Tarot

Chapter 01

The Fool

The cop leaned in, doing the whole detective drill with a raised brow. "So, spill the beans, buddy. Any funky noises keeping you up last night?" The man, acting all chill with his hands in his pockets, just went for the classic shoulder-shrug combo. The cop wasn't having it. "Seriously, nothing? Not a sound?" He was fishing for words, not just silent nods or shakes.

The man started his tale, hands kicking it in his pockets like he was about to drop some casual wisdom. "Look, I rolled in real late yesterday. After I finally hit home, I didn't catch any weird vibes. Although, I couldn't help but notice the lights in the house throwing their own little party – flickering on and off, you know?"

The officer, with a pen ready for action, fired off the next question, "So, where were you at that time?" As he diligently took notes, I lounged in the background, casually sipping my drink. My eyes roamed over the apartment, snagging on the crime scene tapes that fenced off the place like some eerie art installation. The whole setup triggered a cocktail of emotions, leading me into a reflective moment, just taking it all in.

Today, a fresh case landed right in our laps. The unfortunate star of the show? A thirty-two-year-old woman named Lisa Graham. This morning, her lifeless body was unearthed in her studio apartment. The whole tragedy unfolded when her mother, fueled by concern after three days of radio silence, stumbled upon the grim scene during her check-up mission.

Lisa Graham's body, unfortunately, didn't dodge the brutality of the crime. The discovery was a head-scratcher. The scene posed a million-dollar question: What on earth could the person behind this be trying to say?

"I'm not getting any weird vibes from the guy," my buddy and co-worker, Elijah, shared, strolling back to me and flipping through his trusty little flip book of notes. "Seems he was out on the town celebrating his girlfriend's birthday. Classic alibi, but we gotta double-check the details."

"Did you manage to have a chat with the victim's mom?" I asked, savoring the final drop of my morning coffee. Elijah filled me in, "Yeah, but she's understandably all over the place. We couldn't squeeze out much from her. Currently, she's posted up at the station, so we've got a drive ahead to dig into the details."

Even though I'm not a mom myself, a wave of empathy hit me for that poor woman. After all, kids are always your kids, no matter how many candles they've blown on their birthday cake. Just picturing the emotional rollercoaster she must be riding, I casually strolled into the house.

The place was swarming with dudes decked out in those full-body suits, playing the whole CSI gig—swabbing, clicking pics, the whole nine yards. The crime scene? No joke, the house, it was like a scene straight out of a thriller. Just another day in the wild world of investigations, where we're constantly trying to untangle the chaos and make some sense out of the madness.

Entering the house had this vibe, like you just stumbled onto a movie set, but with a wicked plot twist. The living room, basking in a chill atmosphere, was taken over by a squad of investigators doing their thing. It was like they were part of this covert dance routine, checking out every nook and cranny with the finesse of seasoned pros.

The furniture just chilled, playing it cool, silently witnessing the whole scene unfolding. The room itself? It felt like it was holding its breath, stuck in the limbo between the usual and the unexpected. It was like a canvas, patiently waiting for that big reveal, you know, the plot twist that would flip the whole narrative.

Stepping into that scene was like casually strolling into your buddy's place uninvited, catching them in a moment of genuine surprise. A delightful mix of lived-in comfort and casual chaos. It wasn't a complete disaster zone, my eyes caught the magazines scattered on the floor, a couple of cups kicking it on the table, and dishes having their own party in the sink. Some clothes were just chilling on the couch, and there was this rebel dirty rug setting up camp in the corner, close to the house plant. It felt like the aftermath of a laid-back hangout, with a subtle hint of unpredictability lingering in the air.