Her word, my reality

Information is the very thing we human beings torture ourselves for just so we can gain more of it. It is the fire that has unveiled the intricacies hidden by the darkness. As such, it is of our nature to desire it, as it would be such a shame if we were to not understand everything. However, I have learned that there are certain things that are best left unknown. Ironic, considering my line of work and, most of all, the way in which I have chosen to live my life.

You see, there are many different layers that we find ourselves in when we perceive things. We can observe the first two layers from arguments done by two individuals. They can argue about the tiniest of things, but, overall, they are two sides of the same coin. Within the first layer is where personal bias can be found and, thus, the most illogical way of perceiving the truth. On the other hand, the second could be mistaken for the former’s opposite, as its intent is to be objective. Yet, due to their inability to accept their wrongs, they can never achieve true objectivity. The third layer is where those who observe the argument reside. This is where subjectivity starts to cease. They perceive and judge based on what has just transpired and which party from the argument makes the most sense, but, in spite of that, they are still not the most objective ones, for they might not know the full extent of the context.

This is where the last layer comes in. It is the layer every judge should aspire to. This is the layer of true omniscience. Whether it’s someone having an affair or the seemingly miniscule and insignificant way in which the wind was blowing, people from this layer take it all into account. As a private investigator, it was of the essence to remain in this layer. Every little detail was to be noted down and added to the solution of the case.

I enjoyed going into a case without knowing much. It was like exploring a new country and enjoying the cultures for what they were. Outside influences would only interfere with the fun of it all. Yet my biggest mistake was applying such a solution to every aspect of life.

To this day, I still regret ever going to Lockwood. I should have listened to my instincts and not taken the case, but a favor is a favor, and the least I could do was bring closure for my friend’s family.

Cassie Graham was her name. She bought a property in Lockwood as a holiday home but disappeared one week after visiting. Numerous searches were done, but there was no sign of her. Her father, who is a dear friend of mine, feared that her disappearance was connected to the series of murders that took place around that time. This didn’t seem to be the case, as the murderer had a tendency to display his victims in a public place. And it was certainly a challenge, as a tremendous amount of effort is necessary to carry those bodies around, but I am getting off track here.

As official reports have declared, there were no signs of a break-in, and her parents assured me that she wasn’t the type to just leave everything behind. That last statement had credibility. There was simply no reason for her to leave. She wasn’t in debt; quite the contrary, she owned several coffee shops that were more than profitable. Her relationship with her boyfriend of seven years was healthy. Plus, why would she choose to disappear in a small and isolated town like Lockwood? The city in which she grew up would’ve made it much easier to do so.

I was given a pair of spare keys for Cassie’s house and was allowed to do as I deemed fit. Inside, I was met with a humble but comfortable house. The comfy armchairs, the beige-colored walls—it was the perfect place for someone to have their holiday getaway, but the tidiness of it all unnerved me as it simply didn’t seem right. It was a strange sight, to say the least. Of course, I didn’t stay in that house for too long.

My next course of action was to ask the locals. However, I was only met with curious glances and rumors that were no better than lies. Nevertheless, they all directed me towards the same person, which was the lady with the red hat.

Supposedly, she was the one who knew everything about this town. "No whisper was left unheard by her; no skeleton was buried within a closet without her knowledge; and no stranger wanders into the town that is unknown to her." She seemed to be the perfect person to talk to.

Each and every one of them had a look of displeasure when they talked about her. When I asked for further descriptions of her, they all replied, "You’ll know when you see her."

And I certainly did. Her red hat stood out from the bleak colors of the village. I followed her through every street of the village, and we eventually arrived at our final destination, the town tavern. She entered first and gestured for me to come in as well.

We found ourselves sitting at one of the front seats, and for a brief moment, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of her tapping the wooden counter.

Finally, she stopped the tapping and began, "Mr. Narcis, what brings you to our humble little town?"

"How do you know my name?"

"I know many things, but only the things that take place here in this little town. Plus, you are too modest; who wouldn’t recognize a figure as well-known as you?"

I was thrilled by this statement. "Very well, then I suppose you know what I am here for."

"Cassie Graham, the one who disappeared a few months ago, the one who lives in that dusty house on the other side of the town, and the one who brought in a lot more visitors than any other attraction in this town

She certainly didn’t know everything. "Yes, your assumption is correct. What do you know about her disappearance?"

"Oh, I don’t know much about that, but I can assure you that no foul play was involved. Casey was a troubled soul, wasn’t she? She was stressed out with her work, and she wasn’t satisfied with her relationship. That is the reason she came here, isn’t it? She wanted to get away from everything and perhaps enjoyed staying here more."

Those were certainly good assumptions, but she perceived things only from the third layer and doesn’t know the full story. "And where do you suppose she might have left?"

"I can’t tell you that, detective. I wouldn’t be respecting her privacy if I were to do that. My lips are sealed when it comes to such matters. Now, how about you buy me a drink?" I didn’t buy her just one drink that night.

In her drunken stupor, she told me everything. She told me about every rumor that surrounded the house in which Cassie lived. How it was haunted, how something bad always happened to those who resided there, and how it was best to stay away from there.

I took the lady back to her place and went towards Cassie’s house. Instead of the same tidy and clean rooms that I was met with a few hours ago, I found myself in a rundown mess of a place. The armchairs had parts of themselves scattered around the room. The once Crayola-colored walls were now moldy green. How could this have happened? I thought to myself.

Strangely, I felt more at ease with how the house looked at that moment. It fit the way it should’ve been. Upon going inside the kitchen, I was met with Cassie Graham’s body.

Scratches, bites—all were marks of an animal. She was seemingly in the late stages of decomposition. The smell was simply dreadful. I wanted to investigate further, but a sound that seemed like a footstep was heard in another room, which led me to barge out of the house.

I went to the police station and called the authorities. They sent a team to handle it but kept me at the station for questioning. I can’t recall how I fell asleep that night, but I woke up at the inn without a clue how I got there in the first place. None of it concerned me, though, as I rushed towards Cassie’s house and was met with nothing. No officer was there to investigate. No armchair was torn. No wall was molded. And most of all, Cassie was still missing.

I asked the officer who questioned me last night about what had transpired, but he couldn’t recall any of it happening. As a matter of fact, this was our first interaction with one another.

As I got out of the station, the lady with the red hat stood on the other side of the street, waiting for me. She gestured for me to follow her, and I complied.

"Mr. Narcis, I thank you for taking me back home last night. I appreciate it a lot, and I was certainly not expecting it."

"What happened last night?"

"An irregularity, good sir." She said that and started walking. I, of course, followed suit. "You see, this little town is a strange place. It is a nice little town, but it is full of such irregularities."

"What kind of irregularity?"

"The type that would contort the clearest of truths."

"Would you stop being so vague, please?" Upon saying that, I noticed that we had somehow already arrived at Cassie’s house. The lady pointed at the window, and there I saw Cassie vanishing before my very eyes.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked me afterward.

"Yes." And she whispered the truth to my ears.

You see, there are certain things in life that are best left unknown. I was always the type that aspired to stand above all and observe things in their most objective and purest form, but after hearing the first truth that the lady had ever told me, I could never see the world through the same lens ever again.