DNR (Do Not Reanimate)

Chapter 3 Breaking and Entering With A Side of Pizza

As it turns out, rain isn't all that useful when it comes to stain and smell removal.

The back of the cab smelled like a wet dog that had been dead for a day and a half. I felt a pang of sympathy for the cabbie that had the distinct misfortune of giving me a ride back to my bike.

I didn't feel so bad for making Amelia pay. In a roundabout way, she was responsible. If she hadn't showed up, I wouldn't have left my money in my office, and I wouldn't have needed a cab to begin with.

I could feel the driver's eyes shift back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror, no doubt wondering who the lunatic covered in blood and crap was. Every once and awhile, he puffed a cloud of cotton candy flavored nicotine into the air. The resulting scent reminded me of a kid getting sick after a carnival ride, but I didn't say a thing. In my book, that made us Even Steven.

Eons passed. I wondered if crawling back to my office on my hands and knees would've been faster.

When the cabbie finally pulled into the alleyway, I almost didn't wait for him to come to a complete stop before I threw myself out of the vehicle. He sped off without a tip, as happy to be rid of me as I was of him.

I felt a brief moment of panic. I'd never left my office door unattended before, and I couldn't find it. The expanse of brick wall on either side was seamless, no sign of a door anywhere.

I tried running my hands over the approximate area where I thought it was. My touch must have triggered something, because a section of wall swung outward, almost knocking me flat.

The office was just as I'd left it. I found the note with Victoria's address, the six hundred dollars, the lock of Miss White's hair, and various other sundries I'd been saving for a rainy day, no change of clothes though.

My bike was just where I left it, but it had acquired a marinade of what looked like chicken grease from the neighboring Chinese restaurant. Compared to Jeff's bodily fluids, chicken grease was nothing, except slippery.

My detour had wasted valuable time, and Miss White's ultimatum still loomed over my head like glimmering guillotine. Despite the cavernous emptiness that was my stomach and the lethargy settling on my mind, I decided to head out to South Park to see if I could find anything valuable in Victoria's home before nightfall. Even if I didn't find her, her bedroom would likely tell me everything I needed to know. Girls are like that.

When I got onto my bike, I felt the bulge of Jeff's wallet and phone against my waistband, I'd forgotten to give them to Amelia, so I put them in my backpack and started pedaling. My feet slipped off the pedals a few times, but my ability for nearly avoiding mishaps saved the day.

Victoria's address was that of an apartment complex, and I knew I would need a reason to get buzzed in. I headed to the closest pizza joint I could find. Northlake Tavern and Pizza. I ordered one with artichoke hearts and pepperoni, because why the heck not? I asked for a tote that the delivery boys use to keep the pizza warm and safe from Seattle's buckets of rain.

I pinky promised I'd bring it back, but the guy with Lucinda written on his name tag wanted twenty more dollars for insurance. Just for that, I'm keeping the tote, so he I get my money's worth.

With the pizza snug between my handlebars, I made my way to South Park as fast as my bike could take me.

I used that time to sort the information that Amelia had given me about Jeff, and tried to puzzle out why anyone would want to kill the guy. Besides his sandals.

Amelia gave me her version of Jeff Bracken, and I did my best to sift through the information with an unbiased view. Amelia made that difficult. The way she described him he may as well have been 3D printed from a men's catalogue.