Laura on the hunt

I exited a set of changing rooms, my brown hair was tied up in a bun, and my stolen leotard a little too tight for my curvy and olive skinned figure. But it would have to do for now. Blending in was easy, with my stunning looks and performative casualness, no one batted an eye. All was going according to plan.

Ignacio Valdez, a criminal kingpin, was the owner of a valuable artefact that had been stolen from his private museum a while back. The police found no trace of the culprit, but Valdez had his own private security footage of the event, and had sent a notice to various Private detective agencies to find the woman, so that he could deliver his own personal brand of justice to her. While I was initially conflicted at the prospect of working for a mobster, my eyes lit up when I had seen the reward money that was on offer. "Well, she's a thief. She probably deserves it," was all the rationalising I needed. A payday like that would be invaluable for getting my firm off the ground. Soon, everyone would know that I, Laura Garcia, was THE private eye to call.

Valdez' evidence was not much to go off of. His security cameras weren't of the best quality, so all I could make out was her wine coloured hair. However, for whatever reason, the thief had stripped off her catsuit, so I began searching for any stories about streaking women at the time of the robbery. There were a surprising amount of cases, but I eventually found one about a mysterious red head who appeared in the city square in her underwear and holding a golden hare. Bingo.

Thanks to social media, I was able to get clearer pictures of the woman, and identify her, allowing Rebecca - my old partner in the police **** - to run an ID check. As it turns out, the woman was a known thief, one who had connections with various other criminal syndicates. By pure chance, I found my mysterious interloper when browsing the website of one of her associates, one Serena Ollistra. The photo gallery was littered with images of her performing nude at the strip club/casino. Looks like crime didn't pay enough for Miss Jane. I'd made haste to Vegas, not even stopping to pack a bag or book a hotel. Why would I? I'd be on a train back home within a day.

I peeked through the curtains, and saw my target. Jane had just flung off her golden bra, and was now in the middle of provocatively pulling down her matching thong. I kept out of sight and retrieved my handcuffs. I secured one of the cuffs onto my right wrist, and peeked from my hiding spot. When Jane finished her performance, I would ambush her and take her into custody. But I had to be precise. I'd left the keys in my trouser pockets, which were hidden in the dressing room, meaning I'd only get one chance.