What really lead to the deaths of Chad Waddell and Todd Delzinko?
Part 2
After my magnificent triumph over the scum of the Earth Jimmy House, I forgot about the case for about three weeks. My life was really hitting stride, since the grocery store I worked at during the day to support my ailing mother burned down, leaving me unemployed and allowing me to spend all day in my detective office/rented storage space. The mysteries weren't exactly to my caliber, as I tracked down a lost gecko and revoked a repeatedly overdue offender's library card, but they almost paid one-fourth of the bills.
However, Bernard Hurt gets the job done, and when I woke up one morning and read my journal to refresh my immaculate memory banks and saw the House's assigned duty, along with my investigation so far, I realized that it was time to get some closure. I knew what it was like to never know if your dad was coming home.
Immediately, I left to see my mother, who obviously knew something and had been forced to cover it up. My old Pinto didn't feel up to speed so I was forced to take the bus and use up one of my precious tickets. As I watched my ticket rent in two, I damned Jimmy House and his fool's quests. During the eight hour trip, I noted the expense in my notebook. Jimmy House would pay.
I finally arrived around dusk; normally, mother would be in bed, but if my suspicions were correct, and they certainly were, she would be awake, concealing information from all authorities of any kind.
I knocked calmly on the door, watching the empty street for any activity. No answer was forthcoming; had she suffered the consequences of knowing too much, like my previous mother? I would have to search the premises for clues the perpetrators had missed.
A sour rain began to fall, dousing my rumpled clothes. The bitter taste of defeat was on my tongue and the acrid stench of betrayal in my nostrils. This was a most displeasing day.
I looked around the yard, but saw no hint of Waddell's fate. The chain-link fence was so big, but so empty. Just like my broken heart.
"Waddell!" I shouted to the storm clouds above. I was loosing it, but any normal man would have lost it hours ago, on the bus, surrounded by the odor of human decay. I was a supraman, rising above humanity like a soaring bald eagle. Then I noticed the pile of garbage bags nestled comfortably above the curb. Providence had provided.
I tore through the trash bags. My passion would not be denied. Unfortunately, in the excitement of the moment, I had forgotten what I was searching for, and so I simply left the trash bags rent asunder and garbage strewn about the road. In a daze, I wandered back to the bus station, where I boarded the bus and went home.
When I arrived at my office, the sun was rising; I stared in awe at the beautiful panorama of color spread across the sky like a handkerchief. I was home. And I had the final clue that revealed all the turns in the labyrinth of Waddell and Deslinko's demise stuck to my shoe.
