Excerpt: The Private Detective Chronicles

I knew something was wrong a few seconds after she walked in the office.
There are always telltale signs for anyone willing to actually look for them. The way she held herself, proudly, but without arrogance, contrasted with her state of attire, rich but faded and worn, clothes that had once held the glamor of the high life, but now only looked somewhat dated, though still far more pricey than any average middle-class lady could afford. It suggested a slight fall from grace, from once having money to proudly hanging on to what remained of a former, or possibly a fading, life. Her face was a frozen mask that carefully prevented the casual observer from reading anything of her intent, but it was a very attractive face, young and well-rounded, expertly made up just so. She couldn't have been more than thirty, though definitely on the far side of twenty-five, and her blonde hair was delightfully curled down to her shoulders.
Very attractive, young, and obviously in a situation where she had money and was properly acquainted with the usage of it. In short, she was a woman who would have little use for a private investigator, and since that was my job, I couldn't help but wonder what she was doing in my office.
I knew there was definitely something wrong, though, when I saw the gun in her hand.
Instinct took over, and I pushed myself back in my chair, toppling it over as I somersaulted backwards. It wasn't exactly a painless procedure, and of course, there was a lot of noise, but at least now, safely hidden behind my desk, she wouldn't have a clear shot at me. But when I didn't hear the loud bang that usually accompanies being shot at after a minute or two, I felt it was only natural to peek up over the top of my desk at her. She hadn't moved from her position in the doorway, and though the gun was still in her hand, it was the somewhat bemused look on her face that told me I had misread the situation. Well. Nothing much for that but to make the best of it. I stood up, brushed myself off somewhat theatrically as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do, and righted my chair before sitting in it once again.
“Hello,” I said to her with a nod once I was back in place, “How can I help you?”
Oh yeah, even after making an ass of myself, I can be smooth.