Thursday, January 11, 2007

Thrilling true-life mystery

This morning, upon flat and sodden grass, under heavy grey skies, I found a man’s wallet lying in the cemetary. For some reason, I felt an urge to track down its owner, if only to discover if he still lived. There were a bunch of credit cards in there, but I didn’t recognise the owner’s name; within its goatskin folds also nestled £200 in cash and an MG Appreciation Society Membership Card.

I haven’t been in this game long, but I know a clue when I see one. Knowing that not far from where the booty lay is a motor shop, I paid a visit to the greasemonkeys there and leant on them until they admitted they had seen my quarry, and knew him well. I soon had an address out of them, and prepared to further erode my shoe-leather in continuation of the chase.

Alarmingly, I didn’t have far to go. As I left the garage, I passed a man in a fleece sporting an MG badge. When I asked him his name, and he told me, I happily pressed his wallet into a warm palm. Gratefully, he pressed sixty notes into mine: take your missus out to dinner. I explained to him I was single and gave twenty pounds back. The remainder I spent on red meat and whiskey.


  1. hmm methinks this is only the set up...

  2. Okay, whatthefuck are you doing in the cemetary in the morning?

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  4. It's not like I'm talking about 3 o'clock in the morning, more like a civilised 8.30.

    I wasn't doing anything I'd be ashamed to get caught at. No, there's nothing wrong with it at all.

  5. On your way to work and decided to cut through the cemetary to save time?

    Going to say hi to an ex?

    Burying the evidence?

  6. Got it first try. It's mundane, but that was the situation.

    I get to say hi to my grandparents on the way to work. I don't think they can hear me, though - the lid was nailed on pretty tight, and I made sure that sound couldn't get out.