Interview With a Private Eye
It’s release week for the Three Midnight Curfews!
Three different takes on the Cinderella story, and I couldn’t be more excited about more Cinderella stories in the world!
Today, I get to introduce you to a character who has quickly become a new favorite over the past couple of years: Bastian Dennel, Private Eye. His newest case file releases TODAY, so make sure you head on over and grab your copy ASAP!
InterFiction had sent me to some interesting places, and this was no exception. Innsjoby was a place I’d been hoping to get to visit one of these days, and if I wasn’t careful, I could spend all my time just wandering around looking at all the sights. But I am here for a purpose, so I check the address and take a turn down the correct street….
As I wander down the fairly narrow street of Innsjoby's Old City, I finally spot what I am looking for: a red brick building squished up against the buildings next to it. I enter and climb the stairs to the office door of Bastian Dennel, Private Investigator. My knock is answered with a muffled, "Come in," and I enter the office, excited to finally be in this place I've only read about.
Behind the wooden desk sits the man himself. Bastian Dennel. He looks up from some papers, his black curls looking a little mussed, as if he has just recently taken off his customary brown fedora.
He stands and offers a hand to shake. “I’m Bastian Dennel. What can I do for you?”
Bastian Dennel
Artwork by HSJ Williams
I smile and extend my hand. "I'm Jenelle Schmidt. I'm with the InterFiction Gazette working on a story about you. Mind answering a few questions?"
“Ah, right. Kona mentioned your paper had called about an interview. I have to say, I didn’t think I’d gotten enough attention for you newshawks to run a piece on me when I haven’t just solved a case.” Bastian gestures to the slightly worn chairs in front of the desk. “Have a seat and ask away. I’ll do my best to answer — though I’m sure you realize there’s things I can’t say. My clients don’t pay for mockingbirds.”
"I completely understand,” I reply. “And thank you for your time. So, you're a private investigator. Can you tell me a little bit about how you got into this line of work?"
“Sure. Not that there’s much to tell.” Bastian shrugs slightly. “One of my mother’s friends, Mr. Hurit, was a P.I. He’d come over for dinner now and then — he’d never married, so I think he liked being around a family for a change. He got to know me and my siblings pretty well, and he noticed that I had a keen eye and a knack for picking up details and making connections. So, when I was getting ready to graduate high school and looking for work, he offered to take me on as his assistant. It sounded more interesting than any of my other options, since it meant wearing out my soles in the city rather than standing around in a shop or factory all day, so I agreed. Once I started, I found out I liked the job. After I’d worked long enough, I got certified, and then I took over the business once Mr. Hurit was ready to retire. That’s all there is.”
"Interesting.” My pen flies across my paper. I glance up. “Speaking of your family, can you tell me a little bit about them? Are they supportive of your chosen profession?"
A short laugh escapes Bastian. “Well, my parents would probably be happier if I were in a less hazardous career. But we all know that wouldn’t suit me, and they’re proud of what I’ve accomplished and of the fact that I’ve been able to help people out of bad situations here and there. Anyway, it’s not like I’m the only one in the family to take some risks and step a little off the beaten path — when my dad was my age, he was climbing aboard a ship from Gallis, leaving to make a new life here.” He pauses. “As far as the rest of my family goes, well, you talked to my sister, Kona, yesterday. She just came on part-time as my assistant after she got tangled up in a case and we found out she has the same knack for figuring things out that I do. Roselle’s her twin; she’s studying vet science at Innsjøby College — the only one of us so far who’s had the patience for higher academics. And there’s my brothers. André married his high school sweetheart and got a quiet job as a shop clerk; Ahanu’s still in school, and it’s anyone’s guess what he’ll decide to do. I can’t see him joining me, though.”
I smile. “Yes, I enjoyed listening to Kona recount how she got into your line of work. What a story that was! Speaking of cases, what would you say has been your toughest case?"
“Disappearances are usually the hardest cases to work, in multiple ways.” Bastian’s tone suggests he’s answered this question before. “You’re working under pressure — evidence dries up fast, especially if the leaf-ears are behind it, and the longer the case takes, the greater the risk I’ll find a body instead or never find the person at all. Besides that, you’re working with a family that’s scared and caught between grief and hope, and you’re often working against the worst kinds of people.”
I nod. “That makes sense.” I glance over my notes. "You just mentioned ‘leaf-ears.’ I have heard that there are magical beings living in your world. Can you tell me a little bit about them? What is it like living in a world where people can actually walk into each other's dreams and the fair folk can perform actual magic? Doesn't that make it difficult for regular folks to have normal lives?"
Bastian raises an eyebrow. “Slow down there. That’s a lot of questions — and I’ve got one for you. Last time I checked, I live in the same world as everyone else does. Why the specification?”
I stare at him and feel that familiar clench in my stomach. I never know, going into an interview, if the character I’ll be speaking with knows that they are fictional. Time for some epic back-pedaling and wibbly-wobbly-ness. “I meant… in your line of work… the world of being a private investigator… do magic and magical beings make it more difficult to do your job? I mean, do they ever get in the way?”
Bastian seems mostly satisfied with this, albeit still a little wary. “Fair enough. The dreamwalkers don’t make trouble for me — or, as far as I can tell, for anyone else. For the most part, what happens in dreams, stays in dreams, and I’ve heard the sleepwalkers are the ones who make sure things stay that way. If that’s true, I’ll thank them; I’ve seen what a waking nightmare looks like, and I’m not keen on repeating the experience.
