100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 117: The Artist V

Morning, Jackson Detective Agency

Alex trudged towards the agency that early morning. Surveillance really takes a toll on him, but it was something he needed to learn how to live with while working at Jackson Detectives.

If the dark-blond haired young man was honest, he’d admit to the fact that he enjoys following strangers around. And the thrill of discovery after long hours of patience.

Maybe, in some way even, revealing the Truth to those who need it.

Be it a girlfriend, a wife, or even a husband who just wanted some peace of mind—those who only want to honestly know whether or not they are just imagining things or not.

Like small businesses wanting to investigate their shady investors, or people who lost loved ones and their insurance company refusing to pay up. Or even in many more cases of insurance fraud and infidelities.

The search for Truth and discovery, he finds joy in.

A sense of justice, perhaps? False or not. No matter how they find it, it does not discount the fact that what they learn is the Truth.

And in many cases, that’s all they need. And only what their clients require.

Many look down at what they do, and people may call it a disgusting job. But for those who need answers, that’s what their agency simply provides.

Funnily enough, they are really good at what they do.

Of course, surveillance also has its downside, and that is when people discover they are being followed. He’d been attacked a couple of times while sitting in the car watching in a public place.

A target had bashed his vehicle with a rock, and even though he was afraid, he did not falter and simply took pictures of the act being done. He was breaking no law after all.

Besides, he works at an ICO registered agency, which means they adhere to the necessary regulations and, under no circumstances, commit illegality.

By paper, that is.

Although they generally follow the law, the boys and even their bosses are not above bending a few rules. But they cannot say that in front of their part-time legal advisor, Atty. Evans, Marco Evans’ wife.

Most days in surveillance, after hours and hours of it, they find nothing.

But to Alex, today wasn’t one of those days; no, he saw something juicy.

The boss would be pleased, he imagined.

Joe looked at his younger cousin, bloodshot eyes, sagged shoulders. Any second, the young man could doze off, "Morning Cous’" Joe greeted.

"Mornin’," the younger man muttered, beelining towards the mustard-colored sofa and flopping face down.

Joe chuckled at his cousin’s antics; it was still early; they were still closed for business. So, he won’t tell him not to lie on the sofa and make a wrong impression on their customers. He could take a nap while waiting for their boss to come in for work.

He needs to report first before he takes a day off.

10minutes later, at 8:20 AM, the Irishman strutted in the office. He was clad in another expensive-looking suit, Joe wondered if this one was new, or maybe he hadn’t worn it in a while.

The boys can’t keep track of all his suits; every day seemed different. But each one looks like a spread on some suit aficionado magazine. All three of them had their own favorites; his was the blue pinstriped one.

Levi eyed the unconscious Alex on the sofa, and he gently nudged the edge of the couch with his shiny dress shoe.

Alex stirred, "Pudding..." he muttered, still asleep.

Joe laughed loudly on his seat, causing Alex to jerk off the sofa and fall to the floor startled. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Levi looked at him with an expectant look, and Alex stood up, fixing his clothes and hair, then wiping off the drool and Sleep off his face with his hand.

"Boss, good morning." He greeted the slicked blond.

"My morning turning good or not depends on your report." the Irishman said.

Alex hurriedly rummaged through his bag in search of his camera, then handed it to him. Levi examined the images on the screen one by one, "She visited the hospital last night, she was there a while." Alex said.

"Why?" Levi asked, clicking through a digital camera.

"I had one of my friends, check it out. He’ll inform me as soon as he finds out." Alex said, earning a nod of approval from the blond. That’s as good as he would give to saying ’good job.’

"Alright, get the hell out of here." The Irishman said, dismissing him from his’ duty.’ Alex nodded while Levi turned away to proceed to his office that fine morning.

Hopefully, they find something good with the information.

....

Hours later, Jackson Detective Agency.

Joe sat in his chair, typing his latest case away when the landline rang on his table. He picked it up immediately, "Hello," he said, not at the least friendly.

A muffled reply was on the other line, and he nodded with "uh-huh" as a response. The call ended quickly, and the raven-haired muscular man stood up from his chair and walked towards his boss’ office.

