Infinite Loop

The First Act

A light fog swirled around the legs of the stranger as he approached a silent shadow standing at the end of the pier. Amid the dim glow of the yellow lights overhead, Warren saw a feminine form wearing a dark fur stole draped over her shoulders. Her tight gray dress showed off a long and lean figure as he drank in the pleasant sight.

He shook his head while reminding himself to focus. The man was closer to figuring out an escape. She carried the answer to a riddle. He desperately needed to solve it.

As Warren pulled down the brim of his fedora, it reminded him of how different things were now. The hat no longer felt so foreign, becoming part of him like the trench coat he wore.

Still, the night carried the usual sense of death. In the twilight, he felt the grim reaper walking with him, tugging at his sleeve while a grinning skull kept whispering into his ear. It was a mocking poem by Seeger that came to him.

I have a rendezvous with Death

At some disputed barricade,

When Spring comes back with rustling shade

And apple-blossoms fill the air

I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

He dismissed the words, knowing only too well he must keep his attention on any blind spots to the plot. It was simple enough. The stories were always second rate in his mind. Her boyfriend was dead, and she was a suspect. Now the married woman needed help. He understood this. The clues leading him to this point revealed an argument, but the dead man killed himself. Still, Warren could not shake the vague cold that wrapped around his spine as he drew closer.

Some foreigner named Lumina wanted his estranged wife back in L.A. He was getting twenty-five bucks a day to find this dish. While Warren never met the client, his underlings paid real greenbacks up front. And his job was simple enough. Just find the wife and return her to L.A. No need to track down her tennis playing boyfriend since he already found the man's body. Lumina just wanted his wife back on the estate.

He grinned to himself. It was funny how he was picking up the lingo now, acting as some private flatfoot, a shamus. Once he finished the job, his client offered a bonus. But the actual goal for Warren was more personal.

Warren would stop Death in its tracks. Then, his nightmare existence would go away. It had to. The game played for keeps, and Warren had plenty of experience from losing too many times.

The woman appeared to be lost in thought and showed no awareness of the slight sound of his leather shoes slapping the concrete as he got within a few feet. His green eyes widened when she slowly turned to him. Warren slowed, verifying her appearance from a grainy black-and-white photo he saw a few days before.

Shadows from her feathered hat made it difficult to see her features clearly. However, a breath of perfume drifted over him. He recognized the opulent air of Vol De Nuit from her dressing table. Mixing with the dampness of the surrounding air, the memory of the aroma caused emotions to go off in his head.

He wasn't sure why. The man suddenly wondered if he knew her. The scent set off hazy memories.

Her eyes flashed surprise as she lifted her head and the light showed Warren a troubled expression. She bit down on her lower red lip and the man in the gray trench coat missed the silver glint of an object in her hand moving from her pocket.