My wife, Victoria, and I have our weekly TV shows. It’s a nice collection, most of which there are mysteries to be solved, or we’re watching for clues to see if the good guys are really bad guys.
All this to say, while watching “Gotham” or “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”, “Blindspot” or “The Blacklist”, we often start talking out loud about our suspects and theories, vying for the honor of Top Living Room Detective.
The other night, we were watching “Elementary.” It fulfills the need until Benedict Cumberbatch gets his butt in gear and cranks out a new season. In this episode, someone was killing people. (Yes, that’s true in most of the episodes) Anyway, a policeman was murdered and it was plain as day to me. It had to be his partner, I explained, because she was acting too relaxed when they interrogated her. You know, it could have been….
And before I could even get out my entire theory, she was the next victim. I’m serious, I was mid-sentence in my wrap-up and there she was, on the floor, dead.
Moments later, Victoria pointed out who the killer probably was and half-an-hour later, she was proven right.
Then again, so was I. There was a really good reason why I didn’t become a detective. Good call on my part.