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The P.I. Chapter 1 | page 1 | page 2 | page 3 | excerpts
(continued...) The momentary relief she’d felt was shoved out by a fresh wave of panic. Surely she’d remember if she were on the way to her wedding. But why would she be going to her own wedding in a taxi? Wouldn’t she be with family? Something knotted in her stomach. Maybe she didn’t have a family. She turned to the window. “Sir?” The word sounded like a squeak, and she swallowed hard when her taxi driver’s face once more appeared in the window. “You all right?” he asked. “Yes,” she lied. “Where did you pick me up?” He frowned at her. “You don’t remember that either?” “No.” “She’s in shock, I tell you,” the skinny man said. “Don’t give her a hard time. Just tell her where you picked her up.” Her taxi driver let out a disgusted sigh. “You flagged me down on Bellevue.” “And where did I ask you to take me?” His frown deepened, but he reached in through the passenger window and extracted a clip board. “503 Lathrop. It’s just two blocks down on the right hand side. We were almost there when this idiot ran the light.” “Did not,” the skinny man muttered. Ignoring him, her driver handed her a business card. “You gave me this when you got in the car.” She glanced down and read the neatly printed name. KristopheAngelis, PrivateInvestigations. Beneath that in smaller font was an address – 503 Lathrop. She read the phone number, too. Nothing on the card rang a bell. As far as she knew, she’d never seen the name before. The sound of sirens in the distance had the two men turning away from the window, and she was grateful for their distraction. She had to think, to take stock of her situation. She hadn’t called the taxi; she’d flagged it down. And she had a wedding dress. There were blood stains on her suit. And she’d given the taxi driver the business card of a Private Investigator. The knot in her stomach tightened. No matter how you tried to add it up, it wasn’t good. Maybe she wasn’t on the way to her wedding. She could be a runaway bride. That seemed a more plausible explanation for why she was alone in a taxi with her wedding dress. She’d had a case of bridal jitters. But why was she running to a PI? Her gaze dropped to her suit again. A runaway bride with blood on her suit? That was not good. Her fingers tightened on the business card. Maybe this Kristophe Angelis would know who she was. The sirens grew louder. “It’s the ambulance,” the skinny man said. “Naw,” her taxi driver corrected. “It’s the police. They’ll interview a few witnesses and find out you ran that red light.” “I had the green.” “I had the green. My fare will tell the police that – as soon as she comes out of shock.” Police. The word sent a chill through her, and she dropped her gaze once more to the blood stains on her skirt. They’d want to know how the blood got there. How could she explain that to the police when she couldn’t remember? Maybe she didn’t want to remember. But she had to. Moving to the edge of the seat, she peered down at the floor of the taxi. She should have a purse, shouldn’t she? It was black leather, and she hadn’t seen it when she’d moved the dress bag. Relief streamed through her. Surely, there’d be answers in there. It was heavy and it took some effort to drag it onto her lap. Opening it, she peered down at the contents. She hadn’t thought the knot in her stomach could twist any tighter, but she’d been wrong. Even in the dim light, she could recognize the gleam of metal and make out the shape of a gun. Beneath it lay bundles of bills. The ones she could see on top were twenties. It was a lot of money. Doing her best to avoid touching the gun, she slipped her hand into the tote, sliding it down the sides of the stacked bills and trying to locate a wallet or anything else that might tell her who she was. But she came up empty. “You remember anything yet?” She started, clutching the tote close before turning to see her taxi driver peering in the window. “No. Sorry.” “Shit,” he muttered as he turned and walked away. She could see beyond him to where two uniformed officers were talking to the tall, skinny man. A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. Even as she watched, one of the policemen pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started to talk to one of the bystanders. This was her chance, she thought. If she stayed here, she was going to have to explain the blood, the gun, the wedding dress, and the small fortune in money in her tote bag. And she couldn’t. She slipped one twenty out of a bundle and set it on the seat. The money might not be hers, but she didn’t want to leave the taxi driver without his fare. Then keeping her eye on the two policemen, she very carefully opened the door that hadn’t suffered damage from the accident. Finally, she gathered up the tote and the wedding dress and slipped away into the crowd. |
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