Prologue

I should have been a banker. I focused the camera on the two figures in the window. He had just shown up about twenty minutes ago, while she was in the shower. She answered the door wearing a silk robe. I could tell she was in the shower because her hair was still wet. I got a great shot of them embracing in the doorway. She pulled him into the living room, where she proceeded to remove his suit.

His wife had called me, to tell me he phoned her and said he was working late. I had some prize photos of his working late to show her. I could probably leave now, but I was looking for the nail in the coffin. That one shot that I get paid for.

They got into some hot and heavy making out right in view of the window. You’d think they would at least close the blinds, with him sneaking around and all. They had no idea that his wife had paid someone to follow him. She pulled him in tight, and I watched them kiss deeply. Her robe fell back, and he took the opportunity to grope an exposed breast. That was it. I got a clean photo of his infidelity. There’s my paycheck. It’s a job, but sometimes it has its perks.

I was wrapping up, jotting down some notes. When I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I had a slight view of the kitchen from where I was parked. I put the camera to my eye to try and get a better look. I saw someone coming through the back door, as our two love birds christened the couch. I felt around for my phone while I watched the burglar sneak into the living room. I was concerned now, the usual burglar would’ve left as soon as he found out the house was occupied. I could barely make out his face. Someone who wasn’t wearing a mask isn’t worried about leaving someone alive to ID him. I dialed 911. The backlight from the phone lit my car up. I looked back through the camera just as the burglar was executing the two on the couch.

He must have seen the light from my phone, because he looked right at me. I pushed the shutter button and started my car. The burglar was making a dash for the front door. I put my car into gear and slammed on the accelerator. I heard the sounds of bullets hitting the trunk of my car. There was another sound. It was the operator on the phone.

“Hello, does someone have an emergency,” she said.

“Yes, there has been a homicide on 125 Cedar Street. This is James Sambien. I am a private investigator. I saw the whole thing. I also got a photo of the killer,” I said.

 

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