Chapter Text
The Sunshine Detective and the Happytime Murderer
Chapter 1
And So, The Adventure Begins
Disclaimer: I do not own any Hazbin Hotel characters.
Notes: ‘italic’ means thinking’
“And now the end is near. And so I face the final curtain. My friend, I’ll say it clear. I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.”—Frank Sinatra
She slowly blinked her bleary eyes open, a soft groan escaping her painted-black lips as a violent headache throbbed mercilessly against her temples. As her dizziness began to ebb, her black licorice eyes gradually adjusted to the surrounding darkness, and a chilling realization began to creep in. “Where am I?” She murmured to herself, a rising sense of panic twisting her gut. It was pitch black outside, and she heard the sound of waves crashing against something. With a sinking feeling in her heart, she recalled that she was supposed to be returning to New York City, her home.
As thick clouds lazily parted, a full moon emerged, hanging low in the sky like a luminous pearl, its silvery light spilling across the ocean’s surface, transforming the surface into a shimmering tapestry of twinkling stars dancing upon the water. In that magical moonlit glow, she caught sight of a lighthouse, its steady beam of light flickering in the distance, sweeping across the water like a vigilant guardian guiding lost sailors back to shore. A calm sea breeze caressed her cheeks, playfully lifting her sunkissed tresses and carrying the briny scent of the ocean. The soothing sound of the waves and the intoxicating aroma of the sea sang a lullaby that nearly coaxed her back to sleep. Yet, her insatiable curiosity about this puzzling predicament urged her to remain awake and unravel the mystery of her surroundings.
“Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up. Good evening, Ms. New York!” A voice, smooth yet laced with sinister delight, announced as the shadowy figure stepped forward from the ship’s bow, metal creaking beneath the weight of their feet.
“Where am I?” Charlie repeated, her heart racing with confusion and fear as she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. ‘How far am I from shore? Where is the shore?’
“Ms. New York,” the killer jeered, their voice dripping with amusement, “is that truly the question you ought to be asking at a time like this?” A chilling chuckle echoed through the air. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. It’s your funeral, darling!” With a theatrical sigh, dripping with mock sympathy, the mastermind leaned closer to the ship’s stem, their eyes glinting with malice. “My humblest apologies, but alas, there will be no one here to mourn your passing.”
Silent, she fiercely frowned as her mulberry eyes narrowed at the murderer.
The bubbly detective struggled against her restraints, sensing a heavy weight that confined her movements. A thick, cold chain wound tightly around her lower body like an iron serpent. She cast a quick glance downward, her heart racing as she discovered a weathered anchor shackled around her legs, and her hands were tightly bound in handcuffs. Peering further down, the dark ocean stirred beneath her. Towering behind her was an enormous fishing crane, its massive steel arm stretching skyward. A heavy-duty rotary hook dangled ominously beneath her suspenders, leaving her swaying precariously in the salty air. Her solemn ebony eyes locked with the killer’s.
“Ooh, I’ve never seen that expression on your face before. What a sore bearcat!” The killer taunted before continuing. “You should never have come to New Orleans. Look wher—”
“You won’t get away with this!” Charlie interjected, her voice quivering but defiant.
A chilling fit of sinister laughter erupted from the killer’s throat, echoing across the sea. “HaAH—hAHa! I have escaped unscathed. Who could possibly be left to stop me? Your partner? That unfortunate soul is still recovering in the hospital, isn’t he? Now, don’t fret...he’ll be joining you soon enough. We’re 50 miles from the coast, and trust me, no one is coming to save you.”
“Why?” The sunshine sleuth began, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Why are you doing this? Everyone in town hangs on your every word!”
“Oh, now that’s a better question, Ms. New York! The answer is quite straightforward—it’s you! You took everything from me, and because of that, I want you to suffer as much as I have. You could not refrain from interfering, could you? You felt the need to pry into matters that did not concern you! At first, I contemplated killing you, but then I considered how amusing it would be to watch you struggle to save those already beyond saving. Witnessing the expression of despair in your eyes when circumstances take a turn for the worse, my dear, you cannot fathom how much I genuinely savored that moment!”
“You’re insane,” she murmured, disturbed.
“I don’t expect you to understand me.” The culprit replied coldly.
“People are going to question my whereabouts,” she stated firmly, her obsidian eyes narrowing skeptically at them. “What’s your plan for explaining this ridiculous scheme to them?” Her frown deepened.
“Oh, I’ve got it all figured out.” The killer declared, voice dripping with overconfidence. “You see, I received an anonymous tip about some suspicious activity at the harbor, so I rushed to you to investigate. Around 10 p.m., we spotted a shadowy figure entering this very vessel. I followed them inside. You instructed me to hide while you confronted them. Regrettably, they caught me, and just as I was about to meet my grim end...” They let out an exasperated sigh. “Ms. New York, you rushed in from behind and aimed your gun at them. You commanded them to ‘drop it’ as any flatfoot would, and the killer complied. However, they quickly overpowered you and struck you on the head. Your weapon fell to the ground, and they plunged a knife into your abdomen. When they tried to haul you overboard the ship, I retrieved your gun and shot them in the back. Both of you plunged into the waters. I desperately searched for any sign of you, but the only item I found was this.” The murderer playfully twirled her police necklace around their finger.
“You’re demented!” She exclaimed, mouth agape.
