To say that I didn't expect what I had in front of me was to understate my words.
For no sooner had I been invited in, than I was faced with the dirtiest apartment I had ever seen in my life.
I thought it was just an office, but it was apparent that the detective lived there. The closed but not yet taken out garbage bags, empty pizza boxes and greasy fried chicken boxes on the coffee table and couch were evidence of that.
It was far from limited to this area of the apartment. Drink cans were overflowing from a pedal garbage can, sheets of paper were spread out on the floor - as if they had been blown around by a gust of wind and never picked up - and there were even clothes lying carelessly on some of the furniture.
There was also an unpleasant smell of food that was long past its expiration date, which made me take a step backwards despite myself.
"Excuse the mess," she said quickly as she swept the trash off the couch with her arm. "Sit here, if you want to!"
I eyed the bench seat suspiciously, before finally taking a seat on it while the detective continued to remove empty food wrappers from the top of the coffee table.
I felt something under my buttocks, and leaning slightly to the side, saw that a box of cakes was hidden between the cushions.
"Ah, I was looking for that one!" She exclaimed, taking the box from my hands with a big smile. "I thought I had eaten them all!"
She then proceeded to eat several of the chocolate cookies inside, before tossing the now empty box to continue sorting and throwing away everything that was cluttering up the central area of the room.
She threw away a few more boxes, which allowed me to observe the room I was in.
The floor had apparently been turned into a large apartment - or perhaps it was an apartment at the time, modified to accommodate an office? - and I was in a large central space with a large desk, a sofa and two armchairs framing a coffee table, as well as a flat-screen television fixed to the wall.
This was the most recent piece of equipment; the rest of the furniture being dated, and probably as old as the building where it was located. It was as if it had all been left there for years, with no effort to bring it up to date or replace it with its newer counterpart.
A task light in the open kitchen illuminated a pile of still-dirty dishes in a large white ceramic sink, contrasting with the surprisingly clean wooden countertop that bordered it on either side. As if she didn't really have time to clean anything up after eating.
Several doors - three, if I counted correctly - had remained closed, leaving me to imagine what might be behind them. One or two of them must have been the bathroom and toilet, and maybe a bedroom. After all, the floor really did seem to have been modeled to be both a living and working space.
The clothes strewn about and the excess pillows piled up, meanwhile, suggested to me that the detective might be sleeping on the couch where I sat. There probably wasn't a bedroom, after all.
"So, to what do I owe your visit, this late?" she asked as she took a seat in a chair across from me.
The question had pulled me out of my observation, returning my attention to the woman sitting across from me. She was probably still lying down until I arrived, judging by the disheveled strands of hair on either side of her head. Yet she didn't look any more tired than that, from the alert, bubbly look in her eyes.
"I'm here to talk about our agreement," I replied, before my stomach began to churn.
Ah, how embarrassing. I definitely should have bought something to eat on the way.
"If you're hungry, the pizza should be here soon," she said as if to reassure me. "Do you want something to drink while you wait?"
I nodded, which prompted her to get up and go into the kitchen to open the fridge. She took out a carton of milk, and poured the contents into a large clear glass from a nearby cupboard. She then came back to me, and handed me the glass so that I could directly take it in my hand.
I was about to take a sip, when she dropped onto the couch next to me, sitting down in a quick and totally unexpected move on her part.
Turning my head uncomfortably to my right and towards her, I stared at her; as if unconsciously and silently asking her the question 'why are you sitting so close?'
She also answered me non-verbally, sinking her back into the sofa and looking straight ahead at the TV screen on the wall, which was still turned off. Then, crossing her arms, she continued to ignore my gaze.
"So...can I count on you to keep my secret?" She finally asked me, observing something only she could see.
"That even with your head gone or being stabbed, you won't die?" I replied, asking her this question in turn.
"And are you sure about what you want, in exchange for your silence?" She replied in the same serene tone.
I nodded, but remembering that she still wasn't looking in my direction, I hastily added a verbal correction.
"I'd like to spend some time with you, so I can feel more things."
She didn't answer for a moment, perhaps because she was deep in thought. However, when she finally decided to say something, I was not pleased.
"Even with your gift for analyzing people's behavior, I don't know if it would be a good idea to have you on cases with me..." She announced casually. "I'm sure you've noticed, but things can get ugly pretty fast."
She was right when she said that, and I knew it better than anyone, given what had happened last weekend. But even knowing that, I had too much to lose if this deal was to be called off.
I was resolute, and to prove it, I set the glass of milk on the table, before pulling a small flash drive from my bag and setting it on the coffee table in front of us.
"I want to spend time with you. And I want you to be honest with me."