Detective Eliza

Last Letter from a Taxi Driver

The fog outside draped the city in a thick gray curtain, the day's last light barely pushing through. Within the room, lined with mahogany bookshelves filled with case files and books, a palpable silence persisted.

Eliza, a silhouette against the window, her raven-black hair pulled back and eyes that had seen more than most, stared at the city. The haunting memories of the past nipped at her heels, driving her into every unsolved case with fervor.

The door opened with a soft creak. Robert, his tech gear slung over one shoulder, eyes ever inquisitive behind his rectangular glasses, cleared his throat. "Eliza, we've got something." The silhouette of Martha lingered just behind him, her posture straight and a distinct aura of alertness surrounding her.

Martha, without a word, placed a letter onto the desk. A paperweight, shaped like a magnifying glass, was placed atop it. "This came for you," she said. The edges of the letter showed signs of wear and faint smudges of dirt. The handwriting on the envelope was hurried, with certain letters trailing off. Eliza's name was written on it.

Eliza approached slowly, her red heels clicking on the wooden floor. Picking up the letter, her sharp eyes scanned the outside and then moved to its content. It began, "I know you're the best in this, so you're my last hope..."

Robert, leaning over to catch a glimpse, remarked, "Who's it from?"

Martha took a moment before answering, "A taxi driver. One who went missing a week ago." The room filled with an unmistakable electric charge.

Eliza, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity, continued reading aloud, "I picked her up at 10 PM, from 5th Avenue. She was quiet, nervous. She kept looking back as if expecting someone to follow."

A series of photos spilled out from the envelope. One showcased a woman, mid-30s, her face etched with anxiety. Behind her, the faint reflection of a man in a black hat was visible.

Robert, eyebrows knitted in concentration, murmured, "Is this a clue or a confession?"

Martha, tapping the table rhythmically, replied, "Either way, it's a call for help."

The fog outside thickened, the room's ambiance grew more mysterious, and Eliza, with a determined nod, declared, "We're onto our next case."

The stage was set, and the trio plunged into the heart of a new mystery, one that promised unexpected twists and enigmatic clues.

 A Taxi's Tale

The atmosphere was still tense from the discovery of the letter. The trio gathered around the old wooden table in the center of the room, littered with past case files, newspaper cutouts, and now the haunting images of the woman and the shadowy man in the black hat.

Martha's fingers traced the outline of the woman's face in the photo. "She looks so familiar, doesn't she?" she mused, her hazel eyes narrowing with deep concentration.

Robert, engrossed in his high-tech equipment, enhanced the photograph's quality. As pixels danced and sharpened, he let out a low whistle. "There's a name written on her bag's tag—Lily Matherson."

Eliza's heart skipped a beat, a subtle gasp escaping her lips. "Lily Matherson... the journalist who recently uncovered the city's underground dealings."

Martha's voice softened, "She had received threats. She's been on the run."

The room was filled with the hum of machinery as Robert now focused on enhancing the reflection in Lily's eyes. He muttered, "Let's see who you were so afraid of."