The Detective's Daughter F/f

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DuckStewStories
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The Detective's Daughter F/f

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Wendy Peppercorn stomped impatiently around the apartment. Her father was due to arrive at any moment. He'd solved another high-profile case, meaning a celebration was in order.

Jack Peppercorn was one of the most highly sought-after private detectives in Roosevelt City. He'd managed to solve cases ranging from kidnappings to murders. He even found time to find lost pets.

In fact, his last big case had been a dognapping ring. Wendy had begged him to take on the case of the missing dog. Her father had agreed because the client's parents were wealthy. And it turned out many rich folks had had dogs go missing lately.

It turned out they'd abduct the dog, wait for a suitable reward to be announced, and then return them to their rightful owner. Such a small profile case had become a massive earner for Jack.

And he'd promised to take Wendy out once it'd been settled.

*RING*

Wendy practically jumped out of her Mary Janes at the sudden noise. She'd dressed up for their night out, white shirt, fluffy red skirt, black jacket, white tights, and white Mary Janes. She'd ensured her father didn't skimp for such a significant score.

"Hello?" she said, answering the phone.

"Hello, may I speak with Mr. Peppercorn, please?" a pleasant feminine voice said.

"I'm sorry, my father's not in right now," Wendy replied, hopping onto the adjacent seat. She crossed her legs and let them swing.

"Your father? Am I addressing the lovely young Wendy Peppercorn?"

Wendy beamed at the question. She'd been trying to get her father to let her help for years, and he'd recently begun relenting. It'd been good for business. The young dog owner had approached her father due to trusting Wendy.

"That's me," she almost shouted.

"Well, Ms. Peppercorn…" Wendy giggled at being addressed so formally. "…I suppose I'll have to call back later."

*CLICK*

Wendy smiled and continued swinging her Mary Janes as she hung up the phone. She'd have to remember to tell her father they called.

She paused. She had no idea who had called, only that it was a woman with a pleasant voice. Probably a potential client. But why hadn't they left a name?

If she was going to be a detective like her father someday, she needed to begin paying better attention. Also, this may be an excellent first case—the mysterious caller.

Perhaps she could ask the operator to check for her. She lifted the phone from its cradle and placed her finger into the 0 slot.

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*

Her father had finally arrived home! She leaped from the stool, dropped the phone onto the small table it rested on, and rushed for the door. She was so excited that she didn't pause to realize her father would never knock three times. Their code for all clear was 3-2-3.

"Where are you taking me?" Wendy gleefully asked, flinging the door wide. But it wasn't her father standing on the doorstep. Instead, it was a young woman wearing a red dress, nude tights, and black heels.

"Nowhere yet, Ms. Peppercorn," she replied.

Wendy's first instinct was to slam the door closed. But this woman was much bigger and would block it easily. So instead, Wendy squinted her wide, surprised eyes into an inquisitive glare.

"May I help you?" Wendy said, attempting to keep her voice even.

"I'm here to see your father, Ms. Peppercorn," the woman replied coolly.

"He's not here. I'd say you're welcome to wait, but we'll be heading out once he comes home. So you'd be better off coming back tomorrow."

The woman smirked. "I believe I'll just wait here for him."

Wendy's body went cold. The woman hadn't moved, but something in her tone implied that she'd be getting her way. The smirk seemed to emphasize it. She was like a cat playing with a mouse. Although the mouse desperately tried to escape, the cat knew it had it.

Wendy's mind raced. She knew where her father kept his spare revolver and how to use it, but it was in his sock drawer. The woman would easily catch her if she tried to run down the hall. But what other options did she have? The woman had called her bluff, and now it was time to show her cards.

"Well, my dear?"

Wendy looked past the woman toward the empty staircase. "Dad!" she cried.

