The Raven Conspiracy

Chapter 13 - The Client

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Chapter 13 – The Client

The client waited at the door. She was a middle-aged woman, with dark, greying hair and glasses. Her mouth was pursed in a tense line, her hands buried in the pockets of her light jacket. Relief was visible on her face as she saw Kairo and I approaching.

“I’m so glad to see you. I thought I got the time wrong,” she said. “I’m Mrs Blackwell.”

Kairo extended a hand to shake.

“Kairo Hallow,” he introduced. “And she’s Maya. She works for me.”

Mrs Blackwell looked at me, wary. Kairo tossed me the office key; while I unlocked the door and gate, he spoke to her in a low voice so that I could not catch the conversation. I slipped inside, flipping on the feeble light.  I pulled a chair up for the woman in front of Kairo’s desk and positioned myself against the wall.

“As I’ve said before, ma’am, I only deal with murder cases. The circumstances have to be exceptional for me to change my mind. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to ask the police or PLE to deal with it,” he said.

“Please...You know how utterly useless both the police and PLE are. I need a guarantee that this will be solved...And I need it solved discreetly. If word gets to my husband about this...” her voice trailed off.

“Look – “

“I can pay you double...maybe even triple your normal fee,” she interrupted. “Please, you’re my only hope.”

 That made him pause in consideration.

“Triple,” he agreed. “And I want half upfront, to cover my expenses. I might have to let another, important case drop because of this, and I’ll need compensation.”

Mrs Blackwell looked reluctant, but nodded.

“I understand. When can you start?”

“As soon as you bring the payment. Cash only. Will that be all?”

She stood up, the chair scraping against the floor under the carpet.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Which is?”

“I have a picture of the object in question. To help you identify it. Please, return it when you’re done.”

“Of course.”

He took the offered sheet of paper and slipped it between some files on his desk. I was itching to reorganise that mess, vowing to sort it out as soon as I got a chance. He walked with her to the door, assuring her as he held it open.

“I’ll be in touch with you, ma’am,” he greeted.

Once she was gone, he handed me the photograph.

“I need to you run to the print shop – there’s one not far from the coffee shop – and get this copied. Once you’re finished, you’re welcome to go home.”

“So early?”

“Don’t get too happy about it. There’s not much to do now, but it can get hectic. I might call you in at strange hours. Enjoy the break while it lasts.”

“Al-right.”

I glanced at the photo. It showed a statuette, maybe the size of my palm, of a gryphon on an open book. It was difficult to tell from the faded picture, but it seemed to be made of – or coated in, at least – gold.