The "Expletive-Deleted" Case - Entry 1

I walked into a briar-patch of bad feelings and lethargy at the Lawson Detective Agency after my hiatus; my week of recuperation turned into a month before I knew it, and the employees had taken full advantage, turning the once proud Lawson Detective Agency Super-Computer into a holding tank for gratuitous desktop wallpapers and half-played games of solitaire. I loaded the coffee-maker with a personal stash of Bicuspid Lockjaw coffee, as that was the teeth-gritting blend, and sat at my desk, waiting for said coffee to percolate. Randy somberly waltzed over to me and handed me a folder that surely contained the latest casefile, but no...to my dismay, the folder was full of home-made beaded necklaces, and I immediately wondered if there had been an office gas leak in my absence.

I looked at Randy to see if I could determine whether or not this was an elaborate joke gone wrong, or just incompetence on a level heretofore unrealized, and he returned my questioning glance with a dazed complacency that only hinted at the many layers of idiocy beneath his squalid complexion.

There was most certainly a lack of leadership permeating the walls of the Detective Agency, and I aimed to put an end to it right then and there. Randy got a swift kick in the shins as I stood up to pour myself a cup of coffee, as well as a smack on the back of the head as I returned; his eyes welled up with water as my hand was already fondling the box of tissues perched on the edge of my desk...I had anticipated this move from Randy, and countered it with a well-aimed throw of said tissue box. I had just taken my second relaxing sip of coffee when the corner of the box jabbed him dead-on between the eyes, sending him flailing backwards like he had taken an uppercut to the chin. The silent, though most likely slightly painful, message was clear: Knock it off. Full of adrenaline, and brazen from minor discomfort, Randy snagged the latest casefile from the Super-Computer and meant to throw it in my lap with authority, though being just a piece of computer paper, his mighty heave resulted in the soft landing of a leaf falling from a tree. I told Randy to have a cup of my coffee, and this so excited him that his malignance faded and left me with an awake, though placid, worker...which is what I sorely needed if the printout was to be believed, and there wasn’t a single indication that it shouldn’t: Tabitha Shinkleblossom had lost her ivory cane, and this had caused her no small amount of grief, as this cane was apparently her "show" cane and her social stock had fallen recently as a result of its loss. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out where she had misplaced it, and it was at that point of my perusal that Randy, reading along, told me that it’s always in the last place you look.

Well, I thought, at least he’s awake, albeit nowhere near helpful.

I continued reading, and found that Ms. Shinkleblossom had received a ransom note, which helped her guilt greatly, as she no longer blamed herself for the loss of the cane, but did me no good at all, as I found myself irritated about wasting my time reading about the minutiae of this woman’s life. The ransom note, Xeroxed, was attached:

If you ever [expletive deleted] want to [expletive deleted] see your [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] again, you’ll [expletive deleted] follow the [expletive deleted] demands to the [expletive deleted] letter. More [expletive deleted] instructions to [expletive deleted] come.

All the elements of the case were present, save one: a clue. What I knew for certain was that the cane-kidnapper had a foul mouth, and my capacity for profane language was to be tested throughout this case. I gave Randy a three-knuckled crack to the temple as a goodbye, and headed out to see about an old, cane-less lady.

Entry 2