Avery: Weekly Blog #3

The Case of the Banana Gun

By Avery Jones

       I was sitting in my office at my desk.  It was a slow day, nothing happening at the time.  There were a few interviews I had done earlier that day, but they were for interns.  I was bored, tired, and had nothing to do for the rest of the day.  Until three o'clock p.m..  There was a loud boom coming from the break room. Sounded like a gun going off, but not exactly.  I had my gun in my hand and my hat on my head as I slowly walked into the break room.  There, laying on the floor, was a banana.  Gun.  That's right, a banana gun.  It wasn't a real banana of course.  It was metal.  It looked new, but dirty and worn down at the same time. Next to the gun was a man that I have not met before.  His head was shaved and large.  He looked to be around six feet tall and near two-hundred pounds.  He had been shot in the shoulder.  I assumed with the gun next to him.  He was knocked out on the floor.  He seemed to have fainted when he was shot.

       I called for help, but no one answered my yells.  I walked out of the break room and closed the door behind me, leaving the lights on.  I didn't want anyone messing with the man until I knew he was okay.  I yelled one last time for the nurse.  She came running towards me with fear in her eyes.  She signaled for me to keep quite.  So I did as she said, believing something was wrong.  I took her to the break room and as I opened the door I saw no man in the room.  The gun was moved to the counter next to the fridge.  There was small drops of blood around the floor and on the handle of the gun.  The blood wasn't there before.  I looked around the room, checking every corner for clues.  But there was nothing but the gun and the blood to help us.  I called the sheriff, who had left for lunch an hour ago.  He answered with a laugh.  I told him what had happened and that we needed people over there as fast as possible.

       I took the nurse to her home and let her off of work for the rest of the night.  She was traumatized after what happened.  She was a very paranoid person.  She watched very many horror movies and shows.  She would check around her house every day to make sure no one was going to get her.  Everyone thought she was insane, but after what happened that afternoon, I would understand how she felt. 

       I went back to the office to find policemen scattered throughout the building.  Searching and blocking off rooms and halls.  I went to talk to my friend who helps me with my cases I get.  He was short and skinny. Very young for a detective.  His name was Johnathan, but I called him Joe.  His hair was thick and curled.  I thought of it to be strange, how he looked.  But he was a very nice boy, and never pulled any tricks on anyone.  He told me they found a dead man in the interview room and didn't know who he was.  I thanked him for the information and left to see the man.  He was one of the interns I interviewed that morning.  He had short, flat hair that was colored black.  He was tall and wide.  He had an arm that had been removed two years ago.  I looked at him very closely and found a bullet hole in his left leg and in his chest.  I propped him up and looked in the pocket of his shirt.  There was a note.  I unfolded it and read away.

3:30
Bring the weapons.

---J

     For a second I thought this so called "J" was my helper Johnathan.  But I knew that he was gone at three thirty.  He was at lunch with the others.  I took the note to my desk and studied the hand writing.  I didn't recognize it a single bit.  Every other word had a different font.  I gave it to Joe for him to study.  He didn't get too many jobs around here.  He mostly went on coffee runs and helped me out every now and then with the littlest things.  He seemed happy to have a big job for once.  I went to examine the banana gun.  There were little finger prints.  They seemed to belong to a person with small fingers.  I took the blood before it dried and it turned out to matched Johnathan's.  I didn't believe it, I couldn't!  I had to bring Joe in.  I talked to him and it turned out he did kill the men.  He had a list of things that upset him.  One of them being tall people.  When he was a child he was bullied and made fun of for being short.  We put him behind the bars and ended his madness.

THE END