Making It In This World As A Gumshoe.

I bet I would be a pretty badass murderer. Or, you know, crime scene investigator or detective. Yeah, that one. I would be a super badass private eye!

 

Especially if this were the 40’s, and I was just a man, a gumshoe, sitting in a room full of shadows, feet on my desk and newspaper in my hand. A sigh filled with ennui escapes me, as I realize that my last couple of cases were boring, too easy, not worthy of my time and skills. But, I suppose sometimes we do what we have to to pay the bills. A sudden sound interrupts my reverie. The door swings open, revealing a woman, her face half covered with a wide-brimmed black felt hat. She stares at me for a moment, as I place my paper on the desk and wonder what she could need. What would a woman like her be doing in a place like this, in the not-yet-gentrified, slightly seedy side of DC? She sits opposite me, her head down. When she looks back up, I can see the fear in her eyes, the pain behind the fear, under the edge of her hat. She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, her words almost tumbling over each other in her haste to tell her tale. At the end, she stops, sniffs once, and looks me directly in the eye. “So, will you help me?”

Sure, my little story is stereotypical for a P.I. in the olden days. But really, what else would you be expecting? In this case, it’s stereotypical because it works. Could you not clearly see it, in your head, full black and white, as it plays out like any good detective novel or movie?

Back to the point. I have watched A LOT of crime shows. My top favorites are Criminal Minds, Bones, Law & Order, and Psych. One of my favorite authors is David Baldacci, a writer whose complex, twisting, incredibly detailed crime thriller/detective novels make it so that I cannot stop reading, even when I am so tired that half my body is hanging off the bed and my eyes are barely open and I think to myself “It’s 1:30 am! I HAVE to go to sleep or I’ll die at work tomorrow! Ok, just finish this chapter...”

With all this knowledge, in addition to a keen and analytical mind, I figure my best bet for a career is either catching the bad guy, or being one.

He's so fancy!

Think about it! I could be like Bones but with more personality, and friends. Or I could be some sort of criminal mastermind, building an empire on deceit and gold. I wonder if there is some kind of school course or something I could take that could train me in both, and then halfway through, you pick your specialty (crime or crimefighter) and then the rest of the course is more specific and specialized to what you’re going to do.

Imagine if, as a Crimefighter major, you also got to pick a superhero alter-ego, or as a Crime major, you were immediately fitted for an old style sharp pinstriped suit, fedora, given a cigar and a pocketwatch, and were told to maintain a neat mustache. No goatees allowed. 

Goatees don’t exactly scream gangster to me. And in case you want to argue with me about goatees being super awesomely gangster, I shall take this time to remind you that Mel Gibson has a half-gray, half-black aging-devil-looking mustache and goatee combo. And it's not doing the dude any favors.

The devil or is it the Amazing Mesmero, low-budget magician?

I have to tell you...so far, being a criminal mastermind is edging out detective. I mean, I get a suit, and a sweet pocketwatch, a fedora. AND I SUPER LOVE MUSTACHES (again, maybe not ol' Mel's...)

Were there female gangsters in the 40’s? Because even though I adore fluffy mustaches, I don’t exactly want to sport my own. I can strap into a suit and step on people on my way to the top of my crime organization in blood-red stilettos and singing happily to myself, with a gun at my hip.

Do I get a pinkie ring, too? Who buys me the pinkie ring? Is it a privilege? Should I only accept a pinkie ring from my 2nd in command, or can I just go get it myself from Claires or Zales or something? Also, if I’m allowed to have a pinkie-ring-preference, I’d like it to have some sort of crest on it, or my initials. Because I’ve decided on my signature.

They way you’ll know I’ve been there or a crime could be associated with my people will be that my pinkie ring is a signet ring. I’ll melt wax and then leave the imprint of my ring in the way. Oh man, my ring will be so rad.

Pretty sure if I were in the 40’s, that my decision is made. I would be the Gangster Queen of Brooklyn. Or Florida. Depends on where I’d be living, I guess.

Except instead of being certified in crime reduction, it would be in crime increasion. Increasing? Enlargement? Hell, I'm not the one who makes up graduation certificates!

I am going to think about this before bed tonight and maybe I’ll have some awesome dreams full of gangsters versus old-timey cops, and murder, drama, all in full-on black and white, with a narrator in my head. Since it’ll be a dream, I’d like to officially put in a request for the narrator to be Morgan Freeman.