Retribution

Chapter One

        September, 1949: California.

        The revolving door opened, sweeping in the cool smell of autumn rain along with slim brunette. A large roll of paper fought for balance with a bulky blue purse hanging from her left shoulder. It would’ve been impossible to remove her raincoat, so she walked across the white and black tiled floor dripping a small puddle behind.

        Her poise and well-cut suit underneath the jacket betrayed none of the anxiety that was gnawing at her stomach. Wavy dark hair framed a heart shaped face with large green eyes and a chin with a stubborn tilt. She wasn’t aware of the appreciative glances that followed her as she spoke to a red-suited bellboy, asking for directions. He pointed her towards the elevator and her heels clicked noisily across the tiled floor as she followed his directions.

            “Here, let me help you, Ma’am.” The bellboy rushed out from behind the desk as he watched her struggle and pressed the elevator button for her.

            “Thank you.” She shook her the wavy hair back from her face, no hands free.

            “Would you like me to go up with you? Help you carry your things?”

            “No thank you, I can mange.”

            The elevator door shut and she watched the slow dial climbing the floors. Squeezing the bulky floorplan tighter against her chest, she tried to twist her hand to look at her wristwatch. She hoped Professor Drake was at home . . . it was almost eight o’clock and he hadn’t returned her calls, but these plans needed to be done before tomorrow.

            Leaning against the wood-paneled wall of the elevator, she took a deep breath and tried not to think about the encroaching deadline. Normally she wasn’t nervous and tied up in knots, but this was her first real job! She would do anything she could to make sure it was done properly, including being on time.

            The ding of the elevator made her straighten up. She straightened her shoulders and was glad the doors opened automatically. Two doors down--the bellboy had said, two door to your left, is number 418.

            In front of 418, she was forced to put down the bulky floor plan to knock on the door. “Professor? Professor Drake, it’s Katherine.”

            She heard a faint shuffling noise inside and relaxed. He was home afterall. She was afraid she’d have to stay up all night finishing the stair plan herself, when she really had no clue how to do a stair plan. Picking up the plans again, she shifted the weight around and waited to be admitted.

            Two minutes went by. She rested her weight on one leg, then the other. Of course she’d worn her three-inch heels on a day when she had to carry both a heavy floor plan and her purse.

            She sighed and put down the plan again, pounding louder on the door this time. He must not have heard her the first time. It was warm in the hall—too warm, so she struggled out of her raincoat, shaking a sprinkling of droplets onto the carpet.

            “Professor Drake, it’s Katherine.” She knocked until her knuckles hurt . . . still no answer.

            Maybe he wasn’t home after all--maybe all she’d heard was a cat. Did he even own a cat? When he didn’t answer a third time, she looked in exasperation around the hall. Could she just leave the floor plans here in the hall for him when he returned?

            No, they were too valuable to be left where a stranger might take them. The thought of all the hours that had gone into the drafting of them made her shudder inside.