From the Shadows.

I thought this was going to be another routine case, but when that particular night ended, I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Nervously, she ran her finger around the rim of her Bloody Mary. Her piercing green eyes peered around the bar ‘Phillis.’ I caught her glance and smirked slightly, tipping the edge of my trilby hat towards her. She did not return my kindness and stared blankly back.

The one thing I noticed about her was she had the scarlet fever, and I mean that in the most literal of senses! Everything about her had the element of that dangerous colour – her drink, her hair, her make-up, her low-cut dress. It was her attractiveness that first made me look at her, which made me fail to identify the man she was with. He stood up, the edge of his hat casting dark shadows across his face. He was tall, with an expensive suit, but that’s all I could make out in the darkness of the night. He tipped the barman and stalked off without even a glance at the ‘Scarlet Starlet’ as I donned her; I always found nicknames much easier than the real thing. Especially considering hers was an extremely complicated Russian one. If I know one thing, is that her parents must have hated her at birth. My parents weren’t much better, baptising me ‘Francis Hart’

I tried to research this case as much as I could before I went out on the field that night. This woman’s husband was a simple factory worker, extremely short and round. Why she was married to him I’ll never know. My thoughts were then interrupted by Scarlet Starlet standing up and slinking her way towards me. She sat on the bar stool next to me and placed her lips close to my ear and whispered,

“I knew it was you, the minute you caught my eye. The man with me, he told me to come, to come and see you once he left.”

I had no idea what she was talking about but she proceeded to slip a piece of paper in my hand. Her silky skin lingered there a moment as her green eyes stared into mine, she pulled away, struck a dazzling smile and made her way across the bar, and left.

I opened the piece of paper, intrigued as to what might be written on it. It was a number, a strange series of numbers and letters.

3957-310-AERA

What does this mean? I suddenly felt more like a private detective more than ever and I slipped the paper into the front pocket of my jacket and headed towards the door.




To be continued.