The Cold Trigger
The rain hadn't stopped for three days. It fell on Los Angeles like a judgment, washing nothing clean, just making the grime slicker. I sat in my office above a noodle shop on Sunset Boulevard, watching the neon sign across the street flicker through the fog. The sign said "MOTEL" in red letters, and the "O" had been out for as long as I'd been here.The phone rang. I let it ring four times...
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