Clues

Despite my failure to retrieve any information at Hush, I still had one clue left to go on- the address on the driver's license. I parked a block away and stupidly left my car underneath a weeping willow. The house was a mint green color that reminded me of dirty toothpaste around my bathroom sink. There was a "For Sale" sign planted crookedly in the front yard and the house was completely bare. Dead end, I thought, but reached for the doorknob anyway. I'm not the type of girl to let something like a lock stand in my way, nor am I the type to be able to pick a lock, but I am the type to break a window. When I walked in the front door, a small package sat glaring at me in the foyer, wrapped in snowman paper. I tore the paper off and saw the partially revealed cover of Hank's favorite self-help book, titled No You Can't, a guide for punishing one's self. I am not the type of girl to believe in coincidences. On the inside of the cover I found a note from the author:

Victor,
A neverending bad day for you.
Shelly Vonavier