![]() I'd been out for most of the morning, only stopping by the office to pick up my camera. I don't earn a lot of money but I make ends meet. I have an answering service to pick up calls when I'm out and I keep my own books. I do a certain number of investigations for them in exchange for two rooms with a separate entrance and a small balcony overlooking the main street of Santa Teresa. I occupy one small comer of a large suite of offices that house the California Fidelity Insurance Company, for whom I once worked. Nikki Fife first came to my office three weeks ago. The language in both documents is neutral, the terminology oblique, and neither says quite enough. I filled out a similar report for the office files. I've already given a statement to the police, which I initialed page by page and then signed. Killing someone feels odd to me and I haven't quite sorted it through. Aside from the hazards of my profession, my life has always been ordinary, uneventful, and good. I spend a lot of time on the road and I don't like leaving things behind. I've lived in trailers most of my life, but lately they've been getting too elaborate for my taste, so now I live in one room, a "bachelorette". ![]() My apartment is small but I like living in a cramped space. ![]() I'm a nice person and I have a lot of friends. ![]() The day before yesterday I killed someone and the fact weighs heavily on my mind. I'm thirty-two years old, twice divorced, no kids. I'm a private investigator, licensed by the state of California. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |