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    Summary

    Their visitor stood before them. She was painfully thin – so much so that her cheekbones stretched her skin into sharp, severe lines, and her cheeks were deeply sunken. Her hair was pulled back into an unexpectedly voluminous bun, secured with two old-fashioned hairpins. She wore a strict brown dress of wool gabardine, its high collar fastened tight with metal hooks. A ghost.

    The woman returned their scrutiny, clearly disapproving of what she saw. Her gaze was methodical, like someone used to taking inventory. Her dark eyes  –  slightly too large, bulging just a fraction from their sockets  –  lingered on Edwin, drifted to Charles, and then snapped back to Edwin.

    "The Dead Boy Detective Agency?" she inquired.

    "That's us," Charles said. "Take a seat."

    The client nodded, as if ticking a box on a long internal checklist, and gingerly perched on the edge of the chair. Her fingers laced together in her lap, her knuckles protruding sharply beneath the papery skin.

    Charles perched on the corner of the desk while Edwin took his seat.

    For a few seconds, the guest remained silent. Edwin clasped his hands on the desk  –  his universal gesture for 'I am listening'.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,084
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Comments:
    4
    Kudos:
    15
    Bookmarks:
    3
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