Midnight Investigations: Omnibus Pt. 2

It had been three more days in this hotel room. Joan had been getting antsy due to no hits on their website, no calls on their phone, and no emails regarding working as private investigators. In order to relieve some stress, Joan had decided to take Sable out on a walk for the day, leaving Claire back at the motel room.
Claire sat at the motel table, laptop set up on the tabletop. She was currently looking up various different odd jobs that could bring in some source of income for herself, her brother, and her best friend. Though nothing seemed to particularly stand out for her set of skills. A lot the jobs she was finding were heavy manual labor along with things that required more brute strength than anything else.
Claire drew a heavy sigh, hand reaching for the backside of the laptop before shutting it closed. Things were getting progressively more and more difficult for the family of three which made Claire worry for their future. She was a detective at heart, in mind, body, and soul; yet it seemed that Greengrow wasn’t in any particular need for that. All hope seemed to be lost until…
Diiiiing! Diiiiing! Diiiiing! Claire’s cellphone started to ring with an area code that was unfamiliar to her appearing on the caller ID. Reaching for the phone, she examined it, one brow arched at the number.
“Hello.” she answered softly yet clearly.
“Hello, is this Claire or Joan Cadaver?”
“Claire speaking, may I ask who this is?”
“Yes, hello, my name is Rosemary Isley. I don’t know who else to turn to. The police will not listen to me, every other private investigator has told me that I’m crazy, and well, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I read your ad on Craigslist. It stated you and your team work around unusual, paranormal, or unconventional cases, right?”
“Yes, I believe that would be us.”
“Wonderful!” she forced a laugh, though it was soon overcome with a voice of concern and worry, “Can you come to my house today, please? Between the 2:00PM and 4:00PM, as that’s when my husband and daughter are gone from the home. Any earlier or later will not due.”
“I can be there.”
“Thank you, Miss Cadaver. I look forward to seeing you. Goodbye.”
Click! The dial tone was heard as Claire’s face hardened. It seemed that a new mystery was afoot. She and Joan were most likely about to have their work cut out for them.

