The Carmen Chronicles: Solomon meets Clara

Solomon Crawford pounded on his desk. Who in the hell was Clara Flowers. Fields. Whatever. Why was she bringing this shit up again? Really, who gave a damn about Carmen and her insane ass? She was dead.
New York Daily Observer was a tabloid rag anyway. Was this the only way those hacks could sell papers?
“Mr. Crawford,” his assistant said over the intercom. “You have a guest.”
“Does this guest have an appointment?”
“She said no but you would want to see her. It’s Clara Fields.”
He muttered a string of curse words that would shame a sailor. “I don’t want to see her.”
“Mr. Crawford,” an unknown voice, which he assumed was Clara’s, said. “I have some information about Carmen De La Croix that I think you should know.”
“Why don’t you print it in your next installment of the Carmen Chronicles?! “he boomed.
“Mr. Crawford, you really should talk to me in private about this.”
“Fu—You know what, come on in. I have a few things I’d like to say to you in private as well.”


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