It was dark and the work party was dragging slowly to an end. He saw her out the back of the shop smoking on the steps alone. It suited her.
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From across the room we exchanged friendly smiles, but she made a pretty good show that she couldn’t care less. In the end, I left her to her own company. She had deep accusing eyes and a bright smile. It was a hard thing to look at.
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The people that used to be known as angels are far and few between nowadays. Those I have met have been far from angelic.
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The dead guy had lived at number fifteen, and when I got there I found that someone had beat me to it. The door to the apartment was ajar and I heard someone inside making a mess of things. I took out my piece and moved through the front door as quietly as I could. If whoever was in the apartment had a gun, a wrong move could easily turn burglary into homicide - with me as the body.
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For all his logical reasoning, he was walking towards his ruin with his eyes wide open and his brain unscrewed. It was the human condition: finding happiness and destruction in the same woman.
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They talked as she turned the pages of the little book. They had worked together for about five years. They talked sometimes, but mostly they worked. No one saw each other outside of work. It just wasn't that sort of place.
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