The night's pallor matched that of the surface's

The night's pallor matched that of the surface's shadows, blending the environment into a singular darkness. Detective James Manatee, combat chopsticks in hand, investigated the

dregs of the chop suey at the bottom of the carton. "Ugh" said Det. Manatee, tossing the carton into a nearby dumpster. "Hey, watch it!" came a cry from the dumpster. It was

a homeless man. "If you're going to make home delivery at least have the courtesy to knock on my can! Mmm... chinese." Manatee studied the man's pedicured nails. "Something fishy",

a pedicure on his hands-aHA! That’s why there were no footprints at the crime scene. This homeless perp walked on his hands or he has no feet." Manatee pulled him from the trashcan

with Pasta tongs. "Where's your feet?" But the Homeless Perp turned out to be a sack of dirty socks with a face painted on it. On the roof Det. Manatee so a shadow sprint and

he matrix-flip-twirl-jumped across the rooves after the homeless dirty sock pile perp's cohort, a broken lint trap. Det. Manatee could only pull this trick off once every 28 days.

Landing on the sidewalk with a thump,Det.Manatee thought he'd lost the lagostomatic lint trap.But then he spotted a wisp of lavender fluff clinging to a bush across the street. Aha

a clue! Detective Manatee grabbed his large magnifying glass from his breast pocket to examine the wisp of lavender fluff. The wind was blowing in an easterly direction. The lint t

read pointed north. Det. Manatee snuffled in triumph. Only a psychopath with a love of Scarlatti would think of that! He packed his harpsichord and set off to the North Pole confid