
His old teacher’s words freshly echoing in his mind, Brad finished the takedown by jerking the rest of his body to the side, pulling Stephen’s head down to the ground.
While Brad wasn’t particularly physically strong, being a five foot eleven beanpole, his true strength came from his flexibility and training in a mix of capoeira, Brazilian jiu jitsu, and taekwondo. He would never present an impressive score on a punching machine, but he at least never had to worry in the case of ground control, so long as his target wasn’t significantly stronger or as well-trained as him.
“Let’s keep this easy,” Brad said to his freshly pinned opponent. “Just return the bacon and your boss is willing to let this go without turning you into the authorities. He said he considered the contract with me a favor for you because you’re so young and not normally up to trouble.”
“Go to hell. I don’t have it anymore.” Stephen spat back.
“Pardon?”
“I said I don’t have it anymore! I tried to sell it and got swindled. Why do you think I’m still on this shitheap of a rock?”
Dammit, that’s gonna make things a lot more complicated.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. I’m probably going to get my pay docked a bit for this, but that's the nature of the beast I guess.”
Brad reached into his pocket for his communicator, but the local police were on the scene before he had a chance to make the call.
“Brad Asher,” a familiar female voice came from behind him, “I should have guessed that the lack of discretion was your doing.”
“Oh, hi Elaine,” Brad said, attempting an air of nonchalance. “I found the bacon thief.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better after you shoved some poor man out of the way in your chase?”
Brad quickly ran through the encounter in his mind again, before sheepishly admitting, “Oh yeah, I guess that did happen. To be honest the whole thing was a blur. I was probably trying to save him from getting his face smashed in with a brick.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say,” Elaine muttered. “By the way, I’d prefer it if you referred to me as Officer Seol around civilians.”
“Huh, normally you’re harping on me to call you seonsaengnim.”
“That’s in class you dolt. Stop being cheeky. Now get off the suspect and let me cuff him so I can take him in. You go let Mr. Valentine know that his bacon thief is in custody. We’ll talk later.”
“Yeah,” Brad said, standing. “Later.”
---
Elaine Seol was an old friend of Brad’s from his school days. She had gone into training to become a police officer while Brad had struggled with his previous line of work, getting into medical school and becoming a doctor.
Elaine was actually the one who recommended that Brad move to the Epiphany Colony, a colony near the edge of the currently-explored parts of the galaxy. She had been assigned there a few years prior as a police officer, advancing to the rank of lieutenant. Initially she wanted Brad to undergo training to become an officer like herself, but Brad declined. Eventually she was able to talk him into setting up shop as a private detective.
The Epiphany Colony was the third in a series of colonies set up on Mars and her moons called the Chronicles Project. The Epiphany was the first colony on Deimos, and while the colony had been around long enough to have a structured police force as well as fire and rescue within its domed walls, it was also far enough removed from the rest of the Earth-based Federation that jobs were given based less on documented qualification and more on what skills the voluntary colonists had, existing in an awkward half-step between being a full frontier colony and being a fully-recognized state within the dominion of the Federation, lacking the metaphorical Golden Spike that would finally join Earth and Mars in unity.
That more than anything else was what appealed to Brad. Maybe he couldn’t make his momma proud by becoming a doctor, but at least he could enjoy the idea of being his own boss, assuming he was able to keep work coming in.
Turns out Elaine had been right all along, as thefts and infidelity seemed to be fairly routine.
---
Mr. Ziggy Valentine, the owner of the grocery store, did not take kindly to the news of Stephen’s arrest.
“I’d been hoping that you would have been able to solve this problem without getting the police involved,” Valentine said.
“I was trying to, but then the kid decided to make a scene, and it turns out he’d already lost the bacon by the time I caught up to him.”
“It’s been less than a week since the theft, how did he manage that?” Valentine asked incredulously.
“He said he got swindled trying to sell it, so someone out there is enjoying a nice breakfast on your store’s dime, unfortunately.”
“This is inconceivable. I don’t know if I’m more upset with you or that dumbass of an employee of mine for getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. But a contract is a contract. The full fee will be wired into your account tomorrow morning. 50,000 credits. Don’t spend it all in one place. Unless that place is my store.”
“Thank you kindly. The inbox is always open if you need more stuff investigated.”
“I’ll think about it,” Valentine replied unconvincingly.
---
“Thought you’d never show up,” Elaine muttered as Brad finally walked into her apartment.
“I had to take a shower and change. I didn’t want to show up smelling like beer, especially that rancid stuff they sell down at the Steel Ball.”
“You shouldn’t knock it. It grows on you after a while.”
“I hate the taste of beer anyway. Maybe I’ll check out their wine selection next time I’m there for pleasure. Whenever that is.”
“Once a snob, always a snob,” Elaine muttered.
“What? I don’t like beer and I always feel awkward in that place. You know about a third of their customer base has tried to kill me, right?” Brad fired back defensively.
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I go in there all the time and people don’t hassle me, and I’m pretty sure I’ve arrested all of those same people.”
“Yeah, yeah, the difference being you have an entire squad of police officers who would kindly rearrest every single one of them if something happened to you. I’ve got no such backup.”
“Your choice to not come forward about our relationship.”
“We can! Eventually. It just doesn’t feel like the right time yet. I’m still not sure how to go about mixing business with pleasure publicly.”
“Come on, don’t act like you came here just so you could live out of your office as a private investigator. You came for me, and we both know that.”
Okay, so the “being one’s own boss thing” was only half the reason.
“Speaking of mixing business and pleasure, though, I know we’re off the clock and you don’t like to talk about work off the clock…”
Here it goes, Brad thought, preparing himself for another chew-out session regarding the man who got injured.
“I have a request for you that’s off the books.”
“Look, I’m sorry--wait what?”
“I have an anonymous request for you as Brad Asher the detective. One I definitely can’t make as a police lieutenant.”
“I...umm...I’m listening.”