Twisted Fate

I reached out and knocked.

"Enter," a gruff voice said.

I knew it was stab in the dark, this interview. What did I know about being a private detective?

I took the rickety chair offered. Across the desk, a large man in an old rumpled suit sat. The shirt had given up the struggle to stay buttoned, the tie showed all the signs of lunches past. He looked unhealthy. Would I?, I wondered.

The room smelled of cigars, old and new, and the feeble attempt at masking it, only tainted it with sickly sweet scents. I didn't want to be here anymore!

"So, tell me why you want this job," he grumbled over a half-eaten cigar.

"I need a job, and nobody knows me," I managed.

He looked at me, unblinking.

"I have no girlfriend, no friends, my parents are never home. I have plenty of free time," I said, with growing confidence.

He leaned back, the chair groaning in protest."This job requires lots of patience. you got patience?" he asked.

"Plenty. I used to work in a library," I answered.

Suddenly, he tipped forward, grabbed a form, and spun it toward me."Read this, sign it if you agree, and you can start straight away!"

Slightly startled, I took the form.A simple contract, some rules, rates of pay, 'promise-not-to's'! It all looked fine, so I signed in the box provided, and handed it back.

"We have lots of work on at the moment," he said, filing the contract.

"Here's your first assignment," tossing a folder at me."We think these people are spies, selling trade secrets," he grumbled, as he lit his half-cigar."We want you to observe, report everything, photo's are optional."

I opened the file.

My parents looked happy in the old photograph.