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A knock interrupted my train of thought.



"Yes?" I asked a moment later, having forgotten the urgency of the knock.



The old door creaked as it opened and Antonio, my ever faithful partner, poked his head into the room.



"You'll never believe who just walked into the office," he said, unable to keep from grinning.



I sighed. It was not difficult to guess who he meant.



"Tell me she didn't," I said, already dreading the answer.



Antonio seemed to take offense at the remark. "She did, and she said she'd been expecting you," he said, fully entering the office. "She sat right here," he continued, perching on the corner desk and pointing to my chair.



I stood up, adjusting my trousers to hide the bulge in my groin. I put my best angry face on, and hating how much I probably looked like a puppy about to be thrown into a pool of water, strode up to my partner and shot him a glare that would make lesser men soil their pants.



Antonio shrugged and put his hands up defensively. "It's not my fault you can't run a case without her," he said, following me back to my desk.



"I'm the assistant of the police chief," I said, keeping my temper under control. "I've got the power to..."



He interrupted me. "Kill her? Arrest her? Suspend her for misconduct? What are you going to charge her with? Beating you in a homicide case?"



"She's the reason we're in this mess with the Bradshaw case, and we can't solve the Joest case or the Heath case because of her!" I lost my temper at this and slammed my fist down on the desk.



"I know," he said, trying to keep his composure. "And you know she's not very communicative. But she did help us solve the Miller case, despite what you may think. And she's very observant," he continued, before I could jump on his words, proving once again that he was better at his job than I was at mine.



"And the Joest case is about to be taken over by the feds," Tony said, looking as if he just realized that he'd actually managed to say the right thing. "And the Heath case," he continued, "even without our help, it's just a matter of time before that case is solved. My guess is that it's all the work of one of her subordinates."



I sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of," I said.



Tony gave me a wry smile. "At least she didn't bring her spare umbrella," he said, changing the topic to something more relevant.



"Who did she bring this time?" I asked resignedly.



"The same man as last time," Tony answered, before adding, "which is why I take offense at your remark."



"I'll apologize when she does something for a change other than chauffeur him," I said.



Tony stood up. "To be fair, in his case it's more like she's his chauffeur," he said, before turning and walking out the door.



I followed him to the antechamber, where we waited for the elevator.



*



A few minutes later we were sitting across from a distinguished looking man in the interrogation room. He looked as if he had been in his early 50s for most of his life, and betrayed signs of stubble, his hair was cut as if he'd given up having it trimmed for some time now. His clothes were tidy and spoke of money, but not of opulence.



He was wearing a blue suit, gray shirt, yellow tie, and maroon suspenders, with a maroon overcoat thrown over the back of the chair he was sitting in. He was also sitting on a maroon colored chair.



The man didn't say anything until I had finished interviewing him. "I don't mind answering questions," he said. "I've already been interrogated in this precinct as a suspect in the Miller case, and as you know my occupation is in fact not suspect."



I wasn't sure if I believed him. The man's eyes as well as his hesitation in speaking first would suggest that he wanted to be punished for his past.



"Here's the deal," the man said, putting his hands behind his head, and leaning into an armrest. "I'm Mafalda Mastern, a financial consultant." He faced me. "When I was sacked I didn't want to be a financial advisor, so here I am." He refrained from calling himself a consultant, and took a sip of water from a glass on the table.



"You couldn't help but notice," he said after a few seconds of silence, "that my background is anything but financial. I'm a biochemist, and before I was sacked I used to do a three-way mix of biology, chemistry, and financial advice. Catching up on current events seemed a lot easier than catching up on financial and economical theory, most of which isn't even fleshed out anyway.


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