At the top of some stairs was a flat above a bakers shop. “Deirdre,” she called, but all was silent. She then knocked on Deirdre’s door, “Hello,” she knocked again then entered. Arianne looked into the room from behind the woman.
“I think she has gone,” said the woman with a worried look on her face, “she has made her bed and packed her bags.”
“Has she left a note?” inquired Trelainne.
“Let me check,” said the woman. After a cursory glance around the kitchen and the front room she said, “No.”
“That was a bit of a cursory glance,” reprimanded Arianne.
“Do you want me to look in depth?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Arianne. So the woman started to look in depth.
“Cursory glance,” thought Arianne, “you can’t do things like a cursory glance when there’s a murder on the table.”
“The murder wasn’t on the table,” said Trelainne.
“Eh?”
“It happened at the bottom of the stairs of the Cellar Club.”
“No,” said the woman, “even with an in depth look there is still no note.”
“Do you know why she was so scared that she had to run away?” inquired Arianne.
“I know that she was serving the boss, Tony ‘Two Toes’.”
“Was he with anyone else?”
“One of his hoods, ahem, associates was with him.”
“Do you know who?”
“I didn’t take much notice.”
YOU ARE READING
The Detective One
Science FictionThe Fifth book in the Arth Series. Arthur and the rest are cooped up in the cowboy/detective dimension. Mr. White-not-Black has been murdered and they must find the culprit. Yes it is supposed to be funny.
