the truth will set you free...
but first it will make you miserable
The Northern Bandit strikes again!
Isadore frowns down at her notepad, tapping her pen against her chin for a moment and pursing her lips. The Northern Bandit made this thief sound like some Robin Hood character. As far as she was aware, whoever was striking local pedestrians and a few businesses to boot was decidedly NOT the altruistic type. Police reports had come in on various petty thefts, such as someone swiping tips at the VooDoo Room whenever the barista's turned their backs. The only hint of a suspect had been a drunken man who claimed to be homeless and after a subsequent search, nothing had turned up. Besides, she didn't think that a drunken man was out stealing diamond necklaces and getting away with it. She had checked all the local pawn shops for the last week. Turns out there were at least fifty of them scattered across the huge city and after exhausting that option, she decided it was time to go old school.
The North was fashion paradise. Every shop she passed sported blazers, rompers, and jumpsuits starting at $79 dollars and up. One outfit caught her blue eyes but the tag promptly turned them away. It wasn't as if Isadore couldn't splurge on herself but she liked to think she was frugal enough that she could find a similar outfit for much cheaper and still have enough leftover for a good takeout meal when she was done. Her freelance work went for a pretty penny when the cases were high profile and while the Northern Bandit (gosh, she had to think of another name!) was relatively mild, it was the only thing going on right now that wasn't boring.
It was a sad day when she wished a murder would happen.
Either way, she would occupy her time trying to source and identify leads for this thief. The police didn't much appreciate her sort of help so she avoided them altogether when possible. She didn't need someone trying to block her every move. She started at one end of the street and began working her way down, making sure to stop at all the shops that had claimed some sort of theft in recent weeks, even if they hadn't reported it to the authorities. One employee shrugged, throwing back her lushcious brunette hair in a haughty manner, claiming that 'It isn't like the police can do anything with a suspect now can they? What's the point?' To which Isadore replied, "Well, for such a high class establishment, shouldn't you have some sort of CCTV to protect your assets?"
Needless to say, she didn't get much more information from her. So it went down the rest of the establishments and she made my way to the VooDoo Room. Sometimes it bothered her to go to places name like the Witchery or the VooDoo room. While Isadore kept a perfectly professional air when speaking to any known supernatural, it bothered her that she didn't know who was a supernatural. She stops near the barista, watching as he poured drinks with expert precision, her eyes trailing across the bar and back again when he finally moved to her. "What can I get you?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you had a moment. I'm Isadore Dabney, journalist, investigating the reports of theft from your establishment. I got a copy of your police report but was wondering if you had anymore information or recent developments you could add?" She pulls out her notepad from the satchel she carried with her at all times, pen abruptly appearing in her hand as she smiles expectantly at him. The man nods, smiling in a friendly manner before recounting that over $200 in tips had been swiped in the recent two weeks. "How do you know the amount?" Isadore asks, brows furrowed as she scribbles all the information down which amounted to just about nil. "The customers who tipped always tip the same. They come here like clockwork and we know what to expect, plus we asked if they had tipped the next time they came back to make sure we weren't going crazy or gave bad service. Ain't been any strange people in here lately. Well, not stranger than normal from what I can tell. The weekend is a busy time so I could have missed someone."
Isadore nods in return, shoving her notebook back in her satchel with a thanks before heading out. When she opens the door, however, she bumps into another figure, her mind too distracted by the lack of evidence and information. She jerks back with a surprised oomph before catching sight of the kid. Well, he looked like a kid, but as she got older she wondered if all the kids were drinking aging potions or something because they all seemed younger than they really were. "Hey, sorry there ki... sorry." She almost said kid but skipped it, knowing how some kids reacted to such statements. Hostility was a guarantee to NOT get any information. Besides, teenagers typically held a wealth of information that could be prised with careful questioning. Smiling at him she stepped back to allow him to enter. "Hey, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Do you frequent the VooDoo Room often?"
25 yrs/human/journalist-crime podcast host