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Sample Post
"This... this can't be! I told you already! DEMONS killed my husband!" The woman insisted, smacking a hand down on John's desk.

John shook his head, leaning back in his chair with his hat pulled over his eyes. "What happened, ma'am, is that word of your belief in the supernatural hit your husband's business circles." He grunted, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. "Combined with the fact that he was refusing to make some deals he'd already verbally all but sworn into, and he had some enemies with what they thought was an easy cover. And..." He sighed. "And you took the bait. If you'd actually called the police, like you told me you did, they would have identified this as arson and an overly showy murder, plus the perp you thought was a demon, actually was a pro wearing a fright mask."

"But... but.. he was blown apart... that HAD to be magic!" She feebly protested, manicured fingers picking at the silk scarf around her neck. There was a look on her face of frustration and disappointment.

John's eyes rolled, unseen. "He was professionally and thoroughly dismembered, with some pigs' blood thrown around to make it look even showier. The 'hellfire' you went on about, was a slow-burning fuse rigged to set off the accelerants after you were expected to have gotten a good look." He grumbled and scratched the back of his head. "You, for your part, played right into their hands.. you with your piddling little kindergoth occult obsession were SO happy to believe your husband had been killed by a demon, that you went straight to me, lied about contacting the police, and whirled this whole fantasy up in your head. Let me lay it out straight for you now. Your husband was killed by professional people, FOR MONEY, and BECAUSE OF MONEY. He was a slimeball businessman who reneged on deals before they could be put on paper, and pissed off one too many people." He brought his feet down off the desk and sat up, putting on his darkened glasses as he removed his hat. "I've gotten in touch with the authorities, here's a copy of my findings for you." He pushed a folder across the desk and knocked back his shot. "Unless you've got any real business for me, we're done here."

The woman stood up, clearly about to fly into a verbal rage.

John lowered his glasses and his head snapped up, catching her gaze. He froze for a moment, giving a twitch of one cheek. "I'm already paid, lady, and unless you want me to dig up more by going in to how you set up your professor in college with that phoney harassment suit, we're DONE." He put the glasses back.

The color fell from the woman's face and she sat back down. She looked at him in shock for a few moments, then mumbled as she took the folder and hurried out.

John sighed once the door shut behind her and rubbed his eyes, before pouring another shot. "God I hate trophy wives..."