Film Noir

She walked into my gloomy existence like a glamorous film-noir femme fatale. I poured her some whiskey which she downed in an instant. I remember thinking she must have been devastated by her brother missing for days and the authorities’ failure to respond due to the heavy workload. 

I wasn’t exactly a Humphrey Bogart nor was she a Lauren Bacall, but the amount of whisky we drank that night and the exchanged dreamy glances under the eye were worthy of a Bogart-Bacall scene.  Neither my typically minimalistic PI’s office was something that came out of The Maltese Falcon. Everything else was as if coming straight from a dream. 

I must admit upfront, I took the case because I dug myself into a hole. I was facing eviction due to unpaid bills and taxes, and that was the least of my problems. I felt lonely for years and her presence spoke to me in million exotic languages and was like a breath of fresh air. I was also drawn to her by the sadness in her eyes that had not spoken of depression or despair, but resignation with the world. It went well with her black hair and red lipstick. Don’t ask me how and why but I was swept off my feet unbeknownst to me. 

I am a rational collected type of person, pragmatic in my actions, and always calm. She managed to change all that. I had always been a skeptic regarding change. My deepest belief was that people are incapable of change not because of their stupidity or ignorance, but because they don’t want to change. They are afraid of change. I am no exception. Turns out I was wrong. People do change. I am no exception.

The case seemed clear-cut. A family guy, who worked as a software engineer for a huge corporation disappeared one night without a phone call to his wife or sister. People don’t just vanish like that. I knew there was a history behind every “disappearance “. The point I am trying to make is that married guys get bored so they need a bit of a distraction. Usually, they turn up home after a fortnight’s escapade at some cheap motel or resort with a bunch of lame excuses. 

Unfortunately for my client, this turned out not to be the case. She told me her bother was convinced someone was following him for months. No one believed him, because everyone knew he was a hard-working engineer who toiled day and night for his wife and two daughters. No criminal record, everything spick-and-span, no conflicts at work - a regular boring suit. He would stay late at work except on Fridays. And one Friday p night he just did not come home. He did not come after two months. Everyone was going frantic. I don’t blame them. The police did the best they could but to no avail. The investigation hit the brick wall. 

She came to me as her last hope. I told her that what I had seen in my twenty-year experience as a PI made me conclude that her brother probably eloped with a younger broad or was lying in some ditch somewhere because he owed money to loan sharks or otherwise messed with the mob. It turned out that neither was the case.