As Raquel entered Catalina's office, the dim and quiet atmosphere welcomed her. The aroma of scented candles and the mixed lustrous scent of espresso creeped her nose. The vintage wall sconces—the skull and head—that hung on the mute colored wall created disturbing, wraithlike shadows on the floor. Thick velvet curtains hid the long windows across the walls, leaving only a shy peak of the almost scarlet sky beyond. The paintings and tapestries of Leonardo da Vinci on the other side of the wall seemed to blink at Raquel as she walked inside.
"Miss Haytham," Raquel called out in a modulated voice.
Catalina glanced up to her, and despite the dimly lit room, the weariness in her rich beryl-green eyes were so vivid. "You have anything?" she asked and shifted back her attention to her computer screen.
Raquel slightly hesitated, "Still nothing from the RECEO,"
"Next time you step inside my office make sure you have something gratifying for me." Catalina demanded, not looking at her.
Raquel cleared her throat apologetically before she responded. "But Sir Abraham's attorney wants to speak with you."
Catalina paused at the mention of that.
"He's waiting right now at your usual spot, at the Late Halberd across the street." Raquel added.
When Catalina nodded, Raquel excused herself. Catalina rose up from her chair, grabbed her bag, walked across the room, and headed straight to the private elevator inside her office. As she arrived at the lobby of E'vico Empire, people were a little surprised at the sight of her. It's been a week since she got out of her office, since she suffocated herself at the sanctuary of darkness that loomed inside it.
As she stepped outside the solace of her empire, she was wrapped up by the symphonic sound of horns honking, people chattering, and footsteps hitting the pavement. The tall buildings, number of trees moving in whirlwind, crowds of people, and billboard signs encompasses her sight. The air started to get chilly as night began to fall.
Catalina joined the crowd of people crossed over the pedestrian lane, while a bodyguard was already trailing behind her, blending in with the flock of people as if one with the crowd of strangers. She reached the outside of the Late Halberd where an immense bulky tree stood in front. Its branches protruded like vines up towards the sky and brushed the nearby buildings.
The walls outside the old-looking bistro were a kaleidoscope of colors, elaborated with flowers, vines, butterflies, rainbow, sunlight, and other symbols from nature. This isn't some high-end type of bistro with thousand-dollar worth of menu or some elegant and fancy abracadabras, but Catalina was always engrossed at anything with the whirls of colors and designs as it utterly bring tranquility to her.
Her bodyguard stayed outside the bistro and as she opened the dull, silver aluminum door, it released a creaking sound like the hinges of a rusty iron gate. As usual, only a few numbers of people were inside, one of the reasons that conserved the serenity of the place.
She marched straightway to the bar counter where a man in navy blue suit sat prominently at one of the stools.
"Mr. Malthus," Catalina called out as she sat at the other stool beside him.
"Hmm, miss Haytham." Mr. Malthus quickly put down his glass of cranberry juice and extended his hand for a shake.
"I hope you got something good to hear for me this time, Mr. Malthus." Catalina said as she took the Attorney's hand.
Mr. Malthus pursed his lips and made a little clicking sound. "Actually," he heaved a sigh as he shrugged. "This may sound ridiculous but it seems that we're just falling on a pit hole, Catalina. A long, dark, and unending hole with no ground at all. I'm pissed, at the same time, impressed to whoever is behind this. I'm almost at the point of thinking that we're actually chasing a ghost, Ms. Haytham."
Catalina didn't respond for a moment.
"In short, you're saying that there's no point of fighting at all? That I should let go of the fishing rod because it's not actually a fish nor a shark, but a ghost." She paused, and then leaned forward to glare at him, "Then maybe I need a defense attorney who can actually see ghosts."
Mr. Malthus let out another deep breath as he slightly shook his head.
"You know, Mr. Malthus, it's too damn early of a day to give up the hunt." Catalina put down her bag on top of the counter. The LED lights behind every hue of amber liquids that run along the walls in their inverted bottles illuminated her actually made of Niloticus crocodile bag, its subtle hue flashed in blue and green colors and underneath her neckline were spirals of neon pink, blue, and green that came from the neon sign décor above the wall that says, Late Halberd.
"Ghosts or whatever evil spirits they turned out to be, I'll hunt them down. If I must turn the whole United States of America upside-down just to find whoever that son of a bitch behind this, I'll do it. So don't ask for another abrupt meeting like this just to talk about the impossibility. You're a lawyer, isn't it supposed to be your job?
Catalina's aware of the difficulty of this whole messed up thing. But it's not possible for her to give up her grandfather without even putting up a more aggressive fight.
"Everything was so clean." Mr. Malthus muttered as he let out a sigh. "Frauds or criminals, even how skilled and experienced they are; they make mistakes. But at this case, no matter what we do or where we look, not even a teeny-tiny bit of fault can be spotted." He tried to relax at the counter. "I don't think we're dealing with some petty criminals out there."
"I don't think so, too." Answered Catalina. "That's why I asked for the RECEO, right? And the fact that they also got nothing is already alarming."
"What I'm really confused about was how those drugs were put inside your grandfather's safe without being noticed by the other housekeepers and the security. There was also an alarm that could notify your grandfather if someone attempts to invade his vault. Why didn't it work?" Mr. Malthus suddenly talked about the crime. "The case couldn't be thwarted easily because there was a witness, worst is it's the mother of the victim. Your grandfather's testaments were all nothing but that he's innocent. He doesn't know about the drugs. He doesn't even know how it went inside his body. But according to you and the other housemaids inside his manor, he was always and completely sober. Not even a hint that he's actually using drugs. But, then poof—he just turned out positive in a drug test. The court wouldn't just believe it's framed." He reached for his glass and made a sip. "30 days left and we still got nothing. Not even a single tiny evidence. It's very unusual for me and for the RECEO."
"Isn't it why I'm asking you to—"
Catalina was cut off when someone unexpectedly disrupted their conversation. Suddenly, somebody had put something above the counter right between them. "Excuse me?" Catalina snorted at a guy in college uniform that stood before them. One of his hands was clasped at the only strap of his knapsack that hung over his right shoulder. The stranger looked a little bit familiar to Catalina but she just couldn't pinpoint. A faint, pleasant smell of men's perfume hovered in the air around him. His hair was as dark as his monotonic eyes that compromised his harsher and fiercer features. He's tall and has a well-built body figure. There were even telltale signs of muscles hidden under his white uniform. He's quite the kind whom every woman would meet before finding the right one, like the guy who never had trouble finding a date, an actual carbon copy of Francisco Lachowski, a face every woman would die for.