A/N: Plodding slowly through this story…anyway, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers (Observer, albe-chan, Toimarrie, Sorphedius, BunnyMoon3, and everyone else who might still be reading this). Anyone living in the Bay Area in California? It's about 95 degrees out here! Gahhh! Anyway, I'm hoping to get at least ten chappies into this story, but in the meanwhile, here's chapter seven! Woot!
*****
Another day had passed, and with Valentines Day on the way and only a limited amount of time to recover the bumper stickers, find out what the culprit really wanted, and punish whoever it was, the members of the Safety Patrol were growing frantic. Even O'Farrell was working double time, taking pictures of the threatening note and, to Folsom's displeasure, pictures of the inside of her office and shipping rooms to try to spot any evidence at the crime scenes. (A/N: And no, I'm not implying that O'Farrell doesn't work hard enough. I'm just saying that he was doing more on his part than usual just like everyone else.)
"The four top students were allowed into Folsom's office to receive their awards," Ingrid informed Fillmore at their lunch table that afternoon. "We have three witnesses to tell us what they saw in the office the day of the heist: Jerry Christiansen, Otis McGraw, and our very own Linda Wincoff. If they can describe to us what exactly had happened with accurate detail and what they saw when the awards were brought in, we might gain some more evidence on who did it while we wait for Smith's interrogation tomorrow."
"Good…" Fillmore replied, seeming to think over the information that his partner had given him. "Hey, why weren't you at her office to get your awards? You're the smartest kid in school."
"Do you honestly think that I would waste my time to arrive early just to get a sticky piece of paper of which they call a real award?" Ingrid shot at him irritably. "It's not like I'm proud of being the smartest kid in school, Fillmore. I don't expect to get awarded for every math equation that I get right."
"Point taken," said Fillmore. "Well, let's get started then. As Vallejo said, the sooner we get this over with the better. I'm not very fond of the idea to hand down our HQ to the same people who stitched that dog-ugly blanket last month."
The two of them rose from their seats and quickly found Jerry Christiansen, who was seated at a table near the wide window. In his hand he held an economy-sized bag of black and white M&Ms. His red hair fell over his face and his freckles showed up vibrantly against his pale skin. Before the officers could whip out their badges, he regarded them coolly and poured a handful of M&Ms into his palm. "Ah, the beauty of the black and white crispy candies," he stated without looking up. "They symbolize serenity and togetherness. Like Ying and Yang. I suppose you understand exactly what I mean," he added, rolling his eyes up to meet Ingrid's. Fillmore noticed her hand ball into a fist and her eyes narrow in fury at the mockery, so he quickly shot a look of warning to the female patroller and turned back to Jerry.
"I'm Cornelius Fillmore, and this is my partner Ingrid Third," he said, the two of them withdrawing their badges and IDs. "We're from the Safety Patrol, and we'd like to ask you a few questions about the bumper sticker heist."
"Shoot."
"What is your side of the story about what happened in Folsom's office the day of the heist?" Fillmore probed. "How did you first find out that the stickers had been stolen?"
"What is there to say?" Jerry asked casually. "They brought the box in, the awards were gone, and that's all I have to say on the subject. Candy?" he offered, holding out the M&Ms.
"No thank you," Ingrid replied coldly.
"Thanks for your time," Fillmore said, slightly disappointed. He and Ingrid left, not noticing the smirk now upon Jerry's face behind their turned backs.
"Suckers."
*****
"Linda Wincoff, ranking third out of the smartest four in school."
Fillmore and Ingrid found Linda not far off from where Jerry sat at the window. She was gathered around the hallway with three other girls, chatting and helping themselves to some sort of stew from a large cooking pot. When the Safety Patrollers approached, Linda quickly set her bowl down and pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "Hi Ingrid!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Have you found the awards yet?"
"That's just what we've come to ask you about," said Fillmore, stepping forward and displaying his badge for the girls to see.
Ingrid followed suit and began to question Linda. "What exactly happened when you found out about the heist?"
