Guesswork
"The Pilot"

Today was no ordinary day for me. Little did I know how true that was. Today was my first day on the job as a real detective. Up until this point, I was studying criminology in college, and through my Uncle David I got a job at the VLC detective agency.
For my first day on the job, I wore a new navy blue suit and reported to work early. When I first arrived, I entered the bustling office building. The cubicles were heavy with excitement. At the front, speaking on the telephone, was Joan. I learned her name when I asked where I could find the boss, Leon.
Joan's vibrant red hair looked as though it was going to burst out of the clip holding it up. She had a slim face and didn't say much. She simply pointed to Leon's office in the back corner of the department. His name, Leon Wysmin, was displayed in painted letter on the etched glass door.
As I slipped inside his office, a stack of papers on top of the file cabinet beside me nearly collapsed. "Hello, Dana," he said cheerfully. He rose from his messy desk to come greet me. I had known Leon since I was about five years old, and we didn't need to get to know each other.
Leon was a bulky man, wearing a large pinstripe suit. His fuzzy mustache had turned gray either from being middle-aged or from the stress of running the VLC for years. "It's good to see you, Mr. Wysmin," I said in a professional way. He showed me out the door and back into the crowded room I started in.
"We call this the main office," Leon explained.
"Don't you think Grand Central Station would be more fitting?" I commented. It looked like there were two-dozen people working there, and they were all doing their fair share of talking. I couldn't hear half the things Leon was telling me. I pulled a piece of candy out of my pocket and slipped it into my mouth before we entered the next room.
"Now, this fellow in here," I heard Leon say, "is just like you, fresh outta school. You'll be working together during this, uh, trial period." He told me as he opened the door. We both stepped inside, and I closed the door. When I turned around, I was met by a most unpleasant surprise.
Dexter, an old nemesis of mine, was standing at a center desk. He was leaning on it, crossing his arms, and facing me with an amused look. Realizing who it was, I began to cough on my candy.
"Awe, look Leon, she's all choked up to see me again," Dexter laughed. I managed to swallow the candy without the use of my windpipe moments later.
"I outta hit you right now," I said, remembering why I hated him so much and forgetting that Leon was standing there.
"Hello to you too, Dana," Dexter said. Dexter, not considering his arrogant, talkative personality, might have been considered appealing. He was the tall, dark type in a brown suit.
"Leon, do I really have to work with this jerk?" I asked, looking at Leon. He was just watching in wonder.
"You two know each other?" he bewilderedly asked.
"Unfortunately," I remarked, crossing my arms. Dexter gave his own variation of an answer.
"It's just a game we play. She pretends that she hates me," he told Leon.
"Who's pretending? Couldn't I just get a monkey with an attitude problem?" I requested. Then after a pause, I added, "Wait, that may be a little too close to the real thing."
"Hey," Dexter objected.
"Now, just stop you two," Leon ordered. Having already gotten off on the wrong foot, the argument that was beginning turned to immediate silence. "If you become real detectives, you will have to have a partner. You may dislike said partner, but you'll have to work with them anyway."
"Why can't a person just work alone?" I asked.
"Because two heads are better than one," Dexter interrupted.
"Oh, I didn't know you could add," I remarked, plopping into an armchair across from the desk.
"I just want a different partner," Dexter explained to Leon.
"Well, I think it could be a good learning experience for you two. That's why I'm keeping you together," Leon informed us.
"Me with him?" I questioned in disbelief.
"Yes," Leon answered.
"Me with her?" Dexter asked objectively.
"Yes," he repeated.
"Both of us, together?" I clarified.
"You two have got this questioning thing nailed," Leon commented, beginning to show zero interest in my set-back.
"You can't make me work with this macho lunatic," I protested, rising to my feet again.
"Hey, I didn't come here to be insulted," Dexter chimed in.
"Oh really? Where do you usually go?" I said, looking from Leon to him.
"Look, you either work together or you don't work at all," Leon ordered. We both gave him a blank stare as he walked out of the room. Dexter and I just stood there awkwardly for a minute or two.
There was no way I was going to lose this job on the account of Dexter. "I don't like this anymore than you do," Dexter informed me. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a stuck-up loud-mouth."
"Know any insults without hyphens?" I pointed out.
"I was wrong. I think we're going to have a lot of fun together," he said in his usual, nonchalant way.
"I can't tell if that's sarcasm or not."
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it," he smiled.
"And that arrogant grin of yours?"
"I hope so, because it's here to stay. I'm going for lunch," Dexter informed me, making his way past me.
"It's ten-thirty!" I alluded.
"Not in Paris," he replied at the door.
"I know you're not good at Geography, but we're not in Paris. Here it is ten-thirty."
"I didn't know you could tell time," he answered simply, stepping through the door. Before the door closed, Dexter popped his head inside again, "Wanna come?"
"I have no appetite," I answered. I looked around the office that the temporary employees were alotted. It was lined with bookcases filled with binders of old files. The center desk was oak, and sunlight poured in from the large windows behind it. A couch sat along the wall beside the door, and two armchairs faced the desk.
I decided to take another the look at the main office. I meandered through the busy workers and their desks spaced throughout the large setup. However, there wasn't much to see. When I returned to my office, as I began to refer it to, there was an interesting surprise waiting there for me.




