A good cleaner

I pulled in front of the house, I remember like it was yesterday. I wonder how people manage to pay for a house like this, not just to buy but also maintain. Can’t even imagine how much it costs. We’re talking about the kind of money that’s fiction to most of us.

The thing is, these guys get murdered like anybody else. Boss said there’s been a mess in that one. Didn’t want to send me on that gig for my first day but we’re understaffed. You know how it goes. Few people want to clean other people’s homes, even less want to clean brains, shit and blood from floors, walls and ceilings.

Sometimes it’s OK. I mean, a few blood stains on a carpet and stuff like that. But there’s times you’ll see shit you hoped you’d never see. Not that your first one will be like that, just warning you so you know, just in case.

Doesn’t help getting the girl either. You’d be better off saying you’re unemployed, believe me. People feel uneasy around us. They don’t know what it takes to do what we do, the toll it takes on us sometimes.

Truth is, the salary’s real good and that’s why we stay. All of us. You get used to pretty much anything when the money’s good.

Back to that day I was telling you about. My first day.

A cop let me in, showed me the place. God, that stench ! Ever entered a butcher’s shop during high summer? It was like that and a thousand times worse. Smelled like shit too. I mean actual shit. Happens sometimes when we die, I heard. And by the way kid, they won’t tell you how bad it is before you discover it by yourself so put that eucalyptus cream I gave you under your nose to every gig you do. There’s more in the storage room if you need it.

So, as I said, the cop lets me in, he’s all red in the face from the heat and the smell too. He just nods and gets out to breathe. I look around and at first there’s just the smell. Can’t see nothing, but the entrance hall’s not where I got to clean. There’s a room on the right. That’s where I’ve been told to start. I grab my cleaning stuff and get in. It’s the kitchen and a nice one too. Like in the ads, see? But, you know what? I think it’s all just for show. The bastard probably never cooked an egg in his damn life. On the left of the room there’s that big open-plan fully equipped kitchen and on the right a massive dining table with eight chairs. Everything is in it’s place, it looks perfect. Well it would if there wasn’t blood on the walls, on the floor, on the cupboards. The worst’s on that expensive carpet under the dining table. That’s were the body was found, next to the table. You could tell there’s been a fight. I mean, with all that blood all over the place. Anyway, I wasn't there to solve the case, right?

No matter how dirty a place is, you do like my mama taught me, always start cleaning top to bottom. You got to open the windows too if you can, for the chemicals we use for heavy duty. That’s not your regular Windex. These can knock you out in no time.Today’s detergents are less toxic than they were back then but still.

So, I'm almost done and there's just the carpet left. I get on my knees and start scrubbing. I turn my head at some point and I see something shiny in a little cranny under the kitchen island. I get there on all fours.

Remember if you find an object a bit out of place on the scene you got to stop what you're doing, don’t touch it, and show it to the cops in case it's evidence or you can get in big trouble.

I picked up the thing anyway. A little diamond earring it was. I took it, a shame to leave it there I told myself. I didn’t notice the cop had come back in though.

What’s that in your hand he says. I tell you, the guy was not joking. I showed him what’s in my hand, opened my palm like this. There’s blood on the earring. That’s when his eyes fell on the bandage on my left ear and he had his gun drawn out in the blink of an eye.

No use trying to talk him out of it. On your knees, he's screaming, and, you know, hands behind your head and stuff like that.

Smart as he was, he didn't see that coming for sure. It's sad really for I could tell he was a decent guy. We fought for the gun but he was no match for me, I was a strong kid believe it or not. Got it out of his hand, no sweat, and I bashed his head with it all the while thinking what a mess I was doing and what would mama say.

But then I cleaned it all up. Every bit of it. The house was spotless. Mama would’ve been proud I tell you.

I got questioned of course. I told them he got out for air and didn't come back. They wanted to know where he went, leaving his patrol car behind and all. And I say I don't know, maybe a dude picked him up and they went to Vegas for all I know. Got paid to clean, I said, not to watch what people do.

Had them on my back for a bit. But they had nothing on me they could prove. Even my cheap-ass lawyer could see that. Guess they still looking for him, keeps them busy.

But me and the house, we were squeaky clean just like my mama taught me.

You always clean up real good after yourself, kid. Remember that.