Agent Sato found it hard to get comfortable in the chair offered to her by the Sheriff of Kessler Valley. Her small cramped office was littered with hard copy case files and assorted documentation. She suspected the woman had a rigid system in place that would make sense of the chaos, however Sato couldn’t quite unravel it. 

The sheriff was a tall middle aged woman who filled out her uniform impressively with the hint of muscle tone edging around her arms. Her long amber hair was folded into a lightly fraying bun pinned behind her head. 

They had put the pleasantries aside and had gone over the basics of the case again. 

Five days ago a small group penetrated the grounds of the Kessler Manor, the lock on the door leading to the back of the wine cellar showed signs of forced entry. The Cellar itself held nothing of value and hadn’t been used in years. The culprits had merely used it to gain entry to the basement room where the Kessler family vault was hidden. 

The vault was cracked by a powerful, likely diamond tipped drill and much of its contents were pilfered. Sato’s eyes scrolled over the list of items reported as stolen. The sheriff caught her eyes expectantly. 

“Well...” Sato placed the sheet aside. “A few of these seem like the sort of thing the Phantom Thief Clover would potentially go after.” 

Sheriff Hammond nodded. “You think she’s responsible?” 

Sato shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. The method of entry was too straightforward and sloppy. Clover would be unlikely to employ a loud drill without some sort of cover.” She tapped her fingers on the worn arms of her chair lightly. “I can’t be sure until I see the scene for myself, of course.” 

Hammond flipped through the printed report. “You’ve dealt with her often, I take it?” 

“I’ve logged more hours investigating Clover than anyone else at Interpol.” Sato shrugged innocently. “Not that it means anything while she remains at large.” 

Hammond took a long sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair. “I take it, you'll want to see the scene then?” 

Sato smiled politely. “Of course.” 

Hammond sat up and pulled the door open for Sato. She stepped through with an appreciative nod and stepped out to a piercing glare. Deputy Harrington looked through her accusingly. Though she had no idea why the young woman didn’t seem to like her much. She must have been about half the Sheriff's age but if she kept scowling like that, Sato suspected she’d be the first of the two with noticeable wrinkles. 

Sato gave her a cheery wave as the Sheriff locked her door. 

“Emily, can you pull the wagon around?” The sheriff tossed the keys underhanded. “We’re going to show our guests around the scene.” 

Deputy Harrington snatched the keys out of the air, turned, and vaulted the barrier around the bullpen effortlessly. Emily hit the ground jogging and was out the door before either of them could cross the room. 

Sure enough a large patrol car idled in front of the station when Sato stepped out. The deputy seemed to bristle when Sato assumed the passenger seat but said nothing. 

The ride was quiet but for the engine and the whir of the car’s heater struggling against the morning chill. The center of the town was where the only bustle of activity could be found. A smattering of pedestrians going about their day. The wide, vacuous roads certainly left an air of unease about the place. It felt as if even the imposing redwoods that encircled the town wanted nothing to do with it.

“Here we are.” The Sheriff said rather needlessly as they approached the large iron gate surrounding the residence. The old motors whined as they automatically pulled the gate aside. Sato noticed the glint off a security camera discreetly mounted behind the square brick columns that tastefully hid the opening mechanisms. 

“Helen Kessler certainly likes to keep up appearances” Sato mused to herself quietly. The vast lawn was neatly groomed despite the cold weather encouraging the grass to wither and brown. The flower beds that adorned the patio were tidy and showed signs of recent maintenance. 

Ms. Kessler studied the trio as they approached from her seat at an intricately patterned wrought iron table. Sato felt the woman’s cold eyes on her but kept her face calm and impassive. She had an aura of confidence and authority that overwhelmed even the three of them. 

“I take it this is your ‘expert’” Ms. Kessler wasted no time on pleasantries, keeping her eyes glued to the morning paper. “I thought you’d be taller.” 

“If I require a step ladder, you’ll be the first I tell.” Sato replied sincerely, giving a slight bow as she approached. 

The faintest hint of a smile peeked out from the wrinkled corners of Helen’s mouth. “The door to the cellar is in the kitchen.” Her eyes locked themselves on the sheriff. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to disarm before going inside?” 

The Sheriff shook her head. “Sorry Ma’am.” 

Sato removed her pistol from it's holster, sliding out the magazine with practiced grace and placing it nearly in her coat pocket. She then ejected the round sitting in the chamber and gently placed the pistol on the table. 

“I hope you don’t mind me holding on to the ammunition. I can’t in good conscience leave a loaded firearm unattended.” Sato watched the old woman expectantly. 

Ms. Kessler looked Sato in the eye and nodded before going back to reading “...The two of you could learn something from this one.” 

When nothing more was said the three of them stepped inside the spacious manor. A mild must tickled the back of Sato’s nose as she stepped onto the polished stone floor. The stylized woodwork that went into the walls and the grand staircase reflected the turn of the century opulence you’d expect to see in black and white movies. 

A collection of photos caught Sato’s eye hanging on the wall just before the staircase. Most looked to be yellowing family photos from generations past. Most were black and white but a few color photos hung near the bottom. The largest was a photo of two young men in suits and a smart looking woman in a long dress sitting on a tree stump. Behind them loomed a large wooden structure surrounded by enormous trees. 

The sheriff alongside and pointed at the picture. “That’s the old paper mill. I think that’d be old Helen and her brothers if I’m not mistaken.” 

Sato nodded. “What happened to it?” 

“Oh it’s still there.” The Sheriff added. “Been shut since the accident.” 

“What sort of accident?“ The jet-lagged agent tried to sound interested. 

“Apparently some of the workers had been organizing a ‘third shift’ and something suddenly went wrong with the equipment.” 

“You mean they were using their off hours to reopen the mill and produce more paper?” 

“That’s the short of it yeah… it never smelled right to me. I mean how much money could there be in paper?” The Sheriff scratched her head. “I mean if they were trying to print counterfeit money that would be one thing but they didn’t have the right equipment.” 

“All I know is we got a call after one of the transformers shorted and killed one of ‘em.. He might have made it if he hadn’t been wearing insulated boots.” The Sheriff held herself and shuttered. ”The electricity couldn’t reach the ground so it just... cooked him.” 

Sato stood very still and remained very quiet. The hand in her pocket reached down past her phone and lightly stroked the mane of her key-chain. She pet the pegasi as if trying to comfort the tiny blue thing. As if by doing so she could somehow escape this cruel and uncaring world.