Didn’t get thrown in the box tonight. Good, it’s always cramped in there, and I’ve got work to do.

I remember her pale face, red braids, and those beady eyes staring at the ceiling. Someone had decided to beat the stuffing out of her, and when they couldn’t, they gutted her. My job was to figure out who did.

I hit the usual spots. Pothead’s first. I let my fist do the talking. The man speaks fast. Having a wife made him a target once, and ever since, he’s prone to breaking into pieces. “I’ll lend you a hand, Tedâ€?, he says, “keep an eye outâ€?. I leave him in his corner to rot.

I make my way to the villa. The blonde’s got new wheels, and a new boy. Rich girl is usually a good one to visit, toying with me with whatever gossip she heard. But this time, nothing. Vacuous airhead living in her dream house.

No leads or witnesses.

Sun’s coming. Yet another case I can’t solve. Act of God they’ll tell me.

What kind of god would do this?

I decide to hit the sack.

After all, I’m just a teddy bear with a badge.