My footsteps echoed down the hall as I walked for the door. I opened it quickly and made my way down another long hallway.
Finally, I reached the room I wanted. I knocked gently on the door, and waited patiently. My patience began to dwindle as I stood there for at least thirty seconds. I once again knocked against the door, and waited. There was silence on the other end of the door. I sighed. I knocked harder this time and said, "Anyone home?"
Suddenly, the door swung open. There he was. Detective Robert Johnson. He was about my age. He looked smart, but I'd be judge of that. I put out my hand. "Detective James Whithers."
Johnson cautiously shook my hand. "And, who are you?"
I smiled. "Like I said, Detective James-"
"I know that. But what are you doing here?" he said grumpily. Obviously I had awaken him from a nap.
I wiped some dust off my shoulder briefly. "I guess my boss didn't call you."
"No. He didn't."
I chuckled inconspicuously. "I'm going to be working the case with you."
"What case?" Johnson asked, obviously still cautious.
I rolled my eyes and flipped out my cell. I dialed up Randal (my boss) and tossed Johnson the phone.
"Who are you-"
"Just put the phone on speaker," I said, a little annoyed.
He did. We listened to the tone awkwardly for a few moments. Finally, Randal's voice came on.
"Hey boss, it's me, Whithers."
"Johnson giving you trouble?"
Johnson frowned and gave me a look.
"Detective Johnson, this is Whithers. You'll be working with him on the Dowall case. Understood?"
"Understood," Johnson said, still with a little uncertainty in his voice.
And with that, the call dropped. Johnson handed me the phone back and I smiled politely. "Now, ready to catch me up on the case?" I asked.
"Let me get something straight-"
"I know, I know. You don't want an amateur detective to get in your way. Don't worry though, I feel the same way."
I could tell Johnson didn't like me much, but that didn't matter. It isn't my job to be liked. As Johnson pulled the case file out of a drawer, I decided to ask him some questions.
"So why are you living in an apartment? This job pays pretty darn well."
"None of your business," he snapped.
"Stop asking questions, I know what you're trying to do."
"You want to find out as much as you can about me so you can make me look like a fool." He was smarter than I gave him credit for.
"No need. You're doing a good job of doing that yourself."
"Good one. Not really."
"Touche," I said in a sarcastic tone.