The elevator doors opened to the bustling lobby, the staff still abuzz with the aftermath of my earlier disruption. Some higher-ups were shouting at the security guards while two local police were writing something on their notepads, good thing she's not here. I walked through, the crowd parting in my wake, their whispers and curious glances fading into the background. Out in the open, I took a deep drag of my cigarette, discarding it on the wet ground before extinguishing it with a deliberate stomp. The rain had subsided, leaving the streets gleaming and slick. As I distanced myself from the building, my contemplations were interrupted by the sight of the young girl from earlier. Seated on a covered bench, she enjoyed a lollipop, her sheltered position keeping the residual rain at bay. A radiant smile adorned her face then she waved at me.

My path back to my office was in her direction so it couldn't hurt to approach her for a quick chat. "Hey there, kid. I thought you were with your mom?"

She nodded energetically, eyes gleaming with innocence. "Yeah, I was, but she said I should wait for her outside because it was getting stressful in there. Something about glass exploding in the lobby and a big argument happening on the upper floors"

Ah, guess I'm to blame. Still, what kind of mother would let her child outside in this city alone?

"You shouldn't be alone like this. It's not safe for someone your age," I remarked.

Her response came with a touch of defiance, "Well, it's also not safe to chat with strangers. But you just talked to me, a stranger, so Ha!" She then pointed at me as if I just mocked her.

Considering her point, I replied, "True, but I'm quite a bit older than you... and you were the one who waved me over"

She hesitated, then asked with a hint of uncertainty, "Oh, right... You're not planning to snatch me, are you?" There was a quiver in her voice, a touch of anxiety.

"No. I won't. It's a good rule to follow though." I assured her, taking a seat beside her on the bench. "But your mother is pretty careless to just let you be out here alone"

"She's not worried. She trusts people around this part, and I do too!"

"That's irresponsible" I sighed, placing my hands in my pocket. "Though, I'm safe to talk to. I'm a private investigator. You can call me Wolf or Jacob."

"Wolf sounds cooler!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but grin at her spirited response. "So, you're like a real-life detective? That's pretty awesome!"

I cracked a half smile, finding amusement in her. "Not exactly a detective, but close enough."

She maintained her spirited curiosity, firing off questions in quick succession. "Do you solve mysteries and catch and beat up bad guys?"

Nodding, I offered a concise answer. "More or less."

Her lollipop momentarily forgotten, she beamed. "I want to be a detective when I grow up! Can you teach me?"

"Maybe when you're a bit older, and, again, I'm not a detective."

"Really?! Awesome! I'm going to solve mysteries, fight crimes, and stop bad guys! Just like Sherlock Holmes!" The girl cheered and I sighed with a half-smile. It was refreshing to encounter such innocence in a world that often lacked it. Despite being a child, she had a knack for asking questions and she amused me more than I cared to admit. And, for a split second, as I watched her smile, I couldn't help but remember another girl who was just like her. Happy, optimistic, kind... Sure that just about sums up the majority of Children in this world, but... there is only one girl she reminds me of. "You do know who Sherlock Holmes is, right? The girl suddenly asked, the look in her eyes felt like she was testing me or something.

"Of course" I replied honestly. "World's Greatest Detective. Skilled at everything but terrible at flirting with women or receiving compliments from them"

"What? But I read every Sherlock Holmes book Arthur Doyle ever wrote and he was always good at talking to girls and making them fall in love with him so he could get the information!" She countered.

"Arthur Doyle just wanted to make him cooler because that was the only flaw Sherlock Holmes had" I explained.

"And how would you know that?"

I looked at her then smiled, showing my teeth "Because Sherlock Holmes was my mentor". I let out a soft laugh, mostly to myself before the girl giggled.

"You're silly, Mr Wolf" With a curious glint in her eyes, she asked, "Do all detectives like to smoke? I noticed you were smoking earlier." There was an obvious disapproval in her eyes.

I took a moment, contemplating her question. "Not all of them. But I haven't seen one who doesn't. Truth be told, I'm not a fan of smoking. It's just a habit that helps me unwind. When I'm stressed or just annoyed, I smoke to relieve myself. Calms my senses"

Her small face contorted with disapproval, and she pouted. "Smoking is bad, no matter the reason! Like drinking!"

