“Just a second, Detective Underwood. I need a drink of water.”
Knowing it was futile, Jack ran to the kitchen and turned on the tap while frantically searching for some clue to exonerate himself.
Letting his eyes scan across the room, he saw something that was very out of place.
Milk! But Jack knew he’d had no milk in the house; he was lactose-intolerant.
Natheniel Sneckenbarger, a local real estate agent with a heavy milk habit due to an ulcer, must have been the murderer.
“Overwhelmed at the sound of my voice?” The detective asked, snapping Jack from his reverie.
“Please be patient,” Jack replied. “I’ve just had an epiphany.”
“Questions, Jack, questions. I don’t care about your epiphany!”
“Right, okay fire away, Mr. Underwood” replied Jack.
“So,” drawled the voice on the other end, “when were you plannin’ on telling us you and Ms. Bonnie Lynn had been married for 8 years?”
“That isn’t any of your business, detective. Does it make any difference?” snapped Jack.
(This story is pretty cool by the way)
“Unfortunately for you, it does, Jacky boy, if I have my facts straight about her running off with some clown and leaving you $100G’s in debt.”
(I know, I can’t wait to see how it ends!)
“Verily, violence is not my forte,” Jack replied vehemently. However, I have found a clue. I’m positive I know who killed Bonnie."
“Well, we already found out who killed Bonnie. It was you.”
“Xenophobe,” Jack muttered under his breath, even though he didn’t really know what it meant, but thought it sounded cool.
“Zis ees a mistake,” Jack exclaimed in a cheesey fake accent.
“A Mistake? The mistake was yours, Jack” said the detective, managing to sound even more pompous than Rush Limbaugh."
“Blah, blah, blah. Ok, you sonovabitch, what evidence do you have to show that I killed Bonnie then?” Jack yelled, red-faced into the phone.
“Calm down Jack… You’ll only make things harder on yourself…”
“Do your research, Dude. Dairy products make me deathly ill. But there’s a carton of milk in my refrigerator. Natheniel Sneckenbarger, a local real estate agent with a heavy milk habit due to an ulcer, must have been the murderer. Either that, or Bonnie, who knew of both my lactose intolerance and my habit of drinking orange juice from the carton in the dark was planning on poisoning me with it.”