Fate's Rabbit Hole

Sometimes real life, as much as you try to avoid it, sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Not to mention when you don't want it. Sitting in my office tonight, rain pouring down like it was setting a score with someone who owed it money, lights off, nobody even knowing I was here, made me foolishly think I might avoid the persistant sense of humor of Fate. Can't escape your destiny, no matter how hard you try. Mine was to get involved in something I knew, without being told any details or given any instructions, wouldn't be solved in a few hours.
The body of Abraham Marley, full of bullet holes, sat on my desk daring me to ask about it. I didn't bite, preferring the picture to tell its own tale. It didn't bite either.
"I found it on his coffee table," the dame finally said.
"Talk."
"I'm Vanessa Marley, his daughter. I came home and found this picture."
"Any broken windows, locks? Anything else lying around that shouldn'ta been?"
"Just the picture."
She suspected her father's partner, that much was clear. I'd had enough run-in's with the local P.D.s to know that solving murders was their turf, and it was a stadium I didn't have home field advantage on. They'd already be looking for Rothschild too, assuming they even knew yet.
"Did you call the police?"
"No."
"Why not."
"I just didn't."
"Gonna need a few more details hon."
"That's all you get, you're the P.I., you figure it out. I'll be in touch."
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and tossed it on the desk. All it had was a phone number. She stood up and left the office. As I heard her footsteps grow softer, I reached over and grabbed the phone number she left. Except it wasn't a phone number.