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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Comedy · #2200685
Proud 2nd in 2019 Bard's Hall Cop Shop Mystery Contest! Rare Fiction a la Whata Style.

Officer Fife set aside his purloined Moxie and popcorn when the boss called in from Mayor Writon's house stating, "Okay Fife, the Mayor approved the drilling into the library basement via some new-finagled, high-tech, military-sonic...ah, stuff, so they'll be able to break-in soon, without much noise. While 'Tweedledee-dum' and 'Tweedledee-dum Two' are assisting with that, I want you to look up the Mayor's ex-wife: find out what she's doing to make her bills, why she's back, and what record—if any—she's got in that town she was living in. And before you say anything, I also want you to secretly find that locksmith and put him on standby at the library; you know, the one we used on that Bonnie and Clyde gun case from 2016—'cause I think we're gonna need him."

Meanwhile, Officer Smith was trying to distract the librarian-napper from the increased activity of the tech team drilling through the wall to the basement, by calling his cell phone; but when the miscreant finally picked up the line, a loud noise was heard from the area where they were drilling. "I told you no funny stuff, what the hell was that noise—sounded like a BANG!?"

"Ah nothing, I'm sure, ugh… hey, what's your name, anyway?"

"You can call me 'The Librarian Killer' if you don't shut up and tell whoever else is out there that I want what belongs to my family, and they need to BACK OFF!" yelled Mrs. Stone's kidnapper, as he slammed the cell down and the line went dead (which scared the bejesus out of Officer Smith, who may or may not have wet his knickers).

While busy with the book lady-napper, the tech team drilling underground, and his crowd-control duties, Officer Smith was decidedly distracted as more than one person slipped furtively past him while on their way to the farthest corner of the library building.

"Cheese and rice, is that all you've got on her Fife, food stamp fraud an—you know what, forget it, concentrate your search on all outstanding warrants, FTAs, and known thieves and kidnappers of one-hundred-and-two year old women in a three-county radius. What—no, don't include Baker—he's a petty criminal and kidnapping's not in his league, so… just hurry up would ya, we're running out of time!" yelled Captain O'Leary in a rare fit of frustrated rage, as he headed for his beat-up Bronco with his granddaughter's yellow ducky in police uniform swaying in the rear-view mirror.

As soon as the Captain got the 4-1-1 from Officer Fife, Officer Smith called in with his report and while underwhelming, it was good that the librarian-napper was recently calmed down some as Jones talked to him through the backdoor. After imparting some special instructions to both the officers, Captain O'Leary finally peeled out of the solid, dusty dirt-packed parking lot, heading for the scene of the crime with his gumballs flashing.

Captain O'Leary arrived at the library, raised his megaphone, and—carefully enunciating his words—spoke to the librarian-napper: "Alright Dowell, we know who you are now, and let me 'jest tell you there ain't no treasure in 'thare; that whole time capsule thingy's just a story, probably told to your family from way back around spooky campfires, so let's just come out... with our hands up… nice... and… easy, eh?"

"No way porky 5-0, not until I get my map to my family's treasure; I know it's here, inside that time box thing-a-ma-jig!", yelled Dowell, sounding not unlike a petulant child who's defending his Halloween candy stash.

"Fine, have it your way Dowell, I'm finnin' to tell you right now: you see that wall to the North-East of the front door—yeah, the one with the poster of the Amazing Race, Season 15?—yeah… well how the hell am I supposed to know, I've never seen it! Now listen up, there's men on the other side of that 'thare wall and they say they've found something mighty interesting so: it's your decision, you gonna let them in the front door without hurtin' Mrs. Stone, Dowell, or not?"

As the men behind the newly drilled passageway entered through the now-opened front door in the basement, everybody's breath caught audibly as a fresh corpse was brought out in an old plastic box—fully clothed in what looked surprisingly like full leather motorcycle riding gear, and topped with a helmet—and what would later prove to be the previous Mayor and Treasurer of Bardstown, Mr. Ivan Shriver (who was also known for his over-the-top lies, pranks, and failed Hell's Angel's initiations). While the former had nothing to do with this year's Founder's Day fiasco, the latter is another matter entirely, and his connection to Dowell would later reveal an initiation connection to the motorcycle gang of ill repute.

As Dowell was led away to county jail with his wrists zip-tied together, he was heard muttering to himself about treasures and time capsules and the 'porky police', among other things unmentionable.

The Bardstown locksmith walked calmly away from the library, toting a package of some sort beneath his arm, and a shit-eating grin on his face at the coup he managed to enact on the naive town of Bardshall.

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For your outstanding Bardstown story for the Bard's Hall Contest, SEP 2019.

The Bard's Hall Contest  (13+)
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