Midnight Hours

I'm still too shaken to write about what happened. It just was too close. Way too close

Midnight stays one step ahead of us, no matter what we do.

This “relationship,” if I can call it that, just became interesting again last night, but in a different way. Midnight told me she lives off Northwest Expressway, nothing else. When I pressed her, told her I thought maybe we should cool things, she sent me an email attachment: a photo of a beautiful woman she says is her.

I’m no longer interested in her as a woman, no way. A short time before I was shot, a paraplegic went off a balcony and landed on the ground of the atrium of a local hotel. No one could discover how he went over. What wasn’t reported in the news – a folded copy of this photo found in his pocket. – the same picture she sent me. 

I want to solve that murder, and Midnight, Norma Fields, is involved some way.

Midnight, I’m going to find you.  I WILL find you.