The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
The Hard Shell Case
Turtle Noir
I was standing by, smoking my cigarette when the boys outlined the
dead body and then took it away. I had to think, and smoking helps me think.
You see, I was still a detective back then, the star of my department. But I retired right after that case. That was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak.
What did I have? I had this stiff, splat on the asphalt. A round hole in the chest like someone carved it with a razor. What I didn't have? Witnesses, motives, even a simple ID on the deceased. In short, what I didn't have was a clue.
I expected something to happen. The goner's broad coming by screaming, men in suits smoking cigars passing by, or an elderly neighbor with hair rolls that saw something through the peephole. But I got nothing.
Just then, a small turtle walked by from nowhere, crossed over the line of chalk and finally squatted in the middle of where the stiff's chest would've been, if he was still there. It settled for a few moments, then got up on its tiny little green feet and trudged along. Where it sat before was a big red "X" painted on the floor. We all stared at it.
The turtle stopped, after it already passed the outline, looked directly my way and said in a small voice,
"X marks the spot."
And off it went into the night. The case was never solved, and all the officers on the scene were moved to other departments and got two weeks paid leave.
As for me, I quit the next day.
Info:
Challenge: "Paint, round, razor, asphalt, turtle" said Cat, and she likes detective stuff.