The day had already started out bad. Being a small time private detective in a big city like this one was tough enough. I didn't need creditors chasing me or hoods trying to settle old scores. Today I could tell was not going to be like any other day. That was real apparent when she slinked into my small, cluttered office. She had long legs and a shapely body. I notice these things on a day like this.
Her voice was soft and musical, "Can you help me Mister Spade?"
"The name's PAID, Ma'am, Sums Paid", I replied. "And I can think of nothing else I'd rather do!"
"Good. I am Elizabeth Jones. My husband died just last week.", she said sadly.
"I recall seeing something in the papers about that. He was a rich investment banker or something.", I said.
"That's right.", she affirmed. "The police say it was suicide. I know he was murdered."
"The police are pretty good at determining these things, what makes you so sure he didn't just cash-it-in?", I asked coyly.
"That's what I am willing to pay you to find out.", she said as she slapped a large stack of bills on my desk. "Here's two thousand dollars."
I couldn't help but whistle out loud. "It would take a long time before I would see that much money all together in one place.", I thought.
Regaining my senses, I said, "That is a lot of money for widow to have a week after her hubby died."
Should I ask her where she got all that dough, or not take the chance of scaring her away?