• Still using Sims to illustrate his 'lovely' apartment •

I closed my folder, listening as my neighbor climaxed while panting my name.

Well, this was new one.

Alright, options; One, she happened to have a second lover whose name also happened to be Russell. Chances? Bleak. First off, I didn't believe in coincidences, and second of all, I couldn't hear any male company.

Two; ... there was none. My neighbor was masturbating to the memory of meeting me.

... I literally had no idea how to react.

Her soft moans finally dialed down as her orgasm subsided, leaving me with complete silence. My conclusion was that she had gone to sleep.

Opening my folder again, I tried to zone back into work-mode, but my brain wouldn't let me. There was a big possibility that Amy, my neighbor, was one kinky woman.

The only question left in my head then was... did she know I could hear her?

~~~

I plugged in my coffee-maker, just as my cellphone rang. I answered. "This better be about the case."

"It is, Mr Crane. How far are you?"

Letting out a breath, I rubbed my face. "I didn't get much work done last night."

"Mr Crane, you know we rely on you to be fast and efficient. Your social events or other activities will have to be set aside when a murderer is on the loose, so from now on—"

"Ms Dee, with all do respect, I put my every minute and second into my job and you know that. When I say I didn't get much work done last night, it's not because I was being lazy or had company, but if you're unhappy with my performance, go ahead and fire me. Let's see how fast your newbies will solve this one."

When I heard nothing in the other end, I knew I had won. Ms Erika Dee was my 'boss' or employer, if you would. I didn't have a signed contract with the Miami police and didn't plan on getting one, but whenever they were stumped on a mystery case, they came to me. We both knew that if she fired me right now, the murder case she had given me would take weeks to get solved.

"Fine," She finally snapped. "But you're on thin ice, Crane."

"That's where I like to be."

She huffed in annoyance through the phone. "I expect to see you here at the station in forty-five minutes. Are we clear?"

I smirked, getting my one mug out of my moving box. "As ice."

~~~

I frustratedly ran my hands through my hair for what seemed like the millionth time. Incompetent fools could make you go bald like this.

"I'm going to explain it one last time," I growled, glaring at Ms Dee and the client. "Your husband faked the robbery, had the deeds to your summer house stolen on purpose, then sold it to an investor, only to buy it back after the divorce, so when the papers finally got signed, you wouldn't get it. Your husband cheated on you and he therefore knew the court would favor you. He'd wind up broke and divorced, but at least this way, he'd have his summer house." I said for what also seemed like the millionth time. "Hats off to your husband for being clever. Everything you'll need to sue him is in this folder," I said, pointing to a manila folder on the conference table where we were sitting. "The evidence, the money wires, even pictures of him enjoying himself in Costa Rica with a Brazilian woman. Knock yourself out."

Ms Cortez, recently divorced with her botoxed lips and drawn-on eyebrows extended a long manicured finger and pointed to the folder. "You got all that from just reading a file?"

I leaned back in the leather coated chair and tiredly closed my eyes. "It was obvious if someone cared to actually investigate."

"But how?" Ms Cortez drawled in a Brazilian accent. "You have never met my husband, how could you know what he would do?"

"Have you met your husband?" I countered. "Oh, but I get it. You were too blinded with love to notice what kind of man he was. Money and a private jet can do that to you."

"Mr Crane!" Ms Dee snapped, sending me a lethal glare. "That's enough! Ms Cortez, I am terribly sorry—"

"Let me finish, Ms Cortez asked herself," I interrupted, sitting up in my chair again. I met Ms Cortez' shocked eyes. "From his photo alone, you can tell he's a man who enjoys being powerful. He has the same taste in friends as he has in women," I eyed her up and down, taking in her surgically enhanced breasts and orange tan, "Fake and usually money grabbers—"

"Mr Crane!"

"—so naturally when I ran a background check on him, I wasn't surprised to find him being involved with loan sharks, rich investors, bankers, and a few other criminal businesses. After that, all I had to do was put myself in his shoes; I'm cheating on my Brazilian wife with another Brazilian woman—obviously I have a distinct taste—and my house is in Costa Rica, Brazil. If you were about to get divorced, wouldn't you make sure you could escape to a bachelor pad in a country where you're surrounded by what you love?" I pause, taking a moment to enjoy Ms Cortez hanging jaw. "The rest was really just elementary."

Ms Cortez looked absolutely flabbergasted and lost for words. Eventually it ended up with Ms Dee throwing me out of the room while she stayed behind to console the horrified Ms Cortez. Finally, after thirty minutes or so, Ms Dee exited the conference room with a scowl on her face. She aimed straight towards me.

