Anne was shattered at the suspension of her license. She sat alone in her office and stared blankly at the phone as if anticipation somehow would make it ring and the incoming message would make everything all right again. The power of wishful thinking was fleeting, though, and after the last trace of it vanished, she slumped into a morass of gloominess and self-pity. In a short twenty-four hours she lost her best friend, her private investigator’s license, her client, and the prospect of any income. She’d hurt Dit terribly. She had read it in his face. He would never forgive her. How could he? She had demeaned the most important segments of his life, and he had lashed back, and rightly so. Then the investigator from Industry had said that her suspension would likely last for two weeks while their enquiry process took its course, but who knows? It could just as easily drag on for a month…or more. Why would the bureaucrats give a damn?
