The Longest Pun Ever
The cop sat alone in his stuffy police cruiser, tugging at his collar with his left hand and fanning himself with his right hand. Around him were candy wrappers, pulp fiction books, and other little trinkets to kill time, because no crime ever happened in the tiny backwater town of Havenshire, Illinois.
The cop, whose name was James Thomas, was fanning himself because his cruiser’s air conditioning was shot. He didn’t know how to fix it, so he simply sat in the cruiser with both windows rolled down, fanning himself and feeling bitter.
“Stupid cruiser,” he muttered, kicking the object in question. “Stupid record-breaking summer.” If there was just some crime, he reflected, something he could do, the hundred-degree heat wouldn’t feel so bad. He’d signed on with the force last year for excitement, as much of it as he could find in Havenshire. He was sorely mistaken. The most the cops were called on was a loud party. His twenty-six year-old mind fidgeted and was restless.
James’s police scanner crackled and static spilled out. James nudged the scanner and began to decipher words. He listened without really paying attention.
“So Jodie Benkowski just phoned in,” his boss’s voice droned, not bothering with sounding formal, “you know, that Star Wars nut? Anyway, she phoned in ‘cause her Toyota was just stolen. Pretty big thing to happen in Havenshire, hm? Whoever wants to take the case, just buzz in.”
“Me!” James shrieked, spilling water from his canteen all over his sweaty officer’s uniform. He dropped the canteen and slammed his fist on the buzz-in button. “Boss, I’ll take it!” This is it, he thought as his canteen dribbled water all over his new shoes. Something interesting. Something new! The last car theft in Havenshire had taken place ten years ago. This was exciting.
  “Sure, James,” his boss buzzed back. “Whatever you want, man. The Toyota’s a green one, brand new.” His boss didn’t bother giving him the address – Havenshire was such a small town that everyone knew everyone and their address.
“Okay, boss. I’ll get right on it!” James said eagerly. He jammed his hand into his pocket for his keys, fumbled for two minutes trying to get the keys in the ignition, and almost hit a fire hydrant as he backed up. Jodie Benkowski lived down Lasseter Street, a street fifteen minutes from his location. He got there in seven minutes.
James jumped out of his cruiser when he pulled up by Jodie’s pastel-pink house. He sucked in a lungful of air and told himself to act professional, collected, cop-like. Just in case, he grabbed his fingerprinting kit from the glove compartment. Then he hitched a smile on his face, ascended Jodie’s creaky termite-ridden porch steps, and rang the doorbell.
Jodie opened the door with a smile on his face. “Ooh, James Thomas! Nice to see you again. I heard you were on the force now.” She grinned at his familiar face. He smiled back. He and Jodie had been in the same graduating class in high school.
James let himself be ushered in. Jodie’s house was a bit messy, but very comfortable. All of the furniture was squashy and soft. The windows had been thrown open, and pastel curtains fluttered. Magazines, books and candy wrappers were strewn around the floor.
“Thanks for coming,” Jodie said, locking the door – something unheard of in Havenshire. “I can’t believe it – never had to lock my door before.”
“Yeah,” James said, trying to retain an outward look of serenity. Inside he was burning with impatience. Already he could see the headlines – James Thomas puts ruthless thief behind bars. And underneath, his picture. “Could I see the crime scene?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s in the garage, I’ll show you.” Jodie led James out a side door and down a little path bordered by tulips. The garage door was open but hadn’t been forced with in any way. The garage was so stuffed full of Star Wars paraphernalia that James was surprised any car could fit in it.
A huge shelf leaned against the far wall, which held hundreds of tiny figurines. James studied one – it was of Leia. On one wall life-sized cardboard cutouts of Star Wars characters were propped up. A giant purple lightsaber flickered feebly beside them. Star Wars posters were plastered on every surface, like wallpaper.
