” The boss wants to see you in his office,” said Millie Holstein tapping me on my shoulder as she glided by, her mail cart loaded down with dull apple red file folders and mail for the twenty odd private investigators that made up the Cavendish agency.
” About what? I haven’t finished my report yet,” I huffed after taking a sip of Tab cola. Insurance fraud could be very tedious.
” Listen if I knew I’d give you the low down on the get down, but I don’t,” Millie told me followed by a yawn and I believed her a nice kid from Rego Park in Queens her hair a red curly mess, wearing a moss green mini skirt and a red wool sweater. With a damn sigh I stood up from behind my desk, smoothed out my own pleated royal blue mini dress and headed to Madison Cavendish’s corner office that looked down on 7th Ave and beyond that Times Square. Looking around for Hulan Brown for maybe a clue and support he’s not to be found.
My name is Everina Dawson and on this fall afternoon in 1973 I began my journey into the paranormal and occult.