The lost glove

The lost glove A Mystery By John Clifford

The lost glove There I was sitting in my authentic black leather chair wearing a bright cherry suit at my desk when suddenly an email popped up telling me to meet my boss at the Spectrum in East Philadelphia.

I was a detective, the best in the world actually. Some placed me in the same category as the marvelous Sherlock Holmes. But I was just 19. I spent a year in college until I dropped out and came here, The Philadelphia Detective Agency.

I drove there easily. The signs were still on the walls after Michael Jacksons concert. I pulled out a stick of gum and started chewing while my boss, Mr. Reynolds started telling me what this was all about. John, I have trust in you. This will be your biggest case yet. Really even bigger then the time I Blah, Blah, Blah we all know about your great achievements. I know right. Well, I got a call about 5:45 this morning, Reynolds explained. Thats so fascinating!

I can fire you! Alright, Ill shut up, I said quickly. Did you know about the concert last night? Yeah! Well, Michael Jackson seems to have lost his glove and it cant be found. So I signed you up for this case.

Cool! But, theres one catch. What? Hell be working with you, he said as he pointed to Michael Jackson. What! He doesnt know anything. Why do I have to work with him? My boss took one look at me and I knew he was getting suspicious. After that Michael took me to the first scene.

As we arrived Michael told me the story. This is where we found our first clue.I glanced up to see a broken window. This is my wonderful dressing room, he said. I looked around and saw a playing card and a couple of sushi coupons. What were you doing on the fine night of August 17th, Jackson? Well of course, I was performing right here at the Spectrum in the city of Brotherly Love. When did you find this clue Mr. Jackson? Last night when I went to change from my Thriller Jacket into my T-Shirt.

Well why dont we go out to lunch? I asked, starring nervously at the window. No, wait look at this, its a piece of a bright red suit jacket. It cant be that important. I said. Michael took a bag out of his pocket and scooped up the piece of fabric. It might come in handy, he said. I gave a big grunt and we were off to lunch. We drove there calmly and we walked in. Wow the food here is fantastic Detective Clifford. Theres a reason why I brought you here. I discovered it yesterday. Amazing, the tables over there are so shiny and bright! exclaimed Michael.

Yeah, theyre like that everyday. I said fretfully. I wonder why ours isnt like that, why dont I go take a look? No. I blurted out.You might be allergic to the soap on the table. I dont care! He walked straight toward the table and shouted. Detective, detective its a crystal from my glove! We must be getting close, he said. Again, he pulled out his bag and put the crystal in the bag. The next day the weather outside was very stormy and wet. I had to meet with Michael. It was a long working day, but we found nothing.

I decided to invite him over for dinner. We were about to start our first course when Michael spoke up. May, I use the restroom? he asked. Why not, we are all family here. He walked to the restroom, or at least I thought he was. Michael took a sharp right into my office instead of a left to the bathroom. He saw a bright white suit case with the tip of a bright silver glove inside it. I ran into the office after about five minutes.

Michael, why are you in my office? Look at this! Its a muddy footprint and it leads straight to the case. He said ignoring me. I took one step forward to put the case away but I knew I made my biggest mistake of all. And now, here I am in the slammer with a tin cup hoping to be bailed out.

THE END