Amusement tugged at my lips as I appreciated her clear sense of morality. "You're right; it's not a good habit to follow"

"My teacher told me that. But... Mommy likes to smoke and Daddy loves drinking... Does that make them bad people?"

I tried to find the right words to say besides blunt honesty as I felt her eyes watching me from the side. "I... Doubt they are. If they raised you to be this nice then they're not bad people. Just troubled" I whispered the last part mostly to myself.

Her eyes lit up, and she delved into her bag, revealing a colourful assortment of lollipops. "Here, have some lollipops instead! They're much better than smoking because they taste sweet! You can have only one carry, just ONE! They're mine! The others are yours" Her voice was demanding at the Cherry part, better do what she says then. Accepting her offering, I chose a handful of lollipops and stashed them in my coat pockets. Her voice animated, she continued, "You should try the blueberry-flavoured one; it's really sweet. But I'm a cherry girl myself." She declared her preferences with an air of royalty, turning the simple choice of lollipop flavours into a grand decision.

"I'll go with grapes..." I decided, unwrapping a lollipop and savouring its fruity taste. I never liked sugary treats. It's too sweet for my taste but luckily this is one of those lollipops where you taste more of the sour fruit than the sweetness.

Her smile widened, evident pride in her gift, and she rambled on about her favourite flavours. As we chatted, I found myself grateful for the unexpected light she had brought into my otherwise shadowy day. It's been, well, far too long since I just rambled about stuff like this, answering a child's question to fill their curious mind.

"So, what's the coolest case you've ever worked on?" she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

I chuckled softly. "That's a tough one. Every case has its own twists and turns. There was this one time I had to track down a missing heirloom for a wealthy family. Turns out, the culprit was their pet cat. Swiped the necklace and hid it in the garden."

She giggled, the sound light and carefree. "No way! A cat thief? That's hilarious!"

I nodded. "Yeah, cats are unpredictable. So what's your story? Besides waiting for your mom and knowing everyone in the building," I inquired, genuinely interested.

"Well," she began, twirling the lollipop in her mouth. "I like reading detective stories and watching mystery shows. Mom says I should be a detective when I grow up."

I smiled. "You'd probably be good at it. You've got the curiosity for it."

She beamed at the compliment. "Thanks, Mr. Wolf! Do you like being a detective?"

First, I corrected her, "Again, not a detective. A Private Investigator," Then I took a moment to think. "It's not a bad gig. Sometimes it can get rough, but I like helping people and finding the truth. It's satisfying."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that's why you're here, huh? Helping someone find the truth?"

"Yeah, something like that," I said, the image of Susan's tear-streaked face flashing in my mind.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city noises serving as our background music. This girl seemed content just sitting there, and I found myself oddly relaxed in her company.

"Hey, Mr. Wolf," she broke the silence, her tone more serious. "Do you think... people can change? Like, if someone does something really bad, can they become good again?"

I looked at her, surprised by the depth of her question. Once I fully digested her question, I found myself oddly resonating with it. I admit, I've done something... bad... in the past and often wonder if I could be redeemed. I doubt it.

"That's a tough one. I think people can change if they really want to, but it takes a lot of work and the right reasons. Sometimes, though, people don't want to change, and that's when it gets tricky," I said, coming up with the lines I heard in TV shows.

She nodded, absorbing my words. "I hope you're right."

This time, curiosity got hold of me, and I pushed her for details. "So? What's with this sudden topic?"

As she heard me, I could see her small cheeks flushing red as she avoided my eyes.

"Well... Promise you wouldn't tell anyone?" she asked. I looked around at the passing people who paid no attention to us and gestured at the world before I replied.

"I have no one to tell it to."

"You see... I have a huge crush on the villain of this murder mystery novel I'm reading!" she squealed, her voice becoming high as she pressed further. "Abraham Shaw. Such a troubled gentleman with a tragic past. Murdering those who wronged him and his family, then he fell in love with the main character Detective Laura Nightingale! Their romance is so amazing, and I couldn't help but fall in love with him and his torn personality of good and bad. If only Vincent Vandyne hadn't stumbled upon their passionate kiss, then Abraham wouldn't have—" I stared awkwardly at her. She kept going and going, word after word. I hadn't met anyone with such an addiction to fictional novels, but here I am. I just nodded and said, "No way," whenever she would say, "Can you believe it?" Once she was finally finished, she sighed and looked at me. "Thanks for listening. Good to have someone else know about the books I read. Mommy doesn't have time to read with me, and Daddy never liked books."

