The rafters and their stories

"Who are you?"

Shifting forwards in my seat I pull down my glasses taking in the person opposite me, Winter Summerset. A short, but fierce woman; green eyes questioning me silently, short red hair seemingly angry at me.

"Annabeth Montíse, a private investigator. I'm here at the behest of a client, Arthur Summersett, your father I believe.

"And why did'e hir'e yau?"

"Well, he believed that someone close to him was trying to get at his fortune. Low and behold, not a month after he passed part of his inheritance goes missing"

Nodding slightly; more to herself than anything, she looks back up at me, tears starting to form.

"Then why are you still 'ere... he's dead in't he."

"My contract ends when the theif is brought to justice."

"Right, well who'da think it is."

"I'm not sure yet, I'll need to talk to everyone first...

Her gaze seems to hollow slightly, anger replaced by sadness and weariness.

...But, it seems almost certain that whoever they are still here"

"How dy'a know that."

"Well, the thief took documents or seemingly little importance over, say jewelry or cash. Which means these documents are more important than I first thought, either personally or moniterally, and more importantly the thief knew this and knew exactly how to steal them. Given no one has gone missing, it's highly unlikely that they've escaped."

She takes a second to sink into her chair trying to cover her tears.

"I'm sorry to have brought his memory back so soon, I will give you as much time as you need before telling you what I've learnt."

Standing up I head for the doorway and just as my hand reaches for the knob Winter calls out.

"Thank you, Annabeth."

Turning back to her I try and give her a reassuring smile, though I feel more awkward than anything.

"Please, just Anne is fine."