A small, red bag was sitting on the desk amongst the calendar and notepads. Cautiously, I approached it and read a note attached to it.

Mr Marshall and Miss Delany,
For your first assignment, here is the case. There is a person swapping drugs somewhere in the city through their business. Inside this bag are items that might    be transporting the illegal substances. Please conclude which item it is and who it is with a reasonable time frame.

"Interesting," I whispered to myself. I pondered about waiting for Dexter to get back, but quickly decided that he wasn't worth it. If I could figure out a few on my own, maybe I could convince Leon. Besides, it served Dexter right for going to lunch early.
I carefully removed the items from the bag. First, I pulled out a DVD from a local video store. I rattled it curiously but moved onto a candle holder. A small red candle fit tightly into the white, marble container. Next, I took out a black glasses case with a pair of blue glasses inside. Finally, I removed a bottle of toothpaste and a saphire ring from the bag.
I had no idea which item it would be. As I returned them to the bag, I looked them over a little more carefully. Nothing seemed to stand out to me. It wasn't long before Dexter came back and barged in, startling me.
"Don't you ever knock?" I asked, covering my heart with my hand.
"The door was unlocked," he said, walking up to the desk.
"Had I known you were coming in, I'd have glued it shut." Dexter immediately noticed the bag.
"When did this get here?"
"I don't know exactly. I stepped out for a minute and when I got back, there it was," I explained as he read the letter. "Judging by the contents, it looks like it could be a video store clerk, an eye-doctor, a dentist, a jeweler."
"The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker," Dexter interrupted. "So, this is simple enough." I crossed my arms, still angry about having to work with him. I knew that it was childish, but every time I thought about it, it made me cross. Dexter looked up and seemed to notice this.
"What?" he asked, "You might as well get used to this. We're partners in crime now, you know?"
"So, we're Bonnie and Clyde."
"No, no. Crime fighters. Like Batman and Robin."
"Enjoy that mental image," I laughed.
"Just wait a minute. If you cooperate, you can even be Batman. I never liked bats anyway."
"Are you seriously going to keep this up?"
"Leon can be Alfred."
"Alright fine!" I tossed my hands in the air and stood up, looking down at the objects on the desk with him.
"DVD case," Dexter noted, holding it up. He opened it and looked inside, shaking his head. I didn't think that was a very logical one, anyway. So, we discarded it.
"A candle," I said with it in between my fingers. I held it under my nose and sniffed the cinnamon. "I don't think crack comes in a cinnamon flavor." That one was placed to the side of the desk with the DVD.
David, looked skeptical of the ring and glasses, toying with them. I thought carefully about it, and something struck me about the toothpaste bottle. "Dexter, the toothpaste!" I grabbed it excitedly.
"I already brushed this morning," he remarked, shrugging.
"No, no. It's the toothpaste. It's easily the most logical. Why didn't I think of it before?" I exclaimed.
"Take it easy. This was just like a riddle. Now, we know it's the dentist," Dexter said, unamused or excited.
"You're just mad, because you weren't the first to point it out," I challenged, setting down the bottle.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes." We bickered back and forth.
"No."
"Yes. Leon!" I called out. I pushed past Dexter and out the door. I shuffled through the main office with Dexter behind me and into Leon's office. It's interior looked nearly the same as ours without the big window.
"Have you figured part of it out?" he asked.
"Yeah, and," Dexter began to say, snatching the toothpaste from my hand. "which dentist gives out this brand of toothpaste?"
"Well, that's hard to tell," Leon said, "but you two lucked out this time. I just went to Dr. Feerman's last week and got that sample of toothpaste."
"Leon, is there something about you we should know?" Dexter pointed out. I was too excited to wait. I grabbed Dexter's arm and pulled him toward the door.
"We don't have time for your jokes right now," I told him.

