Jillian had a smart office downtown, large glass windows and house plants that were actually alive. She was a show off, but a fucking good one. She was the one that convinced me I had a ‘gift,’ she too, had a gift, but she keeps hers secret. It was my fault I let myself slip, but I don’t want to be special, I want to walk into a bar, pick someone up, come home and screw them like everyone else without seeing their life history each time I touched them.
Jillian was lucky, she was an auto-writer, she could tune into what’s around her and write everything; the murder’s name, where the evidence was, what happened, she never let a single case go cold and she was the only reason I was still alive. I pushed open the door to her office; there was no security at this time of night... or rather, morning, but Jillian would be there, she was a hard worker and for some reason she never slept. I sat down opposite her and she looked up through her glasses. “Oh, just take a seat Tate,” I smiled at her and she scowled. Her hair was straight and blonde and perfect for running your fingers through, her eyes were steel blue – cold but strong. “Oh wipe that smirk off your face, what on earth do you want?” She knew, I was thinking of her naked... hard not to when she slips once and ends up in your bed.
I pulled out the wallet and cloth from my pocket, placing it on her desk, “I want you to do a piece on this, some poor guy had his head torn off by what looks like a guy and his dog.”
“Where’s the body?” Oh, she’s about to go all PD on me, all ‘disposing of evidence, this case should be ours.’ I sighed.
“I don’t know, the homeless got it, probably no evidence left now...”
She scowled, taking off her glasses she placed them on top of her paperwork, “You bring me evidence to a case you just wiped clean and expect me to help you?” Bitch. She was fine when I was in the force, now I’m a private eye I’m the enemy, scum.
“Look, you owe me for what I did for you when your auto-writing didn’t work. So let’s call it even and I won’t bother you again,” my face dropped, something happened today and she wasn’t acting as usual, she was cold, but now she was Ice Queen cold, “I realise something’s bugging you, but I need this.”
She nodded, “Just, had a guy attack me today, I brought him in for the murder of that Greensburg kid and he lunged at me... the look in his eyes...” she sighed, “yes, fine, I’ll do it for you.”
That’s what’s bugging her; she got scared in the face of a murderer. It didn’t happen a lot to her and she punished herself for her weakness. She set up her paper and placed the cloth and wallet in her hand. I was a little reluctant to ask her. I felt the power, strength and fear from this man before he died... her psychic ability was stronger than mine and I couldn’t even imagine what she’d unearth:
“It’s huge... Jamie lied, that bitch. Jamie called me here to my death... I waited hours for her to come here, to this abandoned warehouse... was I stupid? It hurts, AHHHHH, it’s fucking got me, I’m locked in... my side is covered in blood and I’m sure it’s mine. I dunno what this thing is... it smells like dog, but it’s hiding in the shadows... it’s gone, Oh God it’s disappeared that bitch! No, no.... it’s got me head... it’s got hold of head... I can feel its AHHHH its jaws, around my head, BITCH!”
Her pen snapped toward the end and I put my hand on her shoulder, she didn’t need me all over her, asking her if she was okay. She would kill me if I did. I simply pulled the piece of paper from her hands and kissed her head, “evens.”
On the way home I picked up a bottle of whiskey, what brand I’m not ultimately sure; nor do I care really, it will get me drunk and that’s what I needed, maybe a nice hot body next to me too, but that wasn’t going to happen today. The office had two doors coming off it, one was a bathroom the other a kitchen/lounge/bedroom. A cooker and fridge sat in the corner and the sofa doubled as my bed. The only thing I had from my previous life was in this room, it was a mirror that hung on the far side of the room behind a piece of wood propped up on cinder blocks. I placed the whiskey down, stripping off my tee.
Yeah, I still looked like I did when I left my first job. A bottle in front of me, ripped muscles, my mop of brown hair still hung around my face in loose waves, cut at my chin. My eyes still the soft shade of charcoal, they were brown if you looked at them long enough, but no one ever did and said they looked black at first glance. A tribal wolf sat on my hip, its muzzle open and snarling, but she wasn’t my pride and joy, no, my pride was the snake that coiled around my arm from my wrist up to my shoulder, its mouth open at my neck. It was black mamba, reminding me of my brother and how he was so strong and powerful... but, didn’t stop the poison from killing him...
I picked up the bottle, placing it at my lips as I kicked off my shoes. I don’t need to think of this shit now.