I Didn't kill My Husband

Death or the Dead: Who is Knocking?

Michaels

I left the Cristobal Mansion feeling happy like a character from Teletubbies. Do not think that I'm a sadist or worse still, a schadenfreude, who just loves hearing news about dead husbands. No, that I definitely am not. I'm only feeling good because I'm the detective in charge of this Cristobal murder mystery, the news that would be all over New York in a few hours...or, maybe now...then. I smirked, discovering I was wrong.

The news was on the loud radio of the police car. I shut the car's door after entering it with Logan and we started off to the main square. The police car's driver offered to drop us there. It'll be easier for both of us to find our way home from the square.

Detective Michaels at it again, I threw at myself proud thoughts. I could once again prove myself as the best. There's really no award for the category of New York's best detective, but, I emotionally and mentally win one. One, that is proudly sponsored by Pride.

Another thing made me happy. It was a woman. A woman I smiled at and also smiled back at me. She was sitting next to the widowed celebrity and was consoling her. She goes by the name 'Kemi,' that is according to what I heard Tori call her. Her skin is shiny brown like chocolate ice-cream in a HD YouTube advert. I was still trapped with her in my mental abstract when Logan tapped me back into consciousness.

"Earth to Mikes, Earth to Mikes," He said, hijacking my attention. "Yes, yes, yes," I answered, reiteratedly. He still thought it was cool pluralizing Mike, because my 'Micheals' ends with an 'S'.

"What are you thinking of?" He asked. I didn't answer. Instead, I looked outside the police car's window. The darkness of the night made every lightbulb and other electrical light sources bright. Brighter than even the twinkling stars in the sky. "You didn't answer," he reminded. I still remained quiet.

He didn't give up, he asked the question again. "Logan, it's nothing," I finally answered. He looked at me with distrust. He knew I was lying. I made short laughs and tried my best to sound convincing. "My brain is free, Logan," I told him.

Then he asked another question, this one was shocking but unexplainably funny. "You sure you're not thinking of Kemi?" Logan asked. I gave him a confused look. "Excuse me, Logan. Why would I think of Kemi?" I asked. Then he explained how he caught Kemi and I giving each other smiles and eyes. "I wasn't flirting," I laughed. He still did not believe me but gave up his questions, well...for a while. I was kinda proud that Logan found that out. I trained him to notice the smallest details in everything.

"Believe what ever you want to, Logan," I hoped he'd stop bothering me away from my mental business. When he hit with another bonemarrow shocking statement. "Micheals," he said. "You have a syndrome. A syndrome of falling in love with people in cases you're supposed to crack." I gave him a strange look, though I knew he was too right. "I do?" I asked, sounding like I didn't know that I did.

"Yes Mikes, you do. Women like Kimberly, Babe, Lizzy, Shade just to mention a few and the last one Jenny," he listed people I've dated before. All of them were actually part of a case I had to solve. "You used to be so crazy in love for Lizzy until you found out she was her Neighbor's killer." I burst out a short fake laugh.

"Yes, it was painfully awkward. That Lizzy issue," I confessed. You can't blame a single old detective if he falls in love with a suspect. I mean, I think I'm a lot old enough to be married by now. I'm almost thirty, or is it thirty-one? Actually, i'm already thirty-one. I've claimed thirty for two years now. Even my six years younger assistant is engaged. Not that I'm desperate for marriage, but I also am.