It was the day after Holden and Sable resolved the issue with the ghost girl haunting their apartment. The two of them were asked to go to the Chrimoria Police Department’s 4th precinct. This precinct was on the east side of town, and Captain Hardfall, the police captain who arrested Sable’s kidnappers, was in charge of this precinct.


    At first, the duo was concerned because they thought their escapades into the secret vault that housed the Residential Files had been discovered. However, it turned out the inspectors in charge of investigating the whereabouts of the red pixie, and any others who might’ve been involved in the fairy trafficking ring, just wanted to reconfirm Sable’s testimony about the incident.


    After talking to the inspector for over an hour, Holden and Sable were finally allowed to leave.


    “It’s about time,” Sable said in an exacerbated tone of voice. “What was even the point of this? I just told them the same story over and over again. It was a waste of time.”


    “My guess is they hit a dead end in the investigation,” Holden suggested. “They were probably hoping re-interviewing all of the witnesses would give them some fresh ideas on how to approach from here. Uncovering something like a fairy trafficking ring that potentially involves government officials isn’t an easy task.”


    “Hmm. I guess I see your point.”


    Right as the duo made their way past the front desk, they overheard a mod-aged human man arguing with the officer at the front desk.


    “Please, I need your help,” the middle-aged man pleaded. “My manuscript was stolen. That was my life’s work. Please, you need to help me.”


    “I’m sorry, sir,” the officer replied. “Most of our officers are tied up right now. We’ll get to it when we can.”


    “But I need to get my manuscript back. What is so important that every officer in this precinct is busy?”


    The officer cleared his throat and stared at the ground. “There’s a very important person whose gone missing. We have every officer in this precinct looking for her. I’m sorry. There’s no one available to help you at the moment.”


    Holden smirked as he sauntered on over the the front desk with Sable. “You know, officer, this reminds me of an incident that happened last year. A wealthy merchant paid the captain of a precinct to find his daughter, who ran away to south Chrimoria with some- I think they called the boy a gutter rat. Some poor kid.”


    The officer clicked his tongue. “Hate not what’s going on. An arbiter of the Mages Union disappeared, so every precinct is busy looking for the guy.”


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    “An arbiter? I see why you’re so busy.”


    Holden pawed at Holden’s leg to get his attention. “What exactly is an arbiter for the Mages Union?”


    “It’s just a fancy way of saying judge. A judge from the Mages Union has gone missing.”


    “Well, that’s certainly a pickle,” Holden said. “Maybe they should hire us; I bet you we could find that arbiter before the end of the day.”


    “Now you’re getting a little cocky.”


    Sable huffed. “Well, I’ve been learning a lot lately during my visits to the Grand Library. I’d say I’m quite the detective now.”


    “Are you really?” The middle-ages man said, hands trembling with anxiety. “Then could you please find my manuscript?”


    “We’re PI’s; not inspectors. In other words, our services aren’t free.”


    “You’ve gotten rather full of yourself, Cat,” Holden said, rolling his eyes before turning to the middle-aged man. “But he’s right. We don’t work for free. If you’re willing to pay, we’re willing to help.”


    “Of course,” the middle-aged man eagerly agreed. “I’d be willing to pay you anything. My name’s Randy, by the way.”


    Holden slapped Randy on the shoulder. “Alright then, Randy. Come with us. Let’s talk about your problem, shall we?”


    ***


    Holden and Sable took Randy to an outdoor seating area a couple blocks away from the precinct. This seating area had several food stalls on the outer fringes where the stall owners were cooking their own unique dishes, essentially making the place an outdoor food court.


    The three of them found an open table where Holden began asking Randy about his stolen manuscript. “So, what exactly is this manuscript of yours? You some kind of author?”


    Randy nervously nodded his head. “Yes. I’m a mystery writer. Not a very successful one, but a good one nonetheless. Selling books is rather difficult, you know. It’s-.”


    Holden gestured for Randy to stop. “We’re getting a little off topic here. Tell me about the manuscript. Why would someone want to steal it if you’re not that successful?”


    “My stories can still sell well. I’m just not very well known. It’s hard getting into the world of authorship. Even those who are successful have to keep writing to make money. You have no idea how hard it is to keep coming up with new ideas. There have been so many times where I’ve gotten writer’s block-.”


    Seeing as Randy was getting off topic again, Holden interrupted him. “Randy, why would someone want to steal your manuscript?”


    “Right. Sorry. I’ve been writing a new series with new characters, a lot of humor, twists, turns, and all that. But I think one of my competitors caught wind and targeted my manuscript. I think someone stole it, and intends to publish it themselves.”


    “Are writers always afraid that someone’s trying to steal their work?”


    “Oh, all the time, Mr. Holden. People say we’re paranoid. Worried about nothing. It’s not like we’re the sage of literature, or something like that. That’s what people tell us authors anyway. But I know it; I feel it in my gut. Some stole my work.”


    Holden could immediately tell he was going to hate this job. Dealing with Randy was exhausting in and of itself, because of his tendency to babble. That simple fact made Holden wonder if part of the guys popularity issue was because of the fact that he didn’t know when to shut up. Regardless, Holden agreed to take this job, and would see it through until the end. “Alright, Randy. I need you to tell me everything about your competitors. Are there any who hate you in particular? Are there any who might be in a rut that might motivate them to take action? Is there anyone you collaborate with? Tell me everything. But please try to keep it brief.”


    Randy nodded his head, then went on to answer all of Holden’s questions. Like Holden feared, Randy kept going off on rabbit trails, making the conversation take much longer than it needed to.