We have been working on another writers workshop and I chose to do a descriptive since that was the only one I haven’t done yet. It is called Jack Johnson and the One Hundred Million Dollar Robbery
Jack Smith and the $100,000,000 Case
My name is Jack Smith. I’m a private eye, but you can call me a detective. I solve crimes for a living. One morning, as I was paying my bills, I was presented a case.
A bald, big man slammed open the door of my dark, dirty office. He didn’t look like the type to present an easy case, but then again, none of them do. He said his name was John Johnson, owner of Johnson bank, the largest one in this side of the milky way. It was big, and rich too. I had heard of it before, and after all, who hadn’t? He told me what happened.
He was leaving work after a meeting. Only the secretary, Gary Gorilla, and the electrician where there. Gary was helping the electrician fix a broken ATM machine. John had told Gary he could leave, but Gary wanted to stay late to earn more money. Besides, It was important to fix it, as 3 bank robbers in the area had escaped prison. Casie Jones, Frank Miller, and Bob Birdbrain. It was a Friday, so when he returned to work on Monday, all the money in the vault was gone. That was all the knowledge on the case. The three robbers caught though, all on Sunday evening. Casie Jones and Frank Miller were both caught at the Big Win Casino, but Bob Birdbrain was caught on Elmer Street, the same street as the bank was on. The police report said he had a sack, but when he ran through a couple alleys and they caught him, he didn’t have it anymore.
I went to the local prison and talked to them all. The prison was very grey and boring. Not the place you would want to be stuck in. Frank Miller admitted that he was robbing the casino but he was never on Elmer Street once. Casie Jones was very quiet, except a few grunting noises. Then as I was just about to leave and add him to a top runner, he said that if he was ever on Elmer Street, I could call him banana. I chose to trust him, or at least not put him on the list of my top suspicions. I wanted to know from everyone first before putting him up there just because he didn’t speak much. I went to the real suspect, Bob Birdbrain. He told me that the sack was empty and he was just looking for some food, because he was starving. He said his sack was stolen by some guy wearing a fancy suit. Then, the guy who stole it climbed up the side of the building. I asked him if he knew the guys name. He said there was a nametag but he was sworn to secrecy. He pounded his chest as I walked away, as if to say, “You cant get anything out of me.” Although I did get quite a bit out of him. A person who makes that story must be the real robber.
I still thought I should get more information, as I could’ve just interpreting something wrong. I met up with my friends, Luis Mendoza and Kenny DeSmith, at an old coffee shop. The smell of coffee helps me concentrate. After I told them what I had so far, Luis said, “I don’t think it was any of your suspects. They were giving clues about something else.” He was deep in concentration, and he seemed like he was on the verge of an answer. Then Kenny said, “I just moved into a new neighbourhood and I haven’t met anyone yet. I do know that someone got there late Friday night in a red convertible. They both carried suitcases and one had a sack. One person had a fancy suit that looked all shredded, but I couldn’t make out the faces because it was so dark. They were gone the next morning, but there could be clues at their house. One paper was on their driveway and knowing that you might need it because of all the sketchy stuff happening around there, I took it. It says 341-287.”
“Woah! That’s the vault password!” I nearly spit out my cappuccino when Kenny said that.
I figured I’d go investigate the bank. There was a lock on the door of John Johnson’s office, but he opened it for me. I looked in his office, which was neat, except for in one place. I walked over to an old shoe box, where there was a slit cut open on the top. It looked like it was cut open from a small rectangular shape, like a nametag. John told me that was where he hid the piece of paper with the vault password. I walked out of his office and saw the ATM was fixed. I investigated it and saw a nametag was shoved in there, keeping it in place. The name was smudged off, but there was a picture of a gorilla on it, like it was a joke someone pulled. Mr. Johnson said he hadn’t seen the nametag before. Then, suddenly it clicked.
“John, have you seen a red convertible here before?”
“Yes! It was driven by Gary Gorilla. He moved away just on Saturday. He was so polite. He wore the nicest suits.”
“I’ve solved your case! It was Gary Gorilla, your secretary. He stayed late on Friday to get the money with the electrician, who you gave the keys to your office so he could access anything he needed. He used the key to get in and used one of Gary’s old nametags. The cutting smeared off the name, but they didn’t realize the picture hadn’t. They thought it was all good, but they threw the nametag in the ATM just in case. The electrician was the only one who would ever look in the ATM anyway, or so they thought. Coincidentally, the ATM started working anyway, but they never noticed. They opened the vault because they now had the password and took the money. Then, when they were about to leave, they saw Bob Birdbrain looking at them. He ran away, and a police car came and found him. Gary and the electrician didn’t want him to tell the police, so they ran though another alley to find him. They took his sack so he wouldn’t get caught, and they ran away. They went up an old fire exit but in the darkness, it looked like they were climbing walls. Their first mistake was a nosy neighbour.” And I winked at Kenny, who had just shown up.
Gary and the electrician went to prison, and I stayed in my coffee smelling, messy office where I wait until my next case.