“The Pale Investigator,” by Mercedes Lawry
The Pale Investigator stored her dry goods in glass jars, appreciative of their colors and shapes. She kept fruit in a blonde basket and wooden spoons in an old tea tin featuring a cherubic child. The Pale Investigator favored a classic wardrobe in neutral colors and naturally, sensible shoes. She kept her loyalty cards in a small hand-stitched wallet, separate from her license, credit cards and cash. Her former boyfriend admired her pluck but could not accommodate her erratic hours. Her sister, the medical librarian, was secretly envious though tended to discredit her profession at holiday meals, once using the word “snoop,” uttered with disdain. The Pale Investigator had a wide range of skills and an average grasp of global politics. Though she did not feel the need to make use of full disguises, she did keep a selection of hats in her trunk. The Pale Investigator dreamed of that one big case, the one that would introduce her to fame and fortune or some modest hybrid of the two. Once upon a time, she thought that her work might provide insight about the complexity of human nature, but thus far she had only discovered that people were mainly uninspired in their tawdry behavior while trying to achieve maximum pleasure. If she’d been forced to choose one single word to describe the collective activities of the general public, she would have to choose the word tedious.
About the Author:
Mercedes Lawry has previously published short fiction in several journals including, Gravel, Dying Goose, Cleaver, Garbanzo, Conclave, and theNewerYork. For many years, she’s been publishing poetry in journals such as Poetry, Nimrod, Prairie Schooner, The Saint Ann’s Review, and others and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Additionally, she’s published stories, musings, and poems for children. She lives in Seattle.
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