Emma Vardaman: Insurance Private Eye #1

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I decided to make a rather brief visit down to interview six of the local police precinct to have a little somewhat of a little chat with Mr. Khai Weston of the local West Side Boyz cartel.

He was a bit of a tough pistaccio to crack all at first, but, after only a light bit of wolf handling, had managed to finally cough up the location of a secret deposit safe; in which the stolen money had been taken to and kept.

Only thing now, was finding out exactly who took that money and most importantly, who of all animal beings on this earth had taken the innocent and sweet young life of a precious lioness girl; just to solely get at it.

“What? Me? Sacrifice my own flesh and blood for a few measely pieces of green?” Jackie nearly growled furiously at Sekhmet and I in response. “Completely ridiculous and preposperous!”

“Not so.” Sekhmet immediately piped up. “We found traces of blood in your apartment, your own pad prints all over the money and safe, and your very own foot prints all over the floor and trunk area of where the body was found. I believe there really is no more that you could possibly do or say to try and ween your merrily way out of this one, Misses Summerset.”

“You really think it’s easy, don’t you?” Jackie suddenly answered, taking us both by almost immediate suspense and surprise. “Do you really think it’s easy to live end to end on only one bit of cop salary, trying to keep yourself from purely going insane by not only the loss of your true love, but, her primary caretaker as well? Do possibly you have any idea?”

“Well, you can definitely run the insanity part back to both of us again.” I began. “Cause it most certainly seems like you’ve gone a hell of a lot more than just off the deep end. Take her away, Sekh.”

After a brief bit of fueling for both of our stomachs, down at our favorite local town diner, it was finally time to head back down to the good old office for yet another day aboard the good old grind. It wasn’t even a good hour or so after I had finished eating what was left of the takeout, before the phone suddenly rang rampidly off the hook.

“Vardaman Home and Life…? Fire…? Yes. Indeed we cover that. Now…? Yes! Right away, ma’am!”

“What’s the deal?” Sekhmet piped up in question. I quickly slipped back into my sandals and gear.

“Structure fire. Fifty Seven Fifty Three, West Johanstead.”

“Shit! That’s my aunt’s old place!” The lioness answered, grabbing herself immediately out the door.

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