Shady Bob and the Case of the Missing Tuition

noir

The name’s Bob. Shady Bob. They call me that because I like to stand in the shade. I’m a private eye, and I happened upon a private investigation that readme might find interesting.

 

It all started when I was walking by the Carnegie Mellon campus, minding my own business like usual. I had just come back from a case of a missing dog. I solved it pretty quick, because as soon as I had arrived, the dog came bursting from the bushes and attached itself to my leg. Luckily I had on my anti-canine pants. Being prepared is what separates the rookies from the professionals in this business.

 

Anyways, some dame came up to me, asking if I would help solve another disappearance case. Only this time, it wasn’t a dog that had gone missing. No, it was this gal’s tuition. She said that she paid the money to Carnegie Mellon, as per the directions, and then she never saw it again.

 

I know what it’s like to have your money just up and leave on you. Seems to happen to me just about every time the rent is due.

 

This case intrigued me. I decided to take it on. The offer of payment in the form of Vocelli’s helped, too. As with most of my investigations, I began by checking the obvious places: under the couch cushions, behind the dresser, and in the client’s pockets. Despite finding a few pennies and a crumpled handout from a particularly aggressive person tabling outside of Doherty, the 50,000 dollars was nowhere to be seen.

 

I decided to look into the recipient of the money, Carnegie Mellon. The first person I came upon who looked like they could represent the University was a man with a mop. I asked him if he had seen any of the students’ tuition. He just laughed. I asked a professor and got the same response. Must be some in-joke for those inside the ivory tower, something a regular joe like myself wouldn’t understand.

 

It was in Warner Hall that I finally found some answers. The Admissions Staff were quick to respond. A little too quick, if you ask me. They claimed that the money went towards a world-class education, and that the return on investment was actually quite good. I got my education in the school of hard knocks, and it’s served me well enough in my line of work. On the way out, I pocketed some of the mints in my trenchcoat.

 

After telling the client what I had found, I took a breather at the Walking to the Sky statue. The dame hadn’t been pleased with my results. She kept muttering, “That’s what they all say.” I did convince her to make good on the Vocelli’s, however, which counts as a success in my book. Standing on the shady side of the statue, I sucked on a mint and congratulated myself on a job well done.

 

It was when I was reaching inside my pocket for another mint that my elbow knocked against the metal pole. I knew that sound. It was the sound of a hollow metal container, stuffed with money. I’d encountered it many times before, on previous investigations. I popped the mint into my mouth, and smiled into the wind. Shady Bob had solved the case.

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