#subaru bothered him for about an hour to go to the dog park together and then napped as soon as they got there 👍

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week day 7 - travel/free day

meant to draw them more this week but ate dirt instead </3

[arosegardenofstories-blog]

Project Churchill 2

                                               Chapter 2

     You know, I’ve always wondered if I would ever be in this business if it weren’t for my parents.  Mom worked as a forensic scientist and Dad was a P. I. like me.  I wonder if it’s a cross between the lives they had before the fire or the fact that they were murdered that drove me into this business.  That’s right I said it.  My parents were murdered.  And yes, their death certificates will tell you they died from third degree burns, smoke inhalation, and cracked ribs.  And the fire chief’s investigation will tell you the fire was caused by faulty wiring.  And the police report will tell you that there was no evidence of foul play, but I know that two out of those three things aren’t possible.  

     The lights were on during the fire, meaning that faulty wiring couldn’t have been the case as the power would’ve had to have been off.  And as for foul play, there’s no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t there.  My parents’ jobs were to help put bad people in jail, and in doing so they made a congregation of faithful enemies, that in no way, shape, or form would miss their opportunity to give us the big “fuck you!” and keep it moving.

     But my biggest issue is that in the past twelve years I’ve been searching, I haven’t found much to go on.  I mean I can solve the longest missing child cases, take down a human trafficking ring, and bust a tri-state drug arena; but I can’t find out who killed my parents.  All I have to go on are bits and pieces of broken conversation that are buried so deep that I couldn’t possi-

     A car switches into my lane on St. Paul Street, almost sideswiping me in the process.

     “Damn it Churchill,” I muttered to myself. “Focus!”

     As I continued onto Light St, I refresh the facts of the Easton case in my mind:

1.      James and Glinda Easton have been married to each other for the past forty-five years.  James is sixty-three years old and retired, Glinda is fifty-eight and is a part time therapist.  

2.      About five years ago, James noticed that Glinda started acting very secretive and staying out late at night.  His friends later told him that they had seen her in town with several young men.  When asked about it Glinda claimed they were patients.

3.      James then began to question her faithfulness and this brought unrest to the marriage.  James’s believes were almost verified when he found that Glinda had been funneling money out of their joint account into the accounts of her patients.  He knew that she was cheating, but couldn’t prove it.

4.      James is trying to file for divorce but Glinda won’t agree to sign the papers.

My job in this whole mess was to get pictures of Glinda in her new plaything, Liam, together.  Why Mr. Easton wants these pictures, there are too many reasons to choose from, blackmail material, evidence, amongst others.  Although it's my job to take the pictures, I decide when to take them and what I take pictures of.  Glinda may be fifty-eight but she can still put E.L. James to shame, and I honestly would like to protect James from as much of that as possible, even if he knows firsthand.  

I turned into the garage on Gay Street and found a parking spot on one of the upper levels.  I pulled out my phone and texted James to ask if he knew what level they were on.  Like a dog at my beck and call he replied promptly with:

“Level 6.”

The response came too quickly for it to be a lie, but still I can’t help but wonder…

“How do you know for sure?” I asked.

If I’m going to be risking my reputation for something as dumb as sneaking into a parking garage after hours, I had better be dealing with real facts. I reach over to the passenger seat and get my camera bag.  I look down at my phone, and I see that he’s typing, it never takes him this long to respond.

“Because six was our number.  When got married June sixth…it was also our first date.”

Oh. My fingers are poised to type another response when another message interrupts me.  

“Also the Latin word for six is sex…she’s witty that way.”

Ok. Wow. When I first took on this job I thought that there might be something I could find in common with Glinda.  Or something terrible that would allow me to distance myself from the guilt that comes with these jobs.  But this…this is just rubbing salt in a spoiled wound.  Who is so cruel that they would complete their act of infidelity with sentiments from the ones they’re supposed to be committed to?    I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed toward the stairs,    doing my best to dodge the cameras.  The last thing I needed is for my ass to get caught in a C list parking garage.

Creeping up the stairs I was reminded of my late night adventures in my house as a kid.  Dad used to say I was as quiet as a mouse.  Well that skill certainly comes in handy with my job. Just as I reached the fifth floor I got the feeling that someone else was there in the stairwell with me.  I varied my pace as I walked up the steps, listening for unfamiliar footsteps; I wasn't foolish enough to look around in bewilderment, I had a job to do.  

I reached the sixth floor and I could hear the two before I see them. Opening the door with a crack that was just big enough for me to get in, I slid my way in without letting the door slam. Crouching low,  I saw them at the far end of the lot.  Unclipping my bag (I don’t take chance with zippers or Velcro. They’re way too loud.)I pulled out my camera and adjust the focus.  Luckily they haven’t gotten themselves into any compromising positions yet, and I don’t intend on being there when they do.  

I checked the viewfinder and damn it, I realize I’m too far away from them; I couldn't get a clear shot.  Reluctantly I moved closer.  On jobs like this my usual up close and personal persona is the exact opposite of what I need.  I stooped behind a Nissan and tried adjusting the focus again; getting a clearer shot this time. I snapped a few pictures in quick succession and looked through them deleting the majority of them and keeping the ones that are the clearest. As I looked through the pictures, I realize that they are taken from the back; not giving a clear shot of either of their faces.  