“Oh, I couldn’t agree with you more! I may be a psycho, but I pride myself on being a cut above the average murderer, unlike those third-rate criminals who dispose of their victims in locations easily discovered by a snooping gumshoe. I operate with a different approach. I am skilled at covering my tracks unless I want to leave a breadcrumb trail for a sleuth like you to follow. Do you have any final words? Please, do tell! Will you beg me to spare your life? I find it rather amusing when my victims plead.”
“Go to hell.” She retorted, anger rippling through her like wildfire.
“Ladies first!” The killer derided, a malevolent smile creeping across their face as they teasingly waved a knife. They swung the gleaming weapon, its blade catching the moonlight as it sliced effortlessly through the thick rope tethered to the fishing crane, severing it cleanly in two. Leaning over the ship’s side, they watched with sinister satisfaction as the bubbly detective plummeted rapidly toward the ocean.
Panic surged through her, gripping her with a paralyzing fear of her impending doom. A wordless cry escaped her trembling lips, and just before she fell into the ocean, she held her breath. Desperation clung to her as she sank into the frigid sea, sifted through her thick golden mane, and pulled out a pair of lockpicks. With frantic determination, she worked on the handcuffs, and with a satisfying click, they came undone and floated away. Her heart pounded as she desperately searched in vain for a lock amid the thick, bulky chains that ensnared her lower body. Frustration bubbled within her when she could not find one, finally giving up on the lockpicks and letting them go.
In that harrowing moment, she struggled fiercely to free herself, yanking at the cold, unyielding chains and thrashing her legs in a frantic attempt to escape. ‘Come on, come on!’ Charlie glanced upward, her heart sinking as the faint glow of the light above her grew dimmer as she descended deeper into the depths of the black sea. A wave of terror surged within her, each heartbeat amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped her while the persistent buzzing in her ears grew louder. Desperately, she pushed back horrifying thoughts of what awaited her and resumed her wild flailing against the bonds, but the chains remained impervious to her struggles, gripping her tighter with every attempt.
As a deep, gnawing ache surged through her body, her lungs ached from the relentless need for air, and the urgency to breathe became unbearable. Her vision began to blur, and her mind felt as if it were shrouded in a heavy fog. With a last burst of determination, she fixated on the dwindling specter of light above, clinging to the precious moments that slipped away like grains of sand. Her heart thudded in her chest, slowing with each passing second her eyelids grew heavy, the darkness beckoning her closer.
A poignant thought pierced her mind as she reflected on a series of events that led her to this fateful moment. ‘Where…did I go wrong?’ With a heavy heart, Charlie gently closed her blackberry eyes, surrendering to the depths of unconsciousness. Moments later, her body fell limp as if every ounce of vitality had been siphoned away. Like a mesmerizing fallen siren, she sank deeper into the frigid embrace of the sea, her golden tresses cascading around her like tendrils of sunlight, framing her features in a hauntingly beautiful display.
June 25th, 1932
Manhattan, New York City
7 A.M.
Several months prior.
“Kid, are ya sure dis plan of yurs is sound?" Husk asked, skepticism lacing his voice as he maneuvered the Ford sedan into a tight parallel parking spot against the curb across the street from Shindig’s, a cozy Irish-owned restaurant adorned with a festive shamrock sign. As he shut off the engine, he fixed his dull gaze on her, uncertainty evident in his eyes.
“Well, not with that attitude! Don’t be such a killjoy,” Charlie replied, voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she turned her gaze to him, a broad, infectious smile dancing across her plump lips. “Come on, Uncle Husk , where’s your adventurous spirit? Have I ever led you astray?”
The playful and confident challenge in her tone made it nearly impossible for Husk to resist. After feigning a thoughtful pause, he watched her bright smile fade, replaced by a furrowed brow hinting at her growing impatience. She huffed adorably, but he dove right in before she could voice her thoughts. “Remember dat night at da Italian restaurant?” He began with a nostalgic glint in his eyes as he rubbed his chin. “Da chief assigned me an undercover assignment ta track down where those trouble boys were smugglin’ dope from. Ya insisted on joinin’ me, proudly declarin’ yurself ‘da master of disguise’ dressed in a waitress uniform.” The lazy lawman punctuated the phrase with exaggerated air quotes. “It wasn’t even an hour into the operation, and I was ridin’ a winning streak at the poker table. Then, out of nowhere, ya decided ta blow our cover by takin’ down one of the sad saps, triggerin’ a shootout!”
“Come on, that’s not fair!” The bubbly gumshoe shot back, a glint of indignation lighting her eyes. “That greaseball wouldn’t stop flirting with me and refused to take no for an answer. When he lifted my dress, I snapped!” She crossed her arms with irritation and leaned back into the plush passenger seat. “And besides, you shouldn’t be gambling while you’re on duty.”
“I was undercover. It’s different,” he rebutted nonchalantly as she fiercely frowned at him.
“Anyway,” she continued, her tone shifting to urgency, “we received an anonymous tip about a robbery planned at the Irving Trust Company. This path is the only concealed one the robber will use to slip away. All you have to do is hide and let me take care of the rest.”
His chocolate eyes narrowed on her as he carefully assessed her audacious plan, mentally weighing its potential pitfalls and risks backfiring. The sudden piercing wail of a bank’s alarm cut through the air like a knife, jarring him from his thoughts and prompting a heavy sigh of frustration. “Dammit! Alright, we’ll do it yur way then!” He grumbled, voice laced with reluctant acceptance.
A spark of excitement lit up her face as she clapped her hands with glee. “I know I could count on you, partner!” She clamored, voice bubbling with delight.
With that, they left the car.