The door was slightly ajar, and so he knocked on the door; after hearing a ’come in,’ he peeked his head and looked at his boss standing on the left. His hands were inside his pocket as he stared at Michael Scott’s case board.

The Irishman did not bother looking at him, something quite common when he was thinking.

"Boss, Alex called. Said Diana’s hospital visit was due to a belly ache."

Levi groaned, frustrated, and Joe knew it was his cue to exit and shut the door behind him.

Muffled Irish curses from what Joe could only imagine was what’s coming out of the psychologist’s mouth.

And on the dot at 2 PM, Marco walked into the agency to work. As he entered, his brows rose with curiosity. He could hear the Irishman cussing inside his office.

"I take it; it’s a bad day," the lank man commented as he took a seat at his table.

"The stepmother probably has gastritis.’ Joe said. Although he didn’t fully understand what the man meant, Marco nodded. He assumed the psychologist was hoping for more juicy information but received nothing instead.

After five full minutes of Irish curses, Levi walked out of his office as if nothing happened.

His eyes settled on Marco, "I need to interview Michael’s colleague," he said, then heading to the door.

Marco followed behind him, and they drove to only the slicked blond who knew where.

Marco shifted to look at his best friend’s face in the driver’s seat; he never did like others driving his car. It was one of the many things he was very particular about. He used to say, "Only when I’m gravely injured will you be allowed to drive the car."

Marco recalled that had happened once before, he reckons he has a scar to prove it. After shaking that grim mental image away, he said, "Where are we heading?"

"Leo Burton," the blond answered.

"And who is Leo Burton?"

"A gallery curator. Michael’s medical records show he was the one who brought him to the hospital 2 weeks before his death when he became ill while out shopping." the slicked blond explained.

20minutes later, the two arrived at the address. It was a studio apartment in central London. Marco knocked on the wooden door, and a large muscular man greeted them.

The bearded man subconsciously took a step back, tattoos can be seen under the man’s gray jumpsuit. Marco’s reaction Levi found amusing.

The man’s build may be intimidating, but he was far from dangerous, the slicked blonde observed.

Marco opened his mouth to speak, but he forgot what he was supposed to say. Levi scoffed quietly, then said, "Mr. Burton, good day. Levi Jackson and Dr. Marco Evans," he gestured to both himself then Marco.

"We came to ask a few questions about Michael Scott." the blond added.

The second, the name Michael Scott registered in Leo’s ears, his eyes and nose reddened. And Levi took it as his cue to swiftly step back.

Leo burst out crying, and Marco’s eyes widened in surprise, and his body tensed when the man grabbed him when Levi moved back. And embraced and used his shoulder to cry on instead.

Levi’s eyes held a glint of humor as Marco looked at him with both bewilderment and afraid.

After a few minutes, the large man calmed down, and he ushered the two inside his flat.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. Burton. apologies for the short notice." Marco said, no longer intimidated by the man’s size and build.

He mentally berated himself for judging so quickly based on appearance.

"Anything to help Mike," Leo said, his raspy voice was filled with an undeniable deep silky tone. Levi took a mental note of the nickname, then he studied him. His hazel eyes scanned the jumpsuit he was wearing; from its appearance, he used it many times while he painted, based on the different degrees of dried paint.

After settling in the man’s living room, Marco started with his routine questions. And the flamboyant man began to cry yet again, recalling his friend.

"I take it you and Mr. Scott were close?" Marco assumed, based on his reaction.

"I wouldn’t say close, he had always been an introverted man. But he is one of the good ones in the Painting community. And I was working with him," Leo answered, wiping his still-damp eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

"Working with him?" Levi asked.

"I am a gallery curator; he was supposed to display his recent paintings in two weeks. Now I don’t know what to do," he said; he can’t even complain cause the man was dead. What was he supposed to do now? He still has those paintings in the gallery.

"Paintings in his flat?" Levi asked, intrigued by this information. Diana, his stepmother, didn’t tell them anything about it. And he doubts she was even aware of it.

"No, it’s in the gallery...I used to tell him it was his best work so far. And now...it really is his best work." Leo said, then bawling in his seat.

Marco awkwardly gave him a pat on the back, trying to provide him with a sense of comfort. While Levi just said, "Can we see them?"

Leo looked at the sharply dressed man sniffing and said, "Yes, of course."