There are 100,000 stories in the little city, and this is one of them.
Saturday. 1pm. “One Adam 12, One Adam 12, See the woman, complaining of foul odor, upstairs.” My partner, Charlie and I respond. Bad smell, but I know that smell. Only too well.
Whaddaya’ think Charlie? Somethin dead, eh?
Charlie’s bark was equivocal. He likes to hedge his bets, so he suggests dinner. But no chance.
So I says,
“Time to search the joint. Binary Search. Take half the stuff outta’ the room and put it in the guest room. Wait half an hour. See where the smell is.
So she does like I says and the smell is still in the first room. So we take out half the remaining stuff. Then again. Then again. Captain Zeno suggests that might be enough, and sure enough, we’re down to the furniture. Now there’ ain’t no way I’m taking half a bed out, so I figure the next step is to cut the room in half. So we seal the closet and wait. Sure enough, the smell is in the closet. And the closet is empty.
Time to take out the hardware. We start shooting holes in the wall and exposing hideouts. In about 15 minutes we find the culprit. D.O.A.
Another case closed.