As we approached the doorway of Dr. Feerman's apartment, I glared at Dexter. I was more annoyed than usual.
"I hope that iced tea was worth it. Considering you just couldn't wait to stop at McDonald's," I remarked. In front of the oak door, Dexter was about to knock.
"Now, look let me do the talking in here. I don't want to look like an idiot," he told me.
"That's never stopped you before," I remarked. After repeated knocks, there was still no answer.
"Dr. Feerman," Dexter called out. There was no response. So, David reached for the door knob.
"Dexter! We can't go in there!" I objected. "We don't have a warrant."
"I won't tell if you don't," he whispered, opening up the door. I rolled my eyes, wondering how I got stuck with this lunatic. I reluctantly followed him inside. It was a very open area space, and we went right into his retro-style kitchen. "I think we've found a time capsle," David remarked.
Everything looked kind of shabby, and on the refrigerator was a note to his landlord. David took it down and read it while I looked around. There wasn't much to see: a small seating room with leather furniture and doorways to a bedroom and bath.
"He's left town," David announced. I snatched the paper from his hand in disbelief.
"But he can't!" I protested.
"Sure he can, Dana. He's got feet, hasn't he?" Dexter remarked. That's more or less what the note detailed. I pulled the paper away from my face forcefully and gave David a dirty look.
"You're really mad at me aren't you?" he asked sheepishly.
"No, I'm fighting the sensation to hug you."
"Don't joke like that."
"Ask a stupid question, get a sarcastic answer."
I stuck the note back on the fridge and stormed out the door. David was trailling behind me even outside as we went down the street. "Look," he said, taking my arm and stopping me. I didn't really want to listen, but I did anyway.
"We don't have a choice in the matter. I don't care much for working with you either, but I'm willing to accept it," he told me.
"You drive me crazy!" I blurted out.
"But in a good way," he remarked, opening up the car door for me. I climbed inside. Back at the office, we informed Leon about Dr. Freeman. He gave us some files on him. As it turned out, Dr. Freeman was a relatively young man with blonde hair and green eyes.
When Leon found out that he was leaving, he checked the transportation records for reservations. He had taken a bus to Cleveland earlier that day. Through phone calls to accquaintances and such, we recieved word that he would be back by noon tomorrow.

When noon rolled around the next day, Dexter and I were the ones that had to go confront him. He still had a chance to deny that was the one who did it, because there wasn't any solid evidence on him, only a lead. He opened up the door on the first knock this time.
"Come in," he said humbly. Dexter and I exchanged glances and stepped inside. "Can I get you two anything? Coffee? Tea?" he said, walking into the kitchen and opening a drawer.
"No thank  you," I replied. Feerman turned back around and had a gun in his hand.
"I didn't ask for a gun. Did you ask for a gun?" Dexter whispered to me as we raised our hands in the air.
"Quiet!" he ordered.
"All doubts I had about him are officially confirmed," I said quietly to Dexter.
"That's enough!" Feerman warned. "Now, I want outta here. You got that?" he said, moving toward the door. Dexter and I turned to watch as he slipped out the door. As soon as he was out of sight, Dexter took off after him.
I tried to keep up. Dexter chased down the hall and the stairs after him. I wasn't far behind. The spiraling, cement staircase had a center opening. I looked over the rail once, seeing nothing but a smear of Feerman's t-shirt and jeans. I did hear him fire a shot at me though. I ducked down, and the bullet must have flown right over my head.
I darted down the stairs again as I saw him run out the door. Dexter had disappeared though. Never-the-less, I followed behind Feerman. When I got out the door, I nearly tripped over Feerman, who was lying on the ground.
I screamed, thinking he was dead. Dexter was standing off the the side, and informed me, "He's just a little unconcious."

We called the police and Leon. The police took Feerman away, and Leon was of course happy that his agency could take credit for the case. Back the office, a few days later, Dexter and I were talking in our office.
I was sitting on top of the desk, and he was lying on the couch with his jacket draped across the arm. "For two people that can't stand one another as much as we do, we work pretty well together."
"Don't get too attached to the arrangement," I remarked.
"Has it occurred to you that I may not be as wretched a person as you believe, Dana?" he asked me.
"I try to like you, Dexter. You just get in the way of your chances," I told him.