Inside the Jurassic themed coffee shop, Jackie Woo's nostrils twitched at the odd aroma emanating from the cafe's faux rock facade.

The smell was repellent but sweet.

What is that?

She could identify the aromatic scent of caramel, milk, salt, vanilla, mildew...and something more repellent. She grimaced as she took another hesitant whiff.

Toe jam.

The underground Crossroads Cafe was infused with the smoky aroma of organic coffee, but the former climbing gym couldn't mask the pungent smell of feet that had been resuscitated by a recent water main break. As she waited for her boss, Miles Goodspeed, she noted damp stains on the baseboards. Hadn't the Stone Age Cafe been dried out after the flood from the last week's heavy rainfall? A Latina Asian blonde and a part time card dealer, she was more at home in high stakes illegal card games than subterranean New York coffee shops.

The fluffy, ankle-high dog that trailed after her froze at the sight of a man-sized plastic Tyrannosaurus rex strategically placed between two potted palm trees that was reared up on its hind legs

"Come on, Oliver. That fossilized critter won't bite. Which is more than I can say for you." Her fingers, nimble after years of card dealing, dexterously juggled the pleather leash attached to the faun-colored, tea cup terrier and a vegan Fossil wallet as she approached the ordering counter.

On her own since thirteen, she had learned at a early age how to take care of herself. And those around her. Goodspeed had offered this job after her last gig, an underground card game, was busted by a police sting operation. In her opinion, the private investigator was high on the list of innocents who needed guarding—the reason she had agreed to drive him to Vermont to investigate his next case. That and she had argued with her room mate, the neon haired Goth girl with multiple face piercings (also the proprietor of the cafe) who was glaring at her while drumming cuticle bitten black nails on the polished wooden counter. "You can't have that dog in here, Woo."

The minute canine cowered behind Jackie's legs and trembled as she plucked a silver key ring out of her wallet. "Oscar and I aren't staying. I'm only here to drop off the key to the apartment." Expecting a battle, she raised her chin and pushed her shoulders back. "Meanwhile, I'll have a large French roast."

The landlord barista plucked a stone coffee cup out of a rib cage rack and cocked her shaved head sideways. "Did you clear your things out like we discussed?"

"Yes, I cleaned the apartment."

"If every thing we agreed to is done, then I'll return your security deposit."

Jackie noted Gloria left the deposit money behind the bar, well out of reach. She wrinkled her nose. "You should do the same—the cafe stinks. Why don't you hire a professional mold removal company before the air quality in here becomes toxic?"

The barista waved the empty cup to within a breadth of Jackie's face. "Woo, mind your own business. You think your shit don't stink since you scored this exotic detective gig, but remember, you're not a real P.I." The proprietress's jowels quivered. "You're an overrated minim wage pion." An elderly, gray haired man watching the morning news show grabbed his coffe cup and phone and shuffled to the edge of the counter.

How is chauffeuring Goodspeed an exotic side hustle?

Jackie imagined tattooing My Life Sucks on her soon-to-be ex roommate's forehead.

"Gloria," she accepted her coffee with a smirk, "I know your labia's still infected from that last piercing, but try not to scratch it before pouring your next order."

"What did you say?" Goth Girl's electric-blue mohawk bristled. She yowled in the back of her throat and hunched her body as if preparing to launch herself over the counter.

"I guess it's drink at your own risk in this moldy stink hole. Where's my security deposit?" She held out her hand. It wasn't in her nature to back down, but Jackie's desire to finish the confrontation cooled when she saw her boss enter through the shop's faux bedrock doorway. James Goodspeed had a prominent straight nose with a crest of thick dark hair, reminding her of a molting hawk. This morning his disheveled arrival made him look like a fledgling that had fallen out of its cliff-side nest. An angry red scar traced his pallid forehead and his alert blue eyes were opened too wide. She surmised he hadn't had a good night's sleep as he lugged a weathered, black suitcase behind him.

"I'll have to check the apartment first." Gloria busied herself pouring the cup of French roast.

Jackie turned back to the barista and narrowed her eyes. "What is this dance we're doing you damn Gemini?" Scooting around the counter, she plucked the wad of cash off the shelving and avoided Gloria's clenched fist. Grabbing her coffee, she tossed a few dollars into the tip jar. She sashayed over to the corner table where the amused sweater and jean clad middle-aged private investigator had deposited his belongings.

