Young Writers Society

“Excuse me do you know where Garrison Lane is” he asked the doughnut maker.

“Why yes, it's right around the corner. And may I ask you, in turn. Is it time to buy a doughnut?”

“OK. I'll have a glazed jelly doughnut.”

“OK. That will be 50 cents.”

Inspector Woolsome grabbed the doughnut and dropped two quarters in the doughnut maker's large palm. As he walked away he heard the donut maker mutter "what is this it looks like a piece of a boot and a torn sock". Interesting thought Woolsome interesting indeed.

After 5 more minutes of walking, Inspector Woolsome arrived at the house where Jenny Kessler was killed. There was a constable with Smith and Wesson. “Oh, Inspector Woolsome. You've come.” said the man nervously. And he held the door open. Inspector Woolsome took a soft stride over the blood-stained floor. He looked around and spotted Deputy Harris.

“Good day, Mr. Harris. I must tell you.” stated Inspector Woolsome. “Well, yes, the weather is nice, if that's what you mean. But right now, things aren't looking well. That's for sure.”

“Well. I know that but...”he paused for a second. “Let's proceed with the investigation. Have you obtained the bullet?”

“Yes, Mr. Woolsome.” replied Deputy Harris, handing Inspector Woolsome a tiny glass case with a blunt bullet in it. “Well from the looks of it that bullet is from a revolver and as we know revolvers are short range. So I estimate that it was shot from no more than 30 feet away because the corpse is indoors. And if that's true it would have most likely been shot when the killer first stepped in because the body A portly doughnut maker with a grease-stained shirt smiled and waved his large hand as Inspector Woolsome approached him.

was found at the door. Inspector Woolsome prodded up the creaky stairway with deputy Harris at his side and pulled out his magnifying glass. The killer wouldn't have been up here so the foot prints are Jenny Kessler's. With that we now know the difference between Jenny Kessler and the killers' foot prints. Inspector Woolsome took a long look at Jenny's foot prints then skipped back downstairs. was found at the door. Inspector Woolsome prodded up the creaky stairway with deputy Harris at his side and pulled out his magnifying glass. The killer wouldn't have been up here so the foot prints are Jenny Kessler's. With that we now know the difference between Jenny Kessler and the killers' foot prints. Inspector Woolsome took a long look at Jenny's foot prints then skipped back downstairs.

When suddenly, it hit him as hard as a rock. “The killer's footprints. I've seen those before. Once he thought back to a time when the science museum curator had talked the hunting supply store manager into them using his footprint for an educational study. Inspector Woolsome said to Deputy Harris, “By any chance, do you have a Polaroid camera on you?”

“Why yes, I do.” said Deputy Harris, handing Inspector Woolsome a Polaroid camera that was slung across his back. Inspector Woolsome took a Polaroid of the killer's footprints and ran out of the house. As he ran, he bit into his donut, crumbs falling across his face.

After two near-collisions with fruit peddlers, he burst through the door, gasping for breath at Mr. Bernard's Hunting Surplus Store. ...and standing in front of him was a bony, gaunt man with leather gloves and a suspiciously-shaped bulge in his pants pocket. Inspector Woolsome yelled out, “Do you feel familiar with the following Polaroid, may I ask you?” and he held out the picture of the killer's footprints.

“Umm, no, I do not.” he said nervously.

“Right. Then how come they match these footprints?” and he grabbed from the wall Mr. Bernard's footprints from the science museum.

“Oh, this?” Mr. Bernard said, grabbing the footprints. He babbled nervously, setting them down on the table, when suddenly his elbow bumped against his coffee mug and the coffee spilt all over the footprint, from the science museum, making it impossible to see.

“Oh, darn...oh, uh, sorry...dang it. Mm, I'm so c-c-clumsy in my old age.”

“Yeah, right...” Inspector Woolsome muttered under his breath.The inspector kicked the door open and walked out.He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his ashen black lighter.

“I still can't believe it...A killer has been under our noses for quite some time now, and we didn't know.”

“Honey, please try to relax—you're not at work now.” she whispered quietly in response. They were at the Eat In and Out Diner, like every week. On the night when couples came there to dance to the jukebox. He spun around the checkered tiling while Inspector Woolsome argued. The footprints match, I'm sure of it!” he argued.