Shadows over Lost Heaven

Prologue - Meeting the Detective

(1938)

The town was calm, a boundless ocean filled with seagulls flying by. The city next to it stood tall, the waves of the water washing against the rock shore. Cars drove around the city in a calm, relaxed manner. Everything seemed peaceful, still, feelings of sad undertones could be shown.  A younger man stepped off of a train, a brown trench coat, a color similar to the one of his hair, wrapped around him tight. He held a black briefcase in a loose grip. His legs took him to a nearby dinner, and his steps were quick and confident. He entered the place, a bell ringing above his head signaling his presence. He glanced over the interior, immediately noticing a man, seemingly out of place.

The man had light brown hair and blonde fringe falling into his brown eyes. He was slumped, lost in his thoughts, his expensive-looking suit was cranked and a cigarette sat in his mouth.

He immediately knew this was his guy, making his way to the booth he was sitting in. "You Ryan?"

The blond looked up, "Ryan Angelo. You're detective Šimon Vojta?" he nodded, straightening up. The other man threw the case on the table, sitting across from him. Ryan tilted his head, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, "You alone?"

The detective half scowled, half chucked. "No self-respecting badge is coming in here. Unless it's the health inspector." He rolled his eyes and made himself more comfortable on the small leather seat.

One of the waitresses came to their table with a fake smile and tense shoulders. "What can I get you?" She was forcing a pleasant tone but her acting wasn't the best. Šimon sighed, "Just the coffee, thanks." He took out his flask the moment the cup hit the table and poured alcohol into it. He looked across the table at the younger man. "Dip your beak?"

Ryan looked away, shaking his head. "No thanks." The detective shrugged, putting his flask away. "Suit yourself. So, you said on the phone you might have a proposition for me?"

"That's right." The blond man nodded, pushing his hair away. "Well if you're looking to set up a gravy train, you called the wrong cop. I'm not looking for any 'Associates'." Šimon explained, having a disgusted and uninterested look on his otherwise soft features. Ryan humorlessly chuckled, relaxing slightly. "Good, I'm broke anyway. Can't even afford the coffee. But I got plenty to trade." The detective looked up raising his eyebrows, and gestured for him to continue. "Let's hear it."

Ryan put out the cigarette and rubbed his hands. "How long have you been in town?" Šimon took a sip of his coffee, "Three years. Cut my teeth in Empire Bay." He hummed. The other man chuckled and threw a newspaper at him, shoving an article about one of the most dangerous men in Lost Heaven and the said detective. "And they handed you the McLoughlin case, right out of the gate?"

"That's what the paper says, ain't it? And what's it to you?" The brown-haired man growled, frowning. Ryan smirked at him, "Tough break. The case must be getting pretty cold by now..."

"What, you have something that might warm it up?"

"Yeah, I might have something."

The detective leaned back, eyes suspicious. "And what's my end of the deal? Do you want money? Or Some sort of immunity?"

Ryan glanced into his cup, biting his lip nervously. "None of that. I have people I need to protect."

"Ah, family is always the Achilles heel, ain't it? So, who do you have? A sick mother? Or a wife and a litter of kids?"

"A dear friend and her daughter."

"And no one else to watch your back, I'm guessing."

Ryan tsked, frustrated. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Pity that. Pa always said a man needs friends if he's going to survive in this world."

"Yeah, well, in my world it's the other way around."

Šimon took a long sip of his spiced drink. "No surprise there. Look, I can't promise anything for your family. Not until I hear what you're trading. So, are you talking or are you just killing time before they come for you?"

"You think I'm on the run?"

The detective laughed out, attracting the attention of the other guests. "Oh, I know it, Ryan. Lord look at you. You're surely gassed. You haven't slept for days, and your neck gotta be aching from all that looking over your shoulder you're doing. No, the way I see it is, you've got someone powerful mean on your tail. And they aren't giving up until you end up in the river. Now, you walk out that door without me, we both know you're not making it five steps. But, you stick around, tell me your story, and maybe you have a shot at living long enough to walk that girl of yours down the aisle. Either way, it looks like I'm buying you a cup of coffee."

Ryan sighed and downed the cup he already had in favor of another one poured. "Lord, I don't know how everything got so balled up..."

"No one ever sees the hairpin until it's too late. But, that's something that can only be taught by life, no?"

"Yeah... I was a cab driver. Back in '30s."