A short story by Grant Davis

It was really very hard believing that the man I was sitting, sharing a whiskey with, was Roger Brooke-Soames. I had read most of his forty-one novels and collected the entire Regis Baum series of books. There were few authors in the world to rival his sales and popularity where six of his novels had received full Hollywood attention and Regis Baum, thanks to a television series, was a household name the world over. Curiosity got the better of protocol and I broke the amiable silence.
“Mr. Brooke-Soames, I’m curious as to why you called me?”
“Roger, please. Brooke-Soames is a mouthful of ridiculous syllables dreamt up by my publisher.”
He put his drink down, opened a folder and pulled free a newspaper cutting almost exactly nine years old. It wasn’t dated and there was no other clue to its publication other than I remember it so vividly; it featured myself.
“This story intrigued me and now prompts me to request that you take on a case for me. I want someone followed. I need to know fully about their movements. I will pay you very well for accurate information.”
I took out my notepad and clicked proud the nib of my ball pen.
“Who do you want me to follow?”
“Me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I will explain, but first I am going to shower. While I do, I would like you to read the first chapter I appear to be in the process of writing. . . ”

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