FPI -- Frilly Pantied Investigator

Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown

Recently, my unpredictable muse presented me with an interesting concept for an action/adventure type story. I came up with a really neat title image, got a first scene, then ... nothing. Well, not actually nothing. I do have a feel for where the story might go and a vague idea of whodunnit, but no real story. I'm hoping someone else might see what I have so far and maybe have some suggestions on how to get from here to the end of the story. Here's to hoping!

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I had spread a brand new box of crayons around my coloring book and was trying to decide if I wanted My Little Pony's mane to be orchid or lavender when I heard the faint but unmistakable scritch of someone picking the locks to my apartment. More out of instinct than any specific plan of action, I quietly rolled towards my bedroom door, slid into a standing position, flattened myself against the wall, and switched off the light.

A moment later, the brief jangle of the security chain told me whomever was trying to break in had managed to pick both the main lock and the deadbolt a lot more quickly than any amateur could manage. Reaching under my skirt, I silently cursed the layers of crinoline before I found my weapon in the holster strapped around my carefully shaved thigh.

On the one hand, wearing a gun under a frilly, baby blue party dress felt odd ... even odder than wearing the dress. On the other hand, years of service in the Bureau had made carrying a weapon second nature to me; I felt naked without it. Up until a year ago, the Federal Bureau of Investigation had been my life. Before I could really start getting seriously bitter about my forced "retirement", the sharp snick of a chain being cut quickly brought my attention back to the present.

The door creaked noisily as it opened. It was a creak I had purposely fostered for just such an occasion. Light flooded the entry hall, followed by a shadow. It was the invader's first real mistake. My heart thumped under my ribcage as the shadow approached.

I held my breath when it paused outside the bedroom door and hoped the thunder of my pulse hadn't been heard. The mother-of-pearl handle was beginning to feel slick in my sweaty grip. Just as the invader began moving again, I reached around the door frame, grabbed what felt like a handful of collar, and yanked hard.

Before he could react, I slammed him against the door and shoved my weapon in his face. Yes, I said he and his. The hair and body language suggested female, but the general shape I could see under his heavy overcoat said male. At that particular moment, I was too pissed to be politically correct. "Okay buddy," I whispered, "you're seriously cutting into my playtime. Tell me who you are and what you're doing here before your neck winds up enjoying a pleasant breeze."

My captive mumbled incoherently around a mouthful of steel. Realizing my mistake, I pulled the muzzle back a few inches. "Okay, try that again."

"Richard ... is that really you?"

I lifted the muzzle a few inches and pressed it against his forehead. "I'm the one asking the questions. Let's try it one more time. Who are you?"

"D-Don't you recognize me? It's your old boss, Barry."

I took a second look and realized he was telling the truth. My former supervisor went cross-eyed as I released the safety. "You're not giving me a very good reason to not blow your head off."

"Please, I n-need your help."

"After the crap you put me through, you've got the nerve to come asking for help? Why the hell should I?"

"J-just. ..." Barry paused and closed his eyes. "Just open my coat. It'll explain everything."

I undid the top two buttons. Underneath I found a pink peter-pan collar trimmed in white eyelet lace. "Okay," I said as I reset the safety and took a step back, "you've got my attention."