Belinda stared at the computer screen. The coffee mug she had knocked over moments earlier lay forgotten on the floor.
“That narcissistic jerk!” she said through her teeth, “He always has to make a big deal of everything!”
Darren had given her business a scathing review on the internet.
For years, she tolerated Darren’s pettiness. She ignored it when he would dismiss any opinion that wasn’t his own or when he would mock others to make himself look better. The worst was when he would talk down to her as if she couldn’t understand his detective work. He would always act like he was Sherlock Holmes and she was Watson’s dog.
The awkward thing was, he didn’t remember doing any of this. In fact, he really hadn’t. These were Belinda’s memories of a future that hadn’t come to pass. On the day that she met Darren and he offered her a job, she rejected him and the future he carried, but that didn’t change her memories. She knew him, and she knew how childish he could be, and despite changing the future to avoid spending time with him, he had finally managed to push Belinda over the edge. She was not going to put up with it this time. She would do the best thing she could think of to get back at Darren. That was to solve the murder he had just been hired to solve before he could. It should be easy; she had already helped him solve it once. At least she remembered helping him solve it.
She got out a pencil and a pad of paper. She needed to write down the details she remembered about the crime. Unfortunately, she couldn’t See that future involving her and Darren’s work anymore. That had vanished when she rejected it. She had to rely on her abysmal memory. She closed her eyes and tried to form a picture. She recalled a man in an orange prison jumpsuit. She couldn’t remember his name, of course. It was something like Terrance, or Taylor, or Fred. He had dark skin and thick glasses. He was a little skinny and didn’t look like he was capable of murder, but Belinda knew he had brutally murdered his ex-girlfriend. Belinda hated the man. She had never spoken to him, but she hated him. She couldn’t fathom the evil required to kill someone he was once intimate with.
Belinda remembered that the killer hadn’t forced entry. She couldn’t remember if the victim let him in, or if he had a key. She knew the visit had started peacefully, because the table was set for breakfast… or was it lunch? Maybe it was tea? Whatever it was, it turned sour. There were signs of a big struggle. Furniture was broken and knocked over.
There was something else important, but Belinda was struggling to recall. It wasn’t footprints. It wasn’t fingerprints either. Had the killer been wearing gloves? That was it! The killer flushed a pair of latex gloves down the toilet, but the police hadn’t found anything useful from the gloves. Belinda told Darren to look closer at them, but he ignored her, as usual. He must have been right though; he solved the case without her advice. That made her want to solve it first even more. She needed to rub his face in it.
Belinda sat for at least an hour, jotting down even the smallest details that occurred to her when she heard a knock at her door. She used her sight to See who would be there when she opened it. It was a familiar face. He didn’t have the glasses she remembered and wasn’t in the orange jumpsuit yet. Instead he was wearing holey jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt depicting some action movie star. It was the murderer.
“Oh, yeah,” Belinda mumbled to herself. “I really should have Seen this coming.”