The Dunwich Files

Mandy Heiser

Your eyes scan the spaces of your empty office. Your name is on the door - it's chipped and fading, but it's held on for nearly a decade. Funny, feels more like a lifetime. Beneath the mail slot on the floor lays today's edition of The Dunwich Times.
Your desk is in a sorry state. A pile of dusty papers sits on the surface. Bills, no doubt. The bottom drawer is open just a crack - through it you can see the glimmer of a bottle of gin. If memory serves, there's about a shot left.
"What'll it be today?" you wonder aloud, addressing the empty room, "Polish off the hooch? Or read the paper? There's always the chance the cops are stumped on a high-profile case and could use the help of a reputable self-employed detective..." No point in looking through the bills - there's nothing you can do about them at this point.
Look for work in the paper. Might as well save the gin for a special occasion.
Drink the gin. I'm all out of "special occasions" these days.