Chapter 1

Dashiell G. Aldridge was a big slab of a man. He sat in a large chair behind a large wooden desk in his second floor walkup in downtown Washington, D.C. Across from him sat a petite redhead, Detective Regina Robbins, DCPD. They were sharing Chinese food and shooting the breeze.

“So then,” Dashiell said, “we hear this scream, and my partner slaps his hands over his ears yelling out ‘Banshee!’”

Regina laughed. “He didn’t!”

Dashiell shook his head. “He did. He fell to the floor, curled up into a little ball and cried like the world was ending. Good God, it was like he forgot it was a training exercise.”

Dashiell went to set the box of General Tso’s chicken he was holding and knocked a fork to the floor. He bent over and picked the fork up, examining it.

“You expecting anyone, Regina?”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes and trying to get her laughter back under control. “No, Dash. Why?”

“Well then, it looks like I have a client coming to visit. A man.”

As he finished speaking, there was a knock at the door.

“One of these days, Dash, you’re going to have to tell me how you do that,” Regina said with a smile.

“It’s fairly simple really,” he explained, rising to his feet and heading toward the front of the converted apartment. “It’s all in the silverware.” With this cryptic remark, he walked into the foyer and opened the front door to his office.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

Dashiell examined the man standing in the open doorway and one word came to mind – polished. The man was impeccably dressed, with a crisp white shirt, dark blue tie, navy slacks and polished brown shoes with a matching belt. He looked like he had just stepped out of a Brooks Brothers catalogue.

“You are Dashiell Aldridge, the occult detective?” He had a slight New England accent. Old money, thought Dashiell.

“I am, sir. Would you care to come inside?” Dashiell stepped back and beckoned toward the interior and his office. Regina had stepped into the door, looking down the short hallway at the man in the door.

“There’s no time, Mr. Aldridge. I would like to engage your services and from what I understand, time is of the essence.”

Dashiell’s eyebrows raised. “And what sort of case do you have? Missing person?”

“Nothing so mundane, Mr. Aldridge. I believe there has been a murder.”

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