ONE
The rain was beating against the window, it wasn’t a thunderstorm; it was the kind of continual rain that doesn’t qualify as hard or soft… The sound of it was peaceful.
Had I been in another place, I would’ve found it relaxing and possibly have fallen asleep to it. Alas, this is not another place, not a nice, cozy cabin in the mountains… This is my office.
The office is exactly as you’d expect: small, dusty, disorganised, linoleum floor, cheap furnishings, a broken water cooler and a ceiling fan spinning lazily above it all.
I was reclining at my desk, drinking the cheap whiskey I keep in my desk drawer. I haven’t had any real work to do for such a long time that a thin layer of dust covered everything… The phone looked it hasn’t rung in decades, I wonder if it’s even plugged in? I leaned over to check that… yes, it is plugged in. The phone’s disuse is a direct testament to my popularity. Fuck it, I returned to my original position and reached for my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.
Took a swig of whiskey and savoured the burning sensation it left on the way down… One thing about whiskey: even if it destroys your life in the process, it’s always there for you.
I took a long drag on the cigarette, and exhaled the smoke towards the lazily spinning ceiling fan, watching it disintegrate against the air currents.
There was a knock at the door.
I was pulled out of my depressing reverie about the nature of alcoholism, into the present. Was there really a knock at my door?
The knock came again, quite politely this time.
“Yeah -yeah, I’m coming.”
I got up and traversed the obstacle course of my office and pulled open the door.
The most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life was on the other side of the door.
Any words I might have had died off in my throat… She truly was the lady in red.
Red dress, red hat, red shoes, full sensual red lips, red hair cascading down her shoulders… and green eyes with little golden flecks in them.
I was in love.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for mister Blackthorne, is this his office?”
I glanced over to the lettering on my office door which proclaimed BLACKTHORNE INVESTIGATIONS at eye level, then looked back at her… “No, sorry… This is the laundry room.”
She looked at the sign on the door, blushed a little and laughed. Damn it, I was completely head over heels in love with this woman and I don’t even know her name yet.
“Aren’t you a funny one? Well, are you going to invite me in, or shall we conduct our business in the hallway?”
“Of course, uh, come in! come in!” I stammered and moved out of her way. She breezed into my office and left a smell of expensive perfume in her wake… I returned to my chair behind the desk, and gestured for her to take the chair opposite… She sat down and eyed my office. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more embarrassed about not cleaning it more often.
“Mind if I smoke?” she asked
“Not at all… light?”
“Please.” I leaned over to light her cigarette; she took a long drag, and blew smoke towards the ceiling fan. I leaned back into my chair and studied her.
She saw the whiskey bottle sitting atop the desk and raised an eyebrow… “Slow day.” I said. She smiled and took another drag of her cigarette.
I resisted the urge to declare my undying love for this woman, and find out what brought her to my door.
“So, what can I do for you, miss …?”
“Thompson, missus Thompson.”
“…as in mayor Thompson?”
“Yes mister Blackthorne, the mayor is my husband.”
My good mood from being in love sank faster than a swimmer holding an anvil. She was way out of my league, and besides, I don’t fuck around with married women, I may be a lot of things, but I am not a home-wrecker.
“So what can I do for you, Mrs Thompson?”
“Well, you see… It’s about my husband. I believe he might be having an affair.”
How could any man be unfaithful to this heavenly creature? I should break his legs for even thinking about it.
“What makes you think that he might be having an affair?” I asked
“He is ‘working overtime’ an awful lot lately, and when I ask him about it, he avoids the question like a true politician, I would’ve been proud if I wasn’t so hurt.”
She stubbed out her cigarette, and lit another one
“He is also distracted all the time, like he has something else on his mind… he hasn’t even touched me for weeks.”
I spit out the sip of whiskey I had just taken… almost hit her with it, but luckily not.
“He hasn’t touched you? IN WEEKS?!? He must be a madman!”
She was a little surprised by my outburst, I could tell by her perfectly raised eyebrows and her wide eyes.
“I apologize ma’am, it’s just that… errr… you are without doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and… uhhh… I find it really… hard to… believe… that… ummm”
I felt like a fool.
She played it cool though; she just smirked and drew on her cigarette… I took the opportunity to drain my glass. Idiot.
“So, what do you want from me?”
“Proof, Mr Blackthorne… I need evidence if I am to take any further action against him… I want you to tail him, and bring me proof of his infidelity, simple as that.”
“Fair enough, but why me? Surely you must have a hundred different ways to find out if he is unfaithful…”
“Discretion, Mr Blackthorne… I’m relying on you to keep any information about this under your hat.”
She produced a fat envelope and placed it on the table.
“And I’m paying you triple to make sure that none of this winds up in the press, or anywhere else.”
Normally I wouldn’t take a job such as this, but my common sense reminded me of my unpaid bills, empty fridge and empty IN tray.
“I’ll do it, Mrs Thompson.”
I stood up to shake her hand, she instead kissed my cheek.
“Good man, I’ll be expecting your call”
She turned and left my office, which seemed all the more depressing and empty than before.
I grabbed my coat, I had stuff to do: people to see, people to pay, beatings to avoid.
I locked the door behind me, and headed for Smokey Joes.