The woman kept her eyes on Wendy, which seemed to agitate her. Although she knew it was a bluff, her mind wondered if there was indeed someone approaching silently from behind her. She chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Wendy slammed the door shut and took off down the hall. She heard the door fly open behind her and the clicking of the woman's heels gaining on her. Wendy's Mary Janes skidded on the hardwood floor, and she slammed into the bedroom doorframe. The pain failed to register as she lunged for her father's dresser and yanked open the top drawer.

"Got you!" the woman triumphantly shrieked as she grabbed Wendy's hair, yanking her back.

"Let me go! Hel—"

"Oh, shut up," the woman said. She grabbed a sock and stuffed it into Wendy's open mouth.

"Mmph!"

"Come on, let's go."

The woman folded her hand over Wendy's mouth, squeezing the sock deeper into her throat. She sucked ragged breaths through her nostrils as the woman lifted her against her bosom and carried her back into the hallway.

She shoved Wendy into the chair next to the phone. "Don't you move," she said, pointing a finger that might as well have been a pistol.

Wendy trembled but did not attempt to leave the seat as the woman grabbed the phone and yanked the cord from the rotary dial, leaving the handset dangling.

"Hands."

She apparently realized this wasn't the first time Wendy had been taken hostage. Wendy dutifully complied, turning slightly and crossing her hands behind her back. The woman wrapped the cord around Wendy's wrists, pulling the ends tight before feeding the one end through and knotting it tightly. The handpiece thunked against the chair as the woman shoved Wendy back.

Then she grabbed the cord from the wall and ripped it free. Wendy placed her feet together without being told and allowed the woman to bind her ankles with the other cord. She felt it biting into her skin through the tights.

Wendy glanced toward the open door and the empty hallway. Where was her father?

"Oh, don't worry, dear," the woman said, producing a white handkerchief, "he'll be along shortly." She began to laugh as she knotted the cloth over the sock, securing it in place. Its point hung below Wendy's chin, flapping in the wind as she chewed on the sock.

"Mmmm…"

"You keep quiet if you don't want to be hurt."

The woman wandered down the hall. Wendy listened to the fading click of her heels before struggling earnestly.

“Hmph…grmph…”

The cords held a firm grip, securing her in place. The phone's handpiece continually thunked against the chair as she began to slide forward. Perhaps she could hop to the door?

"I didn't just leave that on for aesthetic purposes," the woman said. "I figured a bell would be too obvious." She slid Wendy back on the chair and held her father's revolver before her. "Thanks for this, by the way. Much easier than having to use my own."

Wendy frantically shook her head. "Mn mm! Mn mm!"

*SMACK*

The woman smacked her across the cheek. "I had a good thing going with my little dognapping ring. Nobody was getting hurt. But your father stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. And now…" she cocked the revolver, "… someone's getting hurt."

Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairwell. The woman smirked at Wendy.

"Shhhhh…"

She turned and aimed the pistol toward the door, holding it steady in both hands. Wendy sucked in a deep breath. The sock had grown soggy in her mouth, and she hoped to produce a loud enough scream to warn her father. The footsteps grew louder, the weary thud of a long day at the office.

They paused at the top of the stairs. Wendy glanced from the doorway to the woman. Her finger tensed on the trigger, ready to give it a final squeeze. An image flashed in her mind: Her father running in at the sound of her scream and being gunned down. The woman would likely turn the gun on her next.

Without thinking, Wendy shoved off the chair. The phone's handpiece thunked against the wood, and the woman glanced toward her just as her Mary Janes hit the ground and she launched herself into her side.

*BLAM*

The gunshot was deafening. Wendy rolled off the woman, twisted her body, and began to kick wildly. Her Mary Janes collided with a mixture of body and air. Then she heard the click of the hammer being pulled back.

"Drop it!" her father shouted.

Wendy stopped kicking. She looked to the doorway and saw her father aiming his pistol with steely resolve. Looking at the woman, she held the revolver limply in one hand. Her eyes darted between Wendy and her father.

Finally, she lowered the gun and looked at Wendy.

"Be seeing you, Ms. Peppercorn."