That was a beautiful noon, but the air was becoming more and more chilling, as the sun went down. My head was killing me, and I would rather be at home, taking a nap, but I had something important to do, and I couldn't back off. I entered the decadent building, almost regretting my decision to be there. But there was the place I was looking for. "John Smith PI", was written on the door, so I knocked, waiting for an answer. "Wait a minute," I heard a masculine voice, followed by the noise of chairs being dragged on a wooden floor, and things being moved. That was weird, but I waited, since that was my last hope to save myself. Finally I heard a "come in", so I opened the door, to find an incredibly dark room. At least I could take off my sunglasses.
First there was what probably should have been a secretary table, but it was empty and dirty, as the amount of dust was turning the table white. There was an open door behind the table, so I entered. A man was sitting behind a desk. He was wearing a pinstripe suit too big for his skinny figure, and his hair was messy and spiky. As for the office, it was messy with books and papers everywhere. If the delay to answer me was an attempt to clean that mess up, he failed. In general, I wasn't impressed. Honestly, I was seriously considering going away and leaving that place. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And he was well recommended by Vina, who got a nice deal in her divorce, after all the evidence of her husband cheating on her.
"Mr. John Smith?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, with a smile. I smiled, partly because he reminded me of a weasel (not in the figurative way). Trying to concentrate on my mission, I sat on a chair, in front of his desk. The sudden need to cough came to me. That place was pretty dirty. How could that guy work there? For first impressions that was… a disaster. But never judge a book for its cover. I just hoped he was better than he looked.
"Don't you have a secretary or something? That would be way easier if you had one," I said. "I used to have one, but not anymore," he answered me, and for a second I felt like his mind was drifting away.
"I used to be a secretary before… Those were good times." The best times, actually. When everything was simple and my life wasn't being threatened.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you are..." What? He must've been joking. How could he not know who I was? The greatest star of the theaters. The great Helen of Troy, Candy Pantomime, Penny Carter and so many others… A Shakespearean actress, nothing less! Well, maybe besides Ophelia in the university theater I never did something really great, but I wasn't a Jane Doe either. I had my fans…
"I'm sure you know who I am, love," I said. "The real question is why I am here."
He agreed, which was really wise. At least he was practical, what gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Before I start, you have to assure me that conversation will never leave this office. Can you do that?"
"Absolutely. I'm a professional, ma'am." "Good," I smiled. "I think there is someone who wants me dead."
"What?" he asked. That was something behind his eyes that looked like immediate interest, mixed with a bit of curiosity, and, if I wasn't wrong, he looked a bit amused.
"I've been receiving those letters, you see? It's been four days already, one each day. The message is a bit different, but they all basically tell me to die in a way or another, see?"
I opened my small purse, took the paper off, and gave it to him. John put his glasses on, examining the paper. There wasn't anything else written aside from the threatening words, all typed. They said basically. "You should've been dead," "Aren't you ashamed, you slut?" "If I were you, I would kill myself," and "Die already. No one needs you." They were all typed in the same way, all in black, with the same paper. Not the most creative threat in the world, but scary enough to make me freak out the last four days, and look for a private investigator in a place like that. Honestly, I wasn't a big fan of death, especially when I was the one dying.
"Well… they are pretty hateful, aren't they?" he said, while reading them. What was he expecting? When I said someone was threatening me, it wasn't with kisses and hugs. "Do you know someone who could write you this, Mrs…"
Okay, so he wasn't joking. He didn't know my name. Not that I was offended or anything but… Come on! Maybe I wasn't a Lucile Ball or a Katherine Hepburn, but still...
"You really don't know who I am?" "I'm sorry," he said, scratching his neck. He looked like an awkward puppy. "Donna Noble. Does it ring a bell?" I asked, but John Smith still looked puzzled. "Runaway Bride, Partners in Crime, Fires of Pompeii..."
"I don't follow the media," he said, shrugging.
"It's theater! And you call yourself a detective?" I asked, astonished.
"I've never lost a case, ma'am," he said, smirking.
