Pure Fiction
Published in

Pure Fiction

In plain sight;

For Some

Artist: George Mayer

In spontaneous realization I became aware of my rather unbecoming manner of questioning, some might say I smelled blood, I on the other hand was merely enjoying the sport of the hunt. Unjustly but consequently, I had earned the moniker of Boy Scout for an unusual talent, as well as reserving judgment and comment until a pivotal point was reached.

Truth has a way of leaving trace no matter the ingenuity of the suspect, herein lies the sport, the dance of the tell, or rather the shuffle to rub it out. The referenced talent, catching wind of truth in hiding, along with an insatiable hunger for punishing those refusing to give it up. I hardly see the relevance of Boy Scout outside of ‘On my honor, I will do my best. But then I was rarely known for thinking along the line of others.

Such a delightful dance, the guilty who always towered over me in intellect, while I savored the music and they slowly stuttered and tripped over their moves, wisely of course. Quite the beautiful choreography if you were prone to enjoy slapstick at the opera, but I digress, for we have yet to discover the crime at hand, or how the moniker came to be.

I would be remiss if not to clarify, neither my partner nor I am in any branch of the law or private detective service. Quite the contrary for the office door gilded mention of ‘Truth Sleuth’, a reflection of our hobbyist status as we both had other full-time employment responsibilities. Not that either of us managed to show it the enthusiasm warranted, or application for that matter, being paid a salary. We had a third member girl Friday of sorts to help with paper sprawl while keeping our feet to the fire.

Oh, I torture Stacy with the reference of girl Friday for she was anything but, a librarian versed in both the analog and digital world of, shall we say Gold. Our quest depended on data, and our girl Friday could source it in a very creative manner, often in an unofficial capacity that the law might not take kindly. She had other outstanding talent, but I refuse to incriminate myself or sew ties in the arena of romance.

This day pretty much started like any other in small-town outskirts of the big city, began in casual as we did our best to embrace the morning’s daylight while avoiding our boss’s request to join them, as always, they expected us to earn our pay. They failed to understand our need to find the truth, and just how lucrative it had become in a world whose currency no longer depended on whom you know, but what you know about them.

Somehow our little club quirkiness had sprouted wings and was reaching into the water-cooler break talk. Not in open of course, in name drop, as if a symbol of status, crazy as it may be when you consider it revolved around two no-names and women who kept them from burning themselves while pouring coffee. However, the quirk kept my partner and my jobs secure, our bosses were not hot on being researched it seemed. We had no idea what was heading our way this summer day.

Like most we were two mutts at rest until the scent of bone would make its way to us, then we were relentless K-9. This day my partner caught wind of what he thought to be steak bone, but from where I was sitting it appeared to be more of a carrot on a stick. Poor slob never saw it coming.

All he could drink in was the platinum hair, shrink wrap dress and eyes of violet. My partner was lost from the moment of introduction, which oddly seemed to promote loss of memory towards his wife and family waiting at home as well. I asked Stacy to remind him of his lunch plans with the family as I headed out.

I had a bad feeling about this woman, and while Bret, my partner is over 21, I sensed he was already compromised and in over his head. Anyone could see this blonde was sharp as a tack, well almost anyone.

Watching the elevator doors close the view of our office I hoped Stacy would be able to bring him around. I had to meet a man about a new computer for Girl Friday, it was no diamond, but I thought she might appreciate the sparkle almost as much. Stacy and I liked the way things flowed, at least that was her story so far, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t scare her off.

Those hours away cost me, my partner, and started me on the hunt for the platinum blonde. I was sure she was the root of Bret’s demise, but truth can be pretty elusive when the clean-up crew has half days jump on you. Maybe a gumshoe was the suit tailored for me from the start and I just wasn’t bright enough to realize. All I know is that day changed everything for me and Girl Friday looking back, but you can decide for yourself as I fill you in on my little adventure.




This publication is a non-judgemental nurturing space for fiction writers of all levels and experience. We welcome writers of non-fiction interested in branching into fiction. Our main editor is happy to help guide those writing fiction for the first time!

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