Melting Snow

Friday Mystery Theater: The Man in the Black Trench Coat

Friday, June 17, 2016

I finished story "17 of 44: Curse of The Weredragon" .

The "Blogging Circle of Friends "  prompt for Day 1310
"So you don't remember the man in a black trench coat, even though the video recorded you ringing him up?" The cop wasn't buying it, what's your story?

"So you don't remember the man in a black trench coat, even though the video recorded you ringing him up?" I could see, by the expression on the face of Detective What-Ever-The-Hell-His-Name-Was, that he wasn't buying it .

"Detective... Uh, may I see your badge again?" He removed his wallet from his hip pocket. When he opened the wallet, I grabbed his hand and brought it closer to my eyes in order to read the name. "Detective Smirnoff, I received a traumatic brain injury in the Amtrak train wreck two year ago. Ever since then my short term memory has been spotty to say the best. If the man in the black trench coat didn't hold a gun to my head, I wouldn't remember him. Ever since the wreck I can only remember traumatic occurrences. If you leave here now and return in five minutes, I doubt I could remember you or your name."

The detective shook his head, removed his hand from mine, and returned his wallet to his back pocket. "If that's the case, how do you keep a job."

"Repetitive action, a cash register that tells me how much change I'm supposed to give back after a purchase, and a new experimental drug."

"All right, Miss Clara," he frowned. "That is you name isn't it?"

I removed the name tag from my poppy colored scrub and look at it. "That's what my name tag says." I certainly wasn't going to tell him that I picked up the wrong colored scrub and name tag when I clocked in that morning. The truth was my short term memory was beginning to improve. I could remember the black trench coat, but the face of the man wearing it was foggy. The only thing I could remember about him was his sparking emerald eyes.

"Very well, Miss Clara, I'll be leaving now. However, I would like you to come down to the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department on your day off to answer some more questions."

"Sure," I smiled picking up the notepad beside the cash register. "Could you write that down on this pad." Then I yelled at the stock boy standing behind the detective. "Mat, when is my next day off?"

"Next Tuesday, Miss Clara," Mat smiled and went back to stacking the shelves. Mat's dislike for anyone with a badge guaranteed he would go along with anything I said to Detective Smirnoff.

Detective Smirnoff wrote down Tuesday, June 21, 1:00 PM 750 Sierra Vista Drive. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you, Miss Clara." He left shaking his head. Now the only thing I had to do was figure out who the man in the black trench coast was and why Detective Smirnoff wanted him. Maybe, I thought, Dr. Morgan can help me when I see him on Monday. I think his eyes are almost the same color as the eyes of the man in the black trench coat. And even if he can't help me on this, he will be glad to know that my memory is improving, which I suppose means the experimental meds he prescribed are working.