Ashwyn looked at the person across the desk from her, looked down at the paper she’d been handed, then looked back at the person. “You want me to investigate… Hannah Bloom?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“That’s right.”
“We’re talking about the same Hannah Bloom, right? The singer? The one who goes on tours, all that?”
“Yep.”
“Well, um.” Ashwyn was no stranger to odd requests. Most of her cases, even if they didn’t start unusually, ended up with some sort of strange twist. She had a suspicion about this one, though. “Here’s a question for you. Why?”
The woman seated on the other side of her desk leaned in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I don’t think she can actually sing. That crystal she’s always holding?”
“The one that amplifies her voice?”
“Right. I think it’s actually enchanted to make her sound good.”
Ashwyn folded her arms as she looked towards the ceiling. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Hm. Interesting. Not my normal fare, but it might be a nice change of pace.”
“Plus,” the woman continued, tapping her fingers together, “if you get close to her, then maybe I could get an autograph–”
“Get out of my office.”