Like many, if not all other kids in the world, I, too, once ran a detective agency. It was a very small, no-name – literally – agency, based out of a small, second-floor room in a Helsinki suburb. All I had was a desk. I didn’t even have a chair for my partner.
Then again, my partner was our dog. And like all proper detectives, I detested sitting at a desk anyway, so I spent most of my time out in the field, looking for cases.
The chances of a damsel in distress walking up the stairs and into our apartment were slim anyway.
Probably needless to say, but my detective agency didn’t have any cases per se, but I did spend many an afternoon shadowing people, and even more time shaking off bad guys I suspected were shadowing me. Now, I am sorry to say, my agency has laid dormant for many years.
Until last week.
Call it a hunch, call it intuition, call it whatever you want, but as I drove out car onto the ferry to Finland, I felt a familiar, funny feeling in my stomach. Something was up.
“Something’s up, Riku,” I muttered, out of habit. (It was, and is, something of a catchphrase of mine).
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