My name is Tim and I am a leftover detective. They call me when they need answers to missing microwaveables emergencies.
My friend the Dawg, PI called me in to solve a refrigerated pizza heist, with a trail gone cold as the refried beans and delicious shredded cheese, spicy diced chiles, and shredded beef, or pork, or chicken (it is your choice) in a frozen burrito (which sounds pretty good right now). But we would turn up the heat, and find the culprit.
Turns out the crime happened almost 15 years ago, and an innocent, bright eyed, trusting kid had his naivete pulled out of an unprotected ice box, and eaten.
It seemed that most of the people employed at the time have left to "pursue other career opportunities." So that narrows the search "parameters."
In fact, besides Bil (who is probably not guilty of this crime) and John, most of the people in this department were not there, which means they probably did not steal Bil's pizza.
So, we started with John, who categorically denied knowing who stole Bil's pizza.
"Seems a little odd that you are so emphatic about not knowing who stole Bil's pizza. What made you think we thought you knew who stole the pizza? And why so touchy about the theft of somebody else's pizza, anyway?" I said leading him toward my trap.
"Because you said you were sure I knew who stole the pizza, and I don't. Plus you keep shining that stupid flashlight in my face, and it it beginning to irritate me."
"Oh, sorry about that, it is kind of dark in here, and that mannequin downstairs really gives me the creeps. That thing is strange, and it keeps moving. who keeps a mannequin around, anyway? It isn't like we sell clothes or anything. I was going to throw it away, but I'm not touching that thing. Not to save my life. Not no way, not now how." I said, and a thought, a terrible thought of making John hold the evil mannequin while he answered questions crossed my mind. But I was not going to be stuck in a room with that thing. Nobody knows what would happen, and I don't intend to find out.
I let John go for the day. That mannequin talk had really taken it out of me.
Over dinner I was telling my wife of my plans to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took. Even if I had to alienate my all of my coworkers, even if it meant draconian tactics, torture, waterboarding. Nothing would stand in the way of the truth. I told that unlike pain a crime does not diminish with the passage of time, and the culprit would be found, no matter the cost.
Finally, over dessert she said, "Oh, all right, I stole the damn pizza. Now will you shut up about it. Here is ten dollars tell Bil to buy another pizza." Then she rolled her eyes up to the heavens, probably asking for forgiveness.
Well, another case solved, Time to go break the news to Bil, that my wife took his pizza. Oh well, he will be happy to have the five dollars.