"What about your friends?" I asked.

"Don't have any apart from school... There aren't many kids my age in our neighbourhood..."

I realised this was now a sensitive topic. I was never good at sensitive topics, so I remained quiet and waited for her to either add more or change the subject. Luckily, she chose the latter.

The girl shifted on the bench, her curiosity far from sated. "So, do you believe in ghosts and monsters?"

I frowned for a moment, the memories of things best left forgotten creeping into my mind. But I quickly forced a smile, playing along. "Ghosts? Absolutely. How else do you explain people losing their car keys or leaving something on their desk, only for it to vanish when they get back? Definitely ghosts."

She giggled, clearly amused by my response. "You're joking!"

"Am I?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. "Ever lost anything important?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, sometimes my Kent and Woody dolls and bookmarks disappear, but I usually find them under the couch or on a nearby counter or desk"

I nodded sagely. "Classic ghost move. They love hiding things in plain sight."

She laughed, the sound infectious. "What about monsters?"

I leaned back, pretending to ponder her question deeply. "Monsters, huh? Well, I'd say the jury's still out on that one. Why do you ask?"

Her expression grew serious. "There's this old, abandoned factory not far from our home. Whenever we walk past it, I hear growling noises. It's really creepy. And people have gone missing around there. I think the monster took them."

I raised an eyebrow, sceptical but intrigued. "Growling noises and missing people, huh? Maybe it's just the wind or an old boiler creaking. And those people probably just moved away or got lost."

She pouted, crossing her arms. "It's not the wind! And they didn't just move away. I know what I heard and what I've seen on the news!" She's not wrong, lately, there are a lot of Missing people around New York, particularly in Manhattan. "There's even a photo of Bigfoot! Monsters are real!"

I chuckled, enjoying her determination. "Alright, alright. Maybe there's a big, scary monster living in that building. Have you ever seen it?"

"No, but I don't need to see it to know it's there!" she insisted, her pout turning into a scowl.

"Well, if you ever get any evidence, you let me know, and we'll investigate together. Deal?"

She brightened at the suggestion. "Deal! I'll find proof, you'll see!"

I smiled at her enthusiasm. "I'll be waiting."

She changed the topic again, her curiosity seemingly endless. "Do you have any friends, Mr. Wolf?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Not really. My job doesn't leave much room for a social life."

"That's sad," she said, her voice softening. "Everyone needs friends."

"Coming from the girl without friends?" I teased and she blushed as she pouted again.

"I have many school friends! In fact, I'm quite popular! And I'm friends with Mommy's co-workers!"

"Sure," I said teasingly before I shrugged. "I get by. Plus, I've got you to chat with now, don't I?"

She grinned, the simple statement clearly making her happy. "Yeah, you do. And I'm glad."

We continued talking, her questions ranging from the mundane to the bizarre. She asked if I believed in aliens if I'd ever been to space, and if I thought animals could talk. I answered each question with as much seriousness as I could muster, finding myself genuinely enjoying the conversation. As the sky began to fill with orange colours, casting long shadows on the wet pavement, I realised I hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. This girl, with her endless curiosity and infectious enthusiasm, had somehow managed to lift a weight I hadn't even realised I was carrying.

"You know," I said, standing up and stretching, " It's nice to get a break like this once in a while, especially after what I've seen and been through in the past. You're pretty good company, kid."

She smiled up at me, her eyes sparkling. "You too, Mr. Wolf. You too."

As we chatted, our conversation was abruptly cut off by loud shouting coming from a nearby parking lot. My instincts kicked in, and I turned to see a couple arguing fiercely. The woman, dressed in a crisp business suit, looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her hair was neatly tied back, but her face was flushed with anger. The man she was arguing with was tall and muscular, wearing wrinkled clothing that looked slept in. His eyes were bloodshot, and his words were slurred, indicating he was drunk.

Their voices grew louder and more heated, the argument escalating quickly. The girl beside me clutched the end of my coat sleeve, her eyes wide with fear. "Those are my parents," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Before I could respond, the man raised his fist and punched the woman across the face. She fell to the ground, her hands catching her fall on the slick pavement as I saw blood forming on her lips. The girl screamed, "Mommy!" and without thinking, I started sprinting towards them, I vaulted over the metal railings, dodging incoming cars with ease. The man was about to throw another punch when I reached them. I tackled him against the wall, pinning him there with his hands behind his back. His breath reeked of alcohol, and he struggled against my grip.

