A dot on a map was hard to find with the wrong set of eyes.
Dr Crain didn’t like his job. He came home from his job with two hours before the day was at an end. He would sleep for four blinks of an eye, and low and behold, he had to be back at his job.
If you are working you probably have someone like this, Dr Crain had one. Her name was Barbra. She insisted her friends call her Barb. He insisted he was no friend of hers. She’d laugh. He would not.
Dr Crain was a regular GP. It’s not that his work wasn’t important. It was. It was just that he had to travel 2 hours into the inner city. He was unmarried. Well past forty years of age, and he didn’t even like animals.
It was routinely work until he came. Steven Gibbs. Gibbs was the sort to not ask. Cylinders were left in the waiting room and when Dr Crain asked Barbra why, she smiled shyly. With a deep breath Dr Crain inspected them. They were rather heavy in weight.
He popped the lid and took out rolls of canvas. Dark lines of blue swirled and blended into waves of murky sea. Two large boats crashed against each other, sailors’ were fighting with iron, flames burst from the decking, and wood piled high. He would be impressed if it weren’t for one thing.
There in the midst of battle was an odd stroke of grey to indicate shadow. It was a fake they all were.
This had Gibb’s handiwork all over it. He just couldn’t bring himself to be angry with his brother.
Dr Crain didn’t know why he always made him check his fakes, but he did. Barbra whispered. A squad car came down. No sirens, not a word. One set of handcuffs, Gibbs pointing at his brother, right proclaimed. All this swirled around Dr Crain’s vision into until he sat into the police car and reality set in. The metal cuffs grew tight. He didn’t know where his brother was but they did, the cops who didn’t speak for the 30 minutes it took to reach the station. In the back of his mind he was kind of glad, he was going to have a day off from work tomorrow. There was at least that.
And that’s how Sargent Barbra caught her first con artist. She laughed; no they were not friends, not by a long shot.