Chapter 1

The deluge was so heavy it actually hurt when it hit Warren's exposed head. He pulled his jacket up and waved frantically at the blurred image of the taxi emerging from the wall of rain. Sloshing through the rapidly forming puddles, he grappled with the door and launched himself inside, swearing.

"You're lucky I saw you, I'm just going to sit here a minute and hope it lets up, the wipers can't keep up."

"I don't care as long as I'm in here. Man, that is some downpour." Warren sorted out his wet clothes and sat up, looking at the picture on the back of the driver's seat. "You're a woman."

"You sound like you spotted a new species."

"No . . . I just- I've never had a woman cabbie before."

"There aren't many of us."

He sat forward and read the rest of the posted information. "Lynne Kirk, licensed for four years now."

"Sorry, didn't hear that last bit. I think this rain is getting heavier."

I was just saying," Warren spoke up, "your name is Lynne Kirk and you've been licensed for four years."

"Right."

"Well, Lynne, I'm Warren Daly and I want to get to nine-twenty-nine, St. Leonard whenever you think we can make it."

"I've got some cookies up here if you'd like one, and I haven't started the meter.

"No cookie thanks, but very generous on both counts."

The talk stopped, and they sat silently listening to the rain pound on the roof. Warren's feet were soaked and he bent down, yanking at a stubborn shoelace. The awkward position caused his foot to slip and he felt something hit his other leg.

"Is this yours," he asked, sitting up, passing a thick, padded envelope over the seat back.

Lynne turned on the dome light and studied the address, written in marker.

"Nope. Some passenger must have dropped it. Wasn't tonight either."

"What's it say?"

"Shropshire Hotel, Room four-fifteen. No postage, no return address." She passed it back.

"Wait, I don't want it. Turn it in to your dispatcher."

"No way. I wouldn't turn a criminal into my dispatcher."

Warren looked at the envelope, laughing at her remark. "The Shropshire is on the way to my place. We could stop and drop it off there - that is if we ever get going."

After another silent period, Lynne tried the wipers and muttered a 'Yay'. "I think we can manage that now." She started the meter, put the cab in gear and splashed their way down the almost empty street.

****

The Shropshire had a covered driveway in front of the entrance, and a uniformed doorman stepped forward and opened the door, allowing Warren to exit. His pants were wrinkled as well as his jacket, and he made a helpless face at the doorman's scrutiny.

"Wait for me, Lynne. Be right back." He did a soggy jog up the few steps into the lobby and headed for the desk.

The young man looked up with a strained expression as Warren leaned his wet sleeves on the counter.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah. Found this in the back of a cab I have waiting. It's addressed to one of your rooms."

With his pen, the man turned the envelope around and read the front. "Four-fifteen is unoccupied." He edged the envelope back toward Warren.

"Well, was somebody in it recently, or is someone coming in?"

"I'm afraid we can't give out that information." Terse.

Warren felt his damp clothes uncomfortably clinging to his skin as he studied the clerk's smug face.

"Fine. Thanks for your concern."

"You should leave that here. It does have our address."

"I'm sorry, I can't without proper identification." He turned and squished his way back across the terrazzo floor to the entrance.

The cab door slammed and Lynne turned in her seat. "What happened?"

"A stuffy little clerk who seemed to think I wasn't Shropshire material. Said the room was empty and wouldn't say anything else."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Get home and out of these sopping clothes."

"Why don't you open it, maybe there will be a name inside?"

"I'm not keen on that. Padded envelopes usually mean something needs protection - or contains trouble. I have a job that gives me enough trouble."

"What do you do, Warren?"

The easy familiarity made him smile, and he took another look at the photo on the seat-back.

"I'm a copy editor for a publishing agency. I wield a blue pencil all day long."

"You edit manuscripts?"

"Yes, yes I do. Why, are you a writer too?"

"No, I had a friend who wrote something once, and told me all about the horrors of getting anyone to read it at all."

"Your friend was right. What about you, is this full time, or are you a wife and mother as well?"

"If I was a wife and mother I wouldn't be driving a hack, my friend."

The cab pulled to the curb and he looked out at his building. "That was quick, and the rain has really let up. What's the damage?"

"Twenty-six and change. Make it twenty-six."

"Here's thirty-five. I made your back seat all wet."

"So what are you going to do with that?" She asked as he got out.

He stood on the sidewalk slapping the envelope on his hand, then he leaned on the door frame.

"Let me get inside and do a quick change of clothes then you can take me back to the Shropshire."

****

Lynne found a parking spot on the street just down from the hotel, as directed. They sat and discussed the fare, and Warren finally offered a flat fee that Lynne felt was more than generous, considering his offer also gave her a chance to get out of the cab for a while.

"You're going to sneak up to the room?"

"We're going to sneak up to the room. A couple will look less suspicious if we are seen." They stood out of sight of the entrance while he convinced her to help. "You'll have to lose that cap and maybe carry the baseball jacket?"

