Authors note—internet news sites and the importance of paper copy. Sven's place. Sometime after Mark takes a shower when the ghost repeatedly complains about him stinking. Ghost wants justice for his murder so that he may rest in peace. Janoos was a fairy? Possibly. May be why he lingers as a ghost.
"The police ai't gonna tell us a thing they don want us to hear. About her. About what they know. Nothin."
Sven listened and said nothing as he waited for Mark to finish having his say.
" What I think we really need to do is track down the girl the same way that those reporters did." Mark said as he studied the amber colored contents of his far too tiny glass.
Sven frowned as he set the big bottle down.
"You spent all that time looking up this ghost hunting.."
"White noise ain ghost huntin mate. Strickly speaking, it's ghost listening."
"alright. Fine. Ghost listening stuff, why couldn't you just look up…"
"Mate, listen to me." Mark said with narrowed eyes. He carefully placed his empty shot glass onto the low table, and then rested his fat elbows against his thighs. "I don no if anyone ever bother to bring this to your attention or not but here it is. The Internet news sites do not report on the local news. Ever. The only ones that do anymore are those little junk papers that you have delivered here."
"I've heard them called rags at work." Clare said. "They're filled with rubbish half the time. .and..!"
Sven held up his hand towards her before she could add any more. She looked to him with widened eyes at first, and those orbs quickly narrowed in reaction to her annoyance at him.
What Mark was saying actually made a weird sort of sense. Sven could not remember the last time he had ever seen a single article written about anything local in the online newspapers . Then again, he could not quite remember the last time he had even bothered to look up any online newspaper during the past ten years.
"Why would they even bother to print local stuff like that if the real newspapers don bother?" Sven asked sagely as he broght his shot to hover at his lower lip. He took a breath and tipped the glass back. He quickly swallowed it, and the foul taste twisted his lips into a grimace.
"Look at the advertisements, mate." Mark said with a bit of a chuckle, and reached over to tap his finger on the latest said rag resting on the table.
"You mean, those liquor ads?" Sven said with one of his brows nearly reaching his hairline.
"Heh. " Sven heard Mark say intelligently. With a lopsided sort of half grin on his face, he took a slow drawn out sip of his glass.
"No way." Sven gasped, and watched the man down the amber liquid in this odd way. He realized belatedly that he could have been commenting on both his neighbor friends peculiar choice of drinking meathod as well as the fact the papers he had subscribed to were nearly entirely supported by ads of that sort. In a way, he supposed he did mean to comment on both.
"Way." Marks breathed when he had finshed his drink at last. Sven saw his nostrils flare out a bit wider than he had thought ever possible on a human face. It was as though he could see Mark's nose hairs sizzling from the fumes leaking off the fiery drink. He rather thought that only a drunk like himself would ever notice such odd details at this in another drunk.
Clare frowned an clutched her own glass with both of her hands.
"So what? " She said. "Even if that was true, you still have no idea where to start."
Her eyes, masked behind the shine of her glasses, bored into Sven. He could feel the weight of her stare, and he frowned in response.
"Actually I think I might." Sven said slowly, and belched quite loudly. He thought he heard Jake rustle in the crib, and looked up that way towards the door. He narrowed his eyes as he fought to listen for the slight sound once more, and startled at the solid clunk he heard hit the table. He darted his eyes to the sound and found he was in time to follow Clare's hand to her face as she leaned back onto the couch coushion. Her eyes were still hidden from his gaze by the glare.
"what?" Mark said across from him. Sven smirked and leaned back himself. He weaved his fingers together behind his head as he looked down at his rather rotund neighbor friend. He found it still felt a bit weird to have the man sitting on the carpet, but it was the man's free choice to do so every single time he ever visited his apartment. He listened to the silence for a while, and shrugged his shoulder in a non challant sort of gesture he was not entirely sure his drunked self could pull off effectively. He knew it was a sloppy gesture even as he executed it.
"Well don't hold us all in suspense oh wise one of the couch." Clare nearly snarled.
Sven only smiled wider.
"Well come on!" Mark said in exasperation. "just out with it already."
"let me enjoy the moment." Sven said with a proud lilt to his tone.
"WIha?"
"It just very rare when I get to out smart the two of you" Sven said in the same smug sort of tone." 'specily after a few rounds."
"oh hell"
"Shut it."
"Fine."
"I meant." Mark said in all seriousness. "Out with it. What do you figure?"
"Think now." Sven said. "What do I do for a living."
'You're a frekkin truck driver, what of it. It's not like you think.."
"No. Way." Clare snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "Theres no way you could ever get what those have. No way in hell."
Sven raised a single brow as he regarded the mother of his child.
"what are you on about?" Mark blustered on with both of his brow skewed in such a confused manner, that Sven found it hard to refrain from chuckling out loud.
"He's a truck driver. Yeah." Claire supplied from the man. "Think about it. What he hell does he encounter every day?"
"uh. The road..?" Mark said slowly.
"Yeeeap." Sven said sagely.
"And?"
"And what does he have to encounter while on the road, doing deliveries and what not? What has the freekin city installed on every street corner lately ?"
Marks brows lowered as he tried his best to think. If Sven was any sort of judge, the man looked to be really struggling with the notion, and appeared to be in the process of chewing a rather large hole in his cheek. Sven was a patient drunk, but he did not want to see his neighbor friend managing such a feat in his prescense. He had seen enough blood spilled on his rented property to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.
"here's a hint. It's the stupid thing that charge me a whopping 500 bucks a month back." Sven supplied helpfully in a loudish whisper.
"You mean those red light ticket things?" Mark ventured after a few heartbeats of silence had filled all of their ears.
"You got it." Sven said triumphantly, and grinned his widest smile that he could manage while in a drunken state. Mark narrowed his eyes as he seemed consider the possibilities.
"How in hell do we get the footage?" Mark asked while gazing into his empty shot glass. "see that footage that the newspapers had access to. Would they even still have it?"
"They have to keep all the recording for well over a year." Claire supplied. Sven looked her way, and blinked his eyes in his surprise at the information. He had not been aware of that.
"City council put it to a vote." Clare said with a small shrug that said it's not my fault you don't bother to pay attention to politics. Sven wondered exactly when the last time she had actually voted really was. He knew when the last time had voted was. It happened to be two days after his eighteen birthday was celebrated in this very apartment.
"I think I know somebody." Mark said. "Who knows somebody who owes me a favor…"
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
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