Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
(Heading out into Wednesday…wish me luck, meetcha back here Wednesday evening)
Made it. Now for a little stretching and exercise. Now is the time for all good…
…ok, lets try this: detective story in first person.
This is, of course, zoe’s weekly bloghop, the Six Sentence Story. The prompt word is ‘LIFT’.
I heard the lock on the outer door to my office close with the carved metal click that made me glance towards the drawer that held my .38. Although it was 1:33 am, a time of night when reasonable people are home, asleep in bed, the sound didn’t much bother me. The fact that I didn’t hear the door open, did. As I followed the lead of my reflection in the rain-streaked windows, turning away from dark city streets to face the door, I put my right hand in the now open desk drawer.
Backlit by the bright ceiling lights of the outer office was a woman with a body that was born to take hostages, a heartbeat later I heard a contralto voice that made the word ‘sultry’ sound like ‘lemonade and cookies’; I wanted nothing more out of life than to listen to that voice, “I hope I have right office, the directory in the lift listed ‘Desiderata Investigations’ as being on this floor, but didn’t give the office number.”
I took my hand off the revolver and grabbed my heart; like jumping into a lifeboat swinging off the side of sinking boat, I suspected that one was going to get me killed a lot faster than the other.