It was my first day as a detective and my office had been open for about twenty minutes when the door opened.

  I set myself up as a detective for three reasons, partly because I thought it would be interesting work, to solve my parents murder, and to solve my father's final case. I'd apprenticed under a detective for a few months, a man who was friends with my aunt Margaret. He'd taught me the basics of detective work along with help from some books that had been in a chest my father had left me after his death. There had been a few notebooks detailing how he as a detective worked cases and occasionally sought help from both the magical world and the mundane. My father had also left me with a rather interesting Sherlock Holmes style brass magnifying glass that he'd created himself.

  I stood there surrounded by boxes with a note taped to the door. The note, written in marker said: Frost Detective Agency, Now Open. I was using a box cutter to open the top of the coffee maker box I'd bought online and had shipped to the dinky rent controlled apartment I currently shared with my roommate Mike, who was moving out at the end of the month. So I had to find a new place to live. I'd moved a lot as a kid in the foster system.

  "I hate moving" I said to the empty room. "I'm not really looking forward to lugging boxes down from the third floor via the stairs."

  I looked up and to my surprise, my door was opening. In walked a pair of men, roughly the same age. The first was taller, clearly a fighter of some kind upon first inspection. I could see small thin scars on his knuckles and hands and several of them on his face but his hand was what drew my brief attention. I could see that it was very well made, but at the same time I could tell that it was artificial. He’d lost his real hand somehow.

  "I don't blame you," The man said in an English accent. "The stairs are never fun."

  I looked down at the coffee maker I'd just opened as the well dressed man walked into my office followed by a much shorter and slightly hunched man. The man reached the spot where I had been planning to put a few chairs and simply stood there before looking into the box curiously.

  "Well, that's unfortunate." He said, shrugging off his coat. "Always a good idea to open treasure carefully, especially before you know what's inside."

  Without a word the much shorter man caught the coat and hung it over his arm before looking around the office curiously inspecting the boxes.

  I'd gotten the coffee maker box opened and removed the Styrofoam to find out I'd put a long cut into the top of my new coffee maker. I sighed.

  "Well, what's done is done." I muttered.

  "Very true."

  "I'm sorry I can't offer you a chair, I wasn't expecting a client so soon." I apologized.

  "We must always be careful to expect the unexpected, particularly in life. She has a way of throwing us curve balls."

  I nodded.

  "So, I take it you're looking for a detective?"

  "No," muttered the shorter of the two men who was looking through a box of my family pictures. "He's clearly looking for a baseball coach, know any good pitching staff?"

  I'd asked this with a smirk on my face, expecting another wise answer. The answer I received wasn't the one I expected as an annoyed expression briefly covered the gentleman's face.

  "Play nice, Smee." he said and as I watched he pulled off what moments before had appeared to be an almost normal hand, except for a fine line around the wrist. Now what covered the gentleman's left hand was a stainless steel hook.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  I watched as Smee saw the hook and wordlessly went back to rummaging through my things. The gentleman looked down at the hook before looking at me and continuing.

  He bowed slightly at the waist but never took his eyes off of me.

  "I am James Hook, Captain of the the jolly roger and slayer of that criminal, Peter Pan.”

  My eyebrows went up.

  I remember the conversation I’d had with my aunt the day I’d met her and found out that magic existed. She’d attempted at the time to explain to me that ‘magic existed’, what she really meant was that figures out of legend and story exist and buy groceries just like you, but now you can make your socks float to you when you want.

  I remember thinking back to the conversation with my aunt and having an epiphany as Captain James Hook introduced himself. The look on my face must have been interesting. After a moment I managed to collect myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed to get out."My name is, of course, Jack Frost. Welcome to my office, such as it is. How may I assist you, Captain?"

  "I'm in a bit of a bind. I've given this case to five detectives so far. Three of them, after four days failed to find even the smallest clue to the location of my item and gave up. The other two were never heard from again and their whereabouts are currently unknown. Now, I'm limited in my options to you, a detective who's had his office opened for less than a single hour. It doesn't inspire much hope." Behind him Smee briefly chuckled.

  Without thinking, I asked a question I thought at the time was rather flippant.

  "Then why hire me?"

  "Your father had an excellent reputation for getting to the heart of a case. Did you know his nickname was the Bronx bloodhound? Once he got on a scent he wouldn't let up on it. Rumor had it even your mother had a hard time convincing him to drop some cases. That is why I am here, boy. I'm here in the foolish hope that you possess some of your father's determination and perhaps some of your mothers wits. At least enough to find my damn clock." A snarl escaped his lips as he said the last two words.

  I Continued.

  “So, you said you're looking for a clock?”

  "The Clock." Hook corrected, emphasizing those two words. "I take it you're familiar with my story, or at least the parts that are relevant to the theft?"

  I thought for a moment.

  "I think it's a good idea to go over it, if nothing else because I'm relatively new to the magical community."

  The Captain nodded politely but I could tell he internally sighed. The story he told was mostly the one I was familiar with, slightly skewed with Peter Pan as the source of the majority of the Captain's problems. It didn't take long.

  "Do you have a picture of the clock?"

  He nodded and laid on the desk a small photo of a wind up mechanical clock.

  We talked for a few minutes longer about details such as the rough weight of the clock, it's measurements and if there were any magical properties he might have forgotten to mention.

  "There are only a few I'm aware of, one is what everyone knows from the story, that long term exposure to the sound of the clocks ticking seems to cause a physical reaction in people. The physical tick that results from the sound of the clock."

  I nodded, writing it down.

  "Have you ever had the internal mechanics of the clock looked at?"

  The Captain shook his head.

  "I'd never considered it before. When I retrieve it I'll have to make it a point to have the clocked inspected."

  "Does it ever wind down? You know. Stop ticking."

  The Captain shook his head, "Not since the death of Pan. Before then it would occasionally wind down and give me some peace, but since his death it's not been silent."

  "Was there any noticeable pattern to when the clock would wind down?"

  "Nothing I noticed. Sometimes it seemed to tick faster or slower, other times not at all. I've always thought it to be rather odd."

  "If it bothers you, why do you want it back so badly?" I asked.

  With that question I noticed that Smee stopped rummaging through the box he was investigating and quietly began stepping towards his Captain. When Hook finally spoke there was a quiet rage I thought had been festering there for a long while.

  "Because it is mine and because no one steals from Captain James Hook and gets away with it!"

  When his voice reached the word Hook two things happened at once. Smee, having silently snuck up on the Captain tried to restrain him and Captain Hook swung down with his left arm, leaving a large hole in my new desk.

  The Captain noticed Smee after a moment and then noticed his hook in my desk.

  "Do you need any more information to begin?" The Captain asked, completely ignoring the hole he'd just put in the corner of my new desk.

  I sighed looking at the hook shaped hole in my desk as I watched Smee put Captain Hook's coat over his shoulders. Captain James Hook paused at the open door waiting for my answer.

  "No, it sounds like I have what I need to begin." I said before noticing a card on my desk near the hole. I picked it up and looked at it. Captain Hook had left me a business card and it had his phone number on it.

  When I look up again my door was closed and both of them were gone.

  I looked down at my notepad and around at my office and down at the torte cat who'd been pretending to sleep the entire time.

  "Well," I began, "What do you think?"

  Anne, the torte colored fur ball who was my feline familiar and friend looked up at me after stretching.

  "What do I think? Your first case is to find a clock for a man with anger issues who only has one hand and several other detectives couldn't solve."

  "Your point?"

  She sighed. "You should have gotten a retainer."