What being a detective truly means? Grant is getting out of his head about all this.
"Something tells me I shouldn't say finding people." I sighed. I was right.
"No, Ian, no." I never remembered myself telling him my name. "A true detective doesn't just looks and find things. We actually have a more sentimental, whether good or bad, connection with what and especially who we find. You can't be a detective and just go out looking for someone." He took a step back with his huge black umbrella slowly leaving from under me. "and just rely on pure evidence. It doesn't work like that. A detective searches clues within himself. Not anyone can be a detective, Ian." He smirked.
"Then why did you appoint me as your subordinate, I'm a 'not anyone'. Honestly I have nothing to do with this."
"Ian."
"All I wanted to do was go to school, then go home and relax!" I heard the tone of my voice start to rise.
"Ian." He kept a steady tone.
"I have no sentimental feelings for that guy that died by a car accident." Grant's face slightly turned confused. "Nor the guy that killed him or whatever. And this dumb rain that won't stop pouring!"
"Ian?"
"I just want to go home. And see... my pa-, mother. Please." I slightly sobbed. I was getting cold, especially around my nose.
"Ian.?" He started.
"I'm sorry, but-." He stopped me.
"Car accident." He smiled. "That's a first." He sighed. "I knew I was right to choose you, never not trust your gut." He chuckled.
"What?" I asked suspenseful. He continued to laugh. "Grant. Grant. Grant!" I called out to him. He looked at me and stopped.
"Oh, I thought you'd caught by now." He cleared his throat. "You want to know something, Ian."
"No." I turned to walk.
"Ok." He grabbed my arm and turned me to him. He looked at me with his strict blue eyes. They were so bright, but I had a feeling, down the blue eye line, there was something more unpleasant, scary almost.
"He wasn't hit by a car or truck or anything of the sort."
"What?" I protested. "I saw him, I swear I am not crazy, I saw him!"
"What you saw doesn't compare to the other fifty witnesses. Yours' the only one that is different from everyone else's." He let go of my arm, knowing he has got my attention.
"Look around Ian." He pointed with his hands and fisted hand, in which he held the umbrella with, to the open street now tapped off with a yellow tape that read 'caution' on it.
"No you're joking, I know you are. This is one of those detective trick questions right." I looked at him. He shook his head.
"Look around once more, Ian." I heeded his words and looked around again. Then blurred images of light tanned people started to com into view. They blurred into a more clear image, until there were about twenty people standing around, looking at us, and others walking around doing their daily business.
"That question, with only fourth of it correct, is this what you meant?" I asked. He nodded. I was in shock.
"Yes, you are a special kid, and I'm not saying that because you are crazy, I'm saying it honestly." He smiled at the people. Most then just turned and walked away. I looked at the time, 12:10. I lit up with happiness for just a split second. "Now Ean, my special detective, let's not waste time. We must continue our search for whoever killed him and who he killed." His umbrella moved from completely above me, forcing me to continue moving with him.
YOU ARE READING
Pessimism (Book One)
Mystery / Thriller"Ian." Mother's sweet voice called out to me. "Ian?" She called again. I opened my eyes. I could hear the warming sound of her voice. I knew she wasn't there. It was all just a hallucination. She died a long time ago, or at least that's what I was t...
