ONE


There was an uncanny cold in that San Francisco night. It wasn’t unbearable, I wouldn’t be out if it was but a topcoat was almost needed. I was looking out into the nocturnal promenade of city lights and starless sky although my mind was a million miles off.

Work was slow and if you have even done investigating in the private sector you would know that it was the case more frequent than not.

I could hear a door squeal shut and slam with a metal thud from behind me. I paid it no mind. Click clacking heels rhythmically tapping on the balcony followed. Again I paid it no mind.

“Got a light?” A voice, high but pleasurable brought me into the now. It took me a while to get around and produce the lighter from my breast pocket. The flame lit a face soft, curvy, pretty but almost too pretty. But remember I said almost. She clung to it and my sleeve puffing plumes into the windless night air while I took assessment of her. The blonde hair that bounced about at the shoulders was serpentine; meandering around her made up face. The crimson of her lips, richly saturated was the only colour she wore. Her body, save for her arms were wrapped in white fur and from a hundred miles off even a dead man could tell its authenticity. Those slithering appendages of hers were darker than any night spent up here.

The cigarette rolled in her fingers as her stormy eyes met mine. I was quick to avert my focus back to the city and arms back to the paint clipped rail.

“Is this yours?” I could see her point to the window of my office.

“Divorce case.” I muttered under my breath more to myself than aloud. “Let me guess,” I started at her. “You want some to follow your husband around, correct?”

“Is this yours or not.” She barked. I could tell from first sight of her that there weren’t a lot of people that talked to her indigent as I just did. I’m sure she would have me fired only I was a free man at this point.

“Yes it’s mine, sister.” I paused, turned to her performing a mocking bow. “Philip Bottino, private investigations…”

“I have a case for you then.” She butted in.

“…At your service.” I finished. “I was right though wasn’t I? There is trouble at home?”

“Yes but not the way you think. My husband is missing Mr. Bottino.” I was surprised but didn’t show it.