She quickly traveled across a tranquil two-lane street, her footsteps echoing softly against the pavement, and made her way toward Shindig’s, a charming three-story building clad in a warm, brick-red facade. The family-owned restaurant exuded a welcoming atmosphere, offering a delightful mix of indoor and outdoor seating. Colorful flyers plastered the windows, showcasing upcoming musical and local chimney sweeping services. As she approached the building, a radiant smile brightened her face upon spotting the owner and his family gathered outside. “Is everyone ready?”
“Aye, wee lass! Anythin’ for you and the lads in blue, as long as you promise to bring the entire station down here for some good old-fashioned Irish drinkin’!” Conner, the owner, boomed, his heavy Irish accent rolling off his deep voice, a broad grin spread across his lips as he gazed at the petite officer.
“Absolutely!” Charlie agreed with a playful wink and salute.
“Are you ready, me kin?” He enthusiastically asked as he turned to face his wife, brother, and adult sons.
“Aye!” The family excitedly cheered as they stepped inside, and the saccharine detective followed behind. The establishment’s interior exuded a warm, rustic charm, with dark wooden floors and brick walls that added a cozy, inviting feeling. On the right was a row of well-worn booths, each adorned with plush red upholstered cushions. At the heart of the restaurant were several small, round tables surrounded by mismatched chairs, adding a touch of character. Each table showcased a delicate glass vase holding a single, bright yellow daisy, its cheerful color standing out against the earthy tones of the surroundings. To the left was an oblong bar with a carefully curated selection of imported amber liquor bottles.
The bubbly gumshoe flipped the sign on the door from “Close” to “Open” and secured a crisp white apron around her simple yet charming, blush pink dress. After inhaling the intoxicating aroma of freshly ground coffee permeating the air, she contemplated indulging in a cup after apprehending the criminal.
An elderly couple, hand in hand, found a table on the sun-dappled outdoor patio.
With a graceful stride, the detective-turned-waitress exited the cozy haven of the restaurant, menus in hand, and approached the couple with a warm smile. “Good morning! I’m Charlie, and I’ll be your waitress. May I tempt you with a cup of coffee or perhaps a fresh pastry? Our owner bakes delicious breakfast scones!”
The man, dressed in a sharp suit, glanced thoughtfully at the menu she extended, his interest piqued. “That sounds lovely. I’ll take a cup of coffee, please.”
The woman looked at Charlie and added, “And I’ll have an Irish breakfast tea and one of those scones.”
“Swell, I’ll have those out for you lickety split!” She sang with a playful wink as she returned inside the restaurant.
Outside, a suspicious figure in a long, tawny trench coat emerged from the shadows. He climbed atop an industrial green dumpster, the metal clanging under the weight of his feet as he peeked over the high concrete wall. Once he confirmed the coast was clear, he leaped down agilely, landing silently on the rough pavement below. He hurried down a narrow alley and turned left at the end, slipping discreetly into Shindig’s. Clutching a worn briefcase tightly against him, he took a cautious look outside the window, his heart racing as he scanned the street for any signs of law enforcement. “I think I’m safe now,” he murmured, settling into a booth furthest from any window.
At the bar, the sunshine-haired sleuth glanced at the anxious man. With a quick, conspirational nod to the owner and his family, they eagerly moved toward the robber.
“Top of the morning to ya!” Maeve, Conner’s wife, greeted warmly and asked. “Would you care for a cup of joe?”
“Ah…no. Can I use the restroom?” the man replied, fidgeting slightly.
“Only payin’ customers can use the lavatory.” Conner retorted, his tone firm as he fixed a stern glare at the stranger, arms crossed across his chest.
With an exasperated sigh, the robber relented, “Fine, then I’ll have a pastry.”
“You look tense there, lad,” remarked the owner’s younger brother, stepping forward with a playful smirk as he revealed two frosty mugs of beer behind his back. “How about a pint instead?”
“It’s 7 in the morning!” The robber exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief.
“It’s never too early to drink!”
“Here’s your order, sir!” Charlie cheerfully chirped as she stepped boldly closer to the suspicious man. With a dramatic flourish, she tilted the metal tray forward, revealing the gleaming NYPD badge that caught the morning light. A confident smile danced across her face as she declared, “You’re under arrest.”
The thief tensed suddenly, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead as a wave of panic coursed through him.
“Princess, he’s about ta make a run for it,” Husk warned, voice low and serious as he lowered a crumpled newspaper, fixed his gaze on Charlie and the robber, and rose from the round table.
“No, he won’t!” She insisted, her black licorice eyes shimmering with a fiery determination. “I know we can find a way to resolve this without further escalation. After all, justice is on your side, too!”
In an explosive burst of adrenaline, the robber shot up from the booth, his heart pounding as he dashed past the officers and the wide-eyed family, desperate to escape through the back entrance.
“Ya owe me 25 cents!” He proclaimed, sprinting after the man and barking. “Everyone, get into the kitchen!”
The family hurried to comply.
“Hooey!” She cursed, frustration boiling over like a pot about to spill. With a swift motion, she raised the metal tray back high above her head, launching it like a Frisbee through the air. It struck the criminal squarely in the back, sending a jolt through him as he let out a startled cry and stumbled forward, and the briefcase he had been clutching slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.
Husk apprehended the robber by the collar, forcefully pulling him forward while delivering a decisive blow to the man’s nose. As the assailant winced in agony, he retaliated by swinging his fist in an arc while Husk skillfully evaded the strike by ducking just in time and punching the robber in the abdomen. The bank robber wheezed, pain coursing through his midsection as he seized the lazy officer and violently shoved him against the brick wall. Clenching his fist, he commenced a series of relentless punches to Husk’s jaw.
