𝗕𝗔𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗘

■ 1 DETECTIVE?

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┏ ❝ i shot the sheriff, but i
did not shoot the deputy. ❞ ┛

KNOCKS THERE CAME THRICE, slowly yet loud, and so the door opened wide.

"Private?"

With his usual black dapper uniform and charming smile, he greets Mr. Hans as he stands on the porch with his notorious English accent-known to make hundreds of women fall on their knees.

"Yes, it's me. I believe you called me on the telephone yesterday."

"Alright, come in-come in. I have a job for you to do, delibarately. Go hang your coat on the door, leave all your stuff on the table and follow me through the living room. We'll have our meeting there."

He says, quickly and with a lace of impatience being traced in his voice. The anger in his eyes clearly showed that the man was in for a serious matter. This made Harry question a lot in his mind, wondering what was bugging the man up. Harold does his demands, walks with a straight posture, his eyebrows furrowed, prepared for what's called an investigation.

"There's been a theft lately-directed to our company's shareholders, specifically. One by one, houses were being broken in, expensive loots were stolen. It's just-" Hans stops to groan, massaging his temples. "I don't know why it's happening, but one of the victims from this event has taken a glimpse of her identity, fortunately. We did a run of her identity then found a record. She had a criminal history, we had gotten it from the Department of Police, downtown."

He gives Harry a folder of the file.

While holding the paper, the private investigator complains. "Why is this case mine? You have gotten to the police already. Shouldn't they take care of this-"

Before he could even finish his question, Hans abruptly interrupts. "You are the one who I trust. Just not-" He sweats as he wipes his forehead with shaking fingers. "Not them. I want these matters to be private-it might affect the image of our company. As that said, you're a private investigator. You're the right person for this."

Still reading the file, he nods. For a moment, Harry felt something unusual from what he said. How does a roberry damage the reputation of a millionaire company?

A temptation to ask the why's was immediately stopped as he continued to close his mouth.

"What a little menace." He smirks, reading the file. For some reason, this fugitive seemed proficient at what she does.

With thoughts inside his mind, he asks a question. "Hans, do you know this woman?" The man briefly stays silent, he seemed to be processing something inside his mind.

"No."

"But why is she robbing specifically the directors of this company? There must be some vendetta fuelling this commotion."

"Maybe-" He pauses, thinking. "Maybe some of my competitors have been hiring little rogues to do these such stuff."

Unreasonable. Harry thinks.

But either way, he's going to catch that thief.

"So the board and I formulated a quick and strategic plan." He interrupts the detective's thoughts. "We'll hold a company party in a week in some specified location. All the boards will be there. Everyone important-and that also means riches will be there."

Harry stares at the man with his green eyes, all attention on him.

"Maybe she'll be there too."

Hans agrees with a smirk, the fear on his face slowly vanishing away, his plans on sight. "That's what it is."

Harry runs his hand through his muffled curls, unsure of the plans. "That's a maybe."

"And a maybe has some chance. At least 2% it could be-but that 2% could be right. Who knows?" Hans grins widely. "You might just find her in the audience, sipping wine, or maybe chatting with you."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. This wasn't part of the plan. "Are you telling me I'll be joining the party?"

"Of course, invited. You'll be VIP. Who wouldn't want that?"

"I politely reject your invitation sir." He says, standing up as he prepares to leave.

"No-no. No. Do not." He says, following the man as he pushes his shoulders down to make him sit on the couch again. "I beg you, please. Just one night. I know you're a sophisticated and reserved mind, private at all costs-but please just join a crowd for once."

Still. Harry refuses.

And finally for once, his words stopped him.

"I'll pay you $4,620 to grab information from her."

Harry stops on his tracks, a cheshire grin present on his lips.

"That's my year's groceries."

"Are you aboard?"

Halfway through the way out of the door, Harry smiles, a confident pose he stands with. He wears his hat and holds it's tip

"Well, Sherlock does sail the boat."

As he leaves, Hans finally sinks into relief, thanking the heavens. Finally, he knows that this thief would be stopped.

While Harry walks on the pavement outside, he lights up his cigarette in celebration. He inhaled the addicting scent of mint, feeling the chemicals rejoice in his lungs. He smiles at himself, victory was made, he'd be earning a year worth of groceries.

But the war wasn't over yet, he'd still have to catch this mysterious rogue lurking in the shadows. He wonders why Hans was willing to pay such a big amount for her arrest. Besides, she was just some thief.

He wonders with a grim smile on his lips.

What's so special about her?

FILE #273820198