Vampire for Hire: First Eight Short Stories (Plus Samantha Moon's Blog and Bonus Scenes) by Rain J.R

Author:Rain, J.R. [Rain, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

No, I didn’t know what I was doing, but at least I knew where to start. And since Wrigley Road covered many miles along the north side of the island, I figured I would do what any good investigator would do: start at the beginning.

I wasn’t winded or anywhere near to being tired as I headed up the winding road through town, passing many charming homes and condos and various properties designed strategically to catch a glimpse of glittering blue water.

Twenty minutes later, I stood at the crossroads of Wrigley Road and Clemente Avenue. As I stood where one residential street led into another, I considered the second riddle:

Ten days a week, have a peek.

As I stood there, perplexed, I felt stronger than ever. It was early evening and I was alive. I was tempted to count off ten homes down Wrigley Road, but that seemed too easy. Of course, the very person—or entity—who had concocted this riddle was presently watching behind me a few houses down. I could march over to him and ask what the hell he meant. I could have—but I didn’t.

Ten days a week would be, what, one and a half weeks?

What if I started on Sunday and counted ten days from there? That would be, what, Tuesday of the following week? Then again, if I started on a Monday, that would be a Wednesday. Except most calendars start with Sunday.

Have a peek...at a calendar?

Tuesday, I thought. It’s definitely Tuesday.

I scanned Wrigley Street some more, wondering if I’d gone down the wrong road, literally. I scanned homes and golf carts and a smattering of cars. Above a golf cart closest to me was a street sign. I stepped over and read it. Or...had a peek.

Street Sweeping, Tuesday, 8 - 11 a.m.

Coincidence? I didn’t know, but near the bottom half of the sign was an address. A place to pay a ticket. Right, parking tickets for golf carts. Would wonders never cease? Anyway, the address was the local sheriff’s office here in town.

I might have ignored the address and the Tuesday coincidence if not for something else: Someone had carefully underlined the address with something that looked suspiciously like red fingernail polish.

Bingo.

I swiped on my phone, checked Google Maps, located the sheriff’s station, and headed off.

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