The Sunday Game Night Always Rings Twice

From: Nathan
To: Game Friends

Dame walks into my office after hours. It’s late, and I already have two slugs in my gut: one lead, one bourbon. Two gifts from an old friend. She has a figure like it was stamped out of wood and covered in cheap paint, arms and legs that are basically just nubs, and a face like a completely featureless flat surface. I can tell right away she’ll be trouble.

Turns out she wants me to look into a disappearance. It seems she’d been steady with this guy for a few weeks before he suddenly went missing. Circumstances: mysterious.

The story goes, he’d been working odd jobs for a major player. One week it might be road work, the next a city construction gig. She claims it’s an honest living, and I don’t have the heart to tell her what road work really means. Anyways, anyone who crosses the boss gets sent to the farm. Laid down. Horizontal. And they never come back.

She only has one lead: a bunch of players have a regular little get-together Sunday evenings around five. Maybe the boss will be there, and maybe I can convince someone to sing. Maybe I can find out what happened to her beau. All I need is to bring a “contribution” to get in the door.

I take the case, and then I go see this veterinarian I know. He’s handy with a needle and doesn’t ask questions. Best friend a man can have.