“Er…yeah…that’s a very…interesting theory. So if she was trying to poison you, how did she end up dead on the floor?”
'Fairly obvious, once you know that she owned a piece of property that Natheniel needed to buy to complete his latest housing development."
“Good God!” cried the detective, as Jack heard a loud noise over the phone, just before the receiver went dead.
He grabbed the phone book, looked up Sneckenbarger Realty, and dialed the number.
In a few moments, a nasal voice on the other end of the line replied, “Hello, Snecken… Sneggle… er… Realty. May I help you?”
“Jack Offenlevit here…I need to talk to Sneckenbarger immediately!!”
“Just put me through to Nathaniel, please,” Jack said impatiently.
(Ignoring my previous post entirely)
“Kansas.” the voice said enigmatically. He’s not due back until Monday.
“Lots of help you are,” Jack snarled, slamming down the phone and beginning a frantic search for his car keys.
Minutes ticked away as he looked without success on the dresser, the TV stand, on top of the washer and dryer, in his underwear drawer, on the kitchen counter, his pants pockets, his jacket pockets, under his easy chair, under the couch cushions, and in the litter box of his cat, Mr. Snuggles.
Where could those keys BE? Suddenly…
Nearly overwhelmed by his sheer lack of thought, Jack recalled that he didn’t have a car.
Only his trusty Schwinn and a bus pass, which wouldn’t make getting to Kansas any easier.
Obviously he’d hotwired the one he was driving earlier in the day and therefore had no keys for it.
(I like yours better)
Pretty stupid, he thought to himself, considering the cops would be at his place any minute now.
Quickly, he decided upon a plan of action.
Running to the stolen car, he jumped in, gave it some gas, and took off.
Sirens wailing filled the air, while Jack tried his best to drive casually and avoid their notice.
The police eventually drove on past Jack, and things seemed to be returning to normal… That’s when he hit her. A strange old woman, dressed in a bizarre nightgown made of the swirliest kipper ties Jack had ever seen, holding a sign which read “Moko’s Yodeling Pigsnout.” Jack got out of the car, and examined her body. He let out a dramatic gasp as he discovered that…
The stolen Ford Bronco sped down the interstate at 40 MPH, pursued by a dozen police cars. Jack knew he had to lose them, so that he could continue his search for the real killer.
Under control of his thoughts once again, Jack vowed never to let his imagination run in such unusual directions again.