Page 15 - Julie Thorley Nine Lives book

2. The Big Sheep
Ivor Payne is a down-at-heel private eye. Think cliché: shabby trench coat, collar turned up, fedora pulled down low. He is one tired gumshoe.
My name is Ivor Payne. Yeah, don’t bother; I’ve heard ’em all. This is my patch. I know every inch of the mean streets in this city. I know everyone who’s worth knowing and quite a few who ain’t. I ain’t rich, but I turn a pro t. I served my time with the force, but couldn’t handle the paperwork, so now it’s just me.
It’s raining again today. I hate the rain. I hate dodging people on the sidewalk who don’t look where they’re going, and sel sh guys in big sedans who think it’s hilarious to aim for the puddles. Yeah, real funny.
Today I’m checking in with those people I like to call ‘the help’. They keep me in the loop and in return I turn a blind eye to a little business irregularity now and then. It only hurts the taxman and he can take care of himself. I’d rather look out for the little guy.
I call into the Black Mask Diner. Denny knows what I like: strong black coffee to go. I ask him if there’s anything I need to know, anything going on.
Denny shrugs and says he keeping his ear to the ground, he ain’t heard nothing I need to know about. He calls me ‘Mr P’, which brushes my fur the wrong way. Then he says there’s someone asking after me, someone worth taking a look at – someone who says her name is Peep.
I raise an eyebrow. He gestures to the corner of the diner. I follow his gaze to a young woman drinking herbal tea,
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