"That doorman will recognize you," she said, suddenly getting into the spirit of the plan.

"Only if he sees my face. You walk a little ahead and maybe flash him a friendly smile."

Her look said he was coming close to a line he didn't want to cross. Warren made an expressive acknowledgement intended to soothe, and took her arm. They walked up the drive and were greeted as they reached the door. Warren whisked her through into the lobby, and her friendly smile trailed behind.

"Well that was a waste."

"No, we may need it on the way out. You were fine. Now right to the elevator and don't look at the desk." He slipped an arm over her shoulder, feeling the tension as he did.

"Listen, Warren. This better not be some trick you've dreamed up to get me into a hotel room."

"Don't be silly." He pushed her onto the elevator as soon as the doors opened. "It was just- I was only pretending so we would look normal coming in."

"Yeah, well, if you want to look normal going out, that had better be the truth."

The elevator stopped and they exited into a wide, carpeted hallway with sconce lighting between each of the dark stained room doors. Warren counted down to room fifteen and paused, glancing at Lynne, who just shrugged. He took a breath and rapped on the door. They both leaned closer and listened, and after a few more tries, Lynne turned to go.

"Where are you going?"

"There's nobody home so I'm leaving."

"Wait, wait a sec." He tried the handle and the door opened. Warren let go as if it was hot and made a, 'Well what do you know?' face.

"You're not going in!" Lynne hissed.

"Just a peek. C'mon, we're here, it's open . . ."

"What if somebody comes?"

"Then we'd better get inside." He took her arm and dragged her after him.

The only light came from a meagre effort by street lights through the large window. Warren took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. They stood close together in the entry, eyes straining to catch anything in the shadows.

"I don't like this at all," Lynne whispered.

"Just let me look around and see if there's anything that might help."

"Hurry up, or you're going back on the meter."

He crept across the living room part of the suite, barking a shin on a glass table edge and cursing softly. A small writing desk stood by the window and Warren bent down to examine the papers it held.

"Anything?" Lynne's stage whisper made him start and he turned, holding up a small sheet of paper.

"This looks like—" His words froze in his mouth as the phone light caught a glint off a pair of shoes, toes up, beside the large sofa.

Lynne followed the light and clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in  disbelief. Warren moved closer, peering over the arm of the sofa, shining his light on the rigid owner of the shoes.

"Who is it?" Lynne's voice cracked.

"How the hell would I know. He looks like he might be in his late fifties - no pun intended." Warren leaned closer and saw the small red blossom in the greying hairline. He took a quick photo of the man's face. "He was shot. We need to get out of here." He went back and swept up all the papers from the desk, careful not to touch anything else, then hurried across the room and steered Lynne outside.

"Did you touch anything?"

"No, thank God. What are you doing with those papers?"

"I handled them all, and this door handle as well." He wiped furiously with his coat sleeve then hustled down the hall to the elevator.

"We have to call the police."

The doors opened and he pulled her in after him. "I don't think so. What would we say?"

Lynne watched the panel lights, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

****

Warren sorted through the papers he'd taken; across from him in the booth, Lynne scowled. He had convinced her to stop at a small diner and to let him buy her a coffee while she calmed down - so far, no good.

"Everything is all right. Nobody saw us leave and there's no evidence we were ever inside . . ." He stopped and sat back, looking at her. "You still have the package, right?"

She pulled it out of her jacket and dropped it on the table between them without a word.

"Look, Lynne, I know you're upset but there's nothing to worry about."

"We found a body!" She fought to keep her voice down.

"So nobody knows. Stop worrying."

She shook her head and stared at him. "What kind of books do you edit?"

"What? Why?"

"Mysteries? Detective stuff?" She persisted.

"Yeah, but I don't see—"

"The doorman saw us both. We went there twice. You spoke my name. The desk clerk saw you up close and you asked about the room we broke into. You told him about the package. What part of, nobody knows, does that all fit into?"

Warren's expression became pained as he processed her insightful words. What was he thinking? That smug desk clerk would be more than delighted to describe him in detail. And the doorman sure as hell wouldn't forget the soaked, wrinkled clothes. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and coughed to clear his throat.

"You make a good point . . . I'm sorry. Look, here's the money I promised. You just take off and forget everything. I'll handle whatever trouble comes from this and I won't mention you at all." He dug into his pocket and took out some bills, counting them onto the table.

"You're a decent guy, Warren, but a little too spontaneous for this girl. Tell you what though, here's my card. Anytime you want a cab - just not tonight." She picked up the money and slid out of the booth.

He watched her go and saw the flash of lights through the window as she drove off.

****

The video replay flickered on the screen in the dark room and the man watching, angrily squashed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He turned to the figure next to him and snarled.

"Find them."

Word Count: 2090 Microsoft Word