4 – Detective Pickle Theorizes About The Mayor’s Affair

4

Chief of Homicide Detectives, Captain Horatio “Halo” Courageous, stood two feet away from the window, forty-three stories above the street, stretched his arms out, and placed his two beaver tail sized hands against the window pain and leaned his six foot five inch frame toward the window. Courageous placed full blame on Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, any flavor, any item menu at Flippetti’s Trattoria, and the presence of sugar within ten feet of the coffee maker for his forty-five inch girth that prevented him from pressing his entire torso against the floor to ceiling window. Courageous made an unabashed effort to bend forward and press his forehead against the window pane so he could stare down to the street. 

“Whatcha looking for, Cap?” asked Dill. “See any cute chicks with great cleavage or wearing a halter top?”

“I’m not a pervert. I’m happily married. I’m doing this to relieve stress and because of the scene in my all time favorite movie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Recall when Ferris stuck his nose against the window at the top of the Sears Tower in Chicago?”

“Can’t say I do, Cap. But begging your pardon, is Ferris Bueller a suspect? Since he got a day off, he had time to take out the deceased. You want me to put out an all points bulletin to bring him in?” asked Pickle.

Gillis moved his head toward Pickle and shook it gentle trying to warn Pickle there was no such person as Ferris Bueller. He was a movie character. Gillis stopped moving his head and chose to stay quiet when he saw Courageous turn from white to tomato red.

Courageous slowly backed away from the window and turned around to face Gillis and Pickle. He stepped forward and placed his two mitts palms down on his desk. He glared at Pickle, “Are you an idiot, Pickle? Are you trying to make fun of me? We have a homicide and you are making jokes. The only reason I’m not sending you out on foot patrol is because I don’t want a grievance and all the union crap that goes with it.” 

Pickle answered, “I got no grievance with you Cap. I’m part of the solution. You raise an interesting question. Can we technically call killing a monkey a homicide? Maybe the case needs to be turned over the animal control. See what I’m saying?”

Courageous bellowed, “It is a homicide. Mr. Sampson is an important part of the community. He considered the monkey a good friend. He wants it investigated by homicide detectives. The mayor whole heartedly agrees with him.”

“Question, Cap,” said Pickle.

“What!” demanded Courageous.

“Does the mayor know Sampson is banging his wife? It could be a conflict of interests. Maybe the mayor’s wife was jealous of the monkey and she killed the poor fellow. It all adds up. How about we pulling her in for questioning?”

Gillis saw Courageous grasping hold of the edges of his desk and tilting it as if he were going to tip it over. Even out of shape, Courageous was a powerfully built man and might be able to take the muscular, but gentle Pickle. Gillis decided to intervene, “Cap, your high blood pressure pills are in your right desk drawer. Your anxiety pills are in the center drawer. And, your angina pills are behind the lovely photo of your wife on your desk. You’re very lucky to have a wife who is faithful to you and won’t fool around.”

Courageous let go of the desk and let it drop with a thud. He turned around and returned to his Ferris Bueller meditative state, arms outstretched, hands bracing him on the window, and his forehead pressed firmly against the window pane. He stared out across the city. His sport coat, a Walmart special, hung behind his chair. Gillis and Pickle stared at his back. 

Pickle whispered to Gillis, “Cap’s wife is doing the mayor. Think I should tell him? I’d want to know.”

Gillis said, “You already know, so that takes care of your wanting to know.”

Pickle mulled Gillis’s thought over, “I never thought of it that way, Gills. Thanks for the assist.”

Gillis and Pickle turned their attention back to Courageous who was chanting, “Take me soon. Take me soon. Take me soon.”

It took five minutes, but Courageous’s color slowly returned to its normal pale white, his muscles relaxed, and he turned from the window and faced Gillis and Pickle. He said, “From this height the city looks peaceful, the kind of place you want to raise a family, own a home, build something special. I’m telling you boys, this city is a swirling cesspool of human excrement. The city is going down the toilet faster than a power flush. You want to know what stands between the sewer line and the city?”

“I think I know the answer to that one, Cap,” said Gillis. 

“It’s worth a million dollars if you do, Gillis. Every big city in this country is a creeping swarm of maggots. The vultures are circling above wanting to swoop down on the carcasses. The cities have become nothing more than giant landfills of human waste. Every time I look out my window on this city …”

Gillis interrupted, “I get your point, Cap. I’m only interrupting because you’re mixing metaphors faster than a chef mixing batter for waffles on the Food Channel. The answer you and every chief of homicide detectives is looking for is the Atomic Plunger. I saw it advertised on cable for $19.99. It’s supposed to clear out your toilet if you plug it up with one quick plunge. No offense intended, Cap, but looking at your size, I bet you have some massive bowel movements. If you order before the end of the week, they’ll send you a second free, and toss in three toilet water refreshers.” Gillis felt proud of the way he caught Courageous’ meaning and offered a quick solution.

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