P.I.

The Dark Alley

So this could either end bad, or worse. In a split second, I decide it's worth running the risk of getting shanked in a dark alley in a sketchy part of town to help a girl who was getting creeped on. I casually get up and leave, making a sharp turn into the alley. I stop near the dumpster, my eyes peeled for shady s]activity. The only thing that looks questionable is the expiration date on a bag of frozen sausages that lay next to the trash basin. 

The waitress peeks out from around the corner, sees me behind the dumpster and rushes towards me.

"Hi," she says in a small voice.

That's it? That all you're gonna say? 'Hi'?

"So," I say, looking at her name badge, "Lucy, what's the problem?" I ask, a little uncomfortable that she was just staring at me, not blinking as often as she should.

"Uh, I think someone is stalking me," she says, frowning a little.

"What makes you think so?" I begin slowly.

"Well, I've gotten mail," she says, glancing behind her.

I stared at her for a moment. "Wow, well, so do I, you know—last time I checked it comes every day except Sunday—"

"No, I mean, someone sent me a dead mouse in a box." she says, wringing her hands. I look up, intrigued.

"Do you think it's someone in the diner?" I ask her, serious now. Dead things in boxes usually were some form of a threat. This sounds like it could be pretty serious. The dead mouse could be anything from a message to a harmless prank.

"It could be," she tells me, looking down at her feet. "It's not the nicest part of town and I try to be nice to all the customers but I may have done something wrong but I can't think of what and—"

"I get it." I stop her. For someone who hesitates to speak, she can really speak fast when she wants to. "Do you have an idea who they are? Are they here?"

"I'm not sure. I-I... I guess my imagination may have been getting the better of me. I'm pretty convinced its someone at the diner."

"Can I get names?" I ask, trying to ignore the fact that I'm trying to conduct serious business in a dark alley.

"I have a good idea of who," she says, and gestures to behind her.

"Inside?"

"That's why we're here, yes." she says. Oh, look who disocvered her inner sass. I smiled a little smugly. I tend to bring that out in people.

"Well, if you feel that you are in immediate danger, I would suggest going home."

"But, I get back on in a few minutes—" she protests, furrowing her brow.

"Don't worry about your shift." I tell her. "I'll tell your boss. Here's my email," I pull out a card and give it to her. "just do it when you get home. Send me all the details you can. I'll call you later so we can set up another meeting, if you'd like."

"Thank you," she says after a pause.

"Well, you're paying me, aren't you?"

"Oh!" she yelps. "I said I would pay you just for showing up." she remembered, pulling an envelope out of her shirt.

"Oh no, Lucy, I couldn't take your money." I push it away. She obviously works hard and I feel I would be robbing her if I took it. I once worked a crappy job to pay for college. I knew every penny counted. And that money just magically appeared out of her cleavage. No thanks.

"No, it's okay, take it. I recently came into a bit of extra cash." she shrugs, pushing the envelope into my hands.

"Get home safe. We'll talk later." I say.

"Thank you," she says again, looking at her shoes.

"Now hurry before anyone sees us exchanging money in an alley."

"Oh, right. I'll, um email you."

 "You do that," I tell her as she walks off. I watch as she gets into her car and pulls out of the parking lot. She didn't seem to be particularly helpful. She did seem to be a bit shaken, though. There was something weird about everything she did that seemed just...fishy.

On the plus side... dead mouse in a box? Sounds like my kind of party.