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I had only just begun to scratch the surface of detective. I was so lost in this dark world. My aunt who visited every holiday was swept up in the darkness that surrounded her family history. I was barely able to take it all in. Intrigued though I was, where was one to begin? I had no real experience in the antiquated and forgotten. Still she urged me on with each story she'd weave as intricate and delicate as a spider's web. Eventually, I threw caution aside and jumped into the depths of the unforgiven....

Ciaran whipped the horses to gain speed. That he was relegated to the task wasn't unusual. Long ago it had been his family's inheritance--to dispose of the dead, the used. How many had there been since he began? His mind....

drifted back to a night long ago when he was only a child. Riding along side his master, he sat cloaked in a heavy wool cape meant to sheild him from the cold and damp that surrounded him. It did little to protect him from what was to come next.

I shuddered remembering the silence that succeeded her words.
"Yes, Slyvia?" I whispered, "Do go on."

I was still, fixated on her eyes. Then the phone interrupted my thoughts. I wasn't sure how long I had been thinking about Sylvia's ghastly tale of Ciaran and the Welhaven's gruesome tasks when I became aware of my cell. How long had it been ringing? Four, maybe, five times already? So, I quickly flipped it open without checking the caller id. It was Veronica but everyone at the agency called her Ronnie.

"Shaun?" she blurted, "Are you there?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Oh, what took you so long to answer?"
"What doya got?" I answered, annoyed at her question.
"Yeah, well," she said slowly, "Remember that tip you got from the P.A. of the old Welhaven Estates?"
"Yeah, it was a dead end."
"Well, looks like he is has something new to discuss with you," she replied. "He called and left a message for you with the service last night. Said it was urgent and let a cell number."
Although I was interested, I couldn't believe she'd waited so long to notify me. With a bitter laugh I smiled, "What's the number?"

scratching it into my hand with the nearest pen, I quickly hung up mumbling to Ronnie something about checking in later that day. Why didn't I keep a pen and pad nearby? You have to get organized, Shaun, I said out loud. Truthfully, I knew I'd get to the bottom of this; I always did. And I knew why the shyster would be calling. I just wanted to keep him honest and that what personal meetings provide.

It seems Steele, formerly of Steele and Cheatum Law Firm, had decided to go out on his own. I arrived too late, however, for his grand opening; I found him slumped in his chair, his skull cracked.

I knew at that point that time was on my side--or was it? Whoever had been here had ransacked his office. What were they after? Quickly I had began rummaging through his files; they were the least disturbed after all. Fingering the files, I made my way through the W's: Watson, Weinstein, Wellhaven....got it.

Quickly I glanced around the office once more taking in all that was Steele. Whoever had done this was someone he knew. And what had they used? A crystal paperweight? This required rage. Was this related to my inquiries? Couldn't be. I had to admit, the connection seemed all too coincidental, but I was positive he had made more than a few enemies over the years.