“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you have left me with no alternative!” The thief declared as Charlie observed him starting to draw a pistol from his trench coat.
“Leave him alone!” The bubbly detective commanded, her tone imbued with panic and urgency as she hurried toward the assailant. Fueled by determination, she leaped onto a nearby chair and launched onto his back, wrapping her legs around his torso. In a desperate attempt to restrain him, she encircled his neck with one arm and relentlessly struck his head with a clenched fist using her free hand.
“Get off me, you dumb Dora !” He growled as he awkwardly twirled around the restaurant, navigating around tables but inadvertently colliding with chairs that scraped noisily against the floor, trying desperately to free himself from her tight grasp.
“Lucky hit.” Husker disdainfully remarked as he adjusted his jaw and licked blood from his bottom lip. With a frustrated growl, he drew his pistol and directed it towards the thief. “Fun’s over. Now, put your hands up.” The bank robber froze, surrendering as he lifted his arms while the lazy lawman neared the briefcase on the floor, opening it with one hand. A cascade of 100-dollar bills spilled across the ground. “Well, well, what do we have here? Dat’s a lot of dough, and I doubt ya were headin’ ta the bank ta make a deposit. I’m placin’ ya under arrest for robbin’ a bank and resistin’ arrest.”
As Charlie slid off the man’s back, she extracted a pair of shiny handcuffs from her apron. With a firm grip, she twisted his arms behind his back, the cold metal handcuffs clicking tightly around the thief’s wrists. Carefully, she patted down the outside of his long trench coat to confiscate the hidden gun. “You know,” she began with a warm, encouraging smile, “with good behavior and a sincere commitment to the prison’s rehabilitation program, you can turn your life around and be out on parole within a year!” After she playfully nudged the frowning assailant’s arm, she guided him outside the diner. Her ebony eyes flicked over to Husk, who closely followed alongside, brows knitting together in confusion over how he managed to slip into the restaurant without her notice. “How did you get into Shindig’s before I did?”
“I came in from da back.” He casually answered, a smirk creeping on his face. He slid a cigarette between his lips and produced a silver lighter from his pocket, striking it until a small flame danced to life. Inhaling the delicious poison deeply, he glanced down the road, where red and blue flashing lights rapidly drew closer. “Fuckin’ took’em long enough,” He murmured, a plume of smoke curling from his lips as he turned his attention to the saccharine detective. “Are ya ready ta head back to the precinct?”
“Actually, I need to swing by my apartment first. I can’t walk into the station looking like this!” She answered and took off the apron. “Can I leave you in charge of booking the mac?”
“Sure.” Husk agreed as he placed a firm grip on the robber’s shoulder and took the confiscated gun she handed to him. A fleet of police cars turned the corner and began to park on the street. With a languid wave, he silently commanded a young policeman to exit his vehicle and sprinted over to take the criminal off his hands. “Da heavy sugar is inside.”
“Thanks! I’ll meet you back at the station.” Charlie replied, glancing back at her uncle before walking over to Conner, who stood outside his restaurant door, and handed him the apron. “Thank you for all your help. I’ll see you later, bye Conner!” With a grateful smile, she turned to dash down the sidewalk, her long citrine tresses shimmering like gold in the morning light.
“Anytime, wee lass! And don’t forget about your little promise!” Conor called after her as he waved goodbye.
“Is that Charlie?” The young policeman blurted, his eyes widening with surprise as he caught a glimpse of her delicious, curvy legs before she disappeared around the corner. “Wow, I’ve never seen her in a dress before.”
“Don’t get any wild ideas, Tim,” Husker warned, tapping the burning ash off his cigarette while his chocolate brown eyes shifted to Tim. “I know yur’re still new around here, but dat’s the big cheese’s daughter, and he is my friend. If he finds ya stuck on her, yur’re gonna find yurself in a wooden kimono, savvy ?”
“Are you shitting me? What a waste of a pretty face.”
9:47 a.m
A thin veil of smog unfurled out of factory smokestacks, casting a mute haze over the clear blue New York morning sky. In the distance, she heard the echo of a train whistle piercing the air, announcing the departure from the bustling station as she navigated her way toward Midtown West. Charming five-story townhouses lined the street, each graced by a stately oak tree and adorned with vibrant box planters, overflowing with a delightful assortment of tiny, colorful flowers that swayed gracefully in the gentle breeze. Retrieving a set of keys from her purse, Charlie approached a building. With a satisfying click, she unlocked the heavy wooden door, which swung shut behind her with a solid thud. She quickly ascended three flights of stairs, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. On the third floor, she paused in front of apartment number 303, her fingers deftly working another key into the lock. With a soft click, she opened the door and tossed her keys onto a side table next to the entryway door. She flicked a switch on the wall as ceiling lights sprang to life, casting a warm glow illuminating the cozy space.
Like many charming New York apartments, the space was compact yet inviting, with one bedroom and bathroom. To the room’s right stood a small pink fabric sofa complemented by a chestnut-stained coffee table. Beneath it lay a plush square floral rug, its intricate patterns adding warmth to the hardwood floors, and against the same wall, a long bookshelf stood, filled with an eclectic assortment of thick-covered books, their spines boasting titles from romance to adventure. On the opposite side, a small kitchen with a short, sleek bar, two cushioned bar stools, and a small radio sat perched on the countertop. Aside from a few clean dishes resting in the sink, the room exuded a sense of organization and serenity.
