NoxFoxglove
There were detectives, and then there was Clary-
A name passed in pubs like contraband, whispered between crooked lips and desperate hands. A phantom. A shadow. "The one who always solves it." No badge. No official record. Just results, and smoke.
Zach Weller, 19, reporter for the Inkridden Tribune, thought "that's the story." That shadow. That rumor.
Find Clary, write the truth, get his name on the front page, the real front page -not book reviews or school award listings. He needed this.
His father, a desk-bound ex-cop, called him foolish for chasing myths. But Zach had always trusted the trail, and Clary left just enough breadcrumbs.
In foggy 1950s London Clary is a shadow, an enigma, a riddle wrapped in a sarcastic comment. And Clary isn't even HER real name.