Edith The Eternal

Edith and the Thief

All should have been well at the precinct that day. Birds were chirping, soups were slurping, needles were knitting, and bridge was... well, bridging. But in a town like this, peace lasts as long as memory, as a chilling scream tore through the precinct. Ears were turned up as the room tried to follow the sound. 

Edith was already to her feet, walker in hand. The cry had come from the East End. Reports had been called in, investigators had already been dispatched, blue uniforms heading for the source of the sound, Edith hot on their heels. Tyres screeched as she burned rubber navigating the tight corners of the retirement home

This wasn't her case, she was already on two months probation for unlawful discharge of a firearm in the precinct. Don't believe she could do it? Neither did they. She clung to the wall as she neared the collection of suits crowded in a doorway, catching whiffs of drifting conversation. What awaited her? Murder? Assassination? Anything was possible in this lawless town! Here, mercy got you six slugs in your gut, she mused as she took a drag from her stick of christmas cane. Good people forced to do bad things.

"When he was sleeping..."

"Pretty much irreplaceable..."

"How is he going to manage..."

Something most foul was afoot! Edith pressed deeper, trying to catch that one elusive clue that could bust this case wide open. She couldn't trust these doughnut-shaped disasters with a crime scene, but even her ten rand police badge from the kids aisle in Checkers didn't give her jurisdiction in this neck of the woods. She cursed the basket-case bureaucracy between gritted teeth. She was alone this time.

"Why would someone steal his teeth?"

Aha! Theft, theft most foul! A cruel fate, she cried as she clenched her first, to have solids so suddenly stolen away from you, on pudding night no less!

Footsteps! Edith grabbed a magazine off the counter beside her, hiding behind the upside down pages. The investigators left the crime scene, failing to see through her impeccable disguise. They didn't leave a guard? Amateurs! She slipped into the room to quickly case the joint before they corrected their mistake.

Gerald lay in bed, an empty retainer container beside his bed. eyes closed, chest slowly rising and falling, gums flapping as he breathed. Poison? Sleeping gas? Nap? She couldn't be certain. Gerald was an ex-angel, an ex-Hell's Angel to be precise, 2nd paratroopers corps, and current commander of the Military Vets Club, the Old Guard. To hit someone so powerful, the thief is making dangerous enemies.

The rookies' lack of finesse had destroyed any evidence, no prints, nothing to go on. Blast! This thief was good. The game was afoot, she was dealing with a master thief that left only clues imperceptible to the untrained eye, able to strike and pass away undetected.

But, her gut twitched, as did her perceptible eye, it hadn't failed her yet in the twelve long minutes of her detective career! Aha! Under the covers, a knitting needle! The list of potential suspects narrowed in her mind. She had her target! Edith was about to enter a deadly game.

She faded into the shadows, and then rolled out of the room.

Petunia sat knitting, a sock-hole slowly closing between her hands when an arm slipped under her neck from behind, holding her in a rear-naked choke, a knitting needle pressed to her throat.

"Hello again, Petunia."

"Ewith." Petunia hissed. "You're pwaying a dangewous game, Ewith."

The knitting squad present raised their weapons, deadly intent in their eyes.