Dan Periwinkle could only be described as a dapper man, Elsa noted as she took the cigarette from her mouth and extinguished it in her ashtray. His hat on straight and true, twinkling blue eyes that for once found sadness through the decimation of his dear old dad’s estate. And Elsa was supposed to get it back for him.
She didn’t know much about the laws pertaining to this case. She didn’t need to. She wasn’t that kind of detective.
“I been honest with you, Dan. I’m not sure this sort of case is up my alley, and there’s no guarantee I’ll succeed. Problem is, I can’t work on faith, you still gotta fund my time.”
“I’ll be waiting for your updates,” Dan smiled somberly and got up, tossing a wad of bills on the desk.
Elsa collected the money, flipped through it to count, and nearly choked when it fell open to reveal a mummified finger with a note tied on. The script was like chicken scratch. It wasn’t a language known to many, but it was a language Elsa knew well. She had once made a pact with a hoodoo man to save her father. Her job was to kill an assigned victim, and his job was to cure her dad. An eye for an eye.
People say never take wishes from a genie. Sometimes hoodoo men are worse.