Wasting Time

Nope...nothing here.

I thought not, the slim chance this elderly woman was connected with that man hardly made sense. I suppose I shall update my employee---Hm? Oh. Her meeting should not be over for some time...This is troublesome.

Michael Seebach was not in his apartment. He was not even in an apartment of a friend of his. His head was stuck underneath the quilted sheets adorned over the side of the bed of a Mrs. Pearl. He was studying every little inch of the penthouse home, which seemed to house two, knowing that the owner in question attended daily meetings. And now the front door was opening a little early.

"Terrible, there's no point to it..." Mrs. Pearl seemed to be indignant. "Just thinking about these meetings causes stress, even less time to prepare for that boy..." She slowly walked inward and placed her purse on the counter. "I'll make my own food for those meetings from now on."

Hm. A slight southern drawl, I had guessed correctly. I suppose she grew frustrated with the stress relief meeting, she is home far too early. How should I deal with this...Perhaps it is best to sneak out of the front door when she is preoccupied. I'm fairly sure that an elderly woman will not take well to finding a stranger underneath her---"WHO'S THERE!?" Oops.

Grandma Pearl was staring at the two naked feet jutting from underneath her bed with a fierce glare mixed between fear and confusion. "...You're not Alex. Come out from there!" Michael slowly crawled on all fours out from under the bed, as if he were trying to scale a wall using his palms. He slowly stood up and stared at the old woman, who had decided to brandish a firewood poker, and began biting his thumb.

I might as well confirm some things...

"What are you doing in my apartment? You're not a maid or something..."
"Hello madame, I was just wasting time."
"What?!"
"Perhaps not. I was cleaning."
"What are you saying?"
"No good. I was investigating, I am a detective. My clients hired me to search your home for evidence."
"What on earth are you talking about, what do I have to investigate!?"
"OK, no one hired me. I actually am wasting time. I would have kept lying, but it's rather annoying to keep changing my alibi."

Michael decided it was best to voice out all of his options as a complete stranger, it didn't really matter anyways. Mrs. Pearl was looking absolutely furious from participating in this unbelievably esoteric conversation. She was slowly tiptoeing towards the phone with the poker held firmly in the direction of Michael's eyes. Michael decided it was better to crouch down. Might as well feel comfortable while trying to think of something to say.

"Stay right there, I'm dialing the police."
"Naturally."
"..............!?"
"Oh wait. I disconnected the phone, the ringing distracted me. Sorry."

The elderly woman was looking particularly stressed at this moment. She obviously couldn't comprehend what in the world this psycho wanted. Mrs. Pearl moved away from the phone while keeping her eyes on Michael, who was staring up from his crouched position, and slowly lowered herself into a large chair.

She does seem to be highly stressed, perhaps she should have stayed to finish her meeting...Or perhaps I'm just feeling guilty about being caught? Hm.

"If you want money or valuables, you are free to take them, but please leave my home."
"I'm sorry for intruding madame, I was just wasting time, as I mentioned earlier."
"...How, did you get in here?"
"A simple lock is easy enough to open. It's even simpler when you tell the Super you're with the police."
"You're with the police, you mean you really are an official detective?"
"Mmm...yes, except the 'with the police' part."
"........"

This grandmother had lived long enough to see alot of things. It wasn't hard for her to notice that the person in front of her was absolutely insane. Perhaps not very dangerous, but she didn't want him in her house all the same.

"...Pardon?"
"Hm?"
"I must excuse myself to the restroom."
"Of course, it is your home."

Michael watched as the woman walked deftly towards the hallway, not so discretely placing her cellphone to her hip. Ah. Perhaps he should...No, he could get some reading done.

Mrs. Pearl returned a few short minutes later, a flushed look on her face. Michael released the copy of "The Catcher in the Rye" from his thumb and pointer finger, and placed it beside him on a coffee table.

"Welcome back. Just making small talk, but your bathroom does not have a signal. How strange. Bye the way, you forgot to flush madame."
"..."
"Well, before I leave I wonder if I may make an enquiry."
"...Yes, what do you want?"
"Do you know a Marcus Manuel?"
"? No, I don't recall that name..."
"Perhaps a Mr. Dominic Machelli?"
"...Doesn't he live above that rotten bar?"
"Are you certain you are not lying?"
"I don't have any reason to-"
"A Mr. Marcus Manuel is a drug pusher in this city."
"What are you?-"
"I am quite certain you are partaking of some illegal drug activities."

Mrs. Pearl stood up slowly and pointed a finger at the tool for justice, the detective who broke into people's homes for no reason.

"YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME. AND ACCUSE ME OF USING ILLEGAL DRUGS!? YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE A MENTAL DISORDER, I WOULD LIKE IT IF YOU WOULD LEAVE!"
"I have proof."
"!? WHAT IN THE WORLD-"

Michael stood up and walked slowly over to the kitchen. Placing his hand on a plate, he undid plastic wrap revealing...

"...My cookies."
"Yes madame."
"...What in the world is wrong with you?"
"Madame, upon tasting these cookies my body has become severely addicted. I cannot stop with just one, I suspect a small dosage of morphine or perhaps cocaine has been added to the mix."

Michael delicately picked up a cookie in two fingers and chewed on the chocolaty goodness.

"..."
"..."

The aged woman was trying her best to keep her face steady and stare directly into this deranged man's eyes, but he didn't seem to have a way to express his emotions on his face. She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, but that didn't really matter.

"...You came here to eat my cookies."
"That deduction is of a high possibility."
"Please leave, I shall be calling the police."
"Of course, I wouldn't suspect any less. I am guessing it would be futile to mention that the police station across the street has no credibility, and would be of no use to you without a top class forensic team..."
"..."

Michael moved towards the doorway, and did a sidestep as a teenage boy walked up.

"Thank your grandmother for these cookies, and perhaps talk to her a bit more, she seems quite stressed. By the way, have you seen a number #6 anywhere?"