As the saccharine detective entered her bedroom, she gracefully peeled off her dress, letting it cascade over her bed. Moving with purpose, she traveled over to the closet, her mulberry eyes scanning the neatly arranged garments, and selected a crisp, long-sleeved white blouse paired with black slacks and sturdy suspenders for a touch of flair. One by one, she slipped into the pieces, each fitting perfectly and enhancing her confidence.
‘Today’s the day I finally earn my private investigator license and become a detective!’ Her smile grew wide, excitement radiating through her. At the tender age of 5, she faced the heartbreaking loss of her mother, Lilith, leaving her father, along with his longtime friend Husk—her beloved nonbiological uncle—to raise her, filling her days with warmth and love. However, those happy days did not last forever as the shadows of war loomed over, calling both men to serve their country overseas. With a heavy yet resilient heart, she moved in with her next-door neighbor, a kind elderly woman, and for four long years, she spent her days bringing sunshine into the woman’s life, filling their shared days with enchanting songs. When they returned, they convinced Charlie to pursue a law enforcement career. They believed that her strong sense of compassion and justice could lead her to make a meaningful impact on society by not only apprehending criminals but also working toward their rehabilitation.
Though she felt immense gratitude toward her father and uncle for their unwavering support of her becoming a police officer and soon-to-be detective, a lifelong dream blossomed within her. She yearned to shine in Broadway, following in the footsteps of her beloved mother, a celebrated actress whose dazzling performances enchanted audiences around the globe, from the grand theaters of London to the vibrant stages of New York. With each note sung and every dance step taken, her mother had woven magic, and now, Charlie desperately longed to reach for the stars just as her mother had done. The hopeless dreamer approached her bedroom window and flung open the curtains dramatically, allowing golden sunlight to spill into the room. Taking a deep breath, she opened the window wide, letting in the sounds and scents of New York City, and with a joyful smile, she exclaimed, “Good morning, New York City! I love you!”
Oh, oh, oh, I woke up today feeling the way I always do.
Oh, oh, oh, hungry for something that I can’t eat.
The rhythm of the city calls to me. It’s like a sign from the Heavens!
Oh, oh, oh, pulling me out to the smiles and the boulevards that I love!
As she closed the window and stepped out of her cozy bedroom, she collected a pair of keys resting on the table and her black rubber shoes on the floor and left her apartment. With a surge of excitement, she darted down the hallway, comically tugging and hopping as she wrestled to fit her shoes snugly onto her feet. She stepped out onto the world as passersby paused mid-stride, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of a woman confidently dressed in slacks rather than a dress or a long skirt, an audacious choice that broke the mold of convention.
Good morning, New York.
Every day is like a new day.
Every night is a fantasy.
Every sound is like a sinfonietta.
A playful spark ignited within her as a man in a tailored suit strode down the sidewalk on his way to work. She reached out, her fingers weaving through his, and began to twirl them joyfully in a spontaneous dance. Laughter escaped her lips, but the moment shattered when her gaze caught a bus pulling away from her stop, and she let go of him to chase after it.
At a crosswalk intersection, the blonde gumshoe stood with anticipation, her black spinel eyes fixed on the pedestrian traffic light as a growing crowd of commuters developed behind her, their murmurs mixing with the sounds of the city. When the light finally illuminated green, she took off with a burst of energy, darting across the asphalt as she reached the curb and spotted the city bus gliding toward a slow stop a block away. With a swift motion, she grasped the metal handrail just as the bus began to pull away, and she leaped aboard with an elegant grace, the doors closing behind her. As the bus rumbled toward Broadway Street, she gazed out the window at the skyline before her. Majestic skyscrapers rose like giants, each one vying for attention. She heard an exciting rumor that the Empire State Building was said to soar about 25 stories higher than the iconic Chrysler Building, making it the tallest structure in Manhattan!
And someday when I take to the stage,
The world is gonna know.
New York and me!
Once the bus rounded the corner of 42nd Street and Broadway, Charlie hopped off and stepped onto the lively sidewalk, instantly becoming part of a small crowd. With a gleeful leap, she sprang onto a nearby bench, twirling around in pure delight before she vaulted off. She grasped a sturdy metal lamppost with both hands, whirling around it exuberantly until her feet touched the pavement again.
Nearby, cheerful sounds of children at play filled the air, their laughter echoing as they played hopscotch and jump rope in front of an elementary school.
“Everyone look, it’s Charlie!” One boy exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Charlie, come play with us!” A little girl called out, arms flailing joyfully as a brilliant smile lit up her face at the sight of the blonde sleuth.
“Alright, but only one game,” she chirped, a bright smile dancing across her lips as she bent down to pick up a flat rock from the pavement. With a flick of her wrist, the rock soared across the ground, bouncing and rolling several times before settling perfectly inside the square chalk outline. Hopping on one leg, Charlie scooped up the rock just as the sharp chime of the school bell echoed through the air. “Now, go feed your brains, kids!” She encouraged as she affectionately ruffled the hair of two children who scampered past her and into school.
When she approached Broadway Theater, blackberry orbs sparkled with delight as she took in the majestic building before her. The ornate sign, adorned with intricate details, boldly proclaimed in glittering letters, “You’ve never seen anything like this on stage. Ever.” The walls of the theater were a vibrant collage of colorful posters for “The Broadway Melody,” showcasing glamorous flappers dressed in dazzling knee-high skirts. Their playful poses and confident smiles radiated joy and promise, inviting everyone to experience an unforgettable night of entertainment filled with music, laughter, and the magic of performance.
