Detective Jack: S2-03: The Redders

As I walked through the bright pink doors of Casa Cecilia, I saw the most curious sight: A giant portrait of The Redders, both of them. Presumably painted before their divorce, the grand painting showing a couple that seemed deeply in love.

Cecilia, gorgeous with her head leaned against him. Donald, a few pounds lighter than his corpse, stern as always. The painting looked to me to be set in Palm Springs, a desert escape frequented by the couple.

My mind started to wander. When would I find my one true love? The Redders seemed to have had something special, however bizarre it was. How come my whirlwinds always ended so badly? My 20s were a parade of actresses (and one actor, but a story for another day). My 30s, recently over, were a sequence of three-month dalliances. Always beautiful, never long-lasting. The one exception was Tiffany. I thought she was the answer. I had loved her so deeply, and two months in, I had planned to propose when she suddenly disappeared.

I assumed she was dead, but I truly don't know. It was as if fate was laughing at me, dooming me to wander this sunny hellscape of a town alone.

As I fell deeper into my broken thoughts, I was suddenly thrown back to reality by the sound of footsteps above me.

Shit.

I was supposed to be the only one here. I drew my gun and started sprinting up the stairs.