"Absolutely," Tina replied. "Let's get out of here."

**************

The trip out of that area of the city took forever. It took them almost 45 minutes before they pulled into their driveway. The ride home had been mostly silent, only punctuated with occasional references to the events of the evening, as brief as their mini adventure had been.

"Is that really the type of place you'd be interested in moving your gallery to?" Tina asked as they crawled into bed.

"I need something innovative, something different. It has to be set apart from the rest of the pack," Bette tried her best to explain just what she was going for.

"You're what sets your gallery apart babe," Tina said. "You don't need to seek out a new space to make it unique. You only need to continue to market what you already have. Your eye, and your expertise."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tee," Bette said as she curled up behind her. "Maybe I should look into a short term special event facility, rather than a completely new gallery space."

"Mention it to the realtor when you talk to him tomorrow," Tina said. "I'm sure he'd have some suggestions for you."

"Do you think I was too harsh with him?"

"No, you have to stand your ground," Tina said. "You can't let them think they can walk all over you when you've made your requirements clear."

They fell asleep to fitful dreams, no doubt spurred on by their strange evening.

***************

Bette appeared pale as Tina walked into the kitchen after her morning shower. Bette's coffee remained essentially untouched on the table in front of her. The newspaper occupied its traditional place, allowing her to peruse its contents.

"What's wrong?" Tina asked. She could read the tension in the air

Bette spoke to quote an article from the front page of one of the deeper sections of the Tuesday morning paper.

"Robert Strathmore, respected Los Angeles businessman, was found murdered in his vehicle in the parking lot of a downtown warehouse late Monday afternoon," Bette read. She then offered her own comment. "He was found within six blocks of where we were last night, Tee." She continued with the article "Police have indicated that he appeared to have come across a criminal element that had been using various abandoned buildings for storage of stolen property."

"How is it possible he was killed Monday afternoon," Tina asked, a sick feeling coming over her."

"There's a picture of him accompanying the story," Bette said quietly.

"Is that him?" Tina asked. The goosebumps were back. "I can see some similarities, but it doesn't really look like the same person."

"Of course it's not the same person," Bette had little room for contemplating the supernatural. "Let me read this last part of the story to you. 'Robert Strathmore's wife has indicated that his day timer was like a portable secretary to him and should help provide clues regarding his movements over the course of the day. Police were not able to recover any such item at the scene.'"

Bette then offered her interpretation.

"Whoever we met last night knew my name because he had Strathmore's day timer," Bette concluded.

"Or Strathmore came to warn us away from that room," Tina suggested.

"Seriously Tina, you have been reading too many horror scripts," Bette said. She was still quite shaken by the article, but was moving toward intellectualizing it instead of denying that it happened. That had been her first reaction.

"Either way, we have to contact the police and let them know what happened," Tina said. She had definitely lost her appetite. "You go ahead and shower and I'll make the call."

Detectives met each of them at their respective offices over the course of the day, took statements, and informed them they would be in touch if necessary. They seemed wholly uninterested in what they had to offer, simply based on the fact that they had been so physically removed from the actual crime scene.

But a crime had indeed occurred, and may have been influenced by a number of different events happening together. A full moon. A mind on edge. Scepticism of the extraordinary. Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. And different interpretations of the same meeting.