Life Explained CSI or NCIS, or something with cool initials, part 2

Here is part 1. You might want to read that first, or this will make no sense, even then the odds are not all that good.

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.

Life Explains Cold Case Part 1.

Dr. Dawg was sitting in his cramped office. Tumbler of cheap bourbon on his desk, shade from his fedora covering the steely, absolute fix of resolute determination in his eyes. Smoke from his cheap cigar wreathing his face in angelic looking, toxic, stinking fog. He took a big puff, and coughed so hard he fell out of the wooden chair. Remembering he didn't smoke he threw the smoldering, noxious thing in the day old coffee sitting on his scarred, ancient desk.

He climbed back in the chair, wobbling and twisting because of the missing caster. Took a drink of bourbon, and started gasping for breath, "cheap crap, anyway, he managed to spit out between shakes and convulsions.

Finally he stumbled over and got a drink of water from the bowl he kept on the floor, by his food. Which, conveniently was in a bowl, on the floor. He thought about what a wonderful system this was.

With a mighty crash the door to his small, cramped, dingy office slammed open, the logo Dr. Dawg Private Investigator Life Explained stood in bright contrast to the squalid, dank air of the room. He thought "I need to put in one of those springy door stops that scares the crap out of me every time."

In walked Bil, an employee of Life Explained for the last 15 years. "I'd like to report a theft." He said, sitting down, and watching Dr. Dawg finish the last of the food in the bowl, on the floor.

After a drink of water, Dr. Dawg took his seat, and said "what was stolen?"

"Someone took my pizza out of the refrigerator. It was my lunch." He said, his voice breaking with anger, sorrow, and hunger.

"We had pizza?!?!??"

"No, I had pizza, and it was good, too. It was, admittedly, a long time ago. Right after I started. Since I was new I didn't want to make a big fuss. But it has always kind of bugged me. One of my coworkers stole my pizza, and ate it." A tear formed in the corner of his eye.

"Tell me about the pizza.." Dr Dawg said. His eyes intense under the rim of his fedora.

"Well, it was deep dish, from Montoni's on Garfield Street." Bil said.

"On man, those are so good, almost criminal. What were the toppings? Tell me about the toppings."

"It was a supreme, with extra bacon, and olives, and I had them add some of that spicy Italian sausage, you know the stuff with pesto. Plus, they used cheddar and mozzarella cheese back then, and extra jalapenos. I had some fresh ground parmesan cheese, and garlic butter for the crust, man I was really looking forward to lunch." Bil said, sorrow, and remorse evident on his face.

Dr. Dawg moaned softly, his eyes closed and he fell out of his chair. Jumping up he said, "sorry, sorry about that. I think we will need to call in a specialist for this job." He dialed the phone.

That is when I got involved, I'm Tim the Refrigerated Leftover Forensic Anthropologist. I track down lunch stealing thugs and bring them to justice.

To Be Continued.

PART II