"Yeah, that's what I heard," I rolled my eyes. He was quite cocky, wasn't he? "Answering your question, no. I have no idea who could want to kill me. I don't have enemies."
"Sure," he said. He didn't believe me, I saw that in that cocky smirk of his. Well, he probably had his, with that attitude, but I couldn't think about a single person who would want to kill me. Maybe my mom, but that would be in the figurative sense. If she had to send me notes it would probably be "Have a child", "Take care of your husband," or "Stop wasting your time with theater, and do something useful with your life," and all that jazz.
"So, what do you say, Mr. Smith?"
"Isn't that a case for the police?"
"Police? Ha! Those idiots will just get interested in my case after I'm dead. They said they can't do anything if there wasn't a crime. But I know the truth, they think I'm a spoiled diva!"
"And are you?" asked John.
"No!" I yelled. How dare he even suggest that? I wasn't a diva! I knew a lot of divas, and I wasn't one of them, for sure. He had to know my friend Nerys. THAT was a diva. "So, what is your answer?"
"Sure. I was bored anyway," he smiled. "Let's go, Donna Noble, let's find you creepy secret hater." I smiled back, relieved. He was a bit of a knob, but at least he was the first person willing to help me. "Can I have the notes?" he asked.
"Sure, I don't want those things back." He smelled the paper, frowning a little bit. He looked quite concentrated on that, so I kept myself quiet, just waiting for his considerations. But then he licked the paper. He licked it with his whole tongue, like it was an ice cream! That was disgusting.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for clues. Don't worry, it's all part of the process," he said, smiling. Then he put the letters in his pocket. Thank God I gave it to him for good. No way I would have it back now. "I guess we should discuss the payment first," he said, walking to the window, before turning back to me with a smirk. Sure, he wanted money. I was surprised he didn't talk about that before accepting.
"Money is not a problem," I said, proudly.
"Oh, really? So that means I can make my price, right?" he asked, turning back outside. Oy! What did he mean by "make his price"?
"As long as it is fair, yeah, sure," I said. "I just want to know why this person is doing that to me, and how to get rid of this lunatic." He kept looking outside for a while, and just nodded in agreement. That was a bit odd. What was so interesting outside? Did he think we were already done discussing the money? Then he turned back to me.
"Just a thing, a very small thing indeed. Have you ever noticed someone following you?" he asked.
"Following me?" I thought about that. I've never noticed anything. At least not until that moment. That made me wonder if he saw someone suspicious. "No, I don't think so. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all… I was just wondering if you had seen someone stalking you, perhaps. Nonsense!"
"Oh my God, you've seen someone, haven't you?" I asked, already freaking out, but he turned to me, trying to calm me down.
"Oh, no! No! It's just a… an ice dream trunk," he said, smiling.
What? That was the lamest excuse I've ever heard.
"Oy! I'm not stupid! What are we gonna do?"
"Mrs. Noble, you don't have to worry about anything. I took your case, so now you can let me deal with it."
"The heck I will!" I said, scoffing. "Listen here, Sherlock, you can be the PI, but I'm the victim, and I deserve at least to know what is going on around here, so I can try to make something. Anything! If this guy catches me, I don't wanna die clueless, understand?" I said, raising up and walking into John's direction, pressing him against a wall with my index finger close to poke his eye off. He looked pretty scared. Good!
"Yes, ma'am…" he gulped.
"Good! So, does it mean that I can help?" I asked, excited.
"Yeah… Sure… But try not to do anything stupid. Well, at least stupider than joining me to follow this guy," he said. I nodded, in agreement. What did he expect? I wouldn't try to be the hero and run after that guy. At least not in those shoes. But maybe I could help doing something else. I got an idea. A good one!
"I could be the bait."
"What?"No, no, no, no, no! No way! That's too dangerous!"
"Come on! That's the best way to do this!"
"No!"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"No... But I would come up with something... eventually..." he said, considering my offer.
"But you didn't. Listen, it's not that bad. While he is following me, you can go and BAM! Surprise element! What do you think?"
"Yeah... That's not bad... Actually, it's pretty good," he smiled. "Donna Noble, you are brilliant!"