His detective girlfriend

Chapter four

Four:

Anthony Miles peered through his long-range optical camera, carefully positioned on the window of a -Four storey building, a routine that had become customary as though he were the city's watchman.

The view from up was cool, and the streets were as busy as at other times, from the littered and loitering people to the cars in motion and everything else in between.

He narrowed his gaze as he positioned the camera at a mall and zoomed in. As he flicked his camera about, taking in the facade of the mall, his gaze fell on an enigmatic man in a black hoodie loitering aimlessly in front of the mall.

Anthony huffed, as his instincts convinced him that the man was up to no good and that something fishy was about to transpire.

He kept his gaze on the scene, and suddenly a woman exited the mall, her legs moving gently like a runway model, the air around her dancing with elegance. In her left hand was a blue purse and the other a blue carrier bag that perfectly matched her outfit. As she approached a Chevrolet Camaro parked not too far from the mall, the aimless hoodie chap trailed her slowly from behind. Without warning as she motioned to open the door of the car, a hand reached out of nowhere and gruffly snatched her purse. As she turned to look at who it was, it was a guy in a black hoodie, disappearing into the shadows.

“I knew it”

Anthony mouthed, as he trailed his long-range camera on the fleeing fellow. It was as though he knew somewhere along the line that this would happen, and now he had to act fast or the lady might lose the pick purse.

"Oh boy," Anthony whispered to himself and parted the curtains of the window. That should be quicker than a staircase or an elevator. He stepped on one edge of the window and peered down.

He exhaled. He was about to jump off a four-story building, the fourth floor, with the hope of landing on one of the garbage cans beside the ground floor.

Without another thought, he jumped down and flumped into the garbage container. He winced and wagged before getting off the can.

Well, he had no time to play around; he needed to catch up with some odd-looking street thief, and right away he ran in the direction he last spotted the thief.

And it did not take quite long before he came across the chap. The target was navigating through the alleyway, his hands flying free.

Anthony kept on with the chase, not certain if the pick-purse had noticed him, but telling from the zigzag motion and his frequent looking back, maybe he had discovered there was a pursuer or maybe more, and he kept venturing into narrower parts down the allays.

This time around, Anthony took a different route altogether; he knew these streets better than anyone does, and soon he would catch up with his target, and shortly he did, just right where he wanted him to be. Anthony ceased motion and grinned.

His hunted fellow had come to a wall barrier, and he, Anthony, was standing behind him.

"Where will you go now?" Anthony moved to the center of the room, hands akimbo.

Anyway, the guy with the purse was not ready to back down; he clenched his fist with a squeezed face.

"Let's not make this any worse. Hand the bag over while your ass remains unkicked." Anthony gestured, but his opponent remained defiant and unflinching. Without warning he first launch an attack at Anthony and drive him to the left side wall.

Anthony ran his elbow at his back several times and then raised his knee at the side of his waist; that was enough to debilitate him, and then he slid his body through the concrete floor.

"I warned you." Anthony was panting from their collusion, but his opponent had secured a few injuries around the side of his face.

But he was not ready to give up just yet; he unveiled a dagger from the side of his waist.

"Seriously!" Anthony beckoned him to bring it on, and he did not decline; he screamed and attacked.

Anthony, with a quick reflex, shifted aside and hit the dagger off his hand. He swiftly pulled down his still stretched arm and rolled him over to the ground, with one arm still locked and sitting on one side of his waist.

"Don't even think about it." Anthony nodded sideways at him. He was at his mercy now; a single twist would damage his entire arm.

The thief gave him a give-up stare, breathing heavily.

"Don't worry, I'm not calling the corps; just don't go around stealing ladies' purses."

After recovering the purse, he was on his way to return it to the lady, and fortunately, the middle-aged woman was still in front of the mall.

A few people had gathered around her, trying to analyze the situation. Anthony walked up to her.

"I believe this belongs to you." He handed the purse to her, and for the next couple of seconds, she stood stunned, gazing at the purse in his hand.

"How did you, I mean..."

"You're welcome." Anthony grinned at her and handed her her tiny bag.

"Thank you so much; you are a lifesaver; I had already called the corps." She took the purse.

"No need for that now; just be more careful next time." He raised an eyebrow at her and turned to leave.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" He turned around and looked at her.

"They call me Anthony." He turned to leave.

Later on, Anthony sat on his Murphey wall bed, staring at the screen of a laptop in front of him, his fingers navigating through the alphanumeric keys.

For a moment, he shifted his gaze at Max, his Eskimo dog beside him, and robbed its head.

"Hey buddy, are you hungry? I am." He turned off the PC and shut it, and almost immediately his phone rang from the round desk beside the bed.

Who could be calling at this time? He was reluctant, while Max was casting glances at him and the phone.

"Is probably Jersey, Max? I don't want to talk to her." He tried to convince his dog while the ringing ceased. Shortly, the ringing continued, and Anthony exhaled. Jersey is a bug of a sister; he can't stand her. She's probably going to chat about Becca, who she claimed was interested in him, but he was not seeing her that way, and he was not ready to start any relationship at the moment.

Max leaped from the bed, picked up the phone with his mouth, went back to the bed, and dropped it on him.

Oh, Max, do you have to do that?" He rubbed his head, took the phone, and looked at the screen. For a second, his eyes widen at his caller

.

"You were right, Max; it wasn't Jersey." He shifted his gaze to his beloved dog. "It's a friend."