Monday 27 December 2010

My Day as a Detective('s Note Taker) Part 3

Read Part One Here
Read Part Two Here

"So," I queried, "we've got two thirds of a photo of a suspect killing the person who did this before me, and you reckon it won't stand up in court once we get the third piece of the puzzle?!"

"What can I say?" Peeyai sighed. "We've got some really good lawyers here."

Unable to fathom quite how any lawyer would be that good, I decided it best to focus our attention on the active murder case. Agreeing to regroup once we'd had lunch, we headed to the cafeteria and opted to partake in the day's offerings, in this case Spaghetti Bolognese and a Crunchie bar, washed down with supermarket own-brand cola. Apparently they could pay out $200,000 for a successful third of a case (lest we forget), but not spring for a few cans of the proper stuff.

"What's on your mind, my boy?"

Not wanting to admit to cola snobbery, I racked my brains trying to think of something that would make me sound less of a wanker. To this day, I regret that the best I could come up with was "I think Seal is past his best."

Peeyai looked a little confused, but sighed and said "I have to agree with you there, mate. I can't listen to anything since he did that song for Batman Forever. I think he's great, but I'm always going to remember him for the earlier hits."

"Thank fuck, now he'll never know about the coke problem."

"What coke problem?"

"Shit, monologue error! Anyway, what do you make of this case?"

Peeyai sighed again. I was beginning to wonder if he was actually weary of the world, or whether he was just slowly deflating.

"It's a crazy one, of that I have no doubt. Don't worry though, he'll slip up sooner or later. When he makes his mistake, we'll have him. Hopefully, that'll be before you're murdered in a grisly way. In any case, I feel confident that Bjorn will keep me in a steady supply of temps until the killer is brought to justice."

"...Was that meant to make me feel better?"

"Well, yes. Did it not?"

I decided to let the conversation subject drop, and decided to get to know my employer. After twenty minutes of chatting, I had managed to successfully establish that he was married with a young son of ten years old, whose name was Megatron. When I asked why, he replied that it was a traditional family name. I ended up dropping so many conversation subjects I was surprised that they didn't make a noise as they hit the floor.

After we had finished eating, we moved back to the briefing room where the map was located. To our surprise and horror, the arrow had moved. The killer had struck again! The arrow had moved to somewhere in the shopping district in town. This was our chance. This was the opportunity that we had been waiting for; the chance to catch the killer was well within our grasp.

"Peeyai to dispatch," the detective called on his radio. "Where did the killer strike this time?"

"Dispatch to Peeyai," the voice came back. "The call's just come in. It's one of the shops in the district."

"Which one?"

"The House of Wicker."

The detective shuddered. That was the answer that we didn't want to hear. Peeyai had been struck with Wickerphilia, an affliction that meant that he was sexually aroused by anything made of wicker. During lunch, he'd told me about his travels to Marrakesh, and my eyebrows had curled.

"Rob, I don't know if I can do this. The House of Wicker is like my Spearmint Rhino. I'll need clean pants every six minutes!"

Depressing as that was, I was impressed by the exactness of his response. Nevertheless, we had to go to the crime scene, if for no other reason than because we were the only detectives in town, least of all the ones familiar with the case. With apprehension, we vowed that we would perform this task as quickly as possible in order to minimise my chief's trip to the dry cleaners.

We arrived at the House of Wicker with Peeyai looking glum as a box of depressed frogs. Thankfully, the crime had taken place outside the actual shop, and thus we didn't have to look at the stocks of baskets and chairs, and I didn't have to see him go sex-mad. Everybody won.

We found ourselves rounding up the clues faster than usual, possibly down to Peeyai trying not to let Action Man pitching a tent in his trousers. Once we'd rounded up the clues, we stood anxiously in front of the photo and waited for it to develop. All I could be thankful of is that we didn't take mid-crime solving trips to Boots to get the photos developed. Thankfully, this was one of those self-developing photos, like a Polaroid.

The photo finally revealed itself. This was what we had been waiting for. The face of the criminal was...

"Quick! Look out! There's someone shifting around inside the shop! He looks shifty! Shifting!"

We moved quickly around into the front area of the shop, and bizarrely the adrenaline rush seemed to have a good effect on Peeyai, as he wasn't filling his pants with anything but good times.

We burst through the door like a pregnant millipede, all the while aware of the possibility of an ambush. We weren't expecting more than one person though, as in the photo there was only the one person. That'd just be ludicrous.

Sure enough, by the tills just before the unusually placed vending machine that dispensed Kitkats and Skittles among other things, was a man dressed in a dark cloak messing with one of the window sashes at the back. Presumably he was setting it up for a nefarious scheme. Either that, or he thought there was too much light in the room. Either way, this looked to be our man.

"Freeze, fucknut! This is the police! Well, we're the detectives, but if this is like CSI then that should be enough to make you FREEZE!"

The evil man froze. Apparently this was like CSI and that was enough. Whirling around, we were faced with the face of the killer...face to face. Needless to say, we were surprised by what we saw.


"That's right, you found me. I had expected you to take longer, but I suppose it was my fault in a way for hanging around the crime scene long after the 'murder' had taken place."

Something he did then confused me.

"Bjorn, why the air quotes when you said 'murder'? These people are dead because of you!"

"Ha ha ha, you simple minded fool! Of course they're not dead! They moved on! They got other full-time work! They didn't want the detective to know that they found the whole Wickerphile thing too weird, so they put out their CVs elsewhere. With my help of course. I think you'll find that I can be a VERY persuasive temping agent."

"I've yet to see any evidence of that."

"Well, nonetheless, there's nothing to arrest me for! Nobody's actually dead, those outlines were painted free-hand, and all the guts and entrails were theatre props! What are you going to do about it?"

I thought hard, and punched him as hard as I could in the face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes that had been punched by an arthritic old woman - that is to say, slowly. Thinking back, it was probably more shock than force that made him drop. Shock that I would hit him? Probably not. Shock that I punched like a nancy? Possibly. Bjorn began to laugh, and produced a gun from his belt. Aiming it at me, he began to edge his way towards the store's back door.

"I think it goes without saying that I won't find you work anymore, Rob. You're just not willing to play the game."

"Suits me. What about Brad?"

"Brad's fine. Just you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

"I don't think so. EXPELLIARMUS!" I shouted, thrusting my hands out hoping to disarm him.

Around ten seconds of awkward silence passed before Bjorn spoke again.

"Were you expecting that to work?"

"I don't even know anymore."


And with that, Bjorn was gone. We decided to head back to the station, as the adrenaline wearing off had affected Peeyai negatively, and he needed fresh underwear. When we returned, the gravity of recent events finally hit us. Deciding that it was best that my day ended there, we headed down to the station entrance to say our goodbyes.

"Well Rob, it was a hell of a day. You've got a knack for this sleuthing business. If you ever need work again, you know where I am."

"Thanks E. I have to say I enjoyed the rush. It's made me think that maybe I'd want to do this, but to be honest I'd rather run my own team."

"Sounds good, man. If you need any help, let me know. I can recommend some team members."

"No, there's only one person who can help me now."

"Don't forget Bjorn said you can't use him anymore."

"Shit. Forgot about that. I'll ask Brad then."

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