I know every move.
I know every song.
I know this is the place where I belong.
I see all those twinkling lights shining above.
So, someone give me a role before I drop dead!
The sunshine-haired gumshoe joyfully twirled in the middle of the bustling sidewalk, her arms gracefully outstretched like a dancer celebrating freedom. Finally, as she reached the grand facade of the Times Square Police Department, she executed one last dramatic spin, catching the gaze of curious onlookers for a moment.
And I promise New York.
That someday when I take to the stage.
The world is gonna know.
New York and me!
The lively sound of the ringing telephones and the officers’ chattering filled the department as Charlie opened the door. The air was thick with the scent of brewing coffee and the faint haze of smoke. The department was a hive of activity, with police officers rushing around, their footsteps echoing against the linoleum floor as they grabbed piles of paperwork. While others relaxed by the water cooler, laughing and exchanging stories during their smoke break. At the far end of the room was a closed office door marked as the domain of the Police Chief Lucifer.
“Yur’re late,” Husk declared with a stretched yawn, voice mixed with sarcasm and camaraderie as he met her at the door, cradling two steaming cups of coffee in both hands.
“Sorry, I got a little sidetracked. Thanks for the java.” She replied, flashing an apologetic smile as she took the warm mug from him. Closing her eyes, she savored the aroma before taking a sip, only to grimace at the taste. “It needs sugar and cream.”
When the police chief’s door opened, Lucifer silently waved at his daughter to enter.
Charlie took her time crafting the perfect cup of coffee at a lounge station. She poured fresh cream into the steaming mug and added an alarming amount of sugar. With a silver spoon, she stirred the concoction and watched the cream swirl, combining with the dark brew until it reached a delightful caramel hue. Pleased with the rich aroma, she took a blissful sip before going to her father’s office, where she settled into a plush leather chair before a polished executive desk.
“Charlie, your ticket arrived in the mail,” Lucifer announced with a hint of excitement as he sat at his desk and slid an envelope across the desk toward her.
With happiness bubbling inside her, the sunshine-haired sleuth carefully set her steaming mug on the desk and tore open the letter, her fingers trembling as she revealed a laminated ID that glinted in the soft light.
“When can I open my agency?” She asked, her voice laced with eagerness.
“That’s part of why I called you into my office, sweetheart.” He said, sinking back into his chair comfortably. “I received a call from the big shot in New Orleans, and it seems they could use some assistance.”
“New Orleans?” She repeated, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “I thought I’d stay in New York with you and Uncle Husk. I don’t have the dough to travel so far and find a place to live on such short notice. Besides—”
“I think you’re missing out on a fantastic opportunity, cupcake,” Lucifer interrupted as he leaned toward the desk. “You don’t have to worry about finding an apartment. Your grandparents entrusted me with the deed to their charming old house in New Orleans. Plus, I’ll send you a monthly allowance for food and bills, so you won’t need to stretch your budget too thin. And here’s the icing on the cake: if you successfully help the city of New Orleans, I’ll reward you with a full-paid month off work, giving you the freedom to chase your dreams.”
“Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“That’s because you were a toddler back then. Your mother was homesick, so we always took vacations to London. As for my parents, they left this world long before you arrived, and the house still contains all their furniture.”
“How would I get there?”
“You can take the Cadillac,” Lucifer responded, voice smooth and relaxed. “What do you say?”
In a burst of enthusiasm, she sprang up from the chair. “Absolutely!” She exclaimed, a wave of joy and gratitude washing over her as she rushed to her father, who had risen to his feet, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Thank you so much, Daddy!”
He chuckled warmly, wrapping an arm around her back while his other hand affectionately petted her head. “You’re welcome, sweetie. You deserve this after all the hard work you’ve put in here,” he declared with a proud smile as he released his daughter. “Since you’ll be so far from New York,” he thoughtfully continued as he walked a couple of feet out of his office, “it would only be fitting to send one of our finest along with you and be your partner.” His gaze swept across the room, searching for a worthy officer to accompany Charlie on her journey to the vibrant city of New Orleans. Eventually, his eyes landed on Husk sprawled over his desk, blissfully unaware of anything around him, a crumpled newspaper resting comically draped over his head. “Husker, ole pal of mine, come over here!”
“Fuck,” He murmured under his breath, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he wrenched off the newspaper over his head and slammed it down on the desk. Frustration sparkled in his bored gaze as he raked his fingers through his thick, raven-black mane, the strands falling messily across his forehead. Reluctantly, he abandoned the comfort of his plush armchair and strode toward his old friend, his mind racing about whether to seek new companionship or embrace solitude. “What’s goin’ on, Luci?”
“Husk, my good chum!” The police chief sang, voice rich and authoritative, “How would you feel about going to New Orleans with Charlie and helping her start an investigation agency?”
‘Why even ask when I know yur’re just orderin’ me ta go? Ya don’t want yur princess venturing off alone or pairin’ up with anyone else who might become too friendly,’ He sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin methodically. “Yur’re really puttin’ me in a tight spot here.”
“I heard New Orleans has some exotic tiger milk,” Lucifer added, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
With a resigned chuckle, Husk relented. “Well, if ya put it dat way, I suppose I’ll go.”
“Did you hear that, Charlie? Uncle Husk volunteered to go with you,” Lucifer chirped with a grin as the bubbly detective joined them.
