Chapter 3 - I Answer Phones and Try To Find Ways To Avoid Boredom

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“Your coffee,” I placed the take-away cup in front of Kairo, on his desk. He leaned his chair back on two legs, speaking on his cellphone.

“Yes, yes...No, I said no. I specialise in murder cases now, not thefts. Find someone else. I said no.”

There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke some more.

“I don’t care if there are no other detectives. Go to the police if you’re that desperate. Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t take this case. No. Now, goodbye.”

He hung up the call and eyed the coffee suspiciously.

“What did Jared tell you?” he asked suddenly.

“What are you talking about?” I replied innocently.

“You went to Jared’s coffee shop, and I know what he’s like. What did he tell you?”

“Not much. He found it interesting that I was your new assistant, and gave the coffee on the house. That’s about it.”

 “Uh-huh...You really expect me to believe that he didn’t try to tell you some secret story about Jen?”

“Who’s Jen?”

“My old assistant,” he brushed the question away. “So, what did you learn at the coffee shop?”

I rolled my eyes and gave in,

“Jared made it seem like something tragic happened to her. Did she...die?”

“She quit, and is that all you learnt? You’ve got a long way to go. Lesson number one: everything that happens in this area – heck, in this city – makes its way to the coffee shop. That place is teeming with information, if you know where to look. Who were the clients? Describe them to me.”

“What are you talking about? That coffee shop is tiny. I doubt anything important gets discussed anywhere near it, besides local gossip of course.”

He gave an exasperated sigh.

“You’re useless. Why did I even hire you? It looks like I’ll have to go there myself. You can stay here and answer the phone if it rings. Take messages. See you in an hour.”

Before I could even protest, or question why he needed to spend an hour in a coffee shop that was around the corner, he got up, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

“Oh, and make sure you keep the door closed. You don’t want to troll bothering you,” he glanced over his shoulder as he spoke.

I grumbled, slammed the door shut behind him and stomped over to my new desk. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, yet I was already annoyed with my job. No wonder his previous assistant quit.

“Trolls don’t exist,” I said out loud, in irritation. “They can stop with it already.”

My desk was made of light-coloured wood, had two drawers in the side and a cheap telephone on top. Utterly boring. There wasn’t even a computer in the room. What kind of detective didn’t use a computer? Didn’t Kairo know about Google? The office was stuffy and dark; little light made it through the single, grimy window. I found a switch on the wall, only to discover the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling did not work. Which, I suppose, was a good thing because the lack of illumination disguised the fact that the carpet had long lost its colour.

Sighing, I tapped the wood next to the phone. The drawers in my desk were empty, and the chair didn’t even spin. I stood up, stretched and ambled over to Kairo’s desk. It was strewn with papers and charts. I heard a dull, beeping sound. It came from underneath the mess. I shoved some of it to the side, excavating the telephone. My first call.

“Hallow Detective Agency, this is Maya speaking,” I answered in my most professional voice.

“Maya? What’s a Maya? Where’s Kai? I need a Kai, not a Maya. Do you have a Kai? It’s an an ana emergency. Yes, that’s the right one. Mergency. I have ana mergency. I am an Anna. Anna needs a Kai for the mergency.”

I held the phone a few centimetres away, staring at it and getting my bearings before responding.

“Mr Hallow is not available at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“Where’s a Kai? Anna wants a Kai. The Maya must call a Kai. Mergency about the tulips. And the poppies. Pretty poppies. Is the Maya a pretty poppy? Anna will send the Maya a pretty poppy. Pretty poppies...”

The woman – Anna – mumbled something in a language that sounded like Latin. Out of nowhere, a bouquet of poppies and tulips appeared on the desk. I dropped the phone in surprise, clutching my chest. What on earth was going on? I clutched the phone, bringing it to my ear again.

“Hello?”

The line was dead. I hung up the phone, stared at the flowers, and fainted.

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