Tracy Jensen was not feeling happy today. Here he was, seated in the small office space he had rented in the downtown area, getting second thoughts about his decision. Having nothing to do, his mind drifted back to the series of events which had occurred so far.
It had always been his childhood dream to become a detective. He already had good powers of observation and his analytical mind, coupled with his tenacity and dedication provided in him the ingredients necessary to make a good detective. At times, his light voice, and rather ambiguous sounding name did cause him to be mistaken for a woman, but he had learned to take it in his stride. All through school and college, he had chosen his subjects and electives keeping his dream job in mind. Once he passed out, he had expressed his desire to his parents.
And what an argument that had caused! His parents, who had hoped that this childhood dream would evaporate once he left childhood, were shocked and angry on seeing that it had crystallized into a firm resolve. Even after the usual discourse about job security, steady income, career risk, life after retirement had been put forth by his parents, Tracy still remained adamant.
In the end, an agreement was reached. Tracy was to follow his dream and work as a private investigator for a year. If he was not well established and without a steady income by the end of the year, he would have to be "practical" and take up a more "conventional" profession. Tracy, though not happy about this arrangement, agreed as he knew that his parents meant well.
It had been two weeks since he opened his office, but not a single client had come to him for assistance. He had put out advertisements in the newspapers as well as on The Internet, but they did not seem to have been effective. "If it continues like this", he thought dejectedly, "I may not have to wait a year."
With a shrill buzzing noise, the cell phone on the table made its presence felt. Tracy gave a start. Could it be really happening? Was this a prospective client? Or was this some stupid telemarketer, like the previous times?
After taking a moment to get his thoughts in order, Tracy answered the phone.
"Hello, is this Tracy Jensen, P. I.?", said a man's voice from the other end."
"Yes", replied Tracy. "How can I help you?"
"I am Mr. Murlock speaking."
The name immediately brought to Tracy's mind a recollection of an article he had read in yesterday's newspaper. There had been acts of vandalism concerning imitations of some work of art, and the gift shop at the art museum, of whose Mr. Murlock was the curator, was also one of the crime scenes. The police were on the point of concluding that the thief was someone who hated the artist's works, as nothing else of value seemed to be missing in all the incidents, and were thinking of ramping down the investigation.
"Is this regarding the recent acts of vandalism?", asked Tracy.
"Yes, it is.", came the reply, "The police are almost on the point of stopping the investigation, and the other investigators I approached also had a similar view of the whole thing."
"And you want me to look into it?"
"Yes, I always felt that something was off about the whole thing, and that's why I wanted someone other than the cops to have a look at it."
"Okay. I will take the case", replied Tracy, trying to contain his excitement and relief. "When can I come by?"
"Any time after three will be fine. I will also have your advance payment ready."
"Okay, I will be there."
"Thanks again, Mr. Jensen, I really appreciate it."
Tracy could hardly contain his feelings as he put the phone back on the table. Finally! A case! It may turn out to be exactly what the police had theorized, but well, beggars cannot be choosers.
"Time to do some research", thought Tracy, as he opened his laptop.
His journey as a detective had finally begun!
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