The Siren's Debt
The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything away; it just turns the dust into a grey sludge that sticks to your shoes and your soul. I'm Arthur Penhaligon, a private eye with a penchant for cheap bourbon and expensive mistakes. My office is a broom closet in a building that smells like old cigars and desperation. She walked in on a Tuesday, bringing the scent of jasmine and danger. She didn't...
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