By the time I got to the office things were pretty much straightened out. Maureen couldn't stand a mess, and for once I just glad it wasn't of my doing.

From what I could gather, they'd done the place over good. They'd even managed to get into the office safe. Some jewellery, a couple of wads of cash, even a bar of gold in there. All from open cases, or gifts from thankful clients, or from dead ones who wouldn't miss it.

None of it touched.

Not that that surprised me in the least. It was clear what they were here for, and I knew there would only be one thing missing.

"Did the Red file show up?"

"Not that I've seen so far", she answered, sorting some papers back into their respective files."

How she even knew where to begin with all of that, I'll never know. For me, once a case is done, it's done. It'd take a pack of wild horses to pull those buried memories kicking and screaming into the sunlight. But she seemed to remember every last one of them like they were personal treasures.

She hadn't gotten around to my office yet, though it didn't look much worse than usual.

The bottles clinked as I closed the desk drawers, and put my feet up on my desk. There were a pile of steel filings on the floor by the safe, where they'd drilled through the lock. Must've been pretty confident I wouldn't show up in the middle of the night.

Maybe that's what she was for, partly at least. To keep an eye on me until they had time to search the place, then try to scare me off if they hit dirt. But I doubted that was the case. For one, she was an amateur, and this was a professional hit.

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One option was to call it in, see if they couldn't get some prints off the safe. But no private dick wants the fuzz all up in his business. No, that idea wouldn't fly.

I got up and went back out to reception.

"Why don't you finish up here and take the rest of the day? I'm gonna be out and about, and even though I doubt they'll be coming back, I'd rather not have you here by yourself, just in case."

"Oh, I can take care of myself", she said, slamming shut a filing cabinet drawer.

"It's not you I'm worried about", I said. "It happens when I've got to explain to the police why my sweet receptionist gunned someone down on business property."

"We can just say they jumped you and I came to the rescue. It wouldn't take much convincing with a face like that." She pulled the visitor's chair across to the floor, and the sound went through my head like nails on my asshole. "Sit."

"Look, I appreciate it, but you ain't my mother."

"No, but I can still whoop your ass."

She had a point.

Took off my jacket, tossed it on the desk and sat.

"And the rest", she said, pulling out the first aid kit.

I took off my tie and shirt, and watched as she swabbed a ball of cotton wool in iodine. This was going to hurt more than the beatings that caused it, but it was still less painful than going up against her.

"This is going to sting a bit", she said bringing the wool towards me.

"No shi-- Holy fuck!" It was like she poked a burnt match into my eyelid.

"Stop being such a baby", she said. "I've taken bullets out of men who made less fuss than you."

"You ever going to tell me when that was, precisely?"

"Nope."

"Motherfu--" I said, as she dabbed my face again.

"Language, please", she said, "or else you'll have another black eye before I'm through."

I closed my eyes and sat in silence as much as possible, as she did her work. Wherever she picked up the nursing skills, bedside manner notwithstanding, she certainly knew what she was doing.

"I see you had someone take a look at your nose before it set", she said. "Did a pretty good job of it too".

"Yeah, she's a real pro".

"This'll need stitches, though", she said looking at the gash over my left eye.

I watched her get the needle and thread ready and wished I'd had a drink whilst I'd had the chance.