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Claire Hoffman was annoyed.

She’d forgotten to take her plastic grocery bag into the store and ended up having to get one of their paper ones. She didn’t mind the $.10 charge. What she did mind was how crappy the bag was.

One of the handles broke as she was carting it down the hallway to her condo and several items had fallen out. She was lucky none of them was the wine bottle. Actually, the store was lucky. If that had broken, she’d have gone back to give them hell.

She was so tired of ineptitude. The folks she represented at work, mostly actors and directors, were a whiny bunch who didn’t appreciate what she did for them. The service industry people she dealt with seemed disinterested in giving half a damn about their work.

It was enough to make her wish that bomb threat to the office had come in early enough for her to go to the “Afternoon Delight” event at Elite Spa today. But the party announcement had come on such short notice, and she couldn’t justify it with all the work she had. She’d just have to find a nasty boy toy who could satisfy her needs next time.

As it was, she had the bag in her left arm and her briefcase in her right, making it impossible to unlock her door. She put down the bag and searched for the keys in the pocket of her slacks.

As she did, she felt a strange shiver go down her back. It reminded her of that feeling she and her friends got as kids when they’d say that meant someone had just walked over their grave. She glanced back down the hallway behind her, but there was no one there.

She finally managed to get hold of the keys and pull them out. She fished around for the right one, then unlocked the door. As she picked up the briefcase, she got the same shiver as before. But this time, she didn’t have the energy to look over her shoulder again.

She pushed open the door and was just starting to step inside when she heard what sounded like shoes reverberating loudly on the wooden floor behind her, coming her way.