I was walking along Hollywood Boulevard and peering in shop windows casually, when I saw that Japanese man who showed up at the two crime scenes. I never did believe in return to the scene of the crime, but no harm in questioning this guy. I walked into the coffeehouse, ordered coffee and sat at his table.
He was drinking tea.
"How's your coffee." I asked.
"It's not coffee, it's tea. And it's okay - I've had better."
"You showed up at the two crime scenes where the victim's had puncture wounds."
"Those are the one's I investigate."
"Are you some sort of detective?"
"Sort of."
"A vigilante."
"No. Don't worry, I leave police work to the police."
"That's good."
"So, you investigate crimes which the victims have puncture wounds. What are you, some sort of vampire hunter?"
"There was something familiar about you when I first saw you. Yes. You should know."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Look at your old family albums." he said, and disappeared. I didn't get his name, and he literally disappeared.
I decided to take the subway back into downton Los Angeles. I saw a familiar face going down the steps. "Hey, lady," I yelled, but she too, disappeared, like the stranger. But I knew that face. It was Candy - the dancer.
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