The big city is no place to work. I rented the office in good faith but there are ants on the floor and rat droppings in my coffee cup. I don’t tell the customers, with clients of this standard a cup of finest coffee and rat droppings would taste much the same.
I have to get out of this business.
My name is Sam Noir PI, detective.
That’s what the PI means, private investigator.
I’ve been in this game a while now, three weeks. They say you can’t put a price on experience, but I manage, I guess its just a talent of mine.
I’d been sleeping in my office, it seemed the safest option, the gas company had turned my heating off for failure to pay the bills back home, not that I could get there anyway my car had been repossessed and I had lost my shoes in a bet.
I was getting the feeling that someone up there hated me, and why not everyone down here did. I hadn’t had a job for so long that I had actually completed three crossword puzzles, things were looking bad.
I was just beggining to doze on my remaining chair when the door flew open.