Page 12 of Frosty Felicity
“Yes. See, there are unsolved crimes all over the country, and I like to get online in special chats and message boards, with other sleuths, and help figure out things. We keep logs of clues, evidence, court testimonies if they apply, interviews, facts about the victims, things like that.”
“So, you’re an internet cop?” He chuckled. “Oh, come on, don’t get quiet on me now. I find this interesting, actually.”
“Are you offended by it?”
“Why would I be offended?” He slipped his hand in the front of his boxers.
“Because people like me exist because people like you basically aren’t doing a good enough job. Many officers are inept.”
“Well, tell me what you really think, Ms. Fontana.” This time, she laughed. “But no.” He yawned. “I’m not offended. It’s not about my ego. I want missing person or mysterious death crimes solved just like everyone else, and I don’t care if the local police force, or the FBI, are not the ones to bring a case to a close. It just needs to happen. It’s about the families and friends that are hurting, that don’t have any closure or justice. The problem with these sleuth groups, though, is that sometimes, you’ll get the facts wrong, and then contact the families and give them false hope, or inaccurate information that causes them to think things that aren’t true. That’s crossin’ the line. That’s what I don’t like about groups like this.”
“I’ve never contacted a witness or victim’s family a day in my life. I communicate strictly with other sleuths, and when needed, law enforcement.”
“Yeah, but you’re not an officer. You’re not trained in detective or forensic work. It’s like me walking into your place of business, taking up time and space, and thinking I can tell a patient what medications to take when that’s not my expertise. What I do believe though is that sometimes an everyday Joe can see things that we can’t, because they’re on the outside looking in.”
“Well, I’ll agree with that to an extent.”
“Where does the extent stop?”
“You actually could do portions of my job. I’m sure you could count to thirty, sixty, or ninety to fill prescriptions. You understand that if someone approaches you and says they have an upset stomach, perhaps the medication in aisle nine would help, and if they tell you they are constipated, you would know to not give them the diarrhea or sinus medication. You haven’t been to medical school, I am safely assuming, and you wouldn’t have to in order to make those assessments. It’s just plain common sense. Same way with sleuths. And for the record, I’ve helped solve four crimes to date.”
“Well… that’s quite an achievement! Too bad none of them were the case of the broken battery. And the culprit: a small, fuzzy gray creature that had a hankering for Lee’s Chicken.”
“I prefer to think he had better tastes than that, and went for the KFC, maybe even Richie’s. You know they pump God knows what into that chicken. Steroids. He should’ve been strong enough to survive a little volt or two if you really think about it. Maybe he choked on a biscuit from Popeye’s, and that’s what caused his death instead? There was no little soft drink on hand, after all.” He ran his hand over his face, stifling a laugh. The lady was funny. “Where’d you put his body?”
“The squirrel? In the trash.”
“You didn’t read him his rights?”
“…He was dead. What was I going to say? ‘You have the right to remain silent? Oh… you’re already silent. FOREVER.’”
Now they were both laughing.
“Thanks again for helping me.”
“It was my job, but even if it wasn’t, if I’d seen you stranded like that, I still would’ve pulled over… and asked you for your number.”
“Hmmm. I know you saw the sex toy.”
“Of course I did, but I would never bring something like that up. This is the part where you’re supposed to say you bought it for a friend, or it belonged to someone else, or your sister left it in the car. I am lied to a million times a day by people. You though? You just come on out and say it. Why do that?”
“Because I’m embarrassed by it.”
“But if you’re embarrassed, then it seems you would have never brought it up.”
“I want to get it out of the way, so it doesn’t have to come up later. I’m not a procrastinator. I like to rip the Band-Aid off while everyone knows the wound is still sore and raw. I would’ve preferred to not have mentioned it, but I honestly am concerned that we can’t have a good first date with that elephant hanging around in the room.”
“I prefer to think of it as a squirrel hanging out beneath the hood of a car, but I got it.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Tell anyone what?”
“That you had to help a woman who had a dead squirrel with a death grip around a piece of chicken smashed on her car battery?”
“Yes. And we all laughed. I imagine some of them are still laughing right this second.” He chortled.
“And did you tell anyone about the sex toy?”
