The Sound of Theft

This is not my best moment I admit, being framed by a koala, is definitely not the best moment in my career as private detective. I have been following complaints of things... disappearing. The only thing that people had said was every time they 'misplaced' something there was a song stuck in there head that seemed to reverberate in their skulls in such a way that it resonated and, didn't escape till a week later. 

The things stolen where odd to say the least:

• an Iron Steel Teapot
• a broken time piece 
• a freshly baked rhubarb pie
• a good percent of the neighborhoods pennies 
• the contents of a drawer full of broken earbuds
• the top of a Crystal decanter

Owners of such items did not complain to the police; that's where I come in, the noisy ease-dropper people don't notice; I am deliberately boring to the eyes, and other senses. You see, I wasn't hired for the case per-say, for the simple fact that I am too good at not being noticed. Though it comes with perks it is in fact both necessary and counterproductive to my business. As such, my day job is being the on floor assistant at the local gossip shop. (Handy, right?) 

Breaking open the case was boring, sweeping while thinking of all of the stories you've cataloged in your head while working is indeed boring. In fact if I was in anyway concentrating it probably wouldn't have come at all. The news was playing in the background gibbering something about a koala, and just as I was zoning upon a portal to nowhere land, I remembered the newspaper article I was reading and then googled, like all good people do, about the stolen ocarina from the museum, Myths of Man and, Wikipedia said that it held mysterious powers that 'the tales' could (of course) only describe in poems.

The one who blows 

No one may ever know 

For the melodies left behind

But beware those who know 

For consequences always lie

Across the breeze

   

If I could find the missing, ocarina then I could stop the person making my life miserable with the ever repeating song. .... I just revealed my true motives didn't I ... well ... then I should also probably admit that I'm not a private eye just, a really desperate gossip shop assistant. Which makes the next part of the story rather... rash, stupid and should I listen to my mother just down right “impetuously hair brained". 

So here's how it went, I bought a ticket to the museum with a container full of destroyed Maui Blue  eye shadow, and a blush brush hidden in my purse, and a ton of notes lining my arms. Bumbling in to the museum I made my way to the police patrol manning the yellow line and stumbled in such a way that my papers exploded in to the air, and I landed painfully on my arm (finger printing was no longer applicable.) The unfortunately too successful ploy, did in fact have the expected results the police man walked forward to help, I was crying because... I broke my arm.Getting him talking about what had happened behind the yellow type, was rather easy apparently going into shock is a bigger concern then police gossip. It ended when the  EMT's arrived on the scene to help the minor (sigh... that's me), and "help" me, with a phone call to my mom... Yay. 

I did get some good information such as it was a joke of the station that a koala stole it, due to a rookie supposing it after an all-nighter involving too much coffee. The officer also backed it up by assuring me that it wasn't possible, no matter what grey hair was found at the scene. The latter was mumbled... I don't suppose I was to hear that.

                                        Thus started the search for the Annoying Koala.

To be Continued.....

  

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