It was one of those wet, dark days you get in Yorkshire in November. You get them in December too, and January. February’s not much better either…
Anyway it was one of those days when the birds never get up. Except one wearing a transparent dress and deep red lipstick. She entered my office just after 9am, shaking her umbrella… and the rest. I watched the rest as she shook herself dry.

My office is actually one floor of a disused textile mill. The looms can get in the way, but they make a point of interest for clients at quiet, tense moments.
‘Nice loom,’ she said, after a quiet, and tense moment.
‘Thanks. There’s one just like it over there.’
‘I prefer this one.’
‘Ok.’ I leant against her favourite loom and took out a packet of cigarettes. I offered them to her. She took them.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘Don’t mention it. I was wanting to give up anyway.’ In fact I’d never started. I bought them last March after seeing a Humphrey Bogart film. They’d been in my pocket ever since.
She put one of the cigarettes in her mouth. It drooped like a drunken lover, odd considering its situation. ‘Got a light?’ she asked.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Oh.’ She threw the cigarette on the floor. Then she looked me in the eyes for the first time. Hers were dark brown and as big as an abyss. I’m not sure about mine, I couldn’t see them. I doubt they were abyss-sized though. She appeared thoughtful. Then she stuck her tongue out. She was obviously a complicated lady.
I asked her name.
‘Sylvia Black. How should I address you?’
‘Just use my first name.’
‘Ok… What is it?’
‘Smith.’
‘Smith is your first name? What’s your surname?’
‘Tony.’
‘Ok… Smith.’
‘So, what’s your problem?’ I asked.
‘Who says I have one?’
‘People who come to me usually have a problem.’
‘That must get tiresome. Does it get you down?’
‘It can get depressing sometimes. Only last week I found myself on the trail of an overweight farmer who was cheating on his wife.’
‘Grim.’
‘You didn’t see what he was cheating on her with!’
‘I’d rather not know.’
‘Very wise.’
‘Anyway, you came to me,’ I said.
‘Actually, I was coming in from the rain. It’s chucking it down out there. Hasn’t rained this much since… yesterday.’ She looked into my eyes again. Mine looked back.
‘Yesterday was bad.’
‘Have any cases?’
‘Some irate bloke with a leaking roof.’
‘You do leaking roofs?’
‘Wrong number.’
‘Bugger.’
‘I fixed it anyway.’
‘Oh. Well done.’
We exchanged small talk for a while, sizing each other up. I’d say she was a 36c, but I don’t really know what that is. Finally she said,
‘Want to go somewhere cosier? That echo is a bit disconcerting and it smells like damp clothes in here.’
‘That’ll be you.’
She looked down her own body. She didn’t seem as impressed with it as I was. Then she sniffed. ‘So it is. But I’d rather dry off somewhere warmer.’
‘There’s a Starbucks down the road,’ I said.
‘There usually is,’ she said.
‘It’s across the road from the other Starbucks.’
‘Of course.’
I followed her out of my office, mesmerised by the way she moved her hips. They could hypnotize a blind man…