Jodie disappeared back into the house, giving him some peace. James prowled around the dusty knickknacks, looking for any clues and humming the CSI theme song under his breath. There was nothing to be found, just a few smudges of dust. He broke out his fingerprinting kit and carefully took fingerprints of the doorknob. After that, he went inside and fingerprinted Jodie.
“So, hey, Jodie,” he asked as he packed up his kit, “did you see anyone suspicious around your garage?”
Jodie bit her lip and leaned back, thinking hard. James whipped out his little notebook, which was covered in bored doodles, and waited eagerly.
“Yeah, there was Judy Halling,” Jodie murmured, tapping her fingers against her pink lips. “I can’t imagine Judy stealing, though. She’s so nice. I don’t think she’d steal – wait, her family’s not too well off, are they? Hm… Oh, and there was Trevor Beckett, he was hanging around yesterday with those two girls who always fawn over him. Said he was resting before his swim meet.”
“No one else?”
“Nope.”
James said goodbye to Jodie then, took a few of the cookies she’d whipped up, and got back in his cruiser. He sat in his car with a puffed chest. He was sure no one else in the HPD had ever used a fingerprinting kit before. The accomplishment wasn’t much, but it proved how exciting his case was. James bit into a cookie and grinned.
Trevor Beckett was closest. He was having a swim meet in a half-hour, at the high school. James knew of the Becketts. They were the richest, most important family in the richest, most important section of town. James’s first job as a cop had been to shut down one of Trevor’s loud parties. His second had been to ticket one of Trevor’s sportscars. James made up his mind – it was Trevor Beckett who would be questioned first.
The high school bustled with students, each one chattering to their friends. Even from a distance, it was obvious which one was Trevor. Three girls were practically hanging onto him as he flexed an unnecessary amount. James rolled his eyes and got out of the cruiser.
The students parted like the Red Sea the moment that James stepped out. He grinned at their wary faces, feeling self-important. Trevor made to move out of the way too, but James halted right in front of him. If that look of surprise on Trevor’s face was fake, James reflected, then Trevor was a really good actor.
“Trevor Beckett. Can I have a word?”
Instantly Trevor’s face twisted with distaste. “I didn’t do anything! And the meet’s about to start.”
But James beckoned anyway, and Trevor reluctantly followed him outside of the room to an abandoned hallway. Trevor was curling his lip and muttering obscenities. James took out his little notebook and began.
“So, Trevor, did you know that Jodie Benkowski’s Toyota was stolen today?”
“What? No. Is that what you’re accusing me of?! I didn’t even know she had a car!”
“Hm. Well, can you explain why you were hanging around Jodie’s home just a little bit ago?”
Trevor crossed his arms and pouted. “I was just sitting on the curb resting. Just ask Trisha and Elle – they were with me. We were just hanging out. Go ask them – I didn’t steal any cars!”
James neatly printed Elle and Trisha in his notebook. Just as he finished, Trevor spat, “Why would I steal a car anyway? I’ve got a sportscar already. Why would I want some Toyota?”
James opened his mouth and searched for a snarky response, but couldn’t find any. Annoyed, he closed his mouth. Trevor smirked triumphantly. He allowed James to fingerprint him, then left for the swim meet.
Trisha and Elle were questioned next. They both testified that Trevor hadn’t stolen anything. James watched them walk away with restless dissatisfaction. Conducting the interview hadn’t been as thrilling as he’d hoped. On Law and Order this sort of thing was exciting to simply watch.
Judy Halling was next. James drove there in a preoccupied silence, wishing he had paid more attention to the crime scene. He hardly noticed when the road turned to crunchy gravel and the neat pastel houses to sagging, drab brown shacks. This was the polar opposite of Trevor’s side of town. The Hallings lived in one of these shacks with half their extended family.
The mailbox outside of Judy Halling’s house was crooked and the post it was nailed to was split down the middle. The Halling’s shack was larger than most shacks because it had a second story, although one could hardly tell that from the sagging roof. Tires, cracked flower pots and boots with no match littered the front lawn. A little scarlet rosebush swayed underneath a yellowed window. James knew the bush was Judy’s, because he saw her slaving over it whenever he drove past.
