A3Writer: F³ WIP The Missing Link
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Friday, June 29, 2018

F³ WIP The Missing Link


            Lindsey kept going on about various officials, bringing up events that I wasn’t even aware of—I tended to stick to my own concerns. She had zoning laws, chamber of commerce, non-profit organizations, and more all pointing to something conspiratorial about the upper echelons in the city. She brought up warehouses in Dante and Shoreward as possible locations for the incoming drugs, which matched up with what I had already been thinking. My mind swam as she kept going, her own logic compelling her to fill in all the gaps even though I thought she was reaching with a good portion of it, until—

            “Stop,” I said, leaning forward. “Go back to that last picture. No, the one before that.” She went back to the picture, bringing up the picture of Councilwoman Hoshi Gillespie. The picture was taken on the steps of City Hall. I zoomed the picture in, filling the entire screen with it.
            “What? That’s just a picture of the councilwoman after the zoning vote. Got it straight from our cameraman at the paper.”
            I walked up to the TV, getting as close as I could. Around the councilwoman were reporters and a few other city officials, but behind her, about three steps behind, was a dark-haired woman on her phone holding an umbrella.
            “Who is that?”
            She looked familiar. The hair was different, and the dress was different, but I could swear I recognized the face. The umbrella, especially, drew my attention. It looked like an ordinary umbrella, and Belport’s weather made them commonplace. Even in the picture there were a dozen people with umbrellas. None were deployed, but close at hand for the inevitable drizzle.
            “I can look up the photo credit. She’s an assistant to the councilwoman, I think. You know her?”
            I squinted, trying to piece it together.
            The hair. It should be down, not tied up close to her head. That’s a business woman’s ‘do. Her hair should be down, kind of loose, but not in the way of her face. And the dress, that’s very legal, corporate. It’s not right.
            “Wednesday Adams,” I muttered.
            “Hardly. She’s pretty corporate. Young to be working so high up, but lots of students get internships, now. Name is Sharon Winters. I can search out more about her. What are you thinking?”
            I looked again at her face, I had a memory of the wind whipping dark hair around, of rain starting to come down and opening the umbrella to be whisked away—
            “Oh, shit! It’s Mary Poppins!”
            “Who?”
            She got away in the park, her umbrella carried her away after Angie tried to skewer her with lightning. We couldn’t find her because she had an extreme corporate makeover.