Lemons 03 Stroke of Genius Read Online Free PDF Page B

area.
    A light comes on in the distance. I walk towards it. A refrigerator. The door is open and I look inside. A woman emerges from inside and stabs me in the throat with something hot and sharp. My blood splatters across her face as she laughs and I fall back into reality.
    I got out of bed and dressed first thing the following morning and headed straight to the bank. It didn’t go too well for me. They had one person working the member services department and the line was six people deep. I checked the clock. The bank had been open nine minutes. Ugh!
    After thirty minutes I came to the conclusion that pretty much every business in the world is tuned in to the same exact radio station. They have to be. I don’t understand why anyone would listen to this crap, though. I swear to God, I have only heard these songs in like, grocery stores and whatnot. I couldn’t imagine anyone buying any of these songs for their personal enjoyment.
    I shook my head and decided to go back to my people watching. Nothing too exciting here. Just a bunch of impatient assholes standing in a row. I take my phone out and begin to play some games. When my battery hit thirty-percent, it was my turn at the window. The man helping me looked to be about eighteen. I didn’t have a good feeling.
    I was right, as usual. Another forty-five minutes later, I’m leaving the bank, still with my fortune of ninety-six cents intact. I had to fill out paperwork and even write a short essay about what happened. Apparently, telling them my money was stolen, please do something about it, just isn’t good enough anymore. I had a homework assignment.
    Stupid bank.
    Then, after that, I was told I would get a provisional credit of my money back…in ten to twelve business days! What? What the hell is so difficult about my predicament that it will take two weeks to get a PROVISIONAL credit?!
    Stupid, stupid bank!
    And to make matters worse, I can’t even get a new Visa Check Card for another ninety days, until the investigation is over. They gave me a temporary ATM Card. Do you know how worthless this goddamn thing is? Ugh! And my real credit card is still cancelled with a new one on the way, so as of now, I have no money and no access to money. Unless you count my business savings account, which I may just have to dip in to.
    I kicked the tire of my car, then for some reason, apologized to it. I was becoming soft in my old age, apparently.
    I got in and started the engine. It was time to head to work and face the awkwardness of being with Elise. I wasn’t proud of the way I acted last night. I honestly don’t know what came over me. Sometimes I hate the way my brain functions. Most of the time I proud of it, but I tell ya, sometimes it is infuriating.
    Stupid brain!
    Stupid autism!
    Stupid emotions!
    Stupid fears!
    I hate you all, today!
    ***
    “So how’d it go at the bank?” Elise asks me as I enter the office.
    “Yeah, no real satisfaction. Just as I thought. I don’t really want to talk about it. I guess we have work to do, right?”
    “I guess so.”
    I walked into my office and closed the door. Why am I acting like such a baby? I hate this. It was one date. Right? Big deal.
    I sat down at my computer and did a quick background check on our new client and the victim. The first rule of private investigating is; Never talk about private investigating. Ha, nah, just kidding. First rule is always suspect the client. Something I should have remembered two years ago, could have saved me a few gunshot wounds and a whole lot of pain, but no, stupid Archie Lemons forgets everything when some good looking dame walks in to his office.
    I run my hand over one of my old wounds. I can still feel the bullet tearing through my flesh. Silly, I know, considering it’s completely healed. But the pain is more than the simple psychicality of it. It always floods my body with mental anguish. The pain of my dead wife and daughter. The agony of being forced to take the life of