Private eye tracks his quarry
Siting in his car all night waiting for Rose to make an appearance, Jim lit another cigarette. His training enabled him to remain awake, only the empty flask of coffee gave any clue. He watched his target through his camera lens, clicking the shutter several times. As she left the block of flats she was hurrying on her red high heels, which made him consider, not for the first time how women walked in shoes like those.
He stood for a while, stretching his stiff back, before following Rose down the busy street.
She had no reason to believe anyone would follow her, and Jim made sure she didn’t see him. He was good at his job; he had the attributes a private eye needed, patience and the ability to sit, watch and wait.
Rose made her way down High Street, stopping occasionally to stare into a shop window. Jim followed her discretely. She was probably on her way home, back to her husband and children, to continue the lie that she’d been out all night with “the girls,” unaware of her husband’s suspicions.
The irresistible aroma of Italian coffee enticed her into Marco’s Italian Cafe, Jim watched as she ordered a takeaway coffee. Whilst she waited, she browsed through a magazine from a pile near the door. She glanced up once and saw Jim leaning on a parking sign outside, unaware he was also waiting for her to get her coffee order.
Without warning, there was a sudden explosion. Deafened by the noise, Jim fell to the sidewalk. In the silence that followed, time seemed to stand still, then all hell broke loose. Screaming and shouting filled the air, Jim picked himself up and looked into what remained of the ruined cafe. The blast had scattered injured and dead across the wooden floor, and all that Jim could see of his quarry was a single red shoe under a table.