She carried herself into my office like the cradle of life. Knew she was bad luck. Dames like that don’t carry themselves into offices like mine. I shoulda said no. She looked so pretty when she cried. I took the job. Simple enough, right? — her old man can’t be found. All I gotta do is find him.
Now she’s gone and all. Her cheque bounced like a goddamn ball. The address she gave was demolished a decade ago. The cops come calling. They say, Charlie, you’re sniffing around. How come you’re sniffing around, Charlie? What do you smell?
I think I smell a fucking rat.
Simon Sylvester 