The Cluedoville Files
Case #2: Tagging, you're it!
"What happened here?"
That's what I said to myself on my way to work today. I always pass by the home of Miss Rachel Peach during my commute. Rachel has truckloads of class, for a hobo, I mean. Her house is a palace among the folks in her income group, even though it is mostly cardboard and scrap metal. But today it looked just like any other ghetto building, with graffiti and everything. It was surprising that Rachel's house would be tagged like that; she usually is a great housekeeper. Then I remembered that she's still in jail for stealing Professor Peter Plum's Babe Ruth rookie baseball card.
When I got to my office, I was even more surprised to see Miss Peach already there. Her clothes were rags (as they always were), but somehow Rachel made them look beautiful.
"Rachel," I said in confusion. "What are you doing out of the big house? I thought you still had four more months!"
"They let me out based on good behavior," she responded with sincerity. "Besides, I need your services."
"Let me guess…you want me to find the scoundrel who tagged your house."
"How'd you know?"
"I saw the damage on the way here. I offer my condolences. I'll get right on the case. You know my fee."
The first thing I chose to do was to revisit the crime scene and examine the damage. The message was written in white spray paint. Whoever the vandal is, he or she has better handwriting than I do. The message read "GET A JOB, YOU BUM!" It's clear this guy has something against my friend being unemployed. I had seen the place yesterday and it was clean. Whatever happened must have happened last night after 11:00 p.m. My secretary, Miss Josephine Scarlet usually stays up till 2 in the morning. I went to ask Joey if she saw anything last night. When I got back to my office, I found her there, typing away.
"Miss Scarlet, you don't mind telling me where you were last night, do you?"
She had a very unnerving look of suspicion when I asked her that. "Why?"
"It's important to the case, dear."
"Very well. Last night I was at the pool hall. Mustard and Rose were with me. Maybe one of them is the perp."
Where does she get those great ideas? Colonel Michael Mustard is a real stick in the mud. He has always been jealous of Rachel's house, and how nice it looked. Mike and I were good friends, but he hasn't spoken to me since the released me from the army for having flat feet. Mike insists on being called Colonel, even though he was only a second lieutenant. I decided to call him.
"Colonel Mustard here."
"Mike, it's me, Dick."
"Who are you calling 'Mike,' maggot? You are speaking to a senior officer!"
"Not now, Lieutenant; I'm on the job. I need to know where you were last night."
"I was at the pool hall with Sam and that secretary of yours. I went straight home at 2345 hours precisely. Why do you ask?"
"Last night, someone defaced the property of one Rachel Peach."
"How could anyone deface that scum beggar's cardboard box? Whoever it is must be more intelligent than I!"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
I had to walk to Madame Samantha Rose's place in order to contact her; she doesn't own a phone. Sam was another good friend of mine. She failed a physics course in college (taught by one Professor Plum), and since then has sought to disprove all science. If you haven't figured it out already, Sam is insane. This explains why she is a fortuneteller by trade. No one I know uses Sam's services; whoever does is probably just as crazy as she is. But, I digress.
I am never quite comfortable in Sam's place. The beads covering the entrance, the black lights, and the general vibe of the joint, it's all so…well…bizarre.
"Welcome to the realm of Madam Rose. Shall I see into your future?"
"Save it, Sam. I don't believe in that malarkey."
In a flash, the mysterious tone in her voice disappeared. "Then why are you here, Dick? Come to give me a hard time?"
"I need to know where you were last night; I'm looking for the crooked person who tagged on Rachel's house."
"That pile of cardboard and scrap metal which that bum calls home? I know nothing about it. I went straight home from the pool hall at 2:50 a.m."
"Thank you Sam."
As I was returning to my office, I bumped into my old adversary, Sergeant Robert Gray. He seems to think his only purpose in life is to get on my nerves. If that's true, then what's Bob going to do when I die? I think he's jealous of how I get paid case by case while he earns an hourly wage.
"Yo, Dick! How's the rent-a-cop biz treating you?"
"Bob, you know very well why you are not a comic."
"Whoa, who turned up the AC? It's cold in here!"
"That's enough, Bob. Do you mind telling me were you were last night?"
"If this is about the graffiti on Rachel's house, you know I couldn't have done it. You've been to my apartment, and you know I don't own any spray paint. So, what does it matter were I was?"
"Good point."
In retrospect, I don't think I should have been swayed by Bob's speech. Anyway, I was completely clueless. I had two legitimate suspects, and they both had alibis. That's when it hit me. Joey was at the pool hall last night, so she could verify when these guys left for home. How have I come to depend on that girl so much? Man, was I surprised to hear her answer to the question.
"I spent the whole time playing pool. I didn't see anyone come or go."
Rats, mice, roaches, and other vermin! I had absolutely nothing to go on. I was ashamed that for the first time in my career, I couldn't solve the case. What was I going to tell Rachel? I couldn't live with myself if she forever held me accountable for the words "GET A JOB, YOU BUM!" on her house. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the answer came to me!
"Joey, hold my calls; I'm on my way to bust a vandal!"
This time, I knew I'd need my .45 Magnum with me. Madame Rose couldn't predict a bullet coming at her if her life depend…oh, wait, never mind. Anyway, Sam was more than happy to come quietly, as long as I didn't put her out of business, permanently. How did I know it was Sam and not Mike? The graffiti read "GET A JOB, YOU BUM!" Madame Rose is the only of my two suspects who calls my good friend a "bum". If the "Colonel" was the vandal, it would have read "GET A JOB, YOU SCUM!"
Madame Rose was offered a lighter sentence if she cleaned up the graffiti and formally apologized to Rachel; she took that offer. Now Sam is only serving 2 months in prison. Rachel's house is once again a palace amongst the poor. Miss Peach told me she'd pay my fee at the earliest opportunity, which shouldn't be to long. And to end this tale on a good note, I gave Joey a raise.
