She made sure to give me a show getting out of the cab.

Turned out she didn't need me in a big way. There were cops swarming all over the hotel when we arrived.

She got even more nervous.

Oh, sure, I'd go in and check it out while she waited with the cab. The meter was running, it was her dime.

In the lobby I ran into a cop I knew, a gold shield named Bill Sutton.

I buttonholed him as to what all the fuss was about. Made like it didn't mean anything to me, but of course it did. Seems the lady's ex-partner had gotten himself shot in his room. No suspects at the moment, no known motive.

Professional killers?  Thanks, but no thanks.

Back on the street, I found the cab was gone, and my client with it.

Fine by me.

This looked like it could be nasty, really nasty. And here I was out of it with half her cash in my pocket, having invested only a five minute cab ride and two minutes of yap with a cop.


And that's why I'm sitting here duct-taped to a chair waiting for Mutt & Jeff to come back and beat the shit out of me some more.
But here I am in their rec room anyway.

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Images & Text © 1999 Duncan Eagleson