* * *

“Okay, so what the f*** are doin’ here in the suburbs, Claire?” asked Joan as he sat in driver’s seat of the Midnight Investigations van.
“I am unsure of the case entirely, but when woman who called me seemed rather distressed. I deduce that whatever we are here for will be in our best interest. Besides, we cannot afford to be selective when it comes to work.”
“I know, I know,” Joan turned up his nose, eyes glancing out the window to view the upper-middle class home that they had parked outside of. “It’s just when we enter middle-aged mom territories, my skin starts to crawl.”
“Wouldn’t that mean that you as a whole would start crawling, Joan? I do not believe that your skin can crawl without you attached to it.”
Joan chuckled, shaking his head, “I often wonder if you’re just f***in’ with me when it comes to my figures of speech.”
“That would be incestous and, despite me wanting to keep my sexual habits private, I am not interested in incest. Nor would you be my type if I were.”
“What?” Joan frowned, “Uh, go f*** yourself, I am every little incestous sister’s dream brother. F*** off.”
“You give yourself too much credit. While I love you as my brother, if you were not my brother, I do not believe I could love you.”
Joan’s eyes shot daggers towards the albino, “You’re joking right? You’re just trying to make one of your failure attempts at humor. You f***in’ love me.”
Claire gave a smirk, her hand opening the door, “Am I joking?”
“Uh, yeah, you have to be. Because that implies that I’m not lovable in any other way than being a sibling.”
“Yes, it does. I am aware of the implications,”  Without another word, Claire exited the door and left Joan in the car.
“Uh, what the f***?!” Joan yelled aloud before musing to himself, “She’s just f***in’ with me. There’s no way she’s serious. No f***in’ way. Claire is developing a sense of humor. It’s puberty for her personality, and humor are her brand new titties. Yeah. That’s gotta be it.”
Joan grabbed the door handle, pushing open the door to exit. He followed Claire towards the home’s entrance, still shaking off the shock of Claire being so insulting. He knew that she was joking, though there was a slight feeling of unease. What if she was being serious about not loving him for any other reason other than blood. This made Joan shudder, dashing towards where his sister was.
“Yo, Claire, wait up,” he called out as stood behind her. The duo were now on the patio of the home, “You WERE just f***ing with me, right?”
Claire glanced at her younger siblings, “What am I ‘f***ing’ with you about now, Joan?”
“Y’know, not loving me for any other reason than being my sister?”
“Why, are you afraid that I do not love you, Joan?”
“Uh, yeah, a little.”
“Joan,” Claire turned to her brother, “Search your feelings. You know the answer.”
“Oh, now you’re a f***in’ spiritual guru, huh? Just ‘search my feelings’,” Joan did finger air-quotes when saying that last part, “What’re you gonna train me in next, Obi-Wan? Just answer the f***in’ question, please.”
“Why are you so torn up about this?”
“Uh, because, I am severely insecure about my place in the world when it comes to people who are supposed to love me.”
Claire frowned at that declaration, her hand reaching for Joan’s shoulder. “I am f***ing with you, Joan. Do not worry. I am trying to joke with you so we may both be the funny siblings.”
“Huh?” Joan cocked a brow, “Why? You’re supposed to be the hardened, noir detective to my medically inept, yet comedically adept Dr. Watson, Claire. You don’t need to be funny.”
“I suppose that you are correct. However…”
“‘However’ what?”
“I too am insecure, Joan,” Claire stated, “I am afraid that I am uninteresting and quite plain.”
“You’re a bad-ass supernatural detective, Claire. Uninteresting and plain are two words that should stray far away from you.”
“Occupationally, yes. But I cannot help but feel like personality-wise, I am a tad… soporific.”
“I don’t even know what the f*** that means.”
Claire sighed, her fist raising to ring the doorbell that was in front of them. As the bell ding, she followed the sound with an “It does not matter, Joan.”
“Yeah it does, Claire! If you’re feelin’ insecure, obviously it matters. What makes you feel this way, anyway?”
“I suppose that it is because--”
The door to the home was then opened with a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. She had crows feet on her eyes, her hair cut short, and dressed exactly how most would imagine any woman her age to dress. Immediately, the middle-aged woman was taken aback by Claire’s unworldly appearance.
“Oh goodness,” she gasped, “A-Are you… Claire Cadaver?”
Claire’s attention was taken off of her brother’s question, black eyes focusing on the woman. She could tell that the woman was obviously scared of her unusual features. That’s when Claire reached into the pocket of her pants to pull out a pair of aviator sunglasses that she placed on her face to cover her eyes.
“Yes, I am Claire Cadaver,” her hand reached out to shake the woman’s, “With me is my brother, Joan Cadaver. You must be Rosemary Isley.”
The woman, on the other hand, seemed reluctant to touch Claire and instead gazed upon her unnatural appearance with fear. “Yes, that is me. It is a pleasure.”
Joan arched a brow at the middle-aged woman. He never liked when people always treated Claire like she was some sort of freak due to her unusual eyes and pale complexion. That was his flesh and blood; a human being, yet everyone always treated her like she was a freak.
“Not what you were expectin’, Stepford Wife?” Joan scoffed rudely, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a fuc--”
“Joan,” Claire lifted the hand she was going to shake the woman’s with up to where Joan stood, indicating him to halt his insults. Her face turned to him as she shook her head back and forth, “Now is not the time for that, Joan.”
At this point, the woman was looking rather fearful of what Joan was about to say next. She was, at least by Joan’s standards, the timid type who likely didn’t get out much.
“Yeah, yeah,” Joan grumbled, still pissy at the fact that this woman had to be so rude. Still, he slid his hands into his pockets and glared towards the woman. “Nice to meet ya, Stepford Wife.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Please, come inside,” though she was verbally welcoming, her unwanted, fearful eyes and twitchy body indicated that she was reluctant to let them inside.
“So,” spoke Claire, entering with Joan behind her. Claire took note of the woman’s unusual mannerisms. “You sounded quite fussed over during your call. What is it that we are looking into today?”
Joan, on the other hand, was quick to forget the woman’s rudeness, and instead had his eyes glaze over the area. It was exactly what he had expected from the home of a well-off, middle-aged white woman living in the suburbs. He let out a whistle.
“We’ve stumbled into white privilege territory,” Sarcasm, obviously, though there was some disdain in Joan’s voice, “Lemme guess, your case is that your Mexican gardener is suddenly gone. Well, don’t worry, I know where he is. The person you voted for probably deported ‘im. Case closed!”
The woman shut the door behind her, stepping in front of the two siblings. She shook her head at Joan’s sardonicism, “No, this has nothing to do with my gardener. This has to deal with my daughter.”
“Daughter, huh? Did she run off with those ‘damned negroes’ and now yo--”
“Joan,” Claire interrupted, shooting a glare towards her brother,“Now is not the time for that.”
“Right, right. Sorry. Please, go on,” Joan gave a quick wave of his hand towards the woman.
“What exactly has happened with your daughter, Ms. Isley?”
The woman fidgeted around, fingers starting to twiddle with anxiety. “You see, my daughter is missing.”
“Did you call the f***in’ cops?” spat Joan.
“Yes, were the authorities informed?” followed Claire.
“No. No, they were not. I cannot inform the authorities because my daughter missing is something no one else seems to think happened.”
“What the f*** does that mean?”
“Yes, what exactly does that mean?”
Rosemary looked to her feet, fingers twiddling together, “Please, follow me, and I will try to explain this to the best of my ability.”

