The unpredictable life of a private detective is a fine thing. But like all good things, it is at least partly an illusion. There are only so many reasons that a person knocks on the grey-green door that reads “Justice and Dixon, Private Investigations”, and they usually fall within a fairly limited range. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule.
They say that you can have too much of a good thing, my fiends, and that is certainly true. There are few things in the world so wonderful that custom cannot stale their infinite variety. And when it comes to the subject of Hawthornes... well, perhaps Two Is Too Many!
It is said by some that good things come to those who wait. It’s an interesting idea, and like most interesting ideas, it’s sufficiently vague as to be effectively meaningless. We all wait, therefore we each see ourselves as the potential recipient of the aforementioned good things. And we find this good, so the adage becomes a truism. Thing is, as comforting as it is, it ain’t quite true.
There are certain immutable laws that govern the universe, and to put them to the test is a waste of time. To employ the firm of Justice and Dixon to do so on your behalf will cost you the sum of $39.99 a day and leave you sadder, but wiser, than you were when you came in the door.
Really, if you think about it, we are all just waiting to die. From the moment of birth, in a perpetual holding pattern to shuffle off this mortal coil sooner or later. Most of the time it doesn't bear thinking about. But then the wait suddenly becomes a whole lot less theoretical than it used to be.
They say that familiarity breeds contempt, and history suggests that's pretty true. But what about a Girl Detective on her own in the big, bad city? What's the end result of that equation? When Trixie Dixon is ready to find out she can always ask The Empty Desk.