Putting My Feet in the Dirt 15 and 16

Chances are, it was the antics of an arsonist” the old detective offered. Closing his small flipstyle notebook, he shoved it and his pen into an inside pocket. “We’ve had a few of these in the past year and a half, you know. . .a protest”.

His younger companion, new to even the word protest and what it means, looked at Detective Marley curiously. “Protest? There’s no one here, no marchers, not even a sign laying around. Why do you think it’s a protest?”

The senior detective climbed back into the unmarked car and relit his cigar. Taking his time, puffing until he had it glowing sufficiently, he settled back in his seat. “Ever notice the hair on the new prez?”

The younger man still looked quizzically at his senior. “Uh, yes, it looks fake but I think it’s thinning quickly”.

“Exactly. And what’s the location of this fire?”

“A wig shop?”

“And what were the only items burned?”

A slow smile of recognition spread across his face as he started to laugh.



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