I woke up with a hangover and a face full of unpaid bills. You'd think a private investigator would get used to falling asleep at his desk after doing it enough times. But then, you'd think a P.I. would have a proper bed to go home to. I guess I'm just another of life's disappointments.
I sat up, stretching a little to get the crick out of my everything, and found an unwelcome reminder that I hadn't locked my office door. I've had the pleasure of waking up in the presence of a beautiful woman before, back when she would still give me the time of day - but this was different, seeing as how we'd never met and neither of us was happy to see the other.
She'd made herself at home in the chair I keep for guests. Anyone could've told you she was a top-shelf dame, and not just because she had the legs to reach it. She was wearing a blue cheongsam, like the ones they make waitresses wear in fancy Chinese restaurants. Hers didn't look like a uniform. It looked like real silk, and was tailored tight enough to magnetize roving eyes. It was an unusual choice for a blonde, but she made it work. Maybe because the novelty cat ears in her hair and the tail emerging from her dress' slit made the ostentation seem deliberate - or maybe just because she had a face and body to break hearts from 500 yards' away. No purse, though, which was unusual in an outfit with no pockets. It meant the kind of money that could afford a driver waiting in a car outside - and the kind of case I'd probably regret taking later.
"Good afternoon, Detective Hammett. You are Detective Hammett, I presume?" She was curt and all business. Folks don't call on a P.I. when they're in a good mood and trouble-free.
"Sure, last time I checked." My voice was high and raspy, like I'd gargled bleach in my dreams. I guessed being half asleep and hung over could do that. "You don't look like any saleswoman I've seen, and a loan shark would be more pleased to see me."
"I'm a woman in need of your help, detective," she replied, "assuming you can help me. Tell me, how do I look?"
No name, and one hell of a loaded question to foist on a guy before his breakfast. Not a great start to a relationship. But I'd been doing more begging than choosing recently, and when a prospective client asks a P.I. what they see, what they really want to know is whether the fee will be worth it.
I looked her up and down, mostly for show. Like I said, it's what clients expect. "You look like you came from money," I said. Always start with the obvious. "You came from a good family, went to a good school. Co-ed. Not Catholic. You got driven here, and the driver gets a paycheck. The same driver takes you to a lot of places. You got changed after lunch and before coming here, a nicety most visitors to this neck of the woods don't bother with. That probably means you ate at home, not out with friends, and that something was making you nervous while you ate. Getting changed took you a while, since you're not used to wearing that getup. You're not married or engaged. You don't work, at least not on weekdays. Hobbies include writing, appreciating foreign cinema... And cosplay, obviously."
Her ears perked up at that last part - and I mean the cat ears on top of her head actually twitched upright like they were real. Suddenly they were more of a magnet for my eyes than her dress was. "That's a neat trick," I said. "You design those yourself?"
"Not unless one in ten people in this city came up with them at the same time. Tell me detective, do you have a mirror here?"
I shrugged. "Just six and half more years bad luck."
"Then I suggest you look down."
I ran my eyes down her body to my own, where they encountered my rumpled shirt - a shirt that was filled out a lot better than it had been the night before.
"As you can see," she continued, "it's not just me who suddenly looks like a cosplayer, Detective. As of this morning, about a tenth of the people in this city look the same as us. Ears, tail, figure, and all."
It was hard to believe, but easy enough to see. I stood up from my chair, opened the blinds on my window, and looked out at the street below. The folk outside were all going about their business normally - but just as the lady said, a few had an extra pair of ears, a tail following them, and looked more like celluloid stars and pin-up darlings than the average joe.
I turned around. The afternoon sun had cast my shadow on the floorboards - and while I'd been a man the night before, my new silhouette told a different story. It said I had hips that wouldn't quit, a chest to stop traffic, and a waist like an anorexic teenager - all atop a set of legs some broke guys I know would pay good money to see uncross. The duds I was wearing had changed size to fit: I recognised the stains on my shirt, but now it was cut for a dame whose necktie had to rappel around an overhang. No brassiere, for reasons I'm sure you can imagine. To see much lower than that, I'd have needed that mirror I didn't have, or at least some privacy.
Sometimes life sucks all the air out of your lungs, but I try not to get caught speechless. "At least I'm still dressed comfortably."
"As is everybody affected by this, Detective. I'm sure you've realised, but this is no mere drug in the water. Some one or thing has taken it upon themselves to change a great many of the people in this city, wardrobes and all. What's worse is that almost no-one realises. Not counting the two of us, there are only three people I know of who've noticed things have changed."
I let out a breath. "This is one hell of a story you're telling me, and my own body's what I'd call compelling evidence. But it's the kind of thing you'd call a priest for, or a shrink maybe. What do you want a guy like me for?"
"Why, to investigate, Detective!" She sounded genuinely surprised this wasn't my field of expertise. "To find out who did this, how, and why. If someone can make this kind of change to the world without anyone noticing, I and my family need to know. I saw your advertisement in the papers, Detective. I'll pay double your usual rate, plus expenses. First week's pay in advance, more to follow if you provide results."
Two weeks' worth of cash up front. Enough to keep the wolves from my door, even if it didn't stop them coming back for scraps. "You do understand I don't give refunds?"
"I understand that you're the fifth private eye I've called on today, Detective. So far you're the only one who doesn't think I've gone crazy."
A guy with bills to pay couldn't argue with that. I just had to hope that cat-girl changers needed the same tricks to track down as cheaters and con-men.
Thu Apr 23 03:44:45 2026
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