Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: Priya| The case of catwoman

Standing outside of the crumbling brownstone, Priya checked her address twice to be sure it was the right place, and sighed hugely.

Man, what an eyesore in the middle of an otherwise charming block. The string of brownstones would've been a marvel in their former glory, but now they were obscured by a single ruin of faded red brick, weathered with neglect. She imagined all it would take was a severe storm to send the structure scattering down the block. The only thing keeping it together was the sheer stubborn will of the woman who lived inside.

Despite arriving early to the office last week, she'd found herself in a cue of the other candidates outside of Heather's office. Someone had issued a phony memo three days prior which told her the files were up for grabs at least a half hour from the actual window, so by the time Priya made it in that morning, there were all of three cases left. None of which were remotely desirable.

It was a lesser of evils option that left her less than thrilled: a tenant dispute with her landowner citing high pressure tactics looking to terminate a lease agreement between its oldest tenant – dubbed Cat Woman. Apparently she had too many cats and despite a slew of complaints, they hadn't been able to oust her.

The eighty-two-year-old tenant was fighting back.

Priya worked up the collection of slanted front steps and knocked firmly against the battered door that hadn't seen a coat of pain in at least a decade. She didn't have to wait long before the door pulled open and a fuzzy cap of white hair framing a sallow, wrinkled face peered around from behind it, lips set in a puckered line.

"Hi." She beamed, extending a hand. "I'm looking for Genie Maslow?"

Brown eyes lost behind a watery film of age slid down to her offered hand and back up at a glacial pace. "Whatever you're selling, dear, I'm not interested."

"I'm not—"

"Yeah, yeah. Save the spiel. Not. Interested." The door reverberated on the hinges with a heavy slam that had Priya jerking back in surprise. Blinking a couple times, she collected herself with a calming breath before she knocked a second time—firmly.

After a full minute of no answer she bit down on a steaming curse as she stooped to wedge her fingers in the mail slot. The brass plate clattered to the concrete stoop and from within the residence she heard a cranky voice curse.

"I'll expect you to pay for that."

"Ms. Maslow, please, my name is Priyanka Seth. I'm from Marek, Nagao and Silver. I'm here about your suit against your landlord."

Slippered feet, visible in the narrow slat of the mail slot shuffled down a dim hall and she straightened at the sound of clicking locks. This time the door pulled open in halting increments and once more that fuzzy head of white hair reappeared.

"You got a card with you?"

Priya nodded. "Absolutely." Reaching into her satchel, she found the holder that held a small stack of twenty-five cards, and offered one to her.

"Come on in," she said without so much as taking a second to examine it before it disappeared in a large front pocket. Dressed in a faded beige cardigan over a billowing dress that looked more like a nightgown, Genie widened the door, letting her pass.

"Thank you, Ms. Maslow."

"It's Mrs. But save that for the paperwork. Inside this home I'm Genie."

"Genie," Priya amended, not bothered by the informality.

She removed her shoes—as instructed—and followed Genie into the heart of the sitting room where a collection of brightly patterned couches sat, surrounded by books. Mountains of them. Piled and stacked and strewn about. Old leather volumes and new, glossy paperbacks, magazines and newspapers. All wedged and tightly packed on warped and bowing bookshelves that lined the entire length and width of the room. As many as the space could handle, before spilling out over every available surface.