The Great Mouse Detectives (Adeline)

“Well... That went well.” Call sighed as she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and rested her boots on the table.

Call was around thirty with shoulder length dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore jeans and dark top under a dark red jacket. Hanging from a chain around her neck hung the shield marking her as a detective for the NYPD. But by far her most memorable characteristic was bloody gunshot wound bang in the center of her chest. She didn’t have to manifest the bullet wound but she did anyway. Simply to annoy her friend.

“I know. Mission accomplished. Case closed and all that. The child was able to pass on and her mother gained closure. And no-one got hurt even a little bit. Not even me for once. Perfect result” Her friends voice was smooth, smug and British.

“Oooh no. The woman only had a nervous breakdown when you told her that you'd come to speak to her because her daughter had asked you to for-fill her last request. I bet it was lovely for her to learn her little girl was a ghost floating around for ten or so years, unable to pass on because of a stupid teddy bear. And it really helped when she pulled off your scarf and saw that your a mutant.”

“Really? But I'm sure that’s when she fainted...”

“I was being sarcastic Clay.”

“Oh sarcasm, another one of those weird modern inventions. I like it, in my day people just used to be direct when we talked. Boring as all hell.” Clay sat down at the little table, adjusting his sunglasses and scarf to make sure covered up his more noticeable features. “But what we did have was manners. Feet off the table Miss Call, I have no desire to see the soles of your boots. I see enough souls around here as it is.”

Call glared, lowering her feet through the table and leaning forward. “That’s Detective Call to you Mister Stark. Just because I'm dead it doesn’t mean I'm not a detective any more.” She spoke bitterly through gritted teeth. Her burst of emotion caused the temperature around the table to drop a few degrees.

Clay raised a placating hand “Sorry, sorry. Just a slip of the tongue.” He cocked his head slightly to the right in amusement. “If I still had a tongue that is.” He started chuckling at his own joke.

Call moaned, putting her face in her palm. “Oh my god. You need new material. That’s the third time I've heard that joke from you. And it wasn’t funny the first time.”

“Yes it was. You laughed. I distinctly remember you laughing. Hysterically.”

“That was hysterical crying! I'd just been shot!”

“Ahh yes our first case together.” Clay sighed fondly cocking his head wistfully. “Fun times.”

“You let me believe you were Death for half an hour! I was scared as all hell. You had me following you around the whole of New York for a week without explaining a damn thing!” By the end she was almost shouting hands fisted on the table, wishing she could throttle the man sitting calmly in front of her.

“But we got him though didn’t we.” Clay spoke softly, encouragingly, the small smile evident in his voice even if his scarf covered it. And yes, the lack of lips went a long way to hide it too. “We got the grody little git that shot you.”

“Yer. Yer we did.” Call relaxed and leaned back in her chair. Her anger and frustration fading away as she smiled. The temperature around the table even rose back to normal levels.

“And do you know why?” Clay asked amusement in his voice as he nonchalantly adjusted his lapel.

Call groaned knowing what was coming.

“Because I am bloody marvelous.” Clay all but crowed. “I am Clayton Stark the great and wonderful detective. I can find anyone and anything. Just give me an interesting case and on it like stink on cheese.” He gave a mock sitting bow to the room at large.

“Did you really just compare yourself to stink?”

Clay nodded in agreement. “I'll admit it wasn’t one of my best self aggrandizing rants. It was quite short though. If you like I can try again?”

“Oh god no” Call's body flickering in and out of existence as she laughed “You skull will pop if your head swells any more than it already has.”

“Hey listen are ya gonna order or are ya just gonna keep talkin' ta ya'self all day. Cuz if ya are gonna just talk ta a empty seat ya gonna hav'ta leave.” The waitress snapped around a mouthful of gum.

Clay looked up at the somewhat rude waitress a little sheepishly. He was sitting in the middle of a crowded café seemingly talking animatedly with the empty chair opposite him. Not that he wouldn’t have looked strange anyway. A tall, unnaturally thin man wearing an expensively tailored suit and tie. His wide brimmed fedora expertly shadowed his face and what little could be see was covered by sunglasses and a bone white scarf. Even his hands with their long thin fingers were covered up by dark leather gloves. “Ah, sorry. I'll just take a pot of tea please.”

The waitress snapped her gum, sighed heavily and walked over to the counter. New York, she thought. Why do we get all the weirdos.