Casey Evans

The Reuben Urbaine Affair

I always had a hobby of people watching since I was a kid. The goings and comings of the lives outside the window next to my desk. The faces, clothes, walks; all of it. As a result, I was deemed to be that unsettlingly curious child who would most likely become some form of creepy adult, probably a sex offender. I suppose they would be surprised to know that wasn't in the cards for me. Now a grown man, I ended up taking my staring practice into the professional world of private investigation as an amatuer sleuth. Managed to scrape together enough for a small office on the upper east side with Reba, an assistant who, obligingly, only complained about the pay once in a while. Reuben Urbaine and Associates Investigative Services, Reba said it sounded better than Urbaine P.I. and gave us a bit of class. It didn't help bring in any business since my biggest concern was looking just busy enough to fool anyone into thinking the case files were full. That entailed looking at the blank sheets of legal pads with serious intent.