It had been one month since the case I am writing about had occurred. And that was the normal waiting period for when aanything happened. Enough time for people to forget, families to mourn, and tabloids to move on. Just enough time for people to stop caring. In the one month I have known Sofia Varden she has solved two cases. She is like a crime solving machine. The case in which I am about to tell you about is the first case we worked. The one that let me get acquainted with the manner of law and the kind of people I would be dealing with. But at the time it was a new job. It has become the norm in the past month.
It first started when I was fired from my newspaper job, Which I will refer too as "The Tabloid," I had been fired for printing a story about a priceless painting that had been stolen. But the tabloid would rather have an article about Lindsay Lohan's new dog. It had not ended well. In the end the paper got what they wanted, Lindsay's picture on the front page and not a mention of the painting, the greatest heist of the year, worth millions of dollars. No word. It was as if no one cared about the truth. When I went to protest to my editor he threw a book at me.
I had never been a person to beg for a job. But after getting turned down from every newspaper or tabloid company in town I had come to expect rejection. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer, dreaming of far away places with pirates and elves. Where animals could talk and sing like in a movie, to tell fantastic stories about fun, bravery and adventure. What I didn't know was that at this moment the bravest person in the world was running away from the police just a few blocks over.
This job was interesting. It was a weekly column about the work of a police officer and they had wanted me to write it. Write it and I had the job. When I arrived they made me sign a waiver and prove my age and identity,I was use to this but people always believed I was younger than I was, it was probably my cheeks(I had dimples the size of craters. My age didn't mean anything.) I was a competent writer and always had good grades in school. I refused to be treated as a child. My height was my only setback, I was so short I could barley drive. I could hear police sirens blaring in the background as I walked to the police precinct.
Chapter Two
The beginning of a long and arduous road.
The walls of the station were gray and dull, the feeling of criminals and lives wronged was in the air, that coupled with the droning rain outside was enough to put anyone to sleep. But I was so excited when I was sent over to the chief detectives office I barley noticed. There was a woman with mud stained hair, and very dark sunglasses in handcuffs inside the office with the detective. I wondered if she was blind. The exceedingly kind generous and funny woman earlier who occasionally runs from police, this handcuffed woman is her. I was moved into the detectives office. The non handcuffed woman introduced herself as Detective Bowen. She was 5'11 her long brown hair pulled up in a bun was quite a contrast to my blond hair. Her office felt much warmer then the rest of the building. A refreshing atmosphere. I felt like she had more humanity and compassion than anyone else. She asked me to sit and began talking almost like she had forgotten the other woman was there. The other woman appeared to be asleep, or dead,I I couldn;t tell with the sunglasses on but she certainly looked it, her hair was strangely and waist long, her clothes were old and rain soaked and any attempt at makeup had been smeared or rubbed off. Sweat was running down her pale skin and you could almost forget she even existed, her but still she seemed oddly cheery, she had a smile as she slept, but maybe it was just the room.
"Amelia Debord, so nice to meet you, we got your call yesterday about your article." Her voice was pleasant, not something you'd expect from a cop. She kept talking about what an amazing opportunity this was for youth to get a taste of after school careers. I was trying to concentrate on what she was saying but the whole time the other woman slept on. Finally Bowen turned to the sleeping woman.
"Varden?" she said,with the manner as how you would talk to a uninvited party guest. I appreciated she was trying to be calm, but now I know this would never work.
"Varden!"she yelled this time, still the woman wouldn't wake up. Eventually in her frustration she threw a pen at the Varden's head.
"OW!!" she shrieked obviously not expecting to be hit with a pen."What the HELL! Bowen?! I just ran 17 blocks! Give me some credit!" So maybe she wasn't blind.
"There's someone I want you to meet. This is Amelia Debord, she's gonna be assisting you in your cases." This was defiantly not good. I assumed I would be following Detective Bowen around, but instead I was gonna have to follow this person around? This blind drunk mess? Miss Varden didn't like this arrangement either.
"Wait I thought I was going to jail! These are false pretenses. I demand to be sent to prison!" I had never seen anyone so upset about not being in jail before. I almost considered walking out at that moment. There was no chance we would get along. There was nothing wrong with her, yet, despite her horrible hair and dodgy appearance, she seemed perfectly nice, I just didn't like smelly people in my car.
"The reason were taking her is we were hoping to avoid some of the more bad publicity and lawsuits that you cause. We think that having her the team would provide the public with a more human side of you." The word human seemed to be the only thing to confuse Miss Varden, like she didn't include herself as a person. I wondered if she had some dark tragic past and if I should watch my step around her.
Finally I spoke up "I think it could be fun, like a modern day Holmes And Watson." That would make her the socially awkward genius and me the bumbling sidekick. I regretted it as soon as I said it.
"Ok what do you suggest?" Varden asked. She had finally given up in defeat, and cooperated. It was the only time that would ever happen.
"How about the private painting theft?" What great luck that was the article I wrote for the "Tabloid "but was rejected, I had done my research, even written the article for the paper, but people were more interested in Lindsay Lohan's dog."Yeah, a Monet painting was purchased by the Anderson family last Thursday for, 2 Million dollars and was on private collection in there house."Detective Bowen handed us the police report."The painting was stolen Saturday night from their private vault. And they refuse police help."As happy as her voice may have seemed, her stare was penetrating, and while I wanted to do nothing more than leave, I agreed.