* * *

Rosemary was quiet as she led Joan and Claire out of the foyer of her home and into the upstairs bedroom which belonged to her daughter. As the door to the room opened, she allowed the siblings to enter before her, arms crossing in discomfort, as if she didn’t like where she was currently standing.
The room was common. It looked like the room of a college student. It was tidy, neat, and had a green and blue color scheme. Potted plants aligned the windowsills. By green that the plants had displayed, they were likely taken care of regularly. In the corner of the bedroom was a computer desk with a high-grade monitor resting on the surface.
“Wowza, so this is what it feels like to be a white and privileged bitch from the Georgia suburbs, eh Claire?” said Joan as he viewed the room.
Claire’s intense eyes paid no mind to her brother’s typical rantings, instead focusing on the mother who had brought them here. “Why exactly are we here?”
The mother, who was standing in the doorway, sighed, “I believe that my daughter is missing because she has been replaced by someone else.”
“Replaced by someone else?” Claire arched a brow, “What are you implying?”
“You see,” Rosemary sighed, “My daughter, Erica was a sweet, young freshman in college. She stayed here during the nights and went to her campus during the days. Most of the time, we barely see her because she’s either out for class or in her room on the computer. She’s an introverted girl, pudgy cheeks, green hair, and a tad on the portly side. But one day…”
“One day…?” Joan rolled his eyes as this story was getting less and less believable with each word.
“One day she becomes a beautiful, busty blonde and suddenly is extroverted. She continues to retain certain traits of Erica, but she’s different.”
“Yeah,” Joan chuckled, “Plastic surgery typically is for the self-esteem, lady. So I imagine she is different.”
“Joan,” Claire halted her brother, focusing her black eyes on the woman. She could tell that Rosemary was distressed by her expression. It was plain to see that Rosemary felt very deeply about her daughter. “What exactly are you saying happened, miss?”
“I… I don’t know,” Rosemary gasped, her face turning red as tears ran down her face, “One moment she’s my Erica. One moment she’s the baby I helped create and when I go to wake her up in the morning, a… a blonde, busty girl comes out of her room. She’s no longer shy or soft-spoken, but instead, she’s energetic, happy, and wanting to talk all the time. She’s thin, she’s… she’s not Erica.”
“Okay, I’m gonna stop because you sound super f***in’ insane,” Joan held out his hand, “But we thought this was an actual job, lady. Not you trying’ta yank our cocks when we need cash.”
“No! I’m not yanking you in any way! My daughter has been replaced! She’s… she’s been replaced by someone else who is parading around as her!”
“Hoo-boy,” Joan rolled his eyes back in disbelief.  
“What my brother is trying to ask is… If your daughter has been replaced, what do her friends, her father, and those close to her think? Would they not notice that she has been ‘replaced’ as you claim?”
“No! They don’t realize it! In fact, they think she is Erica! They don’t seem to remember that Erica was chubby, had green hair, was shy, introverted. They