Domenica, 13 Giugno, 2004 | Posted by Detective Stevens at 13:54

I am an early morning riser. It's hard in winter. Not only is everyone still asleep, but so is the day. It's still dark. And it's always cold. My normal routine is to get up, go down to the local 7Eleven, buy the paper, read it over coffee, then shower and head off to work.

I remember this particular morning. A new Korean family had just taken over the 7Eleven. I said hello as I entered the brightly lit premises. I picked up the paper and looked through the magazines. I particularly like PC Mags, and quickly ferret through the stand to see if any of my favorites have a new issue. I rarely buy one as it's hard to read at this time of the morning and I didn't have my glasses. It's actually a lot easier to see the scantily clad females that adorn the "girlie" magazines right next to the PC Mags.

I heard the little Korean lady laugh loudly following a comment from her husband. I happened to be the only person in the store. In these cases I always assume the person is laughing at me. She was probably laughing at the overweight, balding man in a badly fitting track suit walking up and down the aisles.

Okay, it was laughable. Why is it that the most unfit and overweight people across the entire world are the ones wearing track suits? As if the very act of wearing them will make them fit and trim. We're a sorry lot.

I went up to pay for my paper. The Korean lady smiled broadly. There wasn't a mean streak in her body.

But again I heard her laugh stab me from behind as I walked toward the door to exit the premises. There was one of those circular mirrors that distorts everything but provides a 180 degree view.

I had thought I was alone, but wasn't. In the reflection I saw a male, approximately 185 cm tall, black hair tied into a pony tail at the back. I could not see his face. As he walked down the aisle, I caught the glint of metal that peeked out from the leg bottom of his pants and strapped to his ankle.

I stepped outside. I waited patiently. There was no movement. There were no shadows that rushed across walls or towered over cowered bodies. Today's over lit environments prevent all the drama of a hollywood film noir.

After a few minutes, I decided to go back and see if everything was okay. I could see no one at the counter, but at this time of the morning I assumed that they were stacking shelves and talking about the fat, bald guy in the track suit. I looked around, but couldn't see anyone stacking anything.

I walked in carefully. I approached the counter area. A bank of security cameras that I could see in the adjoining room showed no movement. The only thing I could see was an open cash register and a trail of blood that was slowing making its way across the floor. It was taking its time. No hurry. There was no rush.

Life however, wasn't so accommodating. From where it once existed only a few minutes before, it had now disappeared. Made a convenient departure. Escaped, if you like. Disappeared like the person who had also been here.

That had been my first encounter with Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez. That was a few years ago now, but I have recalled it recently when a new Korean family took over the 7Eleven. I heard the wife laugh. She was petite and with a warm face. It must have been that goddam track suit.