"What about you Varden."She wasn't asking, more like she was ordering."Nice and interesting, should keep you preoccupied for a couple hours?" And as much as it may have pained her inside. A genius like her to be stuck with me an idiot like me. But she didn't want to be hit with a pen again so she agreed.
"Uncuff me first."Compromise, a once and a life time opportunity with Ms Varden.
"Address?" She had the look a dog has on his face when you drive to the vet. She was probably used to getting her way, being treated like a genius, and of course she was, a socially awkward ADHD genius. Like the cold serial killer on TV. A genius in her own right.
"Micheal Anderson and his wife Lily live at 230 East Street in a private house. Can't miss it."
For once I had felt like I was going on a real adventure. Off to fight crime and catch criminals. Like James Bond. I grabbed my notepad and recorder, I forgot so easily, I hoped she wouldn't mind. Finally we left the office."Aren't you coming?" I asked Bowen,"Oh no I'd much rather be here."
As I we were leaving I heard Bowen mumbled "Fresh Meat". I wondered what she was talking about until I realized the Fresh Meat was me! This was the beginning of long and arduous road.
Chapter 3
Making Friends
It became immediately apparent to me that Sofia Varden was not good at making friends. She lacked the basic social concept of when to be polite and when to back off. It is because of this she never gets invited into houses. Again I wondered if she was going to change her clothes before we got to the the Anderson's house.
"Aren't you gonna change?"A question I had been considering asking for several minutes.
"Oh?"Like if she had forgotten that people wore clothes outside, preferably clean ones, especially when they weren't invited."What we need are disguises."Another great quality of hers was her devious smile. Somewhere between Freddy Kruger and a Cheshire cat.
"Why??"I had never worn a disguise before, unless Halloween counted. But what she had in mind was more in the area of shoplifting. Walking by shops and pulling things of the outside racks. Some of the items she used her "5 Finger Discount" on were a scarf, a pair of ugg boots, and a fedora.
"Are you blind?" I was still interested in who exactly this person was. She just waltzed around like she knew everything. No dignity or common courtesy.
"Do I look blind?" Sophia said as she stole some fries off of someone's table.
Finally I had enough"You have no shame do you?" The smiled her eerie Kruger Cat smile at me,
"Nope. None!"
"Well I don't want to call you Varden. Whats your first name?"
"Sophia."
"You don't look like a Sophia."
"Yeah, I look more like a Bob."
This was the normal level of intellectual depth our conversations got to.
"Do you mind if I turn my tape recorder on?" We were now walking down Pilgrim Street. Two more streets until we got to there. Just enough time to ask questions."Yeah sure."The most agreeable she was all day.
"Do you have hyper awareness? Can you say the alphabet backwards in seconds or something?"(Her all time record was 7 seconds.)
"No I just notice things,"Sofia paused. She wanted to be more specific but she wasn't sure how."It's like everythings just clearer. Everything makes more sense."
"If your do smart prove it" How interesting it would be to see her mind in work. I had my notes and my tape recorder ready.
"Ok fine" she stopped to crack her knuckles began her challenge face on. She took of her glasses. Her cold eyes staring at me like I was transparent. "Your 19 years old, 5''4 tall, 115 pounds. You also normally where glasses but today you want to look professional hence the contacts and the bun. You follow me around like a sheep so you must be the baby of the family which makes you always longing for approval of your controlling lawyer mom and your psychiatrist dad"
I stood there in utter shock as she walked away. The way she looked at me made me feel so cold, like I didn't exist but she knew everything about me."How did you know that? Did you google me?" It was so eerie that another person could know everything about me. Maybe it was just Bowen's office that was warm. She was defiantly cold. I was playing with an equal. Someone who my mother hadn't even prepared me for.
I didn't even realize I was crying until she spoke again. It wasn't a mocking tone like I expected, it was warm, it felt like she was sorry. I wondered how she did it maybe she did researched me and she was just lying.
"It's called cold reading."She was trying to make me feel better, Sophia always apologized for her mistakes when she knew she was wrong."It's simple I just read your body language." Sophia wouldn't even look at me now. Maybe she would say more if she looked up. Maybe she couldn't turn it off and she saw everything. My anger suddenly became an overwhelming case of pity.
"Wow, you should meet my mother." I was genuinely concerned if she was ok her face was turned even paler and she seemed to be sick."So what was it."
"Tan lines."She still wasn't looking at me."Your have a bridge tan line on your nose and a tan line on your neck where your hair would be."Sophia had started to regain her little color. Tan lines I had been to the beach earlier that week."Your age, weight and height are obvious."
"How did you know about my parents?"
"Not many people want to catch criminals. There's a type. A sheltered home, a longing for danger or you don't want to be-" She quickly put her hand over her mouth as thought she'd let go of a big secret she promised never to tell. She put her glasses back on and she could finally look at me. It was ok. Finally someone I couldn't lie to.
"Oh look there's the house!" She had finally retained her normal pale color. But now I realized it wasn't a sick pale, it was a moon light pale. It looked like light radiating from her skin.
"No one taught you to make friends did they?"Two new best going of to annoy some police officers.
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