Trudy

By C. S. Ross

This is a story of a washed up detective who cant resist trying to solve a mystery. In spite of trying to stay out of other peoples business, this character always manages to get tangled up anyway. Without trying the detective gets involved in the life of a little girl who just happens to be the sole hair to her family fortune. And, where theres a lot of money involved, theres always some sleazy characters trying to get their hands on it. The story takes some unexpected twists and turns as our hero tries to remain unnoticed by the press and his former associates. Follow our hero through unexpected events and unwanted danger. Sometimes youll laugh, sometimes youll cry but you wont have time to get bored. In this story, each days a chapter and each chapters another mess out hero manages to fall into.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475986655

C. S. Ross

The author was born and raised in the hills of Pennsylvania. Graduated High School and moved to Ohio. Married, two children. Taught Ballroom dance and gymnastics. Moved to Michigan, graduated from Eastern Michigan with a Bachelor of Arts in Telecommunications. Worked for a cable television station before turning to writing novels.

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Copyright © 2013 by C. S. Ross.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-8664-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8665-5 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 04/23/2013

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 1

The heat hit me in the face as I opened the door and stepped into the corridor. It was late September, but the city was hanging onto the last remnants of summer like a child holds onto a sticky lollypop.

In the dark hallway, I squinted to see the numbers on the door of the first apartment. As I stood there trying to adjust my eyes to the dim light, I felt a presence behind me. I turned and spied a tiny girl staring up at me. Who are you? she asked, her eyes wide open. Just then a voice came from down the stairs. Trudy! Immediately, the little girl stiffened up and stared down the stairs. Is that your father? I asked. No she said. He’s a bad man. Trudy! Came the voice again, and then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Hide behind me. I said, as I pulled her behind me and shielded her as he came towards us from around the corner.

He was tall and thin, about six feet, and 180 lbs. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt and he had a cigarette in his teeth, which he was about to light. As he came toward me he stared at me over the top of his hands as he lit his cigarette. I was afraid Trudy might make a sound or move and give herself away. Did you see a little girl come through here? he asked as he walked toward the door. No, I just got here. I lied. I could feel Trudy’s little face as she buried it into the small of my back. Huh! He grunted as he looked me up and down then proceeded toward the door. He pushed the door open and walked out onto the stoop, letting the door slam behind him. I could see him as he stood there looking up and down the street. I held Trudy behind me until I saw him leave and walk across the street.

It’s o.k. You can come out now, I told her as I pulled her little arm and brought her around to the front of me. She looked to be about five or six, and she had big brown eyes and long brown hair flowing down her back. She was so frail, I was afraid I might have hurt her when I pulled her from behind me. Her little face so thin and pale it made her eyes look twice the size.

She ran to the door and peeked out, still trembling with fear. When she saw the man was gone, I could see her little body relax, and when she turned and looked at me again she looked like an entirely different little girl. Her eyes were no longer big and round and she had color in her cheeks, and for the first time, I noticed she had a scar above her right eye, just above the eyebrow.

Thanks, she said, as she came towards me and perched herself up on the steps just about eye level with me. Who is he? I asked, as I sat down on the steps just below her, being sure to keep her eyes even with mine. He’s a friend of my father. She said as she clasped her knees with her hands, now totally relaxed. Why is he looking for you? I asked, not really expecting an answer. I don’t know. She lied. Are your parents home? I asked, wondering why such a tiny thing would be wondering around all by herself. My father is, she said. My mother died when I was little. Oh, I’m sorry! I said, feeling terrible for bringing up such painful memories. You don’t have to be sorry, she said. You didn’t even know her. I don’t even remember her, just things my father tells me about her. He talks about her all the time. He’s sick, and I take care of him, she said as she stood and made herself as tall as she could. She was obviously very proud.

Are you a cop? she asked, suddenly looking at me wearily. No why? Are you afraid of cops? I asked. No, she said, but you don’t see too many strangers around here except cops, maybe. I’m a courier, I said, thinking she would be confused and stop asking questions. What’s that? she asked, not taking the hint. I deliver packages, I said, hoping to satisfy her curiosity.

I stood and looked again at the address on the envelope I held under my arm. Who are you looking for? she asked. Apartment 5A, I said. I’ll show you where it is, she said, as she started up the stairs. We walked up the steps and down a long hall to the apartment at the end. Here it is, she said, as she pointed to the number on the door. I rang the bell and waited for an instant and heard someone fumbling with a latch. Who is it? Came a voice from within. I have a package for a Wendy Rollins, I answered. Then I heard a door chain slide in the lock and the door slowly open. The eyes peering from behind the door looked at me with distrust. Slowly she closed the door, removed the chain and reopened the door. I handed her the package and asked her to sign my receipt which she did and quickly disappeared inside. Subpoena served, I said to myself as I turned to find Trudy had disappeared too, without a trace. She had left as quickly and silently as she had appeared.

I left the building and walked across the street to Starbucks Coffee Shop. As I sat and sipped a cappuccino and looked over my appointment book, I noticed him again (the man that Trudy was so desperately afraid of). He was standing on the corner, leaning up against the building, smoking a cigarette. With a knee-jerk impulse, I reached into my briefcase and pulled out the camera I had purchased the day before, and snapped several pictures of the man. I didn’t know what was going on but I knew this character was up to no good. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get Trudy’s scared little face out of my mind. My schedule was pretty clear for the next few days, so I decided to do a little detective work, and find out what the deal was with this guy and that little girl.

A car drove up to the curb and my new found enemy jumped into the passenger side and the car took off. I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the curb and hailed a cab. As I jumped into the back seat, I yelled Follow that car, and pointed to the black sedan my subject had just gotten into. The cabby just turned and stared at me in disbelief. You’re kidding, right? he asked. I