Disclaimer: I do not own Professor Layton or Level-5. I only own Katarina.
Chapter 1: An Old Friend?
I fingered my key as I walked through the narrow, moss-covered alley to my flat and bookstore. It was well hidden, which meant only a few customers, but that was just the way I liked it.
As I started to put my key in, I realized the door was already unlocked. I let out a sigh of annoyance and opened the door.
"Tell me Clive. Why do I even bother locking my door anymore?" I said loudly.
I wasn't surprised to see a college-age boy wearing a navy blue cap and jacket with light brown hair sitting in one of my antique armchairs. He was handsome alright, but not the person I wanted to see right then.
"I don't know. Look on the bright side. You don't have to give me a key," Clive gave me a mischievous grin I knew all too well.
"I wasn't planning to," I retorted quietly. I set down the heavy stack of books I was carrying and set them on a table. "Now why are you here? Shouldn't you be enjoying your time out of prison? You only got out a week ago."
"That's why I'm here. To thank you for pretending to be my lawyer and shortening my sentence. I'm sure Bill Hawks wanted to put me in for life. Or worse,"
I didn't believe that at all. Clive may have been able to trick the professor and Luke. Not me.
"Mm-hm," I stacked some books in the shelves. "Now why are you really here?"
He looked down at the floor nervously. I knew I'd caught him. Or he was just really interested in the pattern on my carpet.
"The professor needed some information," Clive shrugged casually.
"The professor knows how to contact me."
"Ok, its information for me,"
"So you're working on his case,"
"Well…"
I raised my eyebrow at this. No one went against the professor's orders, except for me when he told me to stop studying and get some sleep so I wouldn't be cranky in court the next morning, which I was, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the professor is usually right, so you were probably better off listening to him.
"He took me off the case. Said I needed to "cool down" from prison," Clive spoke bitterly.
"And why couldn't you just back off?" I sighed. Typical Clive…
"Well, let's see it,' I huffed.
Clive smiled and handed me a big folder, "I knew you'd listen to a voice of reason."
"I'm not sure if it's a voice of reason exactly," I mumbled, half to myself.