There he was dressed as a clown. Dead as all those buried in
the Lone Fir cemetery.
Rachel and I had gone next door at 6:00 to take care of Sam
the 15-year old Spaniel for our neighbors spending the weekend at the
beach. We heard a door slam and running
feet and went upstairs to investigate. The door off the second floor bedroom
had mullions and no curtain. We could
see that a pane was broken and shards lay on the carpet.
There was a copper smell in the air and we
looked for the source. Just coming out
from under our neighbor’s bed was a red rivulet that on closer inspection was
blood. I got down on my knees and
looked under the bed and recoiled when I saw the clown. The clown had been shot right through his
red clown nose. I almost gagged over
this bit of business.
“Call 911, Rachel”
“The clown has been dead about 2 hours,” said the
ME. “Looks like a .45, but I won’t know
until I do the autopsy. BTW, we did find a Blomus Stainless Steel business card
case on our clown. John Henry was his
name.
It appears our clown might have been hiding under the bed when he was
shot. I say that because he had a grift
bag full of stainless items from around the house. In the bag was a stainless set of candle-stick
holders and a Blomus stainless steel picture frame with a picture of your neighbor’s
young, beautiful wife."
"Let’s talk with the husband!"
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