I Fought The Law...

[Nayt]

"Aw, come on, man, it'll only take a few seconds."

People usually didn't like candid picture taking like this, so he should have expected some resistance. With a sigh, he dropped his arms down a bit, still holding onto his camera. It was a real fine piece of equipment, and he was careful as hell with it. The photographer had a young face; he must have been in his twenties, late twenties perhaps--and his sported a skinny goatee, which wasn't quite the classiest style of facial hair in this town, but he was a photographer--this town wasn't a limitation to him.

This shot was a little too good to pass up. The camera was gently set down so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet. Unfortunately for Cyril, the doorway wasn't large enough for both of them to fit through; the photographer would have to move out of the way.

"Okay, here--I'll pay you. How's that sound?" the photographer started to flip through his wallet.

As a professional, he knew not to show how much he had, tipping the lip of the open wallet towards himself. If someone knew what he was carrying on him, they knew what they could get away with. That was just how things worked in this business. It was subtle, but it showed him as more of a professional than the equipment ever could; that was a trick that took awhile to notice, after all.

"How's $30 sound?" Which wasn't bad for a snapshot. The average hot dog cost $.40, and that was in an expensive place like Chicago. No one here could ever imagine that the price of a hot dog or a hamburger would ever skyrocket to $10 a plate within the next sixty years. "It'll be a great shot, I swear. Really boost up the story, y'know?"

[Ramlock]

Cyril frowned a bit, thinking, and finally decided that he would let the guy take the picture. Especially for that kind of pay. He was surprised a photographer or reporter even had that amount of cash on him, but who was he to complain? Thirty dollars would go quite a long way. And there was no real downside, truthfully, aside from the annoyance. He wasn't going to be looking at anything useful or incriminating...

"Allright. I'm not going to act like you surprised me, but I'll give you the picture, if you're going to pay for it. And I want a favor, too. I need to find out about someone who might have been in a New York newspaper."

Pretending to be surprised was a bit too much. Cyril was an investigator, and looked the part in most ways, and he wasn't going to pretend to be surprised. Not caring, sure, but not surprise. Stepping back to the correct photo-taking position, he leaned over slightly, looking 3/4 of the way in the other direction to open one of the drawers. He had a decent idea of what would make the best shot, through some of his own work. Once it was done, too, he should be somewhat richer for it, and perhaps even have a lead on Kiosna business...

[Nayt]

"New York papers? Sure thing, buddy," replied the photographer as he withdrew a twenty and a ten from his wallet, promptly handing it off to Cyril, "Let's just take of this first."

Primary business versus secondary business. The money transaction was entirely about the picture, not the information. That was just a little aside. They could deal with that once the main issue of business was out of the way. These minute details suggesting intricate professionalism all seemed to betray his figure, though; he carried good equipment, but he had the accent of a Brooklyn Jew. They simply weren't known for their professionalism, but exceptions to the stereotype rules happened often enough.

He put his wallet back into his pocket and focused on the shot at hand, camera lifted and preparations made as Cyril went about the procedure of posing for the shot. It had to look natural; that's how good photojournalism worked. If it looked prepared, then the picture wasn't going to sell well, and for a guy like him to carry the equipment he had and the money in his wallet, his pictures had to sell well--really well. Well enough that taking thirty bucks out of his final profit was justifiable, if not expected.

Cyril didn't have to remain posed for very long. It was a fairly realistic position, and though the photographer didn't say anything about it, impressive. People might usually react and pose as if they were trying to showboat and make themselves look good, rather than the intended subject matter--something that someone like Eri Tetsuken might do, if given the chance. The bulb flashed and snapped, filling the room with a bright light that fizzled out just as quickly as it came. The problem with this sort of flash was that it left a dot in people's eyes for a good while, but the job was done as soon as the flash went off. If the shot was great then, it wouldn't be any less great once the film was treated.

"Perfect!" he declared enthusiastically, "Ahh, man, this'll be great. Hey buddy, think I could get your name for the caption?"

[Ramlock]

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. You can make one up for me, or use John Doe or something like that."

There might be some people who recognized Cyril by his picture, but not enough to matter. Having his name distributed, however... That was bad form. Especially considering the idea that he'd been "caught" by this no-name journalist. That wasn't going to work. He had to maintain a reputation if he wanted to keep clients, after all...

"Now, let's see about those New York papers, since you have your picture."

With the payment for his brief service tucked away in his wallet, Cyril would start to press the journalist for a bit of information. He wanted to know who these people were, after all, and if they were rich, chances were they were in the paper. Even if it took a long time to find them...

[Nayt]

"Eh, no one likes John Does anymore. 'Sides, Detective John Doe just don't sound good. Hm. How about somethin' general. Yeah, that'd work," the photo-journalist thought aloud, "A Chicago detective using city archives. Photo by Jesse Mairse. Well, it could use some work, but I've got the time."

