April brought the winds of change to Smiths Falls. It knocked over trees, threw signs around, and even managed to pull a few transformers and hydro poles down too. It dampened and chilled the air and reminded us that we weren’t quite out of the woods yet. Canada still had some cold shouldering to hand out.
I could feel it blasting against the house when I opened my eyes before my alarms went off Thursday morning. I patted the area next to my head looking for where my glasses should be. No dice. Rolling over in the king-sized bed, I hazily scanned the area that used to hold a person, but now consisted of several piles of books, notepads, and a typewriter. I found my glasses on top of a collection of Chandler.
Tossing the blankets off, I put my feet to the bare spot on the carpet. A small area that wasn’t covered with discarded clothing or more books. The dawn light tried to creep its way around the closed blind, but the nearness of the neighbours’ house wasn’t making that an easy task so early in the day. Putting my glasses on slid things into proper focus, albeit still clinging to a sleepy haze. I found the bathroom and took care of the morning’s necessaries, then returned to continue getting ready.
I pulled on the grey black pressed pants and a blue dress shirt; I found the second sock eventually and slipped on the pointed-toed brown leather shoes. Some part of me felt like wearing a tie today. So I pulled the black one with the diamonds off the rack and proceeded to tie it. After managing to tie a double Windsor with little to no effort I found it half as long as it should have been.
I gave up on the tie after failing to recreate the Windsor far too many times. I grabbed the storm-cloud-coloured cashmere overcoat and the black felt fedora and felt mostly ready to start the day. Outside the crispness of the air slapped me across the face, along with a brief gust of the still-rushing winds. I slid lazily onto the heated seats of the Lacrosse that sat waiting in the driveway and eventually pulled out and onto the street; then briefly uptown towards coffee.
Coffee is important on a drive like this; something warm, and to assist with proper waking. The drive into the city would take a good hour; especially the way I wanted to take. Old memories along that road; the only thing to really see when you’ve taken it so often… everything else barely registers. Once I got to the city the plan was to hit a Denny’s, get a big breakfast into me and maybe study up on a few of the finer points of legalese I was sure I’d forget the moment I sat down to the test anyway.
The drive was a quiet one at just after 7; I was either just ahead or behind of those early morning people; the ones just starting or finishing their day. The fields and stretches of tree lines blurred past; even the familiar houses were just dressings to be ignored. I felt like I was chasing a mouse past the same hallway doors and furniture in the old cartoons.
Eventually I got to the part of the highway I wanted. The two gas stations stood on either side of the highway that acted now like battle lines, and split off for a quick escape onto the 401. The gas prices were the same; but one had a small Tim Hortons inside, I imagine the other one had cheap milk; I’d never been so I could only guess. I turned off the highway onto a back road nestled behind some trees just before the two stations; coiled around with the road past a crossing-guard’s nightmare of an elementary school, and away from the roar of the 401.
This back road eventually brought me in alongside the ‘projects’ of the city; several blocks of geared-to-income housing, row houses, and houses no one could really tell you how long they’d been there. It was also home to one of the shadiest ‘convenience stores’ I’d ever been in. Their chips and dip were cheap enough though, and not expired. Slowing to not destroy my suspension going over speed bumps I remembered a woman I used to work with at the call centre; she used to live around here the same time I had. Debbie? No, Deborah; never Debbie… I wonder what had happened to her.
Up over the last hill and down, I found the yellow-and-red Denny’s sign next to the motel into which it was built, and pulled into the parking lot. Finding a spot was a little more difficult that I had anticipated, but not impossible. There were an awful lot of Hydro utility trucks; they were likely being put up here to deal with the numerous wind related power issues in the last week. I made my way inside after a quick smoke.
The large dining room was virtually empty, save for one group, which sounded and appeared like a gathering of a fantasy sports league, from the continual mentions of picks and points they kept throwing about. Far on the other side from them, in a separate ‘party room,’ a group of workplace-casual folks were showing what, to me, was a nauseating amount of team spirit and wakefulness for this time of day. I checked my watch; 8:25am. Most certainly too much enthusiasm.
I was eventually greeted and shown to a booth by a round-faced woman of I suspect around 50. Her hair was worn up but still held some curl to it; and gave the vague impression she might be a fun and jovial woman were she not at work this early. She didn’t seem particularly eager to have anything to do with me. Thankfully, all she did was show me to the booth. The second woman to arrive was, at first glance, a twin of the lady prior; a horrible trick to play on someone so early in the day, though she was immensely happier (or acted it, at least). I ordered another coffee and an appropriately named "lumberjack’s" breakfast. Eggs over easy, brown toast; hot sauce.
