The Inspector Arrives
Half an hour later The Inspector arrived.
“Hello Edna. Thank you for coming.”
“The lock has been picked. You failed to replace the doorknob.”
Good God, how did she do it? Edna (a.k.a. The Inspector) could walk by a hay bale and pick out the needle. No, that was an inadequate description, she could drive by a field of hay and point to the single incriminating blade of grass where the needle had once been.
The two were an unstoppable team. Gertrude (The Cleaner) would attack a crime scene like a tornado and Edna (The Inspector) would verify it was “clean”. Working together, their record was flawless.
You could do absolutely anything, no matter how messy and deviant. Provided you availed yourself of the services of The Cleaner and The Inspector gave it the thumb’s up, you would remain free as a bird.
“I do not ‘thumb’s up’ anything!” Edna announced aloud. Gertrude ignored this, she was used to it.
How many secrets Edna and Gertrude knew was a mystery to everyone. Regardless, it was universally agreed that anyone trying to cover their tracks by “whacking” either to the two ladies would never be seen again… perhaps at the molecular level.
Fortunately, criminals are among the fading former majority of humanity that recognize a good thing when they see it. The two ladies had provided a valuable service and therefore they were appreciated by their customers. Everyone from petty larcenists to genuine violent psychopaths for miles around were unversally disappointed when Edna pulled the plug. There’d been a huge (and clandestine) retirement party at which Edna cited the combined threat of DNA residue and a population addicted to cell phones. She’d followed that with a stern lecture on living properly and moral rectitude which reduced scores of hardened street thugs to blubbering incoherence.
Edna was not happy to be called back into service. “Gertrude, we agreed to retire.” Edna spoke with a tone that made Gertrude wonder if her former elementary students still had nightmares. “I condone naught but our new side gig. Furthermore, if the little hellions still have nightmares, they most certainly merit them.”
Gertrude had to speak quickly to smooth things over. There had been no crime so far. Just a dipshit grandson mixing sports supplements and gender transition hormones in unholy quantities. The only sign of active surveillance were a couple of outhouse cleaners, who had just left, and the boy was currently in a stadium; plying his trade and establishing the world’s best alibi under the eyes of thousands of fans. Could there be a more timely moment to manage the situation? Gertrude’s explanation, a cup of hot tea brewed in the brand new teapot, half a tuna fish sandwich, and a generous stack of bills was sufficient… barely.
Soon the inspection was complete. That morning, the apartment could have had Jimmy Hoffa under the floorboards, Jeffrey Epstein in the closet, and uranium in the curtain rods; but now all was well. Nothing could be found that would convict anyone of anything.
They turned to more pleasant topics.
“What are you going to do about the boy?” Edna asked.
“Reason.” Gertrude shrugged.
“He likes fighting. A ‘dope slap’ will not fix his chosen flavor of stupidity.” Edna disagreed.
“He won’t be back for hours. We have time to think of something.” Gertrude was confident.
The two sipped tea peacefully. Edna was confident too. Edna had never been anything but confident. She agreed to stay with Gertrude for the time being, in case things got out of hand. Gertrude appreciated this. Nothing ever got out of hand in Edna’s presence.
“I’ll start the recovery process now.” Gertrude announced as she reached for the phone.