The Thief of Souls

“So what’s next?”  she asked.

“I stake out the mansion again.  Maybe that will lead to something.”

#

I sprawled out on the narrow cot in my office and slept for a couple hours before heading back to the nook along the road across from the Rostow mansion.  Nothing much happened until nine p. m., when out came the Mercedes sedan.  Like before, Lane wasn’t driving, but was a dark figure in the back seat, with the same chauffeur.

The Mercedes took a left turn onto Old Lake Shore Road and I hunkered down as it went directly past the nook.   I waited a moment before starting the engine, then quickly made a u-turn and headed after them.

They took a fifteen minute drive toward the city, until finally pulling into the lot of a diner in a suburb immediately south of it not far from an expressway interchange.  The chauffeur waited in the car while Lane went into the restaurant.  I pulled into a parking space, which was empty at that time of night.  I strolled into the restaurant.  A dour hostess led me to a booth a couple down where Lane was sitting.  With him, was a lovely, long-haired, shapely blonde who looked to be in her mid to late twenties.  They were speaking casually, smiling, laughing now and then.

I ordered coffee and a tuna melt, and went on observing.  After a couple minutes,  the girl got up and went to the ladies’ room.  While gone, Lane craned his neck to observe his Mercedes in the lot and waved, some sort of signal for his driver it seemed.  Frowning, I watched as Lane next pulled a small vile out of the inside pocket of his jacket and poured some kind of liquid into his lady friend’s bubbling glass of diet coke.





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