"Mr Crane," She started, her voice dripping with venom. She pushed her thin glasses up on her nose, giving me a lethal glare. "Out of all the unforgivable, foolish, tasteless things you've ever done while working for us—"

"I don't work for you, I work with you," I interrupted and crossed my arms. "You came to me with this case. Ms Cortez wanted me to personally solve it and I did. Whatever follows is a product of her own misplaced questions; She asked about my methods and I replied. I can't be bothered if she doesn't like the truth. And as for you," I snapped, sending her a glare that matched her own. "You know that these kind of tedious cases are beneath me and I never bore myself with them. Next time you throw a client at me like that in the flash of the moment, I will quit all by myself. I chose which cases I want; not the client. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I left the station, feeling Ms Dee's stunned persona glaring after me.

~~~

Returning to the bloody case I had been trying to read last night, I now gave it another attempt. Sitting on my living room couch this time, I was certain I wouldn't be disturbed here. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Three short knocks sounded on my door and my mind immediately deduced it to be a woman's knuckles meeting my wooden door. They were light, yet firm.

Sighing, I threw the file down on the couch before standing up and walking to my door. I couldn't say I was surprised when I opened it and found Amy standing there.

"Hi," She smiled at me, putting a hand on the doorframe. "Did I wake you?"

Was it late? I had no idea. Time was useless unless some crazy killer gave you a timeline. "No. What can I do for you?"

My eyes scanned her body and I couldn't help but notice she looked a lot more decent than the first time we met. Of course she wasn't curing a bad hangover with sex now and her New Year's makeup and hair wasn't discriminating her natural beauty anymore. Her brown locks were naturally wavy and her eyes were brown with dark lashes. Her lips were cream colored and the skin around her clavicle bone was sunkissed. You could faintly see a bikini tan-line where her flimsy nightgown wasn't covering her. We were in Miami; her going to the beach wasn't surprising.

"Do you have any batteries?"

That, on the other hand, was.

It took a lot to actually catch me off guard, but she had succeeded marvelously. Her question, as innocent and benign as it was, was to me anything but that. Judging on what I had been an intrigued listener to last night, I'd say her battery operated device had lost its juice.

"Batteries." I repeated. It wasn't a question, more like a statement, if you could even call batteries that. In this case it was. "How many do you need?"

"Just two."

"Let me guess; A+?"

She blinked, a little surprised. "Yes? How did you know?"

Without replying, I went to my boxes that still waited to be unpacked and rummaged through them for my old flashlight. In the meantime Amy stepped inside my apartment, giving it a curious glance.

"Your place looks a bit empty," She noted, sauntering into my living room. She ran her hand across my couch.

Pausing for a moment to glance after her comfortable intrusion of my home, I slowly trailed my eyes up her legs to her rear. "I don't find much need for material supplies in my life."

"Really?" She said, noticing the case folder. She picked it up, looking at the bold CONFIDENTIAL letters. "And what exactly is it that you do with your life that requires so little?"

I grabbed the batteries from my flashlight and walked up to her. Her eyes shifted to me as I stopped in front of her, closer than what was needed. I looked down at her. "I'm a detective."

I saw her pupils expand and then she slowly licked her lip. "A detective, hm? Are you any good?"

Glancing down at her mouth, I replied. "The best."

A smirk quirked to her lip and she rose a questionable brow. "A little cocky, don't you think?"

"It's the truth." I replied. "Would you like me to make a deduction?"

Her smirk only grew. "By all means."

"You're a sex addict," I said, taking a step back from her to observe her body. Her smirk immediately froze. "I noticed your legs were trained when we met yesterday and I assumed it was from dancing, but it's not, is it?" I rhetorically questioned. "It's exercise from the morbidly big amount of sex you have, and clearly, your appetite is hardly ever sated. Based on the words I caught from that guy Maddox, he's an ex-boyfriend whom on several occasions has been your booty-call whenever life got so depressing you needed a distraction from your sad existence. Obviously there's some tension left between you two, hence his crude words to you, not to mention your reply, which, if I may add, I found truly fascinating." I smiled satisfied when her face paled and her breath started to quicken. "I also further deduce that you're a nymphomaniac."

"W-what?" She breathed, taken aback. "A n-nymphoma—"

"A nymphomaniac. Someone who lives off of collecting trophies in the shape of men." I stepped closer to her, invading her personal space again. "I bet you keep a picture of each man you've ever dated or slept with."

Amy blinked up at me, partial shock and partial offense painting her face. I was hitting her spot-on. "And on what grounds do you make that deduction?" She swallowed.

I took the final step between us and took her hand. She looked down as I opened her palm and placed the two A+ batteries inside it. "Next time you moan my name while masturbating, don't expect me to act ignorant. Just like you came here tonight acting all innocent like you didn't plan on scoring me. I know."

We were a hair's width apart. Amy looked up at me stunned, confused, but never humiliated. She exhaled shakily before breathing the one word everyone asked me; "How?"

I pursed my lips a little. "I could start a long deduction to explain why, but since it's late and you're obviously impatient to go back to your apartment to masturbate, I'll keep it simple;" I surprised her by pressing a knee in between her legs, grazing her sex. She gasped. "You're wet."

• • •

... I'm a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle.