With some difficulty I knocked on the door to my office. Why you may ask am I knocking on the door to my own office? Well, I have a new client.
Yesterday I was sitting in my office waiting for the phone to ring. A common occurrence in the private investigation business, feast or famine, deluge, or drought, either you are working like a madman trying to get some results or you are dealing with the monotony of nothingness. But it was closing in on The Price is Right time, I had not liked Drew Carey initially, but now I really enjoyed the game show once again and turned on the finicky television in my office daily at eleven am to see if maybe the finalist would get double showcases.
But as I counted down the minutes till the words “come on down” were uttered I was interrupted by a rapid, almost woodpecker like knocking on my door. Shouting come in; the door opened timidly admitting an old man. It took me a second to realize he was not an old man, probably closer to my age but with a lot of gray hair mixed in with brown and it was in disarray, windblown but still clean. His clothes while wrinkled and a curious mix and match of old and new. A new plain black t shirt, and an old almost threadbare blue unbuttoned shirt, new sneakers and worn and thin but repaired cargo shorts.
“Mr. Mitchell?”
“That’s me.” I said.
“You are a private investigator?”
“That is what I tell the I.R.S.”
There was no laugh from the man. “Can you help me?”
I motioned for him to sit down, which he did so nervously. “What do you need help with?”
Before he spoke, he surveyed my entire office. I waited patiently as he took in my small, cramped office. The inspection was not one of suspicion or paranoia, more fascinated or captivated by the newness of the space. New to him, my office was my space, I was fully aware of everything in it, to me it was totally comfortable.
After he had taken in the whole space, almost doing a total three sixty turn in his seat to examine every corner, he turned back to face me. He smiled, it was a forced smile, one that seemed practiced, coached, planned. He finally spoke. “I need you to help me prove the Earth is flat.”
Now normally proving a new scientific fact is way beyond my capabilities. Let alone going against almost two thousand years of facts and scientific knowledge, a couple million-man hours of aircraft piloting, the entire oceanic shipping industry, not to mention the National Aeronautics and Space Agency. But when someone is paying the bills, I am not required to produce the results they want. I am simply required to do the tasks they hire me for. I am willing to give it a shot even if I do not believe it is possible and I explained that to every client. I did so to this gentleman as well.
“I know it is a lot to ask sir.”
“Call me Miles please, Mr.?” I said fishing for his name.
After a long pause he said. “Bill Dana.” He said it with no conviction or certainty.
I was not sure that it was his real name, but he would not be the first client who used an alias.
He continued. “I need a quiet private place to work, and someone to drive me around to do research, maybe do some errands.”
“Well mi casa, su casa, or in this case, my office is your office.”
Bill simply nodded. “As for restitution, you can work it out with this person.” And he handed me a card. The card read Naomi Hickman, C.P.A. along with a contact number. He nodded and I took that as instruction to call the bean counter now.
After going through a secretary, I got Ms. Hickman on the phone promptly. Did you ever get the feeling that the other person on the phone was sucking on a lemon and they really enjoyed it? That was what I got from this number cruncher; she took her lemonade sans ade. She asked what Mr. Dana was asking me to do. I stated he wanted me to help him prove the Earth was flat.
She paused very briefly then continued. “And will you help him Mr. Mitchell?”
“I will provide the services he is asking for, but I do not guarantee any results pro or con.” Then I quoted my daily price and expenses I would expect compensation for.
Ms. Hickman only stated, “Very good Mr. Mitchell.” She then explained I would be paid my fee at the end of every day that Mr. Dana came into my office and expenses would be paid only with an invoice with attached receipts.
I wanted to ask some questions but the C.P.A ended the conversation with a ‘good day’ and promptly hung up the phone.
Thus began my efforts to prove the Earth is flat.
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Categories: A Miles Mitchell Story, Outrageous Lies and Tales
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