I looked for a place across the lot that will give me enough cover.  Finding one behind a Subaru I started to creep my way across the lot…kicking my camera bag on the initial step; the noise causing Liam to finally come up for air.  Damn, I hope the blanket of darkness that is the coming dawn would be enough for me to blend in with.  

“What was that?”  I hear Liam ask.  His voice breathy and scared at the same time.

“It was probably nothing.” Glinda responded with her smooth voice trying to soothe him, trying to angle is head for another kiss.

Christ, no wonder Liam was so attracted to her.  Her voice was as tranquilizing as the ocean and its sirens that serve her.  I wonder how many had listened to her siren’s call, and suffered because of it.

“But what if-”

Glinda took his face in both of her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t you want this Liam?”

“Yes but-”

“But nothing.  John is watching the perimeter” She says pecking him on the check. “Now less talking and more loving.”

    Watching the perimeter?  Who the hell wants to continue an affair when it gets so complicated you need security?  I knew that John was the presence I felt in the stairwell and I looked for him now, trying to strategize a way out of this lot.  I put my camera away as quickly and quietly as I could. Just as I get ready to move I heard the door bang and an unfamiliar but definitely male voice call out:

“Ma’am?”

“What?” Glinda cries, reluctantly turning from Liam.

“There’s a new car in one of the lower lots Ma’am.”

“So?”

“It wasn’t here when we got hear.”

I really needed to get out of there.  But I still didn't know where John was.  I lurked across the lot hiding low behind cars and drowning out their conversation.  Just as I get to the door, I must have crossed John’s line of sight as he calls out

“Hey!”

Leaving me with only one choice.  Run.

I threw open the door and hurled myself down the steps.  John, who is about seven inches taller, and has about fifty pounds on me, could easily take me.  Not wanting to take that chance I ran as fast as I could, clutching the bag to my stomach, hearing his rapid footsteps behind me.  Reaching the fifth floor I hurled open the door and ran like hell for the other exit.  

“You’re pretty fast, but I’m faster!”  John screamed.

Running I feel him getting closer.  I could feel his hand as he reached for my shoulder and I arched my back to avoid him, pushing my legs to run faster.  I reached the other door and push it open, grabbing the rail; I swung myself around it and flew down the steps.  As I reached the fourth floor I hear John in the stairwell above me and the dreaded sound of a gun cocking.  Knowing he had the advantage of a bird’s eye view I knew the chances of me getting out of here preferable alive are slim.  

“Stop!”  John called, forcing me to look up.  “You know this can only end one of two ways and I have the upper hand.”

“Do you?” I ask.

“I’m the one with the gun in my hand.”  

“Why?”

“Why what?”

I paused, thinking my words over carefully.

“Why work for her?”

“It pays well.  And I’ll get an even bigger raise if I catch you so can we wrap up this Q&A session?”

“That’s funny.”

“What? The fact that there’s a gun pointed at your head?”

“No the fact that my job pays well too.”

He paused, in shock.  That was his mistake and my opportunity to move out of range.  I bolted for the next set of stairs.  

I pry open the door to the third floor lot. And made a run for my car. I’ve never felt so happy to see my old beat up Mitsubishi.  Pulling my keys out of my pocket I unlocked the car before I was even half way across the lot; I felt John hot on my tail.  I reached my car and hopped in, not even bothering to buckle my seat belt. If I didn't get out of there soon it wouldn't have  mattered if it was on anyway.  Pulling out of the parking spot I swung out, tires squealing, narrowly missing John. I made my around to the second level, John shooting aiming for my tires or back window no doubt.  Stomping on the gas I could still see him in my rear view mirror.  

I swung onto the first level and I could see workers for the morning shift staring to filter in.   Driving wildly, I wove in and out of their way, trying to avoid them, and instead of using the exit lane, I pressed for the entrance lane.  In my mirror I  could see John still chasing me.  Good God I hoped he wouldn't hit the workers. John continued to shoot as the workers dove for cover until one of them knocked John to the ground, meanwhile I made my escape.

As I turned onto Light Street, I pulled out my phone and called James, putting him on speaker.  He promptly answered.

“Did you get them?” he asked.

“The hell I did.  Did you know she has security now?  Last time I check you weren’t paying me to execute a car chase.”

“She had someone after you?”

“The hell she did!”

“We’ll discuss this later.”

“Good."   I hung up on him, not waiting for his response.  He'll contact me when he's ready to talk. I really need to start picking better clients…and raising my prices.

I parked in front of my house and notice that the early morning activity hasn't started yet.  I walk quickly up the sidewalk, wanting nothing more than to sprawl across my bed for a few hours, or until James calls me.  I pulled out my keys to unlock the door and notice that it's already unlocked... I know I locked the door before I left; leaving doors unlocked in this neighborhood is practically asking to be robbed.  I tried the main door and noticed the same thing.  Cautiously, I slinked myself around the door; careful not to give the intruder any cause for alarm.  The lights turned on in the living room and Iwas greeted to James Easton in my red armchair.