I stood at the window, looking at the cold, wet city outside and wondering why I had ever stayed in this godforsaken place. Surely a good PI like me could find work in Miami or Honolulu. Why was I still here?

Where was the damn taxi?

I waited until five minutes to eight, then headed down to the lobby to wait there. When I got there, the taxi had arrived. I stepped out of the building and into the cab.

“Where to, Mack?”

“The Topaz.”

The cab started moving.

“I never been in the Topaz. Looks posh from the outside. What’s it like inside?”

“No idea.”

My grey mood verged on black and I wasn’t up to mindless chatter. I offered nothing further, hoping that the cabbie was bright enough to take the message and shut the hell up.

“That was quite the storm we had today, wasn’t it?”

“Shut the hell up. Drive.”

He drove quietly, only just smart enough to know where his tip was coming from. After a few minutes, the car pulled up to the curb. I handed the driver his fare and stepped out into the garish neon light.