A female looking around nineteen years in age steps into the main foyer of the airport. After collecting her bag from the turntable she heads out of the terminal and hails a cab. She takes the cab to a café at least an hour away. When she reaches the café, the young woman slips her backpack on her shoulders and pulls her wallet out of her three-quarter length coat. Once she’s paid the driver she walks over to one of the café tables. She replaces her wallet and pulls out a mobile phone. She flips its lid and dials a transport company.
“Hello, yes I was calling to enquire about a car I had shipped from England. It’s a deep blue Mercedes Benz the licence plate was…Yep that’s it. Has it arrived? It has, and delivered to the requested address? Alright thank you. Goodbye.”
She replaces the phone and runs a hand through her dark red (almost black) shoulder length hair, grimacing when it catches a few knots. She pulls her fingers out and begins to drum her fingers on the table top surface while glancing out at the busy street. Time passes and she begins to fidget in her seat. She pulls her iPod out of her pocket and checks the time, frowning when she finds that her client was supposed to have met with her two minutes earlier.
‘If he isn’t here in two minutes I’m leaving,’ she thinks replacing the electronic device.
As the girl moves to collect her backpack to leave a man approaches her table and sits gingerly across from her. He glances up at her, running his eyes over her form.
"Maria Glades?”
She nods and slumps back in the chair. Her eyes scan over his form as she resettles. Immediately she notices the thick golden rings decorating his chubby- sausage like fingers. Her gaze scans over the high price suit that appeared to bulge around the waist. The portly man reaches into his suit and pulls out a cigar and lighter.
“Would you mind not smoking that here?” she enquires, eying the cigar with disgust.
The man frowns at her but replaces the cigar and lighter.
“To be honest I didn’t expect a Private detective to look so… young,” he comments starting the conversation with some small talk.
She shrugs, not caring to continue the conversation.
“Shall I cut to the chase then? I want you to look into the death of my brother.”
“How did he die?”
“When I asked, I was told it was a break in gone wrong.”
“And you don’t believe what you were told?”
“Do you think that random break ins occur here in Ireland?”
“Depending on where you live, yeah,” she responds.
"He didn’t live or work anywhere near that part of town.”
"Alright, I’ll do it,” she grins “but you should know that my services are not cheap.”
“Does it look like money matters to me Miss Glades?” he chuckles “name your price.”
“Five thousand, keep in mind though the price may go up depending on how much digging I may need to do.”
“Done, I’ll even give you half now,” her client smirks pulling his wallet out.
“You keep that much on you?”
“It’s petty cash,” he shrugs, counting out the bills “how long will it take you to finish your investigation?”
“Three weeks at the most I should think.”