"Sir, are you quite sure you want to take this case."

A short woman is sitting at a desk, majorly out of touch with her surroundings. She wore pink, and lots of it. Every piece of wear from the collar on her shirt to the tips of her toenails were covered in the shade, horribly contrasting the drab browns and greys of her surroundings.

"Its a horribly messy, not many people will go near it," she says, shuddering a little at the thought of what happened.

"Those are the only cases for me." I stand up and place my tumbler on the windowsill as I look out over the New Hampshire skyline, a depressing sight it has to be said. "Leave the file on my desk, I'll give you a bell when I get wind of anything interesting concerning the men responsible."

I cant see what she does next, but it sounded like a stifled cry, the pulling out of a chair, the file being placed on my chair and the door to my office being opened and shut. I turned, on my desk was the file. On the front was a name, John David. I opened the file. Horribly messy was right, though from what I know about the man horribly messy is what he deserved. Loan shark, protection racket, maybe he should have got himself some decent protection. It would have stopped his knees from being turned inside out.

I took a long drag of my cigarette before dipping it in the bowl of white powder on my desk and dragging again. "Theres that rush." The file was tattered, she wasn't wrong about no one else wanting the case, it looks like it's been handed to every half beat detective and PI around the city. Glad to know I'm still the last port of call though, even for those who can't go to the police. I dip my cigarette once again as I sit to my work. The pictures in the file are extensive, the person who took them must have gotten pretty close to the body. It's odd to be so close but what do I know, I haven't been a part of the force for a long time, the methods probably change as often as their beats do.

In walks another woman, this one a little more my speed. She is dressed in a grey pan suit, dead pan some might say. If she were to stand still she'd fade into the office, like some sort of drab chameleon with the seasonal depression and a habit for telling me to quit the stuff. She sets down a cup of tea next to my perfectly good glass of scotch, before picking it up and pouring it away. "You know too well that it's too early to be drinking."

"Not if you havent been to sleep, then I'm just on the back end of a 36 hour bender."

"I don't know why you do this to yourself," she narrows her eyes as she spots the powder in the bowl on my desk. She furrows her brow. "You really should quit the stuff, it's not good for you."

I take another long slick drag of my cigarette, breathing out the tainted smoke to swirl around the slow turning fan above my head. "Neither are you," I lean back in my chair and kick my feet up onto the desk. "In fact you are positively worse, I should fire you before you kill me."

"Oh but if you do that who would be around to nag you about paying bills and make you tea you never drink."

"You make a point, plus how can I fire you when you don't actually ever do any work." I sit back at my desk and pour myself another glass of scotch into the second glass I keep under my desk incase of emergency. "Now leave me, I'm busy. Unless you hadn't quite noticed I have a case open."

She rolls her eyes. "I always say the butler did it."

A smirk crosses my lips. "And somehow with a deductive mind so sharp you are yet to be right."

"One day I will be." She leaves back through the door she came through. I sip my drink and watch it swirl in the glass. Single malt, disgusting, but it does the job. I paw over the file like a man possessed, it's a hard case that's for sure, the only kind I enjoy. I close the file, these pictures aren't going to do. I need to see this for real. My coat goes from hanging on the back of my chair to on my shoulders as fast as possible as I step out into the lobby. I look over to the desk to see her sitting there doing a crossword. "I'm going out, hold my calls."

"What calls, why do you think I'm doing a puzzle?"

"Fair point. Well then hold my drinks, this is going to be wild on," as I step out of the door onto the wild New Hampshire streets.