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Summary
I’m not sure why I wanted to be a private investigator, it may have been my early love of murder mysteries I would watch with my grandmother or it may have been the fact my father strangled my mother to death when I was 8, it’s hard to know but the fact is I lived with my granny after that and she loved murder mysteries. Columbo, Poirot, Murder She Wrote I lapped it all up, every Halloween I’d dress as Columbo and every Christmas I asked Santa Claus for a new detective book and a spy kit. People would always suggest that I become a cop when I grow up but the life of a cop didn’t seem glamorous, it was the heroic PI who always showed up to solve the crime while the idiot cops bumbled around like fools. That’s how the movies and tv shows made it seem anyway but realistically being a private investigator is boring. Less solving a murder on a yacht in North Africa and more eating a KFC in your car while you wait for hours outside a cheating husband’s workplace hoping to catch him in an act of infidelity. However, every now and then a job comes up that reminds you why you became a PI in the first place.
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