127: Private Investigator

Laird’s POV

I visited a small office in one of the office building rows at the edge of Brooklyn. The office building had three floors and was divided into several small offices. I walked up the stairs of the old building to the top floor.

One of the offices had a rusted door and dirty glass covered by yellowed blinds. "Private Investigator: Matthew Logan" was written on a white nameplate with blue lettering next to the door.

I knocked on the door and entered without much greeting or pleasantries. As I entered, a man with black hair immediately lowered the newspaper he had been reading onto the desk.

“Ah, Laird!”

“Hey, Matthew,” I said as I sat on one of the shabby sofas with cracked and torn leather on the edges.

“On time. I just finished reading the lottery announcement in the newspaper.”

“Did you get it?”

“Not yet. I guess I still need time to map out the counter with the highest winning odds,” he sighed deeply and sat down on the same worn-out sofa in front of me.

“Certainly, that