I am a reasonable detective. Whatever I cannot prove, I find a way in which it cannot be unproven, until I alone allow such to happen through my own workings and investigations. And while there have been a few exceptions, it never wasn't anything that I did not already factor in, or rather foresee. Someone could say I am just manipulating the truth, but really my job consists of investigating the structural foundation of lies, with its deception and absence of truth.
Is it really my fault? No, I'm just here to see the big picture. Many of these pictures I see regularly, some of them go up into my mental-museum of deception, the really good ones, if you could even say that, go further back into my mind, maybe even a vault if you can imagine. Amazing really. The time it took, the skill involved, all of these pictures, or lies, took so much time. I often wonder if the painter ever really actually knows who their piece is for, as they spend so much time working on it. I often find out too late, and like most things in life, I find it loathsome that I am correct in my assessments after careful scrutiny.
An unused printer sits on the desk behind me against the window. I don't even want to bother it with. If figure if I can't remember a location after reviewing a map of it, what's the point? I should throw that away. A few numbers on a pad next to it. I'll call them tomorrow if I can remember. None of it is really business related anyhow, or whatever business it is, it doesn't pertain to my business.
Some guy a while back approached me with some commentary about an old-flame he was involved with recently. Apparently he was concerned about what she might to do him. I didn't bother charging him since I didn't even want to look at his case. I had to tell the guy what I tell a lot of people, and yet I forget to tell myself at times.
"You know the score, if you're gonna talk with her, these things can happen. I don't care about your history with her. You couldn't trust her then, you can't trust her now, and yet you still talk. Whatever power she has over you, it's whatever you gave to her."
He drooped his head down nodding as if he's been privately lecturing himself on the same thing over a number of years. I did care, but I wasn't sure what else to say, outside of asking him to jump out the window to end it all. Bad idea. I just remembered I parked my car just outside my office window. 3 stories might not kill him, but it sure would kill whatever I had left of car. That piece of shit... My thoughts trailed on about how beat down, beat up, beat everything that car represented. But it has wheels, and being discreet helped.
Looking outside all I can wonder about is when it will rain next. Summer is nice, but boring for someone like me. It's the sudden cold that brings out the evil. Sometimes that cold isn't just a feeling you get with a winter breeze.
I watched it happen with a return client once, I'll call her White Snake. White Snake lived in kind of a bubble world where everything was built on sand. Whenever something went wrong: I was the cleaner. Eventually I learned my cleaning would become an extra-legal activity, and in retrospect I suppose "cleaning" is an appropriate term. Although I was acquitted for two legal encounters because of White Snake, and one of my cases was thrown out, I have never really learned why I was chosen. Maybe I'm cheap and reliable. Though I am slow at times, but isn't that the rule? An ad agency on the same floor as my own got permission to put up a framed poster in the elevator. Written on it:
QUALITY
SPEED
PRICE
You only get two!
Finishing my coffee, I could see myself in the reflection of picture on desk near the window. I didn't even replace the stock photo that it came with when I bought. Nor will I. I thought. I starred briefly at myself while I pursed my lips and wondered if any more coffee existed.
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