Dominick Kinsey: PI (boyxboy)

Case 7: Cock Block

My phone rang, waking me up on my day off. Before I answered I looked at the time. 5:49am. Disgusting. Who would call me at this time?

I looked at the caller ID. Great. Moira.

"Somebody better be dead," I growled in greeting.

"Somebody is, actually," she greeted me sounding way too awake for how early it was. "We think there might be more than one connected somebody."

I was instantly awake and hopping out of bed. "You mean you have a serial killer?"

"Yup."

I paused, "Why the hell are you calling me?"

"I need your super observation skills," she confessed.

I rolled my eyes, "Don't you have people with you who are paid to do that?"

She whined, "But, they're not as good as you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, darling," I preened.

I quickly put some food in Derp's dish and ran out the door.

"Can you text me the address?" I asked Moira.

"Already on it," she confirmed right as I heard my phone ding saying I got a message.

I quickly bid her goodbye and hopped in my car to go to the address she had sent me. This was definitely a step up from cats and Christmas lights. I liked when Moira decided to throw me a bone like this. It happened every once in a while. But this is the first time it's happened since I'm a self-employed private investigator who nobody seems to want to hire. Maybe I should stop screwing anything that has a pulse. Maybe if I had a different kind of reputation other than how awesome I am at solving puzzles. Because that's all these cases were to me: puzzles. Albeit, some were easier than others. I loved me a good puzzle, something that challenged me. And above all else, I loved solving crimes with a certain amount of passion involved. Murder was great for passion so I had hopes that this case would tickle my fancy more than the first six had.

I hopped out of my car and quickly slid beneath the barricades the investigators put up paying no mind to the woman, who was obviously new here, yelling at me to get back. Something about contaminating the evidence, or whatever they tell to mundane everyday people at crime scenes. I've never been at a crime scene as a normal person. I was always there as a consultant.

Spotting Moira, I made a beeline for her with the newbie still on my heels.

She was standing next to a young male, diseased. One look at the body told me this was going to be a lot more interesting than my first six cases. Oh good, I love when I'm right.

"How's it going?" I greeted at the same time the lady chasing me said, "Ma'am, I told him to stop."

At her addressing Moira as Ma'am I stifled a laugh, especially when I saw Moira's eyebrow twitch in annoyance. "He's the detective I called in," she snapped at the lady.

Said lady flinched as if she had been bitten which I also found interesting. There's something going on with that one. She scurried away with her tail between her legs. I raised an eyebrow at Moira. "Don't ask," she grumbled. Motioning to the victim she then asked, "what do you see?"

She stood back and let me do my thing. You see, one of my more eerie talents was being able to really put myself in the shoes of the victim and see what they saw, or refused to see in their situation. I'm not sure if anything about this ability of mine was supernatural, and quite frankly I didn't care but the fact of the matter was that I saw crime, plain as day as I examined the body.