Quill

Chapter 1.5: Is Reborn II

The golden moon was rare, yet out tonight. The night air thickened with possibilites.

Right when the brass swan vanished.

Norman stood still for what seemed like forever, turning towards his shoppe's entrance. Through the darkened windows, Norman's staff were shuffling finished boxes back and forth. A few were missing, which meant that some of the customers already came for their pickup orders. He pushed the doors wide open, lifting a clipboard sitting on the edge of the cashier's counter.

   "Chester, you're on cleaning duty. Warren, take inventory of the finished glasswares," Norman barked orders with great speed.

   "Rick, I leave locking up to you."

   "Mr. Stonelock, you got somewhere to be?" Chester asked after trying to comprehend his hurried words.

   "As a matter of fact, I do."

   "Jazz tickets burning a hole in your pocket again?" Warren snickered, going silent at Norman's ten mile glare.

He pointed at Rick.

   "Lock up promptly at nine. Make sure everything is accounted for. All of you, get to sleep as soon as you get home. We open an hour early tomorrow."

Norman exited the glassware shoppe after grabbing a black coat. He reached into his coat's left pocket after closing the doors, withdrawing a pocket watch.

7:12 PM.

Norman deposited the watch back into his coat pocket.

Entertainment ran rampant in the nightlife of Rlyll. Piano performances, jazz, dancers, and more. Illusionists and lounge singers were at the top of the foodchain, competing for the top spot at all times. The competition would lessen in locations where entertainment did not have established roots. Thus, the cityfolk of a nearby city, Lumelight City, flock to the small town. This results in sold out shows every night. Snagging a ticket in Rlyll was like winning the lottery.

And Norman struck gold.

Fifteen minutes of walking flew by, but there was a long wait expecting his arrival. The line for the jazz band, Gold Dew, wrapped around the block. To Norman, that was part of the thrill.

Lining up behind two giddy patrons, Norman's mind found itself back to the case of the missing brass swan. The town's fountain had the statue recently installed to decorate it almost two years ago. Someone most likely thought they could prick a pretty penny out of the precious metal. How no one saw the crime was another mystery in itself. It looks like Norman had a call to make to P.I. Langwaye.

   "Sir!" A voice brought Norman back to his senses, his head turning.

A patron was tapping his foot in irritation. "The line is moving," the patron continued.

Norman faced forward, walking up a great deal. Momentary speeding lines were great in building up anticipation.

He got closer to the entrance, musical notes beginning to make its rounds. It was the sound of amateur trumpeters and saxophonists filling the night air. A drummer's sound was on the level of fireworks, but his rhythm was contagious. Contagious enough to bring out an unexpected surprise.