“Really? I can’t believe it!” She gasped, obsidian eyes twinkling with delight as she embraced Husk tightly and buried her face into his broad, muscular chest. The unmistakable aroma of cigarettes mixed with the scent of hard liquor enveloped her, but after years of familiarity, it felt oddly comforting. Gently pulling back, she gazed up at his frowning face, her lips curled in an exuberant smile. “This is so exciting!”
“Lucifer, I’m startin’ ta regret our friendship. I should’ve kept my nose out of yur affairs and avoided dat drink with ya over a decade ago,” He declared as a ripple of amused laughter escaped Lucifer’s lips.
After letting go of the lazy officer, Charlie took a step back, unfazed by their exchange. “Now, don’t be such a sourpuss, Uncle Husk. Think of this as an adventure. Picture it: you, me, and New Orleans!”
“Swell…” Husker replied, voice dripping with sarcasm as he had already regretted his decision before the adventure had begun.
June 26th, 1932
Virginia, Richmond
2 P.M.
The winding roads of the interstate snaked through the picture-perfect landscape, their narrow paths nearly deserted. The cool, crisp air filled the car, refreshing and invigorating, while the vast sky above was an endless expanse of blue, free of any clouds. Husk drove south, leaving the bustling streets of New York City. Towering mountains shrouded in dense forests loomed majestically, bordering each side of the state highway.
In the passenger seat, Charlie fiddled with the car’s radio dial, her enchanting voice ringing out enthusiastically as she sang along with catchy tunes. “Come on, join me, Uncle,” she urged.
“I ain’t singin’.”
In playful irritation, she let out an adorable huff, leaning back against the soft, supple leather of the car seat and crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. The radio crackled with static as the last song faded away, and a monotone radio host began discussing local news, his voice almost lulling her into a light doze. Then, an idea sparked in her mind, igniting a smile that grew across her lips. “How about a car game?” She suggested.
“A game?”
They approached a serene landscape of rolling farmland and farm animals.
Her blackberry eyes spotted a herd of grazing cows. “I spy with my little eye something…brown.”
Husk glanced over at the pasture with a hint of disinterest, quickly spotting the cause. “Is it a cow?” he guessed, his tone flat.
“Yup!”
As hours slipped by, filled with the easy flow of conversation, Charlie dominated the chatter, while her uncle offered little more than noncommittal grunts when prompted with questions. Dusk crept in, painting the sky in orange and soft purple hues as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. She switched places with Husk, covering her mouth as she stifled a yawn, fatigue finally catching up to her.
Soon, they spotted a weathered sign beside the state highway that pointed toward a nearby motel. “There’s a motel about half a mile off the interstate,” Husk announced, voice breaking the quiet as she maneuvered the car onto a gravel road. The path meandered toward a quaint motel nestled among trees alongside a rustic bar.
“Look over der, a gin mill,” he announced, his gaze wandering toward the bar. He craved a stiff drink, and she was desperate for some rest. It was the perfect win-win situation.
“Promise me you won’t guzzle down all the hooch in the bar,” she replied, concern lacing her voice as she parked the car in front of the motel and turned off the engine.
“Yeah, yeah,” With a dismissive wave, he stepped out of the car and strode toward the inviting bar.
‘He’s not listening to a word I’m saying.’ She watched him vanish through the tavern’s wooden door. ‘Looks like I’ll be the one driving tomorrow.’
June 27th, 1932
Georgia, Atlanta
8 A.M.
The day unfolded under a blanket of grey clouds, with gentle raindrops tapping rhythmically against the car like a soothing melody. The windshield wipers swept back and forth steadily, struggling to keep the view clear. Distant flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by the deep rumble of thunder that reverberated through the air. The blonde detective maneuvered the vehicle over a long, arching bridge that spanned the inner-city federal highway, its sturdy structure rising above the murky waters. After taking the next exit, the asphalt turned into a rugged dirt path bordered by towering mature oak trees whose gnarled branches stretched toward one another.
“Ugh…I feel like death,” Husk moaned from the back seat, his grey fedora tipped low to obscure his face.
“I told you not to drink so much,” Charlie remarked, stealing a glance at him through the rearview mirror as a sympathetic smile crept across her lips, tinged with concern for her uncle in his current state.
“It felt right at da time.” A gnawing sense of guilt lingered in his mind. “Don’t get mad.”
“Why would I get mad?” She asked, brows knitting together in confusion.
“I…I gambled away some money.”
“How much?”
“10 dollars,” the lazy officer’s voice drifted off, barely above a whisper.
“What? That money was meant to help us get settled in New Orleans!” She exhaled sharply, disappointment washing over her like a cold wave, but a small, nagging part of her had been anticipating this moment. “From now on, I’ll take charge of our spending.” As she navigated the winding road, the car suddenly hit a patch of wet gravel. One of the rear tires sank quickly into the thick, clingy mud, halting their progress. She pressed harder on the accelerator, but the engine sputtered in protest, refusing to budge. “The car won’t move.”
“I’ll check it out,” Husker answered as he removed his hat, left the car to stroll behind it, and saw the back tire stuck in a pothole. “Alright, on the count of three, I’m gonna push, and ya give da car some gas. One, two, three!”
Charlie gently pressed on the accelerator. The rear tire spun wildly, mud flying in all directions and splattering over him. Husker braced himself, pushing against the vehicle with all his strength. “A little more!” he urged, his muscles tensing and straining, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he battled against the stubborn car. The tire kicked up even more mud, coating him further, but gradually, the wheel broke free from the thick sludge, finally returning to solid ground. Once he extricated the car, he made his way to the driver’s side, rapping lightly on the window with a muddy hand.
