The obituary writer has to write a column for a man with his face unrecognizable. With the help of the town butcher, we find a capsule with a note hidden in the man's body.
Publish Date: Feb 03, 2021
The obituary writer has to write a column for a man with his face unrecognizable. With the help of the town butcher, we find a capsule with a note hidden in the man's body. The note reveals a clue to who the man could be, helping the obituary writer get to the bottom of what happened to his latest subject.
There was a chill in the air as I knocked on the alleyway door of the butcher's butchery. Mayor Gold street lamps reflected in small pools of recent rain. Yes, I lifted the dead body in my arms. Oh, okay. Yeah, sure. Since the butcher took over as town corner, he had been conducting the autopsies in the back of his butcher shop. Slabs of meat hung from the ceiling, swinging slightly along a pig head, some eyeballs in a glass jar. Chester, his pet goat and crime solving partner, wandered aimlessly amongst the meat. The butcher plopped the body onto a cold metal table. So is this official business or of the down low variety, the download variety? Did you finally kill someone? Why does everyone think I'm going to kill someone? You got that look on your face. What? Look, that one. What? This? Yeah. Oh, uh, and you spend a lot of time with dead people, but it's mostly a face. I need to know who this man is. That's a toughie. Considering he doesn't have a face, There's nothing you can do. No, there is, But I'd have to cut him open. Luckily, it's been a while. Since I've cut someone open, you need to get my tools out. Let's see here, E Think I know how to use this anyway? Yeah. Okay. Going here? Oh, God, that's gross. Yeah. Okay. Uh oh, man. E guess. Yep. That's his long. Yeah, that's another long e Don't get paid enough for this. Hell, I don't get paid enough for this at all, but I guess I'll dio I mean, what else am I gonna do today? Already watched that movie I wanted to watch. Whoa. I didn't know when the restaurants around here served chicken and waffles. The butcher held up the mushy contents of the man's stomach. Man, Now I'm hungry. Can we get on with this? Ah, yes. Well, the more important thing here is there appears to be a metal capsule inside the chicken and waffles. The butcher held up a small silver object no larger than a pill. I leaned in as the butcher carefully unscrewed the capsule to reveal a small piece of paper rolled up like a medieval scroll. He unwound it with a pair of tweezers on the tiny scroll. There was a tiny note, if found, please return to 1600 Cherry Street. A dead body with the return address. What could this possibly mean? Eso uh, that's gonna be 50 bucks for an under the table autopsy. You know, Chester, I know it was on top of the table. Under the table is just a metaphor. Shady hush hush for when someone kills a man the fetus cats and satiate his inner squirming e I have no such squirm ing's The butcher gave me a knowing smile As I left the room, I side paid for the overpriced autopsy and made my leaf