Member-only story
Detective Rhinestone
Detective Edgar Rhinestone had to be the dumbest detective that I’d ever encountered in my years on the force. I’m aware that this is a particularly harsh way to begin my report, especially considering that I am — and have been — Detective Rhinestone’s Sergeant for a number of years — but I am afraid it is the truth.
My family kept asking why I couldn’t have been assigned to a detective more like Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Morse, or Detective Monk. I would repeatedly shrug and tell them that I wish I had an idea as to what was in that locked box of chance beyond Schrödinger’s Cat pacing back and forth waiting for someone, somewhere to call, ‘Showtime, maybe.’ My lot was my lot.
Now — what do I mean in the particular when I malign the Detective’s intelligence in the abstract? Well, mum’s the word, but Mister Rhinestone once got into a car chase with the suspect in the passenger’s seat of his own car. I was in the backseat for this, at first repeatedly shouting that the suspect was ‘right here,’ which — after the Detective kept shouting, ‘Right where?’ and jerking the wheel yet again, prompting the suspect to shout, ‘What is happening?’ — I opted instead to offer encouragement instead. “Nearly there, sir!” I shouted, doing my best to convey the appropriate level of apology to the suspect in the passenger’s seat. “Any moment now!”