Charlie rolled the window down slowly, a laugh threatening to escape as she took in the sight of him—a comical figure smothered in brown muck, staring at her with mock seriousness and feigned annoyance.
“Not a word,” He warned.
“I forgive you,” she teased playfully.
“Hot dawg,” Husk replied, tone oozing with exaggerated sarcasm, a hint of a grin emerging despite his muddy plight.
The sun drifted lazily across the brilliant blue sky, and a few hours later, it hung high overhead, radiating warmth. They drove deep into the heart of Louisiana, where the air was thick with humidity, and the scent of magnolia lingered. In the backseat, Charlie reclined, her legs propped sideways against the seat, fanning her flushed face with Husk’s wide-brimmed hat. Her hair swept up into a messy bun, golden tendrils escaping to cling to her damp skin. “Uncle, I regret my decision. Let’s go back to New York. It’s unbearable out here!”
A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, and he shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Dis is da South, Charlie. It’s always hot and humid. Ya will get used to it, I promise.”
“I beg to differ.”
As they approached the vibrant and eclectic town of New Orleans, Husk eased off the gas, the car gliding slowly down the sun-drenched streets. The radio filled the air with a lively tune, the host’s energetic voice buzzing with updates about local happenings. “Look up, we’re here, kiddo.”
The detective quickly sat up straight, sticking her head out of the open window to soak in the sights and sounds of the suburb’s upper and middle-class district. Streetcars glided along the center of the wide road, their rhythmic clatter mingling with the hustle and bustle of the neighborhood. In the distance, lively market stalls overflowed with fresh produce and handmade goods while shoppers meandered through the streets eagerly seeking bargains. The energetic melodies of jazz musicians serenaded passersby with their soulful trumpet tunes filling the air.
The town had a distinct French charm, reflected in the elegant architecture of the houses and the stylish demeanor of the people strolling along the sidewalks. After a few moments, Husk turned the car right, his gaze falling on a piece of paper cradled in his hands. It displayed an address that perfectly matched the house they were approaching. “Dis is da place,” he declared confidently as he expertly parallel parked the car in front of a stunning light pink, Queen Anne Victorian-style house, its intricate details and welcoming facade standing out against the backdrop of the quaint neighborhood.
The enchanting three-story house stood gracefully, showcasing a charming short white stairway that led to its intricately designed entrance, adorned with a whimsical roof with fish-scale shingles that glistened in the sunlight, while elegant, long, arched windows framed the facade, inviting natural light to flood the interior. On the second story to the left, a petite, off-center onion dome roof crowned the space, accentuated by sinuous, curved walls embellished with exquisitely handcrafted woodwork that added a sense of artistry throughout the home—a round open porch on the right, complete with a delicate short white railing. Despite years of neglect, the structure stood resilient.
“This entire house belonged to my grandparents!”
“Looks like it,” Husk replied, stepping out of the car and surveying the grand estate.
“Do you realize I could fit five of my apartment rooms here!” She exclaimed, her voice filled with awe as she stepped out of the car, strode towards the magnificent mansion, and perched Husk’s fedora atop her head.
“True, but yur’re payin’ for da view in New York.” The lazy officer remarked, leaning against the sleek Cadillac as he untied the rope that secured their luggage atop it. He gently set the suitcases on the sidewalk.
Out of nowhere, a teenager with wild, vibrant reddish-pink hair zipped past like a whirlwind, her pink dress adorned with a playful poodle embellishment dancing around her legs as she snatched a woman’s purse right from her grasp.
“My purse!” The woman cried out.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m on it!” Charlie declared with determination, her pulse quickening as she sprinted after the little thief. The chase led her around a corner, where she suddenly collided with a tall, devilishly handsome, smiling man. Papers flew into the air, caught in the wind and swirling around them like delicate snowflakes. “Oof!” Charlie gasped as her grey fedora tumbled to the pavement. Her long, sunkissed tresses tumbled from the messy bun she had hastily styled earlier, cascading down her back, shimmering with the afternoon light. A gloved hand caught her wrist, stopping her from falling backward onto the rough pavement.
“Good heavens, are you alright, darling?” Alastor asked, amber eyes glinting with a curious mix of concern and mischief as he gently pulled her to her feet and released her hand.
After the collision, a dull ache throbbed at her forehead, and she blinked away the stars that danced before her eyes. She gazed up at the charming man, warmth flooding her cheeks—was it embarrassment or the magnetic allure of his presence? As she crouched on the pavement, she gathered his scattered papers and meticulously straightened them, and he kneeled before her, bringing their eyes level. “Oh, jeepers, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s nothing to get bent out of shape about, ma chérie.” His deep voice, rich with a smooth Cajun accent, flowed like honey, causing her blush to deepen further.
After gathering all the papers in neat piles, a wave of realization washed over her, reminding her of what she had been up to just moments before. “I really have to leave now, and I truly apologize for the rush,” Charlie stated, tone a mix of sincerity and urgency. She passed him the documents, flashed him a dazzling smile that could drive rain clouds away, and stood up gracefully. “If fate allows us to meet again, coffee’s on me,” she playfully added before darting off.
The Radio Star watched her leave, a sly, predatory grin creeping onto his lips as he stood. ‘What a delightful smile that belle has,’ he mused as a shadowy figure with a menacing grin emerged from the darkness behind him and rested its claws on his shoulder. ‘Oh, I am certain our paths will cross again.’