James expected heads to pop out of the window when he stepped out of his cruiser, but nothing happened. He raised his eyebrows and walked across the lawn to the screen door. As he rapped his knuckles on the side of the door, regret formed inside him. It felt like a heavy stone was sinking in his stomach. Judy was a nice girl, like Jodie had said. She never stole, never talked back to James. Sometimes he saw her walking to school, trying to scrub dirt off her face, wearing the same stained shirt as yesterday.
The door creaked open, and tiny, grubby fingers appeared around it. Judy’s familiar pasty face peeked out of the crack, her mouth tight and her eyes hard with distrust. When she saw James, some of the hardness went away, but most of it stayed. James was still a cop.
“Hi, James. What’s wrong?”
James pulled out his notebook, his movements slow and his expression regretful. “Hi, Judy. I just need to ask you a couple questions.” He winced horribly when Judy’s sweet face paled. Her shaking fingers rattled the screen door.
“Could I come in?” James asked quietly when it became obvious that Judy was not going to say anything. She cast a terrified glance at his shiny police badge and nodded. James walked in, every step more reluctant than the last. How could small, timid Judy steal a car? James couldn’t picture her stealing a tube of toothpaste.
“Nice place,” James murmured, but it really wasn’t. The junk of thirteen people littered the living room, which was stuffed with as many beds as possible. A bunny-eared TV buzzed in the corner. Judy perched on the edge of one bed, looking like a bird about to take off. Her fingers were spasming in her lap.
“I just wanted to ask you a couple questions about Jodie Benkowski. Now, I’m not saying you did anything,” James hastened, as Judy whimpered, “I just have to interview everyone who might be a suspect. Jodie says she saw you hanging around her garage earlier today. What were you doing there?” James looked into Judy’s drab brown eyes, which were much too large for her face, and wished more than ever that Trevor had confessing to stealing the Toyota.
Judy squeaked something. James unhooked his canteen, which he had refilled, from his belt and tossed it to her. Her hands bolted to her face, and she just barely caught the canteen. All was silent as her shaking fingers raised the canteen to her lips. Judy accidentally sloshed some water on herself and made a sad disbelieving noise. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed her shirt.
“Sorry,” James whispered, wincing. “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Judy murmured. “Um, I wasn’t doing anything at Jodie’s house. I was just in the neighborhood. Um.” She seemed to know this was a suspicious thing to say, and bit her lip. James wrote down what she said, taking extra long time so that Judy could collect herself.
“I, um, was looking at Jodie’s garden. She has a pretty garden. I didn’t go near her garage at all.”
“See anyone else there?”
“Trevor Beckett showed up when I left. Um. That’s all.”
James leaned against the wall and tapped his pen against his chin. Judy couldn’t possibly steal the car, she wasn’t the type of girl to do that. Still thinking, he turned his head and peered out the yellowed window. Something struck him as odd.
“Hey – what happened to your mom’s car?” James pointed out the window, to Mrs. Halling’s red sedan. The entire back half of the sedan looked like the surface of a crumpled aluminum ball.
“Oh.” Judy’s voice quavered. “Car crash. She can’t drive it anymore. That’s why none of my family’s here, they’re all looking for a mechanic.”
This was a big deal. Mrs. Halling was one of the only Hallings with a job. She wouldn’t be able to drive to Archlet, the town outside of Havenshire where she worked, without a car.
“When was this?”
“Two months ago.”
James nibbled his pen. Judy now had a motive, something that Trevor didn’t have. James pressed his lips together, his insides roiling, as he faced facts. Judy was suspect number one.
He left Judy’s house fifteen minutes later, a copy of Judy’s fingerprints stored in his fingerprinting kit. Judy’s thin face behind iron bars flashed before him whenever he closed his eyes. Judy Halling – a car thief? It was not altogether impossible. The last car theft had been committed by Marvin Halling. James remembered the bold headlines and the guarded whispers that week. 
