I was startled out of my daydream by the cab door opening and a young woman flopping down on the back seat before leaning forward and shouting, "Follow that cat!"
I blinked for a moment and then turned to look at her. She was dressed like a nineteen-forties private detective, all trilby and trench coat.
"Do you mean, 'follow that cab, please'?" I asked.
The woman shook her head, blond hair falling from the hat into her eyes.
"No," she said firmly, pointing out of the windscreen. "Follow that cat!"
I followed the direction her finger pointed and saw a small tabby cat running down the sidewalk.
"Seriously, lady," I said. "I ain't up for playing games..." I fell silent as she shoved a hundred-dollar bill in my face.
"There are five more of these if you can keep up with that cat," she said. I snatched the bill, shrugged and started the engine.
...