The Fool's Gold

When The Rich Cries (1)

When Sultan hit his pad, he slammed the door shut behind him. He hauled himself up onto his king-sized bed, sat cross-legged, and spread the three files out in front of him.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the tarot card and slapped it down in the middle of the files.

"Let's get down to business," he said, addressing the card.

Sultan had always been a little quirky, often talkiy with his stuff, like his socks, shirts, pants, and even his door. It was his way of sorting his thoughts and chilling out.

Sultan started reciting a familiar childhood rhyme, his voice almost hypnotic. He tweaked the words to fit his situation, his eyes scanning the files in front of him.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, find a clue and let it grow. If it's true, it'll start to show."

His hand moved rhythmically, pointing to each file in turn, until finally landing on the one about the gunshot.

It was like he was conjuring up an answer and which file to open first… oh wait, actually it was the case.

He pi