"Wait a minute…you mean you didn't find the awards?" Linda's eyes began to glimmer. "Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do when my parents find out that I don't have them…" A tear trickled down her cheek. She miserably wiped it away with her forefinger, while one of the other girls put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
"No, we haven't found the awards, but if we can get more evidence then we'll have a better chance of finding them," Ingrid replied gently. "Now, would you mind answering our question?"
"Well…" Linda pondered this in a brief moment of silence. "When they brought the box in and opened it, they realized that it was the awards were gone…"
"Hold up," Fillmore interrupted. "You mean that they didn't notice that the awards were gone until the box was opened?"
"Yeah, that's basically it," Linda sniffled.
Suddenly Ingrid caught on. "You'd think that if the box was completely empty then they would notice the difference in weight while carrying it in. Was the box weighted down with anything?"
Linda's eyes lit up. "As a matter of fact, it was. There were layers of old paper lining the box and it was about halfway full. When Folsom saw what was in the box she threw it all over the room."
"What day of the week does Folsom shred her papers?" Fillmore demanded. (A/N: X Middle School—always has a scheduled date for everything.)
"Wednesday, I believe."
"Snap!" Fillmore cried out. "It is Wednesday! Ingrid, let's move!"
Fillmore and Ingrid pushed past the girls blocking the doorway and bolted down the halls, hoping that they would reach Folsom's office in time.
*****
Folsom leaned back into her massage chair and closed her eyes. She was practically in her own world now, a place where she would never be disturbed, even by the grinding and buzzing coming from the shredder while Raycliff fed papers into the slot. He was now coming down to the final papers…
Just then the office door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud BANG! Fillmore and Ingrid flew into the room, lunging at the paper shredder. "Arrrrghh!!!" Fillmore yelled as he took a nosedive to the carpeted floor and took the shredder down in a full tackle, causing Raycliff to jump back in alarm. Ingrid crash-landed next to him and, grabbing the electrical cord with her two hands, yanked it towards herself roughly. Instead of the plug becoming dislodged from the outlet, the cord snapped right at the base of the plug. The machine slowly died, after it emitted one last whirrrr.
Fillmore wrestled the shredder to the ground, removed the lid, and dumped out its contents. Scraps of papers spilled out onto the neat carpet, and he rummaged through them with determination of finding clues of any kind.
"Fillmore…" Ingrid's voice came from somewhere behind him in a worried tone. He suddenly noticed that there was a deathly still essence hanging over their heads and throughout the entire room. Slowly he looked upward to come face to face with a seriously pissed Principal Folsom.
"What…have…you…DONE?!?!"
"Principal Folsom…" Fillmore began shakily. "We were just—"
"That was a $75 paper shredder!" Folsom exploded. "I don't know what you two think you're doing by barging in here and taking part in a massacre against my office supplies, but you know what? I don't want to know! Just get out, I've had quite enough of the Safety Patrol this…"
"But Principal Folsom!" Fillmore panicked. "We needed to see the paper you were just going to shred!"
"We think that we might find evidence," Ingrid added wistfully.
"You think that…look, I would prefer it if you Safety Patrollers would take things a little bit more seriously," Folsom fumed. "I don't want to see anything of you until after Smith's next interrogation. If I catch you doing anything else like what just happened then you'll be in it so deep it's not going to be the least bit funny! Raycliff, show them the door."
"It's over there," said Raycliff, gesturing to the office door.
Defeated, the two partners exited the room, leaving Folsom to return to her massage chair and Raycliff to finish off the rest of the papers with a pair of industrial scissors.
*****
A/N: Okay, how about an award for the LAMEST ENDING TO A CHAPTER EVER?!?! I think I'm losing my touch. But anyway, if you could please answer this questionnaire in your review:
First of all, do you like this story? Any compliments or advice? If there were one thing you'd change about this story, what would it be? Lastly, if I would totally and completely change my writing style, would you kill me or not?Just a few questions so that I can get help on improving. Thank yous!
~Teaz~