I was just sitting back there in my office when she walked in. Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to hire a secretary or receptionist or something, but till then, people just walk in.

She was an alright looking woman, mid-forties I’d say, wearing one of those pantsuit-type outfits all the professional ladies wear, but quality. I could tell she was doing fine, financially. She walked right in and sat down. Didn’t wait for me to offer the seat. I didn’t even have to ask her what she wanted she started into it right away. She was over acting confidence, but I could tell she was nervous and a bit worried about having to deal with someone in my line of work. “I’m here about my husband,” She said. I just nodded, “This is the kind of thing I hear all the time,” I thought. But I was wrong. He wasn’t running around on her, at least not that I know about - I haven’t looked into his personal life. She was worried about a letter she had received yesterday. That’s Tuesday the 12th, for the record. The letter arrived at the Pallas residence with no return address. Inside was a single sheet of paper, typed. “If you don’t want to get hurt, you’ll convince your husband to step down as president of Pallasson Shoe Works. You have 30 days.” It was, naturally, unsigned.

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