Chapter Nine
It was a cool, sunny Monday morning. I was standing in my usual place – out front of the Oxford, with a smoke in hand. Sam’s cab suddenly made an appearance at the top of the street. Within seconds she screeched her cab right to the curb, right in front of the hotel. I walked towards the car with a smile.
I opened the door and slid onto the back seat. “Hey Sam. How’s my fighter pilot today?” I joked.
“Oh, you’re a pistol, Yank!” She raised her hand to the side of her head and saluted. “Waiting for orders, captain.”
“To the address I gave you last night, if you please.”
Sam hit the hammer down and slipped the clutch. My hat flew off my head and I was nearly sitting in the rear parcel shelf of the cab. She turned around and laughed out loud. I retrieved my hat and placed it
