ch1 pg 6-7

AS far as I could remember, Charlie had raised Samantha on his own. Royce had gotten married during his overseas stint in the Army. After giving birth to his daughter, it became apparent that America and citizenship was all his wife had been after. Last he had heard of his ex-wife, she had remarried and was living somewhere in Oakland. He became a single parent working at a job with impossible hours. Growing up without a mother must have made Samantha close to her father.
Royce and I had worked a couple of cases together, but I didn't think we had a special relationship. The fact that he had taken the time to teach me few things told me that he liked me. That and the fact that Samantha was in my living room.
"Okay Samantha, I guess you are who you say you are."
She nodded to me wile her trembling hand held her fathers shield. Then as if it had brought back some terrible image, she thrust it back into her purse and closed the latch.
"Call me Sam. Daddy always did," she said, looking up at me but not quite hiding the lost look in her eyes. Her gaze was one me, but her mind was reviewing some movie from her past. Eight millimeter home movies, I guessed.
"Samantha, I don't know if your father told you about me. I retired. I'm just a businessman."
"Daddy said that if I got into any kind of trouble I was to look you up. He said you owed him."
I wasn't very sharp this early in the morning, but what she said brought it all flooding back to me.

Charlie and I were on some mundane mission; tracking down an armed robber who had decided to jump bail. Through a couple of tips we were able to find him and corner him in an alley. I went in first with Charlie covering me.
The alley contained a large dumpster and some garbage cans. It didn't go straight back, instead it turned off to the left behind a Chinese restaurant. I inched my way to the back while Charlie covered my back.
The bail jumper popped up from the dumpster and drew on bead on me. Apparently he thought we were some acquaintances he owed money to. Charlie clipped his wing before he could shoot.

A shiver ran through my body. I got up and turned down the thermostat. It was getting cold.
"Samantha, what is it you need from me.?"
"I don't quite know what to do. I want to give the money back, but I don't want them to know who had it."
"Why don't you just turn it over to the police?"
Samantha reached for her drink and knocked it down. She closed her eyes and steadied herself.
"Because someone wants it back."
This wouldn't be so easy. I sat down and listened to her story.


  1. I like the way you use the weather and ambient temperature to "colour" the story. By the way, why would he turn the thermostat DOWN if he was feeling cold?

  2. Interesting you use the word "color."
    Good catch on the thermostat. Since air-con is used so much here, I always think of it being too cold and hence "turning the thermostat down" is like turning the a/c down, meaning less cold.
    I'll change out thermostat for a/c.