Detective Breitkat
Hi! I'm Breitkat (pronounced Bright-Cat). I got that name because my dad named me for my mother, who died soon after I was born, and because I have a cat (or rather, Her Highness owns me).
I was raised as a diplomat's kid, and my dad took me all over the world while he did his work as a Scientific Emissary (don't ask me what that means, he won't tell me!!). Anyway, I got to meet lots of really interesting people and do lots of things that most other kids never even dream of (like riding a camel and speaking Gaelic).
After university, I tried getting a regular job like everyone else, but that lasted about twenty minutes (for some strange reason, I just didn't seem to fit in). So I decided to go back on the road and work for an international newspaper, the World Herald. Every so often I help out some of Dad's friends when they need some information or someone found, or even the occasional murder or other intrigue solved. One day, a private investigator contacted me and asked if I would like to help him too. I said why not, and here I am.
Speaking of favors, probably the most unique one involved my helping the Maharajah of Bengal a couple of years ago. I managed to track down his Ruby-Studded Reading Glasses (the poor man can't see a thing without them). In return for my 'brilliance' (I didn't think it was that big a deal, but okay...), His Majesty presented me with a small multi-colored kitten. He told me she was a sub-species of the Bengal tiger, and she would only get to be about fifty pounds big, but she would still have the spirit of a tiger and would protect me wherever I went. I couldn't pronounce the name he gave her so I tried an approximation and called her Missy.
She goes everywhere with me and is just adorable. She's very well-trained, but she does have something of an obsession with feathers and shoes (I have no clue why!). Everyone falls in love with her as soon as they lay eyes on her (distant yell, "YYEOW!"). Well, almost everybody. Missy, how many times do I have to tell you, don't chew on the director??!!! (distant even louder yell, NNNNNOOOOO!!!!!") Or the director's shoes!!!! Do you have any idea how much custom-made rattlesnake cowboy boots cost??? For that matter, do I have any idea how much custom cowboy boots cost?? Oh Missy...
(group chorus of shouts, "BAD KITTY!!")
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Detective Sir Kenneth Vyvyan
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Detective Woody2
The younger of twin brothers he is much smarter and with his keen eye and methodic ways solves most of his cases without leaving his fridge oops I mean office
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Detective Anikka
I’d thought it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Oh, I know I’ve come so far from where I’ve been, but… Imagine, me, little Anikka Sevine, the little girl from Queens, hanging out with a Prince.
Back in the day, I’d gone directly from high school graduation to my new job at the newspaper. They’d tried to put me with the society editor, but that had only lasted a few days. My boss had picked up on the slightest breath of a delicious scandal, and I’d dug deeper than my peers. Deep enough to find the ugly truth, save a society girl’s reputation, and have a dirty cop locked away.
I was wasted on the society desk, and they knew it. So I’d gone to work the crime beat, with the big boys. They gave me a little respect – standing up to and exposing a dirty cop is a dangerous undertaking – and I turned out to be pretty good at my job.
Too good.
That’s how I ended up doing work as a private detective. Doing that work is how I ended up at Big Lucy's Cabaret. And being there is how I ended up running an agency with Breitkat. Being good on the crime beat was just a precursor to being a good detective. It doesn’t always make the cops happy, but they don’t hang around Big Lucy’s; the Mayor does, and he doesn’t want ‘em there.
Maybe that's why the Cabaret is my home away from home; and Home is my suite at the Agency.
Poor Momma, poor Daddy; they don't understand the world I'm a part of, and they don't understand how or why I can be a part of it. They know I help people - that's what they hold on to, to keep from dragging me home, as if they could keep me there.
My brothers, well... Billy and Rick think it's great that their big sister does "all kinds of neat detective stuff". They don't really understand what's involved. Sometimes, it's your soul.
Kevin, though... he gets it. He should get it, he's a cop. He knows.And even if he didn't know, that's okay - he accepts me the way I am, and always has.
What else are big brothers for?