3. A lawyer and a notary

Arthur removed his coat from one of the chairs and offered a seat to the two men who had just knocked on his door. Mr. Michaelson and his partner made themselves comfortable. His cop instincts jumped at the move. He had worked on the force long enough to know when someone had a gun under their clothes.

He shook his head drawing a kind smile on his lips and calling himself paranoid.

 

– Can I offer you something? –They both shook their heads. You will tell me.

Nor did it seem very normal that they had been the ones who had gone to his house. Before everything got crazy, he had already consulted the office hours of his parents' lawyer. There was no mention anywhere of the possibility of a home visit.

– Your parents wanted to leave everything tied up so that you didn't have to worry about anything –the lawyer was explaining, if he was even a lawyer.

 

The man continued speaking as he reached for his briefcase. Arthur wasn't listening. All his attention was focused on studying every detail to obtain confirmation of what his instinct was already telling him: there was something strange there and those two were not clean wheat.

He turned to Mr. Fletcher, whom he had avoided looking at as he felt his eyes on him continually. He was still staring at him, but that wasn't what Arthur noticed, but the pin on his jacket. A small golden spider.

​

 

Arthur grabbed the table from below and lifted it up, throwing it at the two men, before Michaelson could get anything out of his briefcase. One of his mentors in the police force had taught him a valuable lesson long ago: a single event can be isolated, two a coincidence, but three a pattern.

Arthur ran out just as the two men dodged around the piece of furniture to pounce on him. Mr. Fletcher already gun in hand.