My Darling Daughter

I wanted to make Dad proud, but it seemed I’d mucked up…

- Amanda Brittany

The woman pacing the pavement opposite was in her thirties, blonde, and clearly agitated. She glanced up at me standing in the window; I noted her overly-blue eyes.

I willed her to come over. Hoped she wanted a private detective. I needed to prove to my father that leaving the police force and starting a detective agency was the right thing to do. I wanted him to be proud of me.

Trouble was, up until now I hadn’t had a single client. Money was dwindling, and I knew I would have to return to the force soon, and face my father saying, “I told you so”.

“I’ll find your cat,” I muttered, still staring at the woman. But something told me this was a lot more serious.

Suddenly she dashed across the road, and my heart thumped at the sound of the doorbell.

“Clare Darley?” she asked. “That’s me.” I attempted a bright smile as she stepped inside.

“You’re very young to be a private detective.” She was well-spoken, heavily made up, with long bleached blonde hair.

“I’m twenty-eight,” I said, buttoning the jacket of my trouser suit. I’d bought it in an attempt to look the part, normally more comfortable in jeans. “I used to be a police officer.”

“Yes, I know. I saw your website.”

We headed upstairs to my office slash-apartment. It was a mess, with washing-up piled high on the worktop and a layer of dust over the surfaces.

“Take a seat.” I gestured to my desk, and she sat down.

“I’ll come to straight to the point,” she said. “I’ve received a horrible threatening letter.” She rummaged in her bag and fished out an envelope.

I pulled the letter from the envelope and read it out loud.

“Ava. You will die on Thursday.” I looked at the woman in front of me. “You’re Ava?”