The FourthCircle

Chapter 1

Two Years Later September 6, 2021, Cerberus Detective Agency

Monday morning. The two women entering my office were not my typical clients. “Typical” as in the kind of clients I wanted but didn’t have, preferably well-heeled upper-middle class suburbanites. But since I had just recently begun practice and had but a trickle of interest in my talents as Private Investigator Extraordinaire, I could not really classify anyone who came to my office as “typical” or “untypical.”

These women were neither suburbanites nor well-heeled. A white-haired older one had a wrinkled, care-worn face. But her square jaw and manner suggested that the years and whatever troubles had come her way had not taken away the toughness reflected in her steel blue eyes. They both wore white Tee shirts over crew neck sweaters bearing the message “Resist Injustice.”

The younger woman looked to be in her early thirties, and she wore her Tee shirt under a leather jacket. Far from showing wear she looked vibrant and probably younger than her age, with jet black hair, a feline face with brown eyes set wide and slightly slanted over a long thin nose and full lips. Like many women her age and younger she wore jeans so tight they looked painted on her hips and legs. I discretely took note of the curves and full breasts the jacket didn’t conceal. Sexy yes, but a tigress you’d approach with care.

The older woman looked dismissively around my unimpressive office, taking in the desk, two armchairs in front of my desk, bookcase, and two lamps, most of which shouted, “Goodwill,” with a couple that might have come from “One Man’s Treasure.” When her eyes rested on a picture of the river Styx, they widened and glanced away.

“You must be Dan Steele, Priv