The woman on the ground looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and pain. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She spits blood on the ground. Her lips were cut but it's not that bad, I'm just surprised she took that like a fighter. Unfortunately, that would mean she was used to this kind of treatment. The man struggled against my hold, forcing out curse words, but I held him firmly in place.

The girl ran over to her mother, tears streaming down her face. "Mommy, are you okay?" she asked, her voice shaking.

The woman nodded, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. "I'm okay, sweetheart. It's okay."

I glanced at the girl, then back at the man pinned against the wall. "You're done," I said to him, my voice filled with quiet fury.

The man struggled and groaned, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free. But despite his size, I remained unfazed. If he could see me, then he would notice that my face doesn't show any signs of struggle against him, just anger. I slowly applied more force, pushing him further against the wall until I heard a few of his bones make a popping sound. Realising that despite his larger size, he was no match for my strength, he shouted for me to stop. I let go, taking a step back to guard the girl's mother as the man groaned from the pain, looking back at me with weariness. The girl, still clutching her mother's arm, looked up at her with wide, confused eyes.

"Why did Daddy hit you, Mommy?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The woman sighed, her expression pained. "He's angry and in a bad place, sweetie. He didn't mean-" she began, but her explanation was cut short by the man's shout.

"Angry? In a bad place?" he bellowed, his face red with rage. "I'm a damn mechanic, busting my ass every day, and you make more money in a week than I do in a month. My friends laugh at me, and call me a failure. They say I can't even take care of my own family because my wife has to work a fancy job while I scrape by in the garage." He pointed an accusing finger at her, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I told you to quit that damn job and stay home with our daughter, but no. You had to keep working. You had to keep your precious career while I drown in my own humiliation!"

The woman's eyes filled with unshed tears, but she stood her ground. "Do you still believe I hold my career with greater value than my family? We need the money, John! We have taxes and loans to pay! Debt collectors breathing down our necks because you gambled all our money! Without my job, we'd be out on the streets. If you still believe I don't do this for all of us then believe me when I say I do this for our Daughter!"

John scoffed, shaking his head. "You're doing it for yourself. You love being the big shot at work while I'm just the loser husband. You don't care about me. You just want to humiliate me!"

The girl's grip on her mother's arm tightened, her face pale with fear and confusion. I stepped between them, my eyes locked on John. "Enough," I said, my voice cold and firm. "This isn't helping anyone. You need to get your act together and stop taking your frustration out on your family. Man up for once and cast aside that stupid pride of yours!"

"I am manning up! I'm convincing her to leave everything to me!" She shouted at me this time.

"You call yourself a man? After hitting a woman with a daughter? No, you're a damn coward!" I spat back.

John's eyes flared with anger. "And who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled.

"Someone who doesn't want a kid to develop trauma," I replied calmly, my eyes flicking to the terrified girl.

John, fuming with anger,  quickly threw a punch at me. I caught his fist easily with one hand, then delivered a swift kick to his thigh, causing him to kneel. I twisted his wrist, applying more pressure until he was subdued, his anger turning into a grimace of pain. Leaning in close, I murmured darkly, "If you ever raise your hand to her again, or to anyone at all" I slowly looked back at the girl who was hiding behind her mother's legs then looked back at him. ".... I'll make you wish you hadn't. Understand?" I would have started beating him senselessly right here and now but I don't want the girl to think of me as... a bad guy. 

His eyes are now widened with fear as he meets my gaze, my stare piercing through his bravado. The anger and humiliation on his face melted into raw fear. The look on his face was begging me to leave him alone. As I held John there, I couldn't help but admit to myself that seeing people like him, people who think they can solve their problems by beating others up, looking at me with sheer fear in their eyes gave me a twisted kind of pleasure and satisfaction. It was a feeling that made me believe no one could stand against me. But it was a bad feeling, an addicting one, which was why I tried to stray away from trouble. Yet, trouble always seemed to find me wherever I went. The fear in John's eyes washed away his intoxication, and he seemed to realise his surroundings without the influence of alcohol. I let go of him, and he slowly pushed himself back up, his movements tentative and filled with pain. I pointed a finger at him, and he flinched, expecting another blow.