Cyril hadn't declared that he was a detective or investigator--or anything of the sort. It was either pure speculation on the journalist's part, or . . .

He started putting his gear away. It was easy to store, and he had a bag specially made for it. One massive pocket held the pop-flash, and the main part of the bag held the camera. He had a tripod folded up and attached to the back of the bag--which was, of course--set out in the hall and brought back once he needed to put his equipment away. He'd got his shot, after all, and didn't need to carry this around anymore. Equipment this professional was big and bulky; annoying to carry around on one's neck.

"So, who you looking for? There are a ton of names in the New York papers. About ten papers for that city, you know. I've done jobs for four of 'em. I don't know much about the other six--or however many more seem to pop up every year and die off the next year."

[Ramlock]

Cyril was at risk of alerting his prey, perhaps, but it was more important to find some information. Realistically, there was little chance the Kiosnas or Eri would hear about his questions here, or anywhere else. If they did, he had passed enough cover stories around to make it seem perhaps as though there were several people with passing interests. By the time anyone could track it back to him, he should have completed the job and moved on...

"Kiosna or Tetsuken. A couple of folks my father used to know; I'm trying to find out if they're still in New York, maybe. Hopefully nothing in the obituaries, though..."

Cyril was impressed by the man's equipment: it was certainly some costly stuff. Cyril's own camera was of a much lower quality, if perhaps a bit more durable, which came up on occasion. He wasn't trying to be artistic, though. His camera was just for collecting information...

[Nayt]

"Huh. Foreign families, huh?" Mairse asked.

He thought for a moment. It was easy to tell when he was thinking, actually. He had this awkward habit of pursing his lips to one side and partially looking up as if the upper wall had an answer for him. It was either that or he had an absolutely amazing poker face.

After a moment, he looked back to Cyril, nodding his head. "Your pop's got some strange contacts. Not bad, though. If I'm not mistaken, Kiosna's run a jack-of-all-trades kind of business back in NYC. Smart business. Book vacations, high out electricians, all that sort. Some rich guy comes, buys out a lot of local businesses, an' syndicates them for profit. I'm pretty sure that's Kiosna. Could be wrong, though. Not many stories run on 'em. Not much to say. You can only write "business is prospering" so many different ways, and it's not like anyone even disappears in those businesses, either."

The way Chicago worked, if a big business wanted to buy out a small one, and that small one didn't want the deal, people could be arranged to disappear, or some horrible things could happen to the building. Be that the case, that meant either Kiosna was a legit businessman, or was sickeningly rich enough to offer more money for a place than even a stubborn old group running a family owned business could actually say no to. Or, for that matter, he was only buying out the places that had no moral obligations against it. Either way, without any ill-dealings to prompt it, there weren't going to be many stories published about them.

"Tetsuken, though--never heard of 'em. You sure they're in New York? Or important enough to be mentioned for somethin'?"

[Ramlock]

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Yeah, he knew some strange people..."

Cyril was glad to at least have that somewhat wrapped up, even if he was no closer to finding Eri. If the Kiosnas were big names, and there wasn't a lot of notoriety, he could at least be fairly certain they were honest. Not that people from the Northeast were honest, but they tended to be honest in public. Besides, from everything he'd seen, she was capable of taking care of herself. If she escaped from that much money, she could escape it again...

"I've got some more work to do. Good luck with your career."

Newspapermen had perhaps even less job security than Cyril. At least this guy had the equipment to do things right. It could be fun work, if fixing problems didn't work out. For now, he could afford to take the time to step back, and avoid pursuing Eri too hotly. Plus, he had to make sure everything was taken care of in the office; he didn't have a secretary, after all.

[Nayt]

"You, too," Mairse replied with a half wave.

Indeed, journalism was a hard life--but independent writers, who also happened to be great cameramen, could score a job anywhere if they had a good reputation, sort of like Mairse. Writing news stories then became a series of well paying odd jobs that one could do at one's leisure. Job security ceased to be something to worry about--and as he had said, Mairse had done stories for a wide number of papers. A man like that didn't stick to just one, and to succeed in that kind of life was to go beyond the necessity of job security. If one were to write a good story that a national (or local) paper would want to buy--then so be it. Or they could commission people like Mairse to do stories for them.

When Cyril arrived at his office, he'd find that everything was fine. The door was still locked, the windows were fine, and everything was in the same place as he left it. He could then continue on with leads for the day--or call it a night. With it starting to get late, though, there was only so much one could do--but then again, while certain people would only accessible during the day, others were at night.

[Ramlock]

Cyril would check for messages and letters, and finding them empty, he would make sure everything in his office was in order, before considering his leads. He had an idea of who his employer was: prominent enough to be accountable, if nothing else. Eri, he was still dry on for leads... He had time, though. It hadn't been very long since he'd been hired, after all.

