The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 39

I felt like Batman. The one from the Christopher Nolan movies who rides a motorcycle in an epic brooding manor, driving off to seek justice in the shadows.

The biggest difference was that Batman didn't have someone calling him over and over, like a nagging insect. My phone was vibrating, a shaking, snarling bug, demanding to be heard. And after the eighth attempt, I shoved the earpiece back in my ear.

"Decker. Stop calling me," I shouted over the roar of my motorcycle, as I drove over a broken set of asphalt and onto the now smooth surface of the next street, signifying that I was entering the rich part of town.

"You can't take out your earpiece!" he snapped back.

"I will do what I think is best." My voice was calm, eerily so. I had regained my focus, digging into my anger to help me think clearly, helping me bury away the creeping sorrow deep down. "And if you try to interfere, I'll have you thrown out of the mansion Decker, I mean it."

"You don't—"

"My dad showed up, Decker. AT. MY. HOUSE."

There was a loaded silence as wind roared past my ears, the bike growling below me as I bolted down the street faster than legally allowed. "You are being reckless," he finally said.

Oh how I wish I could punch you, Decker. Make you into a punching bag so there would be no consequences.

"No," I replied darkly. "Michale is on deck if I need him. You said so yourself. Having him involved is the practical move. So don't come." Then I shoved my earpiece into my pocket, cutting off all communication as I parked my bike two blocks away from the mansion, sinking into the darkness.

You know those movies where the lights go out in a building and everyone is left scared, because someone has clearly sabotaged things, and no one knows where the person responsible his hiding? Then you watch the main character slowly walk into a room, and you keep thinking, 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING? JUST LEAVE! SOMEONE IS OBVIOUSLY INSIDE!' but the main character can't here you, so they keep moving until finally, a light turns on and they someone sitting in a chair, waiting for them, looking utterly terrifying with the dramatic reveal?

Well I was the person that had cut the lights, listening to the gasps of surprise, the shuffling of feet, the nervous movement as I walked through the mansion, going unnoticed in the panicked darkness.

And I was the person that moved to sit in the chair, waiting for my target to walk into the room so I could have a little chat. It was far less terrifying when you were the one responsible. The one causing fear. It leaves the terror for everyone else and the power sitting in your lap as you sit in the dark.

Finally, my patience and dramatic flair paid off as someone entered the room alone. My phone light blared to life as I set it on the small coffee table next to me, startling my visitor. I offered a dark smile. "Hello, Nat."

I sat in the small sitting room where Nat and I first talked about me working to uncover the murderer the night I had officially met Ace in the gazebo. The phone light on the table next to me washed out all color from the sound proofed grey walls and simple decor, leaving the room looking like a blank slate. The perfect place for a little chat.

The Showrunner, Nat, had the common sense to squeak in surprise at finding me in the room, sitting in the dark.

She stumbled backward and hit the door behind her, closing it with her back.

"Oh good, I was going to ask you to close the door," I said dryly.

"Holy crap, Delle! You scared me!" she said with a laugh, putting her hand to her chest. "You really have a knack for that."