"Cut the alcohol," I told him firmly.

He nodded quickly, his bravado completely shattered. I looked back at the girl and her mother, who was watching me in astonishment, clearly impressed that I had managed to diffuse the situation so effectively.

"Resolve this matter at home, he should be willing to talk things out now" I advised the woman. "And if he tries to act violently again, give me a call." I handed her my card, which contained the name of my agency, address, and telephone number.

She took it, her hands trembling slightly, and nodded in gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered.

I gave her a curt nod, then glanced back once to ensure John wasn't about to cause more trouble. The fear in his eyes was still there, and I knew it would linger for a while. It wasn't the first time I had seen that look, and it wouldn't be the last.

The girl looked up at her mother, her eyes wide with concern. "Will everything be alright, Mommy?"

Her mother, still shaken but finding strength, nodded sincerely. "Yes, sweetie, thanks to this man."

The girl's eyes gleamed, almost sparkling, before she ran over and hugged me by the leg. It caught me off guard—I hadn't anticipated this, but I wasn't opposed. She looked up at me with pure admiration. "You're my best friend now, Mr. Wolf. Thank you so much!"

I couldn't help but make a sincere smile, patting her gently on the head. I knelt to her level and handed her a silver card bearing only my name and personal phone number. "I only give this to people I trust the most, and so far, you're the second person I've given one."

She took the card happily, clutching it like a treasure. "Really? Thank you! But... what should I do with it?"

I leaned in, my voice soft but firm. "If your dad ever drinks alcohol again and starts getting angry for no reason, you call me. I'll come over and 'talk' to him." I emphasised the word "talk," giving John a knowing stare. He anxiously looked away, clearly understanding the implied threat. "Or," I continued, shifting back to a lighter tone, "you can call me if you ever encounter ghosts or find proof of that monster you were telling me about."

She nodded sheepishly, clutching the card even tighter. "You really mean it?"

I smiled and nodded. "I really mean it."

She hugged me properly this time, her small arms wrapping around my neck. "I promise to call you, Mr Wolf!"

"Good," I replied, giving her a reassuring pat on the head.

~~~

The family made their way to the red sedan. As John was about to sit in the driver's seat, he noticed me still staring at him. I shook my head slowly, silently telling him that I would be keeping tabs. John gulped and nodded, understanding the unspoken warning, before driving away cautiously. I watched them leave, the girl waving at me through the backseat window until the car turned the corner. With a sigh, I straightened up, pulled out my fedora from my coat and wore it then I began walking back to my office. Trouble might find me wherever I go, but moments like this made it worth facing.

As I walked back to my office, I couldn't help but mull over everything that had gone down that day. It all started with Susan's call, her voice trembling with doubt and fear about Patrick's infidelity. I'd promised her I'd get to the bottom of it. And sure enough, it didn't take long to find Patrick tangled up with Sandy Starcliff. Caught in the act, plain as day. Closing that case felt like a small victory, but knowing Susan's heart was breaking took the edge off. I could picture her staring at the evidence, devastated yet relieved to finally know the truth. Then, there was the girl. A surprising twist in my day. Her innocence and curiosity were a rare comfort. She was like a beacon of light in a world full of shadows. As I kept walking, it hit me that I never got the girl's name. Despite our chat, it slipped my mind. She was a charming kid, no doubt about it, and she had that spark that felt familiar. Maybe from a time long past. I looked up at the sky, I guess I'll just ask for her name when she calls. Because I knew she would. She had that kind of determination.

Lost in thought, I continued down the slick streets, the city lights casting long shadows. Despite the day's turmoil, a strange sense of peace settled over me. I inhaled deeply, realising I was smiling, I exhaled and then walked silently nodding as I passed by elderly people, my footsteps echoed on the wet pavement.

~~~

A week later, I was reminded why this world, my life, is so fucked up. Why I could never smile at the sight of reality. My clients always asked why I looked like I was brooding like I had never slept in days. Truth is, I had never slept in many, many years... Because I'm fucking cursed. Wherever I go, death follows... and it comes for anyone who crosses paths with me. After so, so many years, death finally caught up.

The same girl who was just smiling and waving at me as we parted that day... was found brutally murdered last night...