"Her name's Lynne Kirk. She drives hack number seven-five-seven, but she never showed up for work. Just that one phone call."

"And that dunce in the office told her someone asked after her. Did you get an address?"

"No. Company policy. I could get it, if you want."

"Forget it. They don't want any more ripples on the water. Have you made any progress on the body?"

"That's a done deal. Nobody will see him again."

"And his identity?"

"Got Clara running that down for you. So what about this Kirk broad?"

"We'll find out about her another way, the internet is the best informer since Judas,"

"Who?"

"Never mind." Sabbi Tiryaki opened his tablet and began a search.

****

Warren opened his apartment door and led the way in, moving a few items he'd left lying about. "I eat a lot of take-out," he said, apologetically. "Life of a lazy bachelor."

"I'm not here for a house and garden seminar. Where's the envelope?"

"Do you think you might lose the attitude. I'm in this as much as you."

"You still have a job, Warren, and a place to stay – such as it is."

"You think they know where you live?"

"They have my name and they know I drive a cab. It wouldn't take much to search the DMV files to find my license application."

He listened to her, but his thoughts ran to how centred a person she was, how she analyzed situations so succinctly, and the fact that in a sweater and skirt, she looked anything but a cab driver.

"Did you hear me? Where is the envelope?"

Warren went into the kitchen just as the phone rang. He stopped and turned around then stopped again. Who would be calling him at home during working hours? The answering machine came on and he saw Lynne standing over it, listening to the silence and then a dial tone.

"Do you get many calls like that?"

He shook his head, as he fetched the envelope and handed it to her.

"It was probably a robo-call though."

"You think so – with a dial tone." She turned the envelope in her hands, feeling the contents.

"Well?"

"Have you got some scissors or a knife?"

He went back to the kitchen and returned with a paring knife.

"Really?"

"I don't want you to cut yourself." His physical expression said 'What?'

Lynne sawed the end off the envelope and slipped the contents out onto the coffee table. There was a small stack of photographs and a cassette. She picked up the photos and began sorting through them. "See, no poison powder. But some pretty weird stuff all the same."

"Hilarious. Check this out, a cassette! How long was the envelope under your seat in the cab?" Warren turned it over, looking for a title but it was blank.

She handed him the pictures and sat on the nearest chair, with a sigh. "We should have called the police."

He took the pictures and studied them. "Holy crap!"

"What?"

"That's the dead guy! Look!" he handed her the photo and got out his phone, scrolling through to the picture he took at the Shropshire. "That's him."

"It is. What the heck are they all doing? It looks like some drag party."

Warren spread the seven pictures out on the coffee table and they examined them closely.

"You're right. Look here's like a before and after shot."

The pictures also showed about a dozen men, some made up as women, and all laughing and drinking. Arms were wrapped intimately around waists in one picture, in another some women sat on laps, and some couples were actually kissing.

"I wonder if the cassette is a recording of this party."

"Most likely. Must be a while ago, who records on cassettes today."

"And why send this to the Shropshire?"

Warren scooped up the lot and put it all back in the envelope, leaving it on the table.

"Now what?" Lynne asked.

"Well, we know our dead man belongs to that group. We need to see if we can learn who any of the others are."

"Play the tape, they might be using names." Lynne suggested.

"Good idea but who has a tape player, I don't." He started away then stopped. "Hey, your cab has a camera right. They all have them nowadays."

"Yes, so?"

"Do they store the material?"

"I don't know. It's all recorded on the dispatcher's computer, but I don't know how long they keep it, if at all."

"If they do we might be able to see who got in with that envelope!"

Lynne gave a sympathetic grin. "Good luck, Warren. It won't be me asking."

"I could go and pretend it's official business – police business, maybe."

"Warren, this isn't one of your manuscripts."

"No, I could pull this off. And yeah, I read all kinds of stories where this is done."

"Exactly, Warren. Stories. What are you going to use as ID?"

"Don't need ID, I have a plan." He smiled and massaged his hands.

"Swell. When will you implement this plan, before or after lunch?"

"Oh, shit . . ." He looked forlornly at his watch.

"Welcome to my world, Daly.

****

Lawrence Grainger greeted his secretary, picked up his messages and sailed into his office on a confidence high. The mail was opened and sorted for him and he sped through that then attended the messages.

"Rod, you said you had something urgent to speak to me about?"

"I can't talk right now. I'll call you back in five." The phone clicked off and Lawrence looked at his receiver – puzzled.

Several minutes later the phone rang and he listened as his party strategist reported that there was a mass withdrawal of support for opposing the bill.

"What! Why? What happened?"

"Nobody's talking but I managed to scrounge a bit of information from a friend in Horton's office. It's not good, Larry."

"What? What's not good?"

"There's a video going around on the internet showing you with professional escorts at some club, and doing drugs."

Lawrence lost his voice. He stared at the painting on his office wall, a solitary gull against a cloudy sky.

"Larry? You there?"

"Rod . . . that's- that's crazy. How- where . . ."

"I'm still trying to pin somebody down, but I thought you should know now before—"

"Before what? Rod I never- there's no way this is true!"

"There's only about ten days before the bill reaches the house, you need to put out some fires to save your votes."

"Can we schedule a meeting? Will they come?"

"I can try."

"Jesus, Rod, you know me. I've never- I wouldn't do anything like that. My God, Lillian. I have to call my wife. Do what you can about getting them to meet."

"I'll try. Good luck."

****

"She hasn't been home since the phone call and the neighbours haven't seen her."

"Well she doesn't have a car and I doubt she'd take a cab, so we call on our good friend the internet again."

"You gonna Judas her?"

"Am I what? Go and get a coffee and forget about Judas." Sabbi pinched his temples and stood slumped as his helper slogged off to the coffee shop.

His desktop sang for him and the information he illegally obtained, sparkled on the twenty-four-inch monitor. CCTV images from the subway nearest the woman's house on the day of the phone call, showed a woman matching Kirk's description boarding a westbound train at eight-forty in the morning.

Sabbi followed the train's progress from station to station and silently cheered when he saw her emerge into the exit under the City Centre Mall.

He spent another hour, and a couple of coffees, accessing the Mall's security system and began a laborious search for people coming from the subway exit. After another lengthy period with no luck, he switched to the various cameras covering the stores and finally to the food court, a last resort. And there she was at a small table, talking animatedly to a man. Could this be the same man, he wondered?

Some technical manipulations gave him a reasonably clean enlargement of both their faces and he saved the images, planted a kiss on his computer case and sat back eminently satisfied.