Collide-o-scope Eyes

Picture yourself on a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, to a guy drowning before your eyes.
That's what i saw.

I wore my grey fedora again, forgetting that odd things happen when i wear it. Subconsciously, i wanted something to happen.
I am a really bored fucker.
I was eating a sandwich by the park, alone. Kids were everywhere. Running around, like they were high. Turns out, they were not children. They were circus midgets, and very high for a person of their stature. My phone vibrated. I never use a ringtone. Too annoying, too battery-consuming, and too noisy for sneaking around.
It was my boss, Sarge Pepper. I still remember meeting him for the first time 20 years ago today. He taught me the stuff i know about the trade, but he was a fucking terrible teacher.
"Hey Hal." (were you expecting Hey Jude?)
"Hey. What do you want now? It's my lunch break."
"I've got a case for you. You know the Mr. Kite Benefit?"
I know that benefit. I donate at least a dollar to that every month. "Yeah. Why?" I took a sip of my Coke.
"Funding got stolen. Clean swipe."
I spit my drink in a spray. "WHAT?" I can't believe it. That money was supposed to be for the orphanage down Strawberry Fields.
"I'll e-mail you the details." Sarge said. I'm still in shock. I took a bite of my sandwich. I hung up.
E-mail received.

I went to Mr. Kite's house. It was a nice one. Across the street, i saw four damn hippie looking guys crossing the street, all in a line. And why is that one guy barefoot?
I rang the door bell. It was one of those old school door bells that had actual bells.
No answer.
I rang again.
Still no answer.
Then, i heard footsteps approaching the door.
"I'm coming! Damn it, can't a 64 year old man get some rest?" He was right. I came to his house at an inappropriate time. Why do i go to places at midnight?
He answered the door. He looked at me with his cataract eyes. This was Mr. Fred Kite himself. Not a dime of the charity he ran went to him, clearly.
"May i ask you a few questions, sir?"
"Yer asking one right now. What is it? Are ya sellin' girl scout cookies?"
"No, it's about your charity. The Mr. Kite Benefit."
"Oh, that. Yeah, that. Please, come in. Coffee or tea?"
" I shoot Coca-cola, please."
"Weird little kid."

He told me he hasn't been involved with the charity since he retired. How can one be retired? Are you tired once and get tired again?
He told me to go to his former assistant, Jeremy Hilary. He now took charge of the whole thing, collection and all.
I went to his house, which was just next door to old Fred's house. A strange stench came to my senses. Blood.
I broke the door. There he was, bathing in his own blood. Dead. Obviously.

The trail grew dead. Fuck.
My phone vibrated.

to be continued.