“Hey, who owns the jalopy that’s parked outside the office?”
Annie glanced up from the paper work she’d just finished signing, a look of confusion reigning on her features. Ash was peering through the blinds, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I think it belongs to the people who run the Mexican place down the street.” She went back to finishing off the paper work that would leave them space to keep the utilities on. They’d hired a few people to work in the restaurant, to at least put a happy face on the entire establishment, but everything required documentation.
Much had happened in the weeks since the paranormal detective agency had been established. They’d put together an office, and gone about making themselves look as professional as possible right down to a phone listing. They had general decorated the place, while Ash used his retail experience to manage the restaurant. She and Sheila split an apartment, and Ash was sleeping on the third hand sofa they’d bought for the lobby.
Annie handled the books, even though he insisted he could take care of it. And they’d salted the place twice just for extra luck.
“Oh.” Ash’s eyebrow remained up, his nose pressed to the flat slate blinds. Annie couldn’t help but noticed he’d neglected to dust them. Again.
“Ash, I’m sure everything’s all right. We haven’t had a report in a few weeks…which certainly isn’t helping our business, but is definitely good news for the good souls of the people who live in this city.”
“Pft. Screw them.”
“Right,” he grumped. “I’m gonna go downstairs and make sure the cook we hired’s stopped reenacting lightsaber fights with the pepperoni.”
Annie sighed as she watched Ash go. Sheila was out at the supermarket buying them extra provisions just so they could avoid dealing with a commercial food salesmen. The lengths they were going to to keep everything together was nigh on ludicrous.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Sheila staggered through the door. She had a bag of groceries under her am, and was stained from head to toe in a bright green substance – but there was a look of victory in her eyes.
“I believe I hath found us a new case,” she declared.
Annie tilted her head. “What sort of case is it?”
Sheila dug into her grocery bag.
And from the sack she pulled out a leprechaun, bound and tied with a bit of clothes line, swearing behind a gag but filled with intense, obvious anger.
Annie managed not to scream at the revelation. Or to show obvious excitement.
Whatever Sheila had to tell her, the story must have been amazing.