"Hey, Jackie." Miles Goodspeed gingerly lowered himself into the Jurassic bone seat.

"Great timing. I was being accosted by an over caffeinated thug."

"You mean your room mate, Gloria?"

"Ex roommate. I moved out, yesterday."

"Where's all your stuff?"

"I put it in storage this morning," her mouth formed a straight line," yet I still managed to get here before you. What took you so long? I waited outside this grungy excuse for a cafe over an hour." She handed over the miniature dog's leash. "I gave Oliver a haircut while I had him.  Don't thank me, and you're a half an hour late."

"Thanks for taking care of my better half." He reached down and patted the exuberant tea cup terrier mix who licked his hand profusely. Pushing a stray cowlick off his forehead, Miles winced as he accidentally brushed the scar on his temple. "I'm having a hard time getting up to speed showering and dressing since I was released me from the hospital."

"You should have gotten up earlier. Do you know what the traffic's going to be like in Albany?" She observed him scanning the cafe's order board. "Don't tell me you have to eat first?"

"Shaving takes longer without the use of my thumb." He held up his bandaged hand. "I didn't have time to make breakfast."

"Serves you right throwing yourself in front of a garbage truck."

"I didn't throw myself in front of a moving vehicle, I was carjacked."

"Just be glad I'm available to drive you to Vermont."

"It's on your way to Montreal."

"Vermont is not on my way to Montreal. Dropping you in Mapleton is a six hour detour through what can only be described as Deliverance territory." She shuddered as she imagined creepy X-Files themed woods interspersed with mysterious pastures dotted with hub-cap-sized cow turds.

"October is one of the best months to visit Vermont. I'm sure you'll enjoy the drive through the Adirondacks. We'll stop for some of those fresh apple cider donuts I'm always hearing people rave about."

"Donuts? How about one of those gourmet meals in one of those fancy Stowe restaurants your ex-wife promotes in her blog?" Jackie propped her aviator lenses above her wing-shaped brows and sipped her coffee. After the challenging morning, she took her time appreciating the brew's pungent, smoky flavor. Miles ordered a breakfast sandwich and returned to the table. Her eyes flashed as she waited for the private investigator to finish his repast. At their feet, Oliver wolfed down half the sandwich Miles offered him like a starving piranha.

As caffeine coursed soothingly through her bloodstream, her fingers itched to be coding instead of transporting brain-addled Goodspeed. The cafe smelled and she was certain the establishment could be a deathtrap if it rained. Miles finished eating with a slight sigh that pulled Jackie out of her reverie.

"Now, let me see the case, please." She held out her hand, palm upwards.

"Speaking of exes." He reluctantly handed her the file.

Her face broke into a grimace of displeasure at the client's name displayed on the tab. "Your ex, Matilda the Hunn? Why are you helping that hypocritical witch?"

"Her pod cast is tanking—she's desperate."
Matilda nee Devonshire had divorced him two years ago, but they still kept in touch over the shared custody of the terrier sitting at his feet.

Jackie narrowed her eyes. "I'm surprised at your misplaced loyalty. Rushing to her rescue like some chivalrous knight. She fleeced you in the divorce and has taken zero interest in your life ever since."

"She offered me a generous retainer and will give me full custody of Oliver once the case is over." He gently petted the small dog's head.

Jackie snorted. "That manipulative woman makes me gag. " Goodspeed repressed a smile. The twenty-four-year old was a hundred and fifteen pounds to his two-twenty-five, but she always had his back.

"I remember you told me the last time you saw your ex it ended poorly."

"Yes, as usual, we quarreled bitterly." He sipped his cup of  Dark Magic coffee and closed his eyes. "This was her olive-branch gesture."

"So what exactly does the she-devil want?" Jackie flipped open the file. Her face froze when she saw the case details. "You're investigating an accident on Harry Cullin's new horror film set, The Darkness?"

As if on cue, the Chiron on the television screen flashed a breaking news banner. Pressing closer to the table's edge, Jackie craned her slim neck for a closer look. 

<Production has stopped on Harry Cullin's new film The Darkness in Mapleton, Vermont. Authorities are investigating an accidental death onset. >

Her eyes gleamed. "Change of plan. I'm skipping Montreal this weekend. I'm going to stay with you in Mapleton. They always need extras onset. This is my chance to break into show biz.

Goodspeed blinked rapidly. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Jackie, sometimes you're like well intentioned wrecking ball."