Out of Ideas, Out of Time: Chapter 5
A Collaborative Story
I took the notebook and hustled down to my favorite coffee shop so I could leach off their internet and do some snooping. I’d asked Carl for his Wi-Fi password back at the Coney stand, but he told me “I got it turned off, I’m on the Media Deprivation week of The Artist’s Way.” Jesus, everybody wants to be a writer these days. I might as well try my hand at it, once this case is solved.
After I picked up my double espresso at the counter I settled in with the notebook. The patio at the coffee shop was almost empty. I picked a spot I thought would offer the most privacy — furthest from the door, near the road and the parade of cars trailing by. A sour looking fellow sipping a latte parked himself at the next table. Shielding the pages with my hand, I opened the book.
I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write.
Those words tumbled around in my head like loose coins in a laundromat dryer. I checked off what I knew about his Karen Fayeth dame. She liked chili-dogs and Stephen King, and from her picture I could see she had nice hair. Not much to go on, but up until four days ago she’d…
