Sawyer has been having a rough few months.  His own innate drive to find explanations for the Cotton Club incident has been harshly rebuked at every turn.  He has managed to question a handful of people who claim connection to incidents that have at least superficial similarities.  However, despite the information being evocative, it lacks utility in terms of concrete details.  The one phrase that crops up multiple times is "a city by the shore of Hali."

Wherever Hali is, Sawyer can't find it on a map.  There is one more lead left to follow up on; a madman on vacation at Blackwell's Island.  Perhaps he can provide more details.

The detective's thoughts are interrupted by a tentative knock on his door.

In reply to Bartender (msg # 1):

Sawyer was deep in his thoughts when the knock on the door started. Sawyer was in thought often recently, this time he was in deep. So much so that he didn’t notice his cigarette was still unlit in his hand. He rubbed his tired eyes.

“Ugh...What now?”
Sawyer got up from his desk located in his office/living room and slowly walked to the door almost knocking over the half full bottle of whisky. Sawyer goes and answers the door.

Outside the door stands a middle-aged woman, dressed in fine conservative clothing.  She glances furtively up and down the hallway before addressing Sawyer.  "You are...Mr. Sawyer, yes?"  Contrasting with her tentative knock, her nervous side-eye, and quiet tone, her gaze is strong, bordering on defiant.  "May we talk inside?"

In reply to Bartender (msg # 3):

It always starts with a dame. Sawyer has had a rough 6 month and those bills weren’t going to pay themselves. Sawyer eyed the dame up and down with tired eyes.
*Sigh* It’s late. But do come in.

Sawyer gestures his hand for her to come in.

The lady steps inside, looking about and sizing up the place with a glance.  "I won't waste time with pleasantries.  Abigail Laura Wright is missing.  You will find her.  You will do this while avoiding any attention from the NYPD, which has been called upon by her father to find her.  Please do not misconstrue my intent to hire you as mistrust for the organization.  But Thomas is an officer himself, out of Nassau county.  I feel that he is leaning too hard on the force, which may not be well-suited for this case."

She plants a hand on the nearest (mostly clean) horizontal surface, a tabletop, and withdraws it, leaving fifty dollars and a poor-quality photograph of a young woman.  "A retainer, I suppose.  With one hundred on successful retrieval of Abigail."  Fifty dollars was nothing to sneeze at, and unfortunately, most of it was already spoken for with Sawyer's debts.  But it could buy time.

Still, there was much left unspoken by the prospective client.

In reply to Bartender (msg # 5):

“Ms Wright...while I understand your cause for avoiding pleasantries, I happen to make sure not to avoid them. In this line of work, it’s all about pleasantries.”

Sawyer walks around to the other side of his desk and takes a sit in the old rickety office chair. He geastures to the half empty bottle of whisky.

“Would you care for a drink?”

The dame doesn't so much as look at the bottle.  "No, thank you," she responds curtly.  Her patience is visibly lacking.

In reply to Bartender (msg # 7):

Sawyer smirks at her very obvious lack of patience. He finds it slightly amusing.

““I’m interested in this story, Ms Wright. Start at the beginning.”

The woman nods curtly.  She withdraws a small brown pocket book, perhaps 3x5, and tosses it on your desk.  "You'll find the details within, but I'll review.  Abigail left her home perhaps six months ago.  She had...great faith that she could succeed as an artist.  Her father lacked that conviction, and she was led to believe she would be unwelcome in the home until she 'came to her senses.'

She raises a gloved hand to her chin in a pensive gesture.  "Against the odds, she caught the whim of the artistic community.  Sold more than a dozen pieces at the Argent, a small gallery.  She had more than enough to support herself for a few months, maybe half a year.  But she would have been running out, or on the verge, soon."

Slowly, the dame begins taking hesitant strides.  Not quite pacing.  That would be inelegant.  "Her father tried contacting her for some time by letter, with no response.  That is...unfortunate, but perhaps understandable.  He even tried by telephone the last four days.  Not that she has one.  She's modestly successful, not extravagant.  But the complex in which she lives has one, and he left messages with the...characters there."

