Roger was sitting in his E-Z Chair, chewing on a beef stick when he bit something. It was a BB that had somehow gotten lodged in the beef stick. He picked it out of his teeth and went to throw it away. He dropped it on the way, and it started smoking. The smoke grew and grew and in the smoke appeared the face of his friend and partner, Frank. Roger screeched and shouted, “Demon! Go away!”
“Aw, geez, Roger. I ain’t a demon! It’s me, Frank. I hafta tell you what’s going on! Listen to me now. OK. Do you have a pen and paper ready? You’re gonna want to write this down. There’s this lady, Mrs. Scrushy, she’s masterminding a plot against her husband. She can make a lot of money by selling her husband’s artifacts on the black market. I don’t know who is buying them, but you need to tell the police what’s going on.” With that, the smoke cleared, floating up to the ceiling. The smoke detector started screaming, so Roger reached up to disable it. He left his house to go to the police station.
Roger was a little freaked out. Had he really just seen his friend? Enough strange things had happened that day that it honestly did not seem that strange. As he drove to the police station he tried to figure out what he could say. They would think he was crazy if he walked in telling them about the ghost he just saw, and the murder about to happen. As he pulled into the station, he realized it was midnight. The station had one light on, but looked empty.
As he opened the door, he saw nobody in the station. He called out, “Hello?” He heard a rumbling in the dark room.
“What what? Who’s there?”
“Um…I uh, need to report a crime.”
“A crime? Well why didn’t you say so?” cried the voice
“Can I turn on the lights?”
“Oh, yes yes, please do.”
As Roger turned on the lights, a man was revealed, he was short, about 5 feet with balding gray hair. “I’m George, the night manager.”
“Where is everyone else?”
“Well, we have a couple cops on patrol, but everyone else is sleeping, I suppose.”
“Oh, well, we need to get to the Scrushy house now! There is a murder going on.”
“Oh really? Well, let me call one of our patrol agents.”
“No, we need to go, if not it may be too late.”
“Well I suppose we could take one of the extra cars.”
“OK that’s fine, let’s go!”
“Well, actually, I can’t drive. I got my license revoked.”
“Are you kidding me?! Fine, I can drive.”
“I don’t know…”
“C’mon!” With that, the old man and Roger were on their way.