The breakfast was everything I wanted it to be, right down to its presence when I got back from the washroom. I made short work of it and let it settle while I finished my cup of coffee. Shortly after that I paid my bill and left; ready for the rest of the morning. I pulled the Buick back up the hill and through the projects again; I was backtracking at this point though and I hadn’t actually realized it until I went past a certain set of row houses. The blinds in the large front bay window were different; and there was some front stoop dressing on the stairs proclaiming the name of the family now residing there. There was a cold pang in my stomach, and it wasn’t from breakfast. I rolled on over the bridge that elevated over the railway line and past another Tim Hortons.
About 20 minutes worth of stop and go inner-city highways and three and a half more Tim Hortons later, I pulled into the parking lot of the testing centre. They mainly handled Drive Tests here; the sort with the nagging examiners who want you to bob your head around like you’re listening to Bob Marley whilst checking your mirrors. You know the sorts; the ones who explain in as many condescending ways as possible how you’re supposed to do it... knowing full-well that once they’re done at the bar after a long day of ‘people who shouldn’t get their licenses’ they’re the exact sort to drive home.
The clinical environment was in full force when I got inside; steel-grey-painted walls reflected what you know the designers intended to be actual steel. Five rows of welded-together seating sat slightly askew in a ‘daring’ attempt at decorative flair; on which several nigh-zombified patrons awaited their turn at testing. Parents sat alongside their teenagers. All while a lone clerk sat behind a six-wicket counter, continually refusing flat-out to to serve anyone unless they took a number. Between those rebuffs, she popped gum, and was apparently paid to look as bored as possible. I didn’t bother with the counter and just grabbed one of the nearby empty chairs; sitting down a little too hard it moved the row it was firmly attached to, earning me a sideways stare from one parent.
I casually flipped through some of my notes; since I had a little over a half an hour to wait until it came time to take the exam. Behind me to my right, a thin, young, dark-skinned man lazily swung his knee back and forth while talking rather loudly to no one in particular. Upon closer inspection, a white chord ran from his earbuds down to his phone. It wasn’t English or French he was speaking, so I couldn’t pick up any of it; the few people around him moved away but I don’t suspect it was because they understood the conversation anymore than I did. The clerk at the counter called a few numbers, one of which went unanswered. This continued on for some time. One-Sided Phone Guy never moved, but everyone else slowly came and went.
I was in the middle of some idle chatter with a baby-faced skyscraper of a man in a ‘Police Foundations’ college jacket when a sweet song of a voice suddenly sounded to one side.
“Security and Private Investigator testing?”
I turned around to face the voice; there stood a young woman I placed in her 20's; she had the sort of icy blue eyes that could make me do anything if they were blinked right. Hair the colour of scrambled eggs hung perfectly down the side of her face and almost seemed to curve inwards to come to rest along her jawline. She even wore a Drive Test golf shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of faded blue jeans that appeared to fit just shy of tight, and rested at suggestively snug; she was an unexpectedly welcome vision. She wore some of those wildly-coloured running shoes that people who actually run (or walk quite a bit) tend to wear; and from the contours of her legs she certainly made laps around this building at least. She cradled a pile of paperwork against her chest as she opened and swung a nearby door open.
“Right this way,” she said with a smile, and gestured with a free hand.
A smile like that, under that set of eyes and such a cute little nose. This lady has weaponized good looks, and yet here we are, arguing over gun laws.
The other testers filed in and she waited with that smile, half-leaning on the wall next to the door, one foot resting on the toe, knee bent and slowly waving. I wondered what she’d look like in a long black number… then I remember people don’t dress that way anymore. I took my hat off as I passed, putting it beside me on a nearby table. My coat joined it, as I took a seat. It was one of those cramped little testing desks with the attached table; not quite as big as the old school desks. Still, I still felt all the same like I should have been holding a Number Two pencil.
Baby Blue-Eyes read us the ministry-backed riot act about personal devices of all sorts, and other such testing regulations then called us all up one by one to get our tests. She called me first as I was apparently the only one there that day taking the Private Investigators’ exam; she took my ID and exchanged it for a test. A few minutes later, once everyone was read, our two-hour time limit began.