"Roughly a month ago, her father called on the police to enter her apartment, and it was...chaos."  She begins striding a bit faster.  "Not just cluttered, but filled with nonsensical items.  Things that seem to serve no purpose.  There was an economics paper in Farsi, for crying out loud!  Her bank says they had extended a letter of credit to her, and it was used about a week ago, in Maryland."

"In any event, the leads have been sparse, and it seems the NYPD has put this case on low-priority.  Some of them aren't one hundred percent convinced that there's any foul play.  Just a capricious young gal traipsing about."  Her bitter tone gives little doubt how she feels about that.

She waves a hand dismissively.  "There are more concrete details on what I've said within the book.  Now, Mr. Sawyer."  She leans forward intently, her eyes piercing.  "Yes, or no?  I have things to do, and if this case isn't to your taste, I need to find someone more suitable."

In reply to Bartender (msg # 9):
Sawyer eyes went to the brown pocket book and then back at Ms. Wright. She seemed as if this was just a business transaction. And she never explained who SHE was. Sawyer found that odd.

“Ms.Wright, I am a bit puzzled. Who exactly is abigal’s father and who are you to both Abigail and her father?”

The dame sighs in exasperation.  "As mentioned, her father is officer Thomas Wright, stationed out of Nassau county.  But as far as you're concerned, he is someone to avoid.  He is well connected to the NYPD.  He believes in their authority, and their righteousness.  Between them, they could make your life difficult, and I doubt they would hesitate to do so."

"As for myself..." She trails off for a moment, her mouth working minutely.  "I am someone with an interest in Abigail's safety.  Someone who doesn't believe the NYPD can fix this.  And most importantly, someone who can't be caught hiring a private dick.  As difficult as the officers could make your life, they could make mine much worse.  So, while I recognize the unconventional burden it may place on you, my own anonymity is a condition of this job.  This will likely be the only time we meet face to face.
 Further communication will take place via post.  If I need to call you, I will."

Based on the broad's age, her intimate knowledge of all persons involved, and her resemblance to the poor photo on Sawyer's desk, she is almost certainly Abigail's mother.  Possibly an aunt or an older sister.  However, she is unwilling to reveal her relationship or even her name.  Beyond that, she is obviously a woman accustomed to being obeyed; high class, or simply bossy?  The fact that she can drop $150 on something she can't be caught doing implies the former.

In reply to Bartender (msg # 11):

“And what if I need to contact you, Ms Wright? Will you be leaving contact information for me, or will you be the only one making any contact?”

She gestures towards the pocketbook.  ""There's a Post Office box number in that book.  That is your method if you must contact me.  If I need to contact you, I'll send a letter or telegram if it's urgent, or call if there is a suitable time and place for that.  Do you have your own phone line?

A moment's hesitation, then without waiting for Sawyer's answer, "But if anyone claims they are coming here on my behalf, we never met.  I don't care if they can tell you every intimate detail of me.  You and I?  We don't know each other."

The choice of whether Sawyer has a phone line is up to you.  At this point, they still represent significant expense, and are often seen as a luxury.  In a shared building, there may be a shared telephone, which might be the most likely option for his current situation.

In reply to Bartender (msg # 13):

“There is a phone line in the building I can use. I have no means for such luxuries ms Wright. I’ll take a look at your file and I’ll contact when I have anything. “

Sawyer rubbed his eyes. Ms Wright tired him. Hell he’s been tired for 6 months.

“Is there anything important I should know ms Wright that would help me in this case?”

The dame doesn't so much as flick an eye at being addressed by a name she didn't give, yet Sawyer gets the distinct feeling that the remark was noted and filed neatly in her mind.  "I've given you the general outline.  There are some further details in the book, but largely they are merely an expansion on what I've stated.  The only other lead I might suggest is investigating the apartment.  It's...unlikely that the NYPD are still actively investigating there, but it's possible there are still officers nearby.  Of course, the other tenants may have information.  They don't seem the type to comply with the law, so perhaps you can have better luck than the men in uniform."