That was the problem, though. Eri had fled halfway across the country. What was to keep her from picking up and leaving again, if she even got a whiff of someone following her? Curiosity? That would buy him some time, if he didn't appear directly threatening. He still needed a way to get close to her, though. Or an idea...

With that, Cyril would pick up the phone. Other people's pet projects could be useful. Like the Mormons. Dialing the head library for Chicago, he had a good idea that an acquaintance would be there. The head genealogist for the largest Mormon church in the city. If Eri had family, they were likely in there. The Mormons were pretty good about finding information on people...

[Nayt]

A desk clerk answered the phone, a young man about the age of twenty or twenty one--at least he sounded that young. Working at a library wasn't an entry level job, anyways. Some sort of experience was required, if not a degree of some sort. No matter . . .

Upon Cyril's request, he set the phone down and left his desk. There was a man to be found in the library, a frequent patron there--one particular Roman Devaul, a Mormon man that may as well have worked in the library. He always had his own small table; always the same one, each and every time he came to the library, which was almost a daily basis. His work required it, though. As the head genealogist for the Mormon church of this region, he frequently had to be in the library, searching records time and time again for different family histories . . .

Minutes would pass before finally, the phone was picked up, and a pleasant voice spoke smoothly on the other like: "Hello, this is Roman."

[Ramlock]

"Afternoon, Roman. I've got another request for you, if you don't mind."

Cyril contacted Roman on an infrequent basis, since the time he'd helped to find the matriarch of a family that was completely missing from the Mormon archives (in a particularly embarrassing manner). Besides, Cyril's work much more frequently resulted in his persecuting bootleggers than working for them, and he didn't drink himself, which put him on the good side of Mormon prohibitionists.

"A Tetsuken family. Based in New York, perhaps. Or maybe newly immigrated. Particularly, an Eri Tetsuken, a girl near the age of 20, and any close family she may have in the country. I've been trying to find her to deliver a message about a marriage, and had nothing but dead ends so far."

Cyril wasn't too worried: if Eri was frequenting circles that Roman frequented, he had pegged her COMPLETELY wrong. Besides, marriage was a bit of a keyword for Mormons. Luckily, Mormons kept nationwide databases, so if Eri or her family had immigrated, they likely had some indication, and Roman would be able to help...

[Nayt]

"Oh! Cyril, certainly! What do you need?"

They were on good terms, specifically because of the jobs that Cyril took. Roman was a good Mormon man; he supported the Prohibition, marriage, and a moral lifestyle in general. Cyril, as far as Roman was aware of (at least regarding all the favors Roman had done for him), incidentally supported moral lifestyles by taking the sorts of jobs that made it difficult to be a bad person--without going so far as to kill someone or something. Roman certainly wouldn't have approved of that!

Nonetheless, Roman generally helped Cyril find background on someone or a family in general when need be, and he didn't take offense to the lack of small talk. Truth be told, Roman was a fairly busy man himself, and while he would have gladly entertained talk of the weather and the daily goings on in their lives, it really would have been most beneficial for both of these busy men to not waste too much time!

"Tetsuken?" Roman paused to write it down, "All right. I will see what I can do! Are you still working out of the same office building? If so, I can drop by when I have something."

[Ramlock]

"Yes, I'm in the same building. Haven't found that job that'll let me move up, yet. Thanks for your help, Roman."

Cyril would set the phone down, his request finished. Though this job was a very good start. It just didn't make sense to move to a better building until there was a constant stream of such jobs. However, it was certainly a possibility someday. He just needed to complete this case. For now, though, he had to make sure to stay rested. Being tired took the edge off his senses, and that was a terrible thing for a private investigator.

With that in mind, Cyril would head home. It was a few blocks to his apartment, a similarly small place, and Cyril would prepare for sleep, ready to try again the next morning. It had only been one day, after all. He didn't need to find her immediately...

[Nayt]

The next afternoon, when Cyril got back to his office, he'd find everything in order, just like he left it when he locked up and left the previous night. However, there was a note within his office, having been slipped under the door. It was in an envelope distinctly marked with the seal of the Mormon Church of Chicago, which was a little unnecessary, but formal additions like that seemed to be a constant with Roman.

Cyril--

I found some information on the Tetsuken family--but I couldn't find anything on any "Eri Tetsuken." No records seem to have information on any Tetsukens immigrating to America, but there are records for them in Japan. Apparently, they used to be a noble family; the name and legacy has been around for centuries, with involvements in wars like that of the Meiji Restoration and fighting against numerous samurai rebellions. Anymore they just run a dojo in Nagasaki. They're fairly centered there, as well. The family doesn't seem to branch off into the rest of Japan, at least as far as I've found.

I'm deeply sorry I could not be of more help. I'll continue looking, though. I hope you can find her in the meantime. It would be a shame for this kind of inconvenience to break up a beautiful thing like a wedding!

-- Roman