As I expected, the majority of the information completely left my brain the moment I opened the cover page; but closing in on the two hour mark I was fairly confident in how it had all went. If I was being honest with myself I had spent a fair bit of time stealing glances at Blue-Eyes. I flipped the booklet closed and got up from the horrifically uncomfortable desk to realize I was the only other person left.
She sat there dutifully pulling strips of ribbon apart, which I realized contained answers to each of the matching booklets. She’d been working them over as people had been leaving, and appeared to now be mostly one with the pile.
“Well; that’ll about do it I think.” I said; sliding the test across the table to one side. “I stare at that any longer, I’m going to start third-guessing myself.”
She looked up with those eyes and her lips broke into the smile. “They always say not to second-guess yourself.”
“I’m doomed then!” I chuckled, and took a step back from the desk.
She slid the other pile of tests away, and tapped a middle finger down on my test and slowly pulled it in front of her. “So… I know what Security Guards do, thats pretty easy.” She pulled one of her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on it, hugging it.
“What does a Private Investigator do?” She blinked slowly and cocked her head to one side, the scrambled yellow hair went with it.
I picked my hat up off the table and put it on; then tilted it the same direction as she held her head. “P.I.’s? Movies always call them Detectives; not allowed to call them that in Canada though.”
“Oh, okay; so you look into things?” She straightened up and dropped her leg back down, put both elbows on either side of the test, and switched to cradling her face in her hands.
“Sure; sometimes people are looking for lost relatives, employers for background checks…” I explained, pulling on my coat.
“Cheating husbands… or wives...” she added with a little chuckle.
“That probably the most common, I’d think.” I had to laugh, too.
“You follow people maybe?” She reached over and pulled my ID over to her like she did to the test.
I slowly walked over to the table too, and leaned down. “Gonna need this test out of the way first... but yeah, I could.”
“Pictures?” The same smile turned into a devilish smirk as she said it.
“What a client wants, the client gets.” I was getting lost in those eyes already.
“Well I guess if I ever need a Private Investigator… I’ll know where to find one.” She looked down at the ID in her hand; then slowly held it out to me with two fingers.
“You’ll at least know where I live…” I nodded at the card before taking it back and sliding it into my shirt pocket. “Don’t suppose you could give me my results now could you; save the suspense?”
She looked down at the test and back up at me before leaning back in the chair. “Mark it in front of you?!” The shock was purely in jest. “Well there are rules and all…” She looked straight up with her eyes. I did the same. The black ball of a security camera sat quietly above us.
“They could technically fail your test; and I could get in trouble.” She stretched her arms out and rocked a little in the chair; it had the added effect of showing just how tightly that shirt fit. I’d missed it with all the tests in front of her earlier.
“I certainly wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble darlin’.” I stood upright, and adjusted my hat properly.
“Good things come to those who wait after all…” she brought back the devilish smile.
“So they say… how long is that again?” I glanced back up at the camera, as I slowly backed towards the door.
She held up two fingers, and with an exceptionally pouty looking face mouthed the words “Two days.”
“Well I’m sure I’ll survive the wait… the quality of the survival however… you never can tell there.” I turned the handle of the door and let the weight of it pull itself open. “If I make the cut, you’ll know where to find a P.I. anyway!” With a smile and a nod, I wished her a lovely afternoon and begrudgingly left. She waved the two fingers playfully at me as I left.
I got out to my car and quickly lit a smoke, staring back at the office. Through the windows I could see Blue-Eyes come out of the room; stack of papers in tow. With any luck, that would be the beginning of many sexually suggestive encounters to come.
It was nearly noon now, and I had the rest of the day free; an old colleague of mine from my radio days was running a car lot a few blocks from here (funny how things end up), so I decided to slide by and see him. As I climbed out of the car and made my way to the showroom my phone chimed in my pocket. I fished it out, opened the door and checked the notification.
“Your Test Results Are Ready,” it said.
Swiping the email open, the results were a pass.
“Hey-Heyyyyyy!” Dean jumped up from the table he was at, surprising the customer he was in the middle of selling a car to. “Chance, you look more and more like a Detective every day!” He tugged on my coat’s lapels and gestured to my hat.
“Funny you should say that, Dean…” I smiled.
Thanks, Blue-Eyes.
Congrats on the pass. Law be damned, I think you'll make a damn good Detective.