James drove back to the police department and dropped off his kit. The lab promised results by tomorrow – they, too, seemed overjoyed at the thought of real work. James’s shoulders were drooped and his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled back to his cruiser. Judy Halling…
The next day was his off day. James had planned to spend the day with his sister, Melanie, who was celebrating her thirty-sixth birthday in Archlet. He was hard-pressed to admit that he hadn’t spent much time with her family lately. Melanie was wonderful, but her son and husband weren’t much company.
James rung Melanie’s doorbell, smoothing back his collar with his other hand. Melanie flung open the door, beaming at him. He smiled back.
“Gosh, you look great,” she exclaimed, pulling him in. “Come in, see your nephew – he’s been talking about you!”
Melanie’s house was rather small, but she’d done the best she could with the space. Pictures hung from every wall, mostly of family. Rugs overlapped on the floor. A couple patched armchairs of different colors surrounded a TV. Stuart, Melanie’s son, looked up from one of the armchairs, a book entitled Dark Force Rising in his hands. He stuffed the book between the armchair’s arm and cushion when he saw James walk in.
“Hey,” Stuart murmured, still shoving in the book. “You’re that cop, right?”
“Mm hm. Hello again, Stuart.” Stuart was a weedy, lanky fourteen-year old. He pushed his glasses up his greasy nose. As James watched his glasses slid down again. Stuart’s hair was mousey brown and a bit too long. He moved like a puppet being directed by an unskilled puppeteer.
“I just need a minute, I didn’t expect you so soon.” Melanie bustled over to the dining room, where warm yellow light was spilling out. James could see Melanie’s husband Tim staring longingly at Melanie’s birthday cake.
Melanie’s leaving left Stuart and James alone together. James sat down in the armchair beside Stuart’s, his expression clouded. The fingerprinting kit had come in this morning, and neither Judy’s nor Trevor’s fingerprints had been found. The lab did find an unfamiliar fingerprint on the garage doorknob, but they didn’t know whose it was. James was back where he began. He blew out, sagged into the squashy armchair, and rubbed his face.
“What’s up?” Stuart asked.
James shrugged. “Just my latest case.” He groaned.
“You’re tracking the guy who stole from Jodie, right?” Stuart fiddled with his fingers, and his leg jiggled.
“Yeah, that guy. We’ve got his fingerprints, so that’s a start.” James turned to Stuart, who was picking at his Star War t-shirt. “But anyway, let’s change the topic. You’re a Star Wars fan, yeah?”
Before Stuart could answer Melanie appeared in the living room. “Oh yes,” she commented, “Stuart absolutely adores Star Wars. We can’t get him to shut up about it. Stuart, go show your uncle your Star Wars figures. He’s got such a huge collection, he finally completed it yesterday.”
“No, that stuff’s boring –” Stuart began, his fingers twitching, but James, feeling that as Stuart’s uncle he should at least act interested, stood up. “No, show me.”
With no choice left, Stuart got up slowly and ascended the staircase, James on his heels.
“So, ah,” Stuart mumbled as they climbed, “how long will the thief be in jail? If they catch him, I mean.”
“Probably a couple years. Marvin Halling committed the same crime and he got ten years.”
“And it’s just a matter of time before you catch him?”
“Yup.”
They entered Suart’s cramped room, which was covered in Star Wars posters. A huge shelf of collectable figurines, the same that Jodie collected, rested by the door. James studied them. Stuart watched him, oddly pale. His expression twisted as James bent closer to the figurines.
“Okay, okay, fine!” Stuart shouted, seizing his hair and yanking it with both hands. “It was me! I stole from Jodie!”
“Wait, what? You stole her Toyota?”
Stuart seized a little Yoda figurine from his shelf. “I stole this toy Yoda!”
The End!