Only one sentence at a time story. Must have continuous thread.

Cindy027

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It wasn't that Angela had wished to be somewhere else as she stepped out of the taxi and stood in the light snowfall illuminated by the streetlight but she knew at the top of the stairs was why she was here.
 
As she stood there, her eyes moving up the darkened stairway, she debated whether or not she really wanted to go through with this.
 
The note was specific, bring the negatives and come alone but now she was rethinking her motives and realised she could be in danger.
 
There was no turning back now, so with her hands shaking, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
 
A man, a rather short but muscular man with an enormous waxed mustache,, wearing khaki shorts and a navy blue knit shirt answered the door with a scowl on his face.
 
He gave her the 'once over' and then, while motioning, softly, with an Eastern European accent, said: "ckome en Ann-gala."
 
'The green geese fly west when there's an R in the month,' Angela murmured.
 
"My deer Ann-gala," the muscular man said, "do ewe naught remember mee, haf all of deeze years oaf living in the West made you forget Sergiu?"
 
Silently watching the woman wrapped around their mark, two men sat in a blacked out cruiser on the street below.


Sam, your line made me laugh, genius
 
Silently watching the woman wrapped around their mark, two men sat in a blacked out cruiser on the street below.


Sam, your line made me laugh, genius

"But how can you be sure?" Detective Chief Inspector Frank Burnside asked, shaking his head, thinking this was the strangest thing to happen in Sun Hill for years.
 
"Ah Ann-gala," Sergiu said as he looked through the large envelope full of negatives, "ewe always was my best agent, zoh profezional."
 
"Ah Ann-gala," Sergiu said as he looked through the large envelope full of negatives, "ewe always was my best agent, zoh profezional."

While Sergiu began to look at the negatives he turned his back to Angela and never saw her remove the muzzled pistol from her handbag.
 
With a wicked smile, Sergiu turned toward Angela; he was now staring into the business-end of a pistol she was pointing at him.
 
Was the light at the other end a glimmer of hope or the light of an oncoming train?
 
Angela stepped over the body of her former KGB handler and picked up the envelope, making certain all of the negatives were still inside.
 
“Damn.” Burnside shook his head looking at his partner of the last four years, and lifting the radio. “Best call it in. Dalgesh isn’t gonna be happy.”
 
She thought, as she wiped her fingerprints from the warm Tokarev with the hem of her dress, that she was lucky that the unmarked car -- she could tell from the heavy-duty tires, steel rims, plain hubcaps, and overall lack of manufacturer's badges that it was a police cruiser -- was the local constabulary, not one of her former associates.
 
Detective Dee Gillis was at the first step when he heard Frank open the building's door -- somehow, twenty years his senior, Sun Hill's most storied detective had made the radio call and caught up to him -- Dee drew his own gun hoping his partner hadn't seen him wait until he was inside.
 
She thought to herself, "I'll slip out the back door and let those two lugs in the police cruiser sit there watching the front door all night."
 
This wasn’t Burnside’s first rodeo, his years at Sun Hill had taught him much.


"But how can you be sure?" Detective Chief Inspector Frank Burnside asked, shaking his head, thinking this was the strangest thing to happen in Sun Hill for years.

Never thought I’d be writing a fanfic :D
 
Or was it just that the years at Sun Hill had taught him mash: eel, pie, and mash?

Regardless, he had never appreciated working with a lowlife such as that damn Detective Gillis; to Burnside, Gillis was lower than the toe rags who graffitied the walls of the Jasmine Allen Estate.
 
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