“As far as the fair folk go . . .” Bastian thinks for a minute, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “Of course, they can make my job more difficult. It’s harder to find a missing person when they’ve been turned into a cat or enchanted into walking calmly away with their kidnappers. It’s tricker to track down a suspect when they can glamour themselves a new face in a few minutes. But it’s not impossible. The leaf-ears make mistakes, just like humans do, and I have my tricks to see through what they do. Besides, Solorele isn't the Old World, and most of the fair folk don't have the same level of power they did — in fact, most leaf-ears you'll meet on the street aren't dangerous at all; they just want to keep their heads down and make an honest living like the rest of us. The Director, the Isdrottning, the Fair Family's Godfather — they're the exceptions, not the rule. The average person isn't going to get kidnapped and taken Underhill for a hundred years or tricked into trading away their first kid. Is there risk? Sure. But if you're smart, keep your eyes and ears open, and don't hand out bits of yourself or open-ended promises, you can go cradle to grave without running into any magic greater than December strawberries or an unusually bad storm." He finally cracks a wry smile. "Unless, of course, you're like me and you pick a career that'll repeatedly put you face-to-face with the worst that both fair folk and humankind have to offer. Then you'll see plenty of trouble, magical and otherwise."
I breathe a sigh of relief that he isn’t going to push against my mis-step of a question and plow forward, hoping he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it. A smart character like Bastian might be able to put the pieces together, and his author probably won’t thank me for helping him figure out that he’s fictional. "Are you working on any cases now? Can you tell me about them?"
Bastian’s expression grows a little more guarded. “I’m working a case now, yes. Like I said earlier, there’s only so much I can tell. Like I said earlier, I can’t go spilling secrets to the four winds, though word seems to be getting around about this one anyway.” His eye twitches, as if he’s suppressing a wince. “I can say that I’m trying to find a particular person, though she’s not exactly missing, and that the case has ended up more complicated than I expected. Come back when I’m done and maybe I’ll be able to tell you more.”
I nod. “I had to ask, of course. But I don’t want to put anyone’s case in danger with too many questions. Here’s one that’s probably safer for you to answer: What are some tips you would give to someone wanting to get into private investigating?"
Bastian relaxes, and again he responds as if he’s answered some variation of this question before. “Learn to keep your eyes open, notice who and what’s around you, and recognize patterns and connections when you come across them — there’s more skill in that than you think. It helps if you have a particular kind of mindset and personality already, but I hear it can be learned. Get used to the idea that every case won’t be flashy, and even the dangerous ones have a lot of boring parts. Be prepared to pick up jobs between cases to make ends meet, especially when you start out. And find yourself a mentor, someone to teach you the ropes like Mr. Hurit did for me — ideally, someone who’s experienced and well-connected and is willing to pass all that on to you. The mindset and the mentor are the two most important elements.”
“I’m sure my readers will be interested in these tips, thank you.” I frown, trying to figure out what to ask next. "If you could go anywhere in the world for a visit, where would you want to go and what would you want to see or do there?"
“Huh. Never had that question before.” Bastian leans back in his seat. “Honestly, the only time I really think about leaving the city is when a case seems like it’s going to go wrong and I’m looking to avoid a sudden death via lead poisoning. Obviously, it hasn’t come to that yet. But if I had the chance to travel for pleasure, well . . .” He thinks a little more. “Maybe Ajake over in Oyo-Ile — that’s part of Alkebulan. I hear it’s supposed to have some of the best theater and music in the world. Of course, that would cost a fortune, and Innsjøby’s on that same list, so I’m happy here.”
I jot down his answer and then, feeling just a bit evil, I decide to ask him a question purely out of personal curiosity. "By the by, how are things going with Dayo?"
Bastian goes very still for a moment. Then, with a tone flatter than the road outside, he replies, “That’s a very personal question, Mrs. Schmidt. If you have to know, yes, Miss Temitrope and I have remained friends since I solved her case, and we see each other now and then, but she’s a very busy woman, so I haven’t been able to meet with her in some time. However, I don’t see how that’s relevant to our discussion.”
"I do apologize, but getting personal is part of the job.” I give him my most winning smile. “My readers want to know the real Bastian Dennel, you understand. I had to ask. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I apologize if that question crossed a line. Anyway, just two more questions: first, what is your favorite book?"
Bastian grows slightly less tense, though he still looks a bit wary, as if he expects a similarly prying question to come along. “That’s hard to say. Rosie’s the bookworm in the family, not me — I’d rather see a play, when I can afford it, or listen to one of the new radio dramas. I did like The Ayomides — it’s a novel about a pair of long-lost siblings with the same name, equal parts comedy and drama. It’s been a while since I read it, but the Golden Hour Troupe did a great radio adaptation about a month ago.”
I nod. "And finally, if you could talk to your author and ask them to change one thing about your life, what would you ask for?"
For a moment, Bastian is as confused as before. “I don’t know what you mean about an author. But taken generally . . .” He thinks for a minute. “If I could change the past, I’d wish that my family hadn’t ended up in debt like we did. Then we wouldn’t have had to spend so long cutting any corner we could to save a little money, and it wouldn’t have taken a few miracles in a row for Rosie to start at college when she did. But all in all, I’m happy with how things have turned out for me.”
I smile and rise from my chair, extending my hand. My badge is flashing ominously, and I’m sure Bastian will notice it. He shakes my hand and I thank him for his time before making as normal an exit as I can from his office. Once outside, the world blurs around me and I soon find myself back in my living room, a small smile on my face. It is always a pleasure getting to hang out with Bastian, even if he isn’t usually aware of my presence.
Do you enjoy a good mystery? How about fantasy-flavored mystery? If so, then this is definitely going to be your cup of tea!
Who is your favorite fictional detective?
I’d have to say that mine is probably Batman.