Read From the Law Offices of Robson Garrett: The Case of Television v Reality Page 1
From the Law Offices of Robson Garrett
The Case of
Television
V
Reality
By
Neat Bennett
I grew up watching shows on television like Columbo, Matlock and Perry Mason among others. I became fascinated with the idea of becoming a famous lawyer, helping my clients and solving mysteries. Unfortunately reality is nothing like that of the stories told on old TV shows.
I fumbled my way through law school, not a very good one at that. Graduating near the bottom of my class, I didn’t have much luck finding a job after. I ended up opening my own firm. I use that word loosely, firm. More like I turned my living room into an office with two desks, one for me and one for the secretary that left for a job that actually paid her two years ago. I was just about in ruin when I ran into an old friend from college. He took pity on me and started sending me clients. It didn’t take long before I notice there was something similar about all the clients he sent my way. I suspect that he sees the cases as unwinnable. And most were just that, unwinnable. There was nothing for me to really do except to have them plead guilty or in some cases cut a deal for a lighter sentence in return for information, that all changed two days ago.
It started on a night like most others, no clients came calling, either by referral or walk-in. I had sat at my desk almost all day giving the whole positive outlook on life thing a try. It didn’t work, nothing happened. I relented and went back to being depressed and bitter. I went to make a meal for myself, again, I use the word meal loosely. I grabbed some left over Chinese food and a beer from the fridge and went to my recliner to eat and fall asleep watching reruns of Matlock. The thunder booming and rattling the windows is what roused me from sleep. The front door banging open is what had me jumping to my feet.
I was certain that I had locked the front door before heading into the kitchen. I took a couple of tentative steps when I noticed something sticky under my foot. I looked down to see something all over the floor. I couldn’t at first make it out in the flickering light of the TV but on closer inspection I realized that it was what was left of my dinner. It had been in my lap when I jump out of the chair spilling it all over the floor. I cursed and tried to shake it off my foot.
Howling wind and a crash reminded me that I had a mystery to solve. I moved towards the door of my bedroom. I stopped. I fully believed that I had just forgotten to lock the door and that the storm had somehow blown it open. But a small voice in the back of my mind was whispering a warning, I listened. I grabbed my baseball bat that sat propped up next to the door. When you had clients like the ones I had you needed to be a little careful.
Upon arriving in my office I found the front door wide open with rain and wind messing up my haphazard filing system. Paper from files that I had stacked on top of the desk that was no longer used by my secretary flew through the air getting soaked by the rain. I walked quickly towards the door to shut out the squall that was trying to flood my house. The door frame was split and I was unsure how to keep it closed. That's when I saw the old metal chair that I kept for clients to use. I wedged as best I could under the door knob said a short prayer and back away slowly. It held, but for how long was the real question.
With the storm being tentatively held outside I took a look around the dark room and picked up several of the papers closest to me but after taking in the chaos I decided that I would put everything back together in the morning. I took the ones that I had in hand over to a cork board to let them dry over night. I didn’t at first notice that there was something wet and slippery on the floor under my feet since I had already stepped in left over sweet and sour chicken and an inch of water. It wasn’t until I realized that it felt different from the rain water or even that of my so called dinner. That small voice in my head was getting louder telling me that something wasn’t right. I leaned over to click on the lamp that sat on my desk. My feet glued in place, some part of my brain or maybe my weak stomach didn't want to feel the sticky liquid flow once again between my toes.
A small amount of light filled the space and the floor beneath my feet was darker than it should have been and as I looked to my left I understood why. A body lay half slumped against my wall. Blood pooled around it. I never got to see the face of the body because darkness engulfed me and the next thing I knew I was waking up in my chair.
Sun light spilled in through the windows making the old peeling paint even more pathetic with its happy glow. The TV was still on now playing reruns of some other old show. The container from last night’s dinner sat undisturbed on the table next to me. My baseball bat still sat in its spots next to the door. That was one hell of a dream.
I pushed down the foot rest of the recliner and stood, I knocked over several empty beer bottles causing a loud clamor of clinking glass. My head pounded as a result. I didn’t remember drinking that much before falling asleep. I had been known on occasion to drink myself into a stupor but I had not been that depressed the previous night. Had I? It would explain the dream and the pounding head this morning. I pushed aside the bottles with my feet and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and take a couple of aspirins.
Figuring that all of last night’s events had been nothing but a dream I didn’t see a reason to head into the office until I had had some coffee in me and a shower. My kitchen like the rest of the house hadn’t been updated or really cleaned for that matter in years. I never cooked or used any dishes except for a coffee mug so no dirty dishes lingered in the sink. Garbage always made it into the trash can so it didn’t look like something you would see in a TV show about a hoarder. It was just grimy from lack of someone taking a cleaning cloth to it or a mop.
A couple of years back someone, I can’t remember who, gave me one of those coffee makers that makes one cup at a time. I liked it because I didn’t have to wait long for my first cup of the day. By the time I tracked down the last two aspirins in the cupboard my coffee was ready.
I took my cup of coffee and headed to the bathroom I decided to stick my head into the office on my way there. Nothing looked out of place reaffirming that it must have been a dream. I reached the bathroom and turned on the shower going over the dream again in my head as I waited for the water to heat up. I came to the belief that the combination of beer, left over sweet and sour chicken and Matlock contributed to the wacked out dream. It seemed like a logical conclusion. I pushed it aside and got into the shower.
I was rinsing the shampoo out when I heard a knock on the door. I didn’t think that it would be a client so I ignored it, probably someone telling me that my car was blocking them in. Or worse that I owed them money. The knock came again this time louder than the last, followed by someone yelling. I couldn’t make out what they were saying over the sound of the water falling on my head. I finished rinsing out the soap and turned off the water whoever was at my door was now banging on it to the point that it was making the windows rattle, bringing back memories of the dream.
“Alright I’m coming!” I yelled as I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. Whoever it was was just going to have to deal with me being mostly naked. I grabbed a second towel to dry my hair and I padded bear foot to the front door leaving a trail of watery foot prints in my wake.
My front door had a large window in the center but it was frosted and I couldn’t make out who was standing on the other side. I had my hand over the door knob when something started bothering me. Something was wrong or out of place but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I stood
there staring at the door when a booming voice caught my attention.
“I know you’re there I can see you.” It shouted.
I shook my head pushing aside whatever was nagging at me and twisted the lock releasing the door. Outside stood a Detective from the police department, I had seen him a couple of times over the years but we had never really met formally.
“Robson Garrett?”
“Rob. Detective…?”
“O’Shanahan. Mind if I come in?” He said as he pushed his way past me.
“Sure, come right in. Mind if I put some pants on?” The first part of my statement was dripping with sarcasm. The second part was me not wanting to deal with him in nothing but a towel. “Have a seat I’ll be back in a sec.”
I left him, reluctantly to go find a pair of pants in my bedroom. There was nothing in my closet so I had to settle for a pair that didn’t make me cringe when I got them to close to my face. It was defiantly time to do some laundry. I walked back out into my office to see the Detective snooping around. He was currently looking at a file, I couldn’t see which one from where I was standing but either way it was none of his business.