What Color am I wearing?

1

"So is this chamomile or a black one?"
"I'd say its chamomile" I said while sipping a little more.
"Well, how many years has it been since we met?" Dowson added, his hands clasped together tightly.
"Not years, but a decade, The Blue Murderer correct?" I said
"Ah.. Yes that was the last one, hard case to crack! Though you cracked it" he squints his eyes a bit.

Dowson was a research analyst from FBI stationed in Manila. We had worked through several cases back in the days when I was supposed to play a role in starbucks cafes; handing frappes to people who seem too busy on their smartphones. Several specks of wrinkles flourished on his face and a small bundle of white hair completes the I am aging pack on his long but rounded face.

"That was a long time ago Dowson, I am a full time designer house desi-"
"And thats why you've become one, right? An architecture genius, an interior designer, you are so good at keeping those small details and pictures on a wall that you can spot the small crevaces and hide it, and still remember the old wall." Dowson drops a cube of sugar on his black coffee and continued.
"When you talk to your clients, you sense what they really like not because of what they say but because of how they move, your a bright little gem, the FBI's most clever consultant"

He was right. As i laid back a little and lifts my right leg to rest on my left, I recalled the days when I perform deception on witnesses. Playing the dumb one who would just agree to anything they say but write a totally different story on my notes. It was one of the good old days where I find fuel and addiction to puzzles that are moving, that cannot be solved, that cannot be explained.

"Ha! Dowson you're making me blush" I said. "But i had quit for a reason that you will never understand"
"Its because you find crimes today boring isn't it?" He smirks. This 5 foot 8 inch bastard really knows who and what I want.

"What was it? Ancient?" I laughed, mocking him that the only interesting things i find now was how the egypt was built very precise and the news about an undiscovered island in the amazons.

For one I am a cryptologist. Puzzle fuels me. Codes, numbers, pictures, everything has a connection. Everything has a pattern. If you raised a dog and she hears chimes everyday before giving her food, she'll probably remember the sound and the time you always give the plate to her. If one day you ring that chime and she hurries to you with her mouth wide open and her tongue drooling in anticipation and then she sees you dont have anything for her, she'll be confused. Thats a pattern. A rhythm. Every crime has one. Be it the day, the religious connections. A handwriting left for the police with a blue ink. A tongue torn out on every victim as a souvenir. Everyone has a pattern.

"Did Morgan informed you to persuade me?"
Dowson shakes his head then said "uhh ahh.. Nope"
I grabbed the small cup of tea and looked at it.
"Then who?" I asked.
"Me, because I know you"
"What kind of reasoning is that? Is that supposed to persuade me?" I laughed, mocking him but his face is as serious as he can get

"You won't be laughing when you see this Brooks" he slides a disc above the table, etching it forward slowly to my left hand.

"Now, promise me that you'll watch that.. And give me a call if you change your mind" he said packing up his leather briefcase. "And i know you will"

I smirked at Dowson. That smirk that shows challenge me is a bad habit of mine when im being provoked. He knows it well and he knows Im up for the challenge but trust me I wont be easy to get. This days criminals do large scale attacks; bombings, airplane crashes, mass murders and the likes which is first, leaves a trail that says catch me! Im right over here and second would take just about a week, the longest to crack. While on the other hand, serial killers now are pure hot-blooded impulsive colts that can be traced easily thanks to cameras, GPS and satellites. I waved goodbye to my friend that i hadn't seen in years, as he paced down the highway. I held the disc upright and then hid it in one of my compartments under my jacket.

"Oh Brooks! Dont forget! Bring a pen and paper with you and a towel just in case! You'll need it!" He shouted back to me without even turning around but he was waving his hands goodbye.