Blog #2 - The Crime Scene

My mind spun as I stared at the crime scene that slowly began to reveal more and more of itself to me.
The police moved busily around me as I tried to slow the space down in my mind.


I took pictures of every detail my eyes raked over, from the dirt found on the bottom of Mr. Evans’ shoes,
to his nails, to the general position he rested in.


I glanced up at the Police Chief who eagerly observed my process, hoping for me to uncover a new
detail as much as I did. I needed to speak with him to figure out which initial details I may have missed,
but I had a problem.


I have a hard time interacting with people the way most people do. I get overwhelmed when I am
surrounded by too many people, or when too many new people decide to introduce themselves to me
that day. I try to learn the story and take the picture of one new person as a daily social challenge, but I
would rather keep to myself.


I prefer puzzles to people. Take Mr. Evans’ death for example. I liked the man and the talks we would
have and I wish someone hadn’t chosen to kill him, but I couldn’t deny the internal conflict I suffered
from the excitement bubbling up in my stomach at the idea of a new project and puzzle.


As I started finishing up my examination of the crime scene, a tap on the shoulder made me jump slightly.


“Sorry to interrupt your process...Are you Leclerc?” Chief Flock asked.


“No,” I said.


He clearly wasn’t satisfied by this answer so I proceeded with “Cleo Valentine.” He offered a handshake
and I glanced at it with perturbation and gripped my camera a little tighter.


He cleared his throat and continued.


“My apologies. We were informed that a detective who lives in the building would come today to
investigate Mr. Evans’ death...If you aren’t Leclerc I will have to ask you to leave. Do you have some
kind of detective badge I can check?” he asked as he eyed my battered jean jacket, ripped jeans, and
dirty boots.


I shifted uncomfortably and quickly identified the nearest exits in my peripheral vision.


“No, sorry,” I quietly said and slipped away from the crime scene.


I exited in a huff, embarrassed that my abilities were not valued.

As I began to organize pictures of the crime scene on a giant board inside of my apartment I began to
wonder: Who the hell is Leclerc? And is he willing to work with me?

Comments

  1. amyNovember 16, 2018 at 6:55 AM

    "That's it," he spoke to the koi swimming by. "It's time to bring the garden to the people, or the people to the garden."



    So he gathered small seedling pots, and separated some larger plants, and transplanted them. He stood gazing over his projects.



    For the rest of the evening, as the sun was going down, he labelled the pots for delivery to the residents. By 3 AM he had delivered to Anna, Arizona, and Brendan a "Flaming Katy"

    to Caris, Cleo, and Joseph a "Panda Plant" to Letitia, Luca, and Pierre a "Crown of Thorns" he thought they all needed a little light and interest in their lives.











    ReplyDelete

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