The day had been long; boring and long. After Stockton had gotten off the phone with the woman, he had braced himself, the cases would trickle in, and they habitually were the same case, and they habitually ended with the same result, but he needed the jobs to stay alive. The first coming in forty-two minutes after her call. This first case, a stolen eighteen carat gold brooch. He takes down the details, apparently it went missing around 8:45 pm the night before. He had gone out in search for clues, and sure enough, it had been pawned, and for a value multiple times lesser than its value.<br/><br/><br/>Returning to his office, he waits for another case. Surely enough, one hour and twenty-seven minutes after Anna’s call, another case, he had been working with the police on a shooting. One of the officers had set to meet with him once weekly with any new information. Unfortunately, another dead end, the body had been buried already, and the murder weapon had yet to be found, it was the fourth in Manhattan in a little over a month. And then, for the next several hours? Silence.<br/><br/><br/>A knock on the main office door had come at 2:15. Miss Beaumont had answered the door, inviting this mystery person inside. She had guided this woman into his office, closing the door. Stockton had stood up, extending his greeting to this person. He leads her into a chair, offering her refreshments, coffee, tea, water, cigarette…after giving her what she had asked for, he sits back in his chair, grabbing his notepad. Looking up at her, he simply says this; “Start at the beginning. Any detail, even something that would be considered minute, give it to me. I can only work with as much as you give me. Go ahead.”