Blackmoor: Ep1.3 - Where I lay my hat

My apartment laid strewn about like some mad scientist’s lab, but instead of beakers and microscopes, I kept take-out containers of cheap food and empty bottles of even cheaper booze. An unhealthy way of coping, that’s what the force mandated shrink would say if he could see it; but he would never have to see the things I had seen.

I sauntered to my desk as I shook off the perpetual rain, dropping the piece of paper from my pocket onto the faux-wood desk. I sighed as I studied the delicate scribbling of my own address; as if reading it over and over would somehow reveal the mysteries of its meaning and why some stiff would have it on her.

I decided to distract myself with the case. Turning over to my terminal window, I ran her through our database. Her name came up with no results, but the facial recognition gave me a strong match. Elizabeth Sidow. Known affiliation: Henrick Sidow, father. The foundry district kingpin. This just keeps getting better, I muttered, cursing silently.