Case of The Confounding Jester (Editing)

Chapter 10

With the knowledge that Izzy's friend had been a soldier, I expected a cocky, muscular, more brawn than brains private investigator whom I could guide to get to the bottom of my confounding case. However, what I expected and what I got were worlds apart.

Jaz was stunning. She was sitting when I entered the visitor room and I couldn't guess her height. She was slender and was wearing a sleeveless red shirt. Her arms were well-toned. Her heart-shaped face was framed with long, black hair spilling down in gentle waves. Her skin was pale ivory which made her unique, forest-green eyes pop. She had high cheekbones, a sharp nose and wide mouth with generous lips. 

Her lips pursed and eyes narrowed into slits when she saw me checking her out. Lifting an eyebrow, she asked saucily, "Are you done?"

"I'm Jaz. Izzy sent me. I'm here to help. Tell me what you know and what you think happened," she ordered in a no-nonsense tone. 

I was always attracted to strong, confident women. However, the thought of my niece, Angel being scared sobered me up. 

In a quiet, serious tone, I told her everything that had happened. I continued, "Here's what I need you to do. Call the mask maker. Get him here and..." 

Jaz lifted her hand with her palm facing outward indicating that she wanted me to stop.

"Hold your horses. I don't work for you. I don't take orders from anyone including my clients. Besides, you aren't even my client. Izzy is my client. I ask questions. You answer. I do my magic. It's as simple as that. Are we clear?", she asked in an authoritative tone. 

I try to object. However, she cuts me off. 

"Back to my questions. Are you still having pounding headaches?", she asked. 

Startled, I try to recall when I last had a headache. I reply surprised, "Not anymore. I think I last had it before I was arrested." 

With a poker face, Jaz moved on to the next question and asked, "Did you know George Jones died?" 

I was shocked. This was the first time I had heard of it. 

"No, I did not know. No one told me. However, I did not know him very well. He was another police investigator who used to sit next to my desk," I reply faintly. 

Jaz looked at me with a piercing gaze. It seemed as though she could look into my soul. She cocked her head and her eyes glazed over for a few minutes. It seemed as though she was in deep thought.

"Here is what you are going to do. Jot down your daily routine. Write down what you did every day since you got suspended for the Carla Zanders incident. Just write what you remember and be as specific as possible," she ordered and began to leave. 

I lost my head when I saw the rest of her attire. She was wearing a short, red dress and not a red shirt. Her long, sleek legs were incredibly well-toned. She was wearing stilettos which only made her legs look even better. I wiped my mouth hoping I wasn't drooling.

It took me a few minutes to realize that she hadn't shared her plans with me. Unfortunately, before I could stop her, she had already left. I was furious with myself. I couldn't believe I allowed someone's looks distract me. I am a top-notch investigator. Hang on. Not anymore. I realize dully I am no longer an investigator.

Days passed and I kept jotting down my memories. I wrote about the events themselves, how I felt and how I perceived other's reactions. There were a great many details that had been buried in my memories. I began to accept that there was a method and sound reasoning behind Jaz's seemingly random request of writing everything down. The process slowed down my thought process and put everything together cohesively. It was truly shocking to realize how many blackouts I had been having. Unable to get over that fact, I began to convince myself that I was guilty.

Unwilling to give up on myself, I posted the journal with all my notes to Jaz.