I was at the auto repair shop to have my car fixed. As usual, I had my current manuscript, "Stockley Murder Case," with me. I went to the counter to let the mechanic know I was there. I sat the file on the counter while I signed the estimate form. I went into the waiting room, took a seat and went to work on my manuscript. An hour and a half later, the mechanic came to tell me my car was ready.
As I was making out my check, the mechanic said, "After changing the starter, I washed the car. No charge."
I smiled and signed the check.
"You looked so busy working on your file, I didn't want to interrupt you so I vacuumed the inside of the car too."
I was so surprised I just stared at him for a second, then said, "What?"
He pointed at my file folder and asked, "Did you figure out who did the murder?"
"The clues were there," I replied. "I knew all along he did it."
"Will I be reading about it in the newspaper?" he asked.
It was a that moment I realized he thought I was a police officer and the file folder contained the information for a real murder case. "I don't think so," I said as I handed him my check.
I hurried out to my sparkling clean outside, vacuumed clean insider car.
As I opened the car door, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "You forgot your file," the mechanic said. "You won't catch him without your evidence."
Thanks," I mumbled, taking the folder. I drove from the lot vowing never to write the title of a manuscript on the file folder again.
© 2011 Fiona L. Woods