My foot tapped to an imaginary beat. I glanced at a man, he was in his 30’s, his wife had just left him, and his boss had tried to kill him in his sleep. And that information came from looking at his face. Then my man walked in. Around 6” 2’ he wasn’t particularly tall but his thick-soled boots and mess of dreadlocks made him about 6” 8’.

“What up, man?”

“Oh, you know the usual. How are you?”

“Ah, man I’m fine, but why’d you need me?”

“Do you know of anyone who likes to kill using roses?”