The Engine What Runs the World: Chapter 2, Page 4 (Unedited)

“I should get on with my investigation,” he said looking to change the subject, “You’re paying a lot of money for me to bring Blue home, I should actually do my job.” He swallowed the last of the whiskey and placed the tumbler on a coaster.

Marla nodded, “Alright, I’ll show you to my sister’s room.”

“First I have some questions,” Smoke said as he brought out his notebook. He pulled a featherpen out from his back pocket as well as a small wax sealed inkwell. He broke the seal and dipped the featherpen inside.

Marla looked at him with a surprised expression. He could see she hadn’t expected him to go from pleasantries to business so quickly, “Alright, ask away.”

“Did you read Blue’s diary and listen to the voice image before delivering them to me?”
“I did not,” she said hanging her head, “I know it seems unprofessional to not know what I had given you but I hoped there would be something.”

“Oh there was something there alright,” Smoke said as he scratched notes into his book.

“Mother and father permitted the evidence to be given to you. They had already inspected the contents.”

That was interesting. Smoke couldn’t see a good reason as to why he’d been given something with such sensitive information. The diary and the voice image didn’t seem to be tampered with in any way. “Is there any way I could speak with your parents as well?”

Marla shook her head, “They don’t care as much as I do about finding Blue.”

“Nonsense darling,” a woman’s voice said from behind him.

Smoke turned to see a man and woman in their middle ages enter the study. The woman was almost a walking cliché. She was dressed in a tight black dress with a long white fur coat. He couldn’t tell if the fur was actually real but based on the odour coming from it he assumed it to be genuine. She held a long black cigarette holder with a half burned cigarette in the end of it.

The man was also dressed especially cliché, but not to the stereotype his wife had been. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. He looked as if he were on his way to a meeting, wedding and funeral all in the same day. “You must be Smoke Callahan,” he said with a large toothy grin, “I’m Row Lang and this is my wife Mullholland.”
“It’s an honour to meet you,” he said shaking Row’s hand.

“You’re here looking for clues as to what had happened to Blue?” Mullholland asked.
Smoke nodded, “I was just asking your daughter questions.”