Free The Gumshoe Diaries by Nicholas Stanton

proportions. The shy little girl whom Edward
sometimes worried about became a fearless woman child that filled
him with pride one minute and something between terror and anger
the next. Fast forward a few decades and here she sat, thirty miles
from where she grew up, still Daddy’s little girl, when she allowed
it, and working non-stop on the cure that would fulfill a promise
she made to a ten year-old one cold and stormy night in 1978.
    Judy punched off her desktop, watched as it
powered down then swiveled around 180 degrees to make her getaway
for home. Standing slowly she yawned and did a big girl stretch,
her arms reaching high for the ceiling as her lungs filled with
air. In mid-exhale the phone rang loudly, startling her into a
freakish leap, like a garden gnome on crack.
    “SHIT,” she shrieked, spinning around quickly
to lunge for the offending piece of office equipment! She picked up
the handset and screamed into the receiver.
    “ PISS OFF,” she screamed,
slamming the handset back into the cradle she sat back down to
catch her breath. She waited for the phone to ring again. She knew
it was me; nobody else would be calling at this hour expecting to
get an answer. She also knew that I wouldn’t sleep until she told
me what I needed to know. She watched the phone with an unblinking
stare and drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently. I didn’t
disappoint her, and she picked up a millisecond after the first
ring.
    “What Whitey, WHAT? ”
    “Take it easy doll, don’t get your panties in
a bunch,” I replied defensively.
    “Hey, leave my underwear out of this DICK,
and why are you bugging me at this hour anyway? Didn’t I tell you
to call me in a day or two just this morning? “
    “I just want to go home, feed my cats and
crash for a couple of hours before the freaking alarm screams at me
to get up and do this all over again!”
    “Hey, hey, just because you coaxed that
family secret outta me in a weak moment doesn’t mean you can throw
it back at me whenever you please. Besides, you promised never to
call me that Judy. A promise is a promise!”
    That felt a little pathetic and I could tell
by the silence on the other end of the line that Judy picked up on
my self loathing. I heard her stifle a giggle and waited for a
sarcastic come-back line. I didn’t have to wait long.
    “ Awww , sorry bout that Nancy, maybe we
can chat about that when you’re done with your period,” she said
with a grin that I could feel through the phone line.
    “Funny Judy, you’re a real riot! Look, just
tell me what you know about those threads I left you this morning
and we can both call it a day,” I snapped.
    “Alright Whitey, this is getting boring
anyway. So, about the threads, well, you were right. They’re off a
LAPD uniform. Whoever was wearing it was a male with O positive
blood. He is likely over forty and is graying slightly. I can’t
tell you height, weight, or shoe size, but I can tell you that he
smokes and that he likes his sandwiches with brown mustard. How’s
that for a freebie? This is a freebie, right Whitey?”
    “Ah, natch on the freebie doll, I’ll have to
owe you for now, you know how it is.”
    “Yeah, I know, gumshoes don’t make dick, no
pun intended.”
    “Okay, I deserved that. But I have to know,
how did you glean all of that from three tiny threads?”
    “It’s not rocket science Whitey. The threads
must have been off a shirt sleeve, near the cuff I’m guessing.
Since its December the LAPD is dressing out in their winter gear,
right? I figured near the cuff because the hands are next to almost
every action we take. Like for instance, eating, smoking, drinking,
washing up after you take a leak, or mixing it up on the job with a
feisty perp. Am I right? ”
    “Sounds plausible, I guess that makes
sense?”
    “Trust me, it makes perfect sense.”
    “Still, humor me,” I pleaded.
    “Sheesh Whitey, you’re a piece of work,”
replied Judy! I could hear her reacquiring a