“Yes, his brief case,” stated Beverly Amson.
Puddles shook her head. She must be hearing things or there was a miscommunication. Puddles watched Beverly take another long sip of coffee; she did not appear upset or even concerned over her husband’s death. Composed, rational, unemotional and wearing on one hand Puddles income for an entire year, Beverly’s only concern was a brief case.
“Just so we are clear, you want to know what happened to his brief case?”
“That is correct.”
Puddles was thankful Beverly could not see her tail slashing away as her irritation with Beverly rose. Setting her paws in front of her, trying to control her urge to drum her claws, Puddles looked into Bevely Amson’s eyes hoping to see any sign of humanity. Nothing.
Sighing Puddles began, “Your husband’s brief case was carried off by the man who killed him.” Puddles paused looking for some reaction. “Whiskers chased the man with the puppet until the man jumped into a waiting taxi and escaped.”
“Did the man have the case when he jumped into the taxi.”
“I…I will check with Whiskers.” Puddles sent a text to Whiskers. “Another cup of coffee while we wait?”
Beverly looked at the cup of coffee with more emotion than Puddles had seen all meeting and then looked up at her, “No thank you.”
Whiskers replied promptly. “According to Whiskers the man had the brief case when he jumped into the taxi.”
Beverly thought for a few moments, “I need you and your associates to retreive the case for me.”
“The job I hired your firm for is not complete.”
“Your husband is dead,” Puddles snapped back, “our case was to follow him and catch him in the act with another woman.”
“No,” Puddles hissed.
“I hired your firm to follow Mr. Amson, gathering information on where he went and who he interacted with. You inferred I wanted to know about another woman,” Beverly shot back enunciating each word. “Thus, your job is not finished. Mr. Amson interacted with the man who killed him. That man took something that belonged to Mr. Amson. You need to find that man and the brief case.” She stood up and headed for the door, stopping as she headed out, “I expect results and updates.”
Puddles dug her claws into her side of the desk, let her tail slash through the air freely, and took a moment before cursing Beverly Amson out. Whiskers would be proud she thought, this time the client was not in the office.
[We have an issue.] Puddles texted to Whiskers and Chuck.