The Private Eye

By Charlotte

Hi! I am a Private Eye. You probably expect me to be young, and Super-Duper sneaky but really that is not me. I am 1,000 years old and rather clumsy and. Yeah, not too Private Eyeish but I am pretty good at my job.

You see, it all happened one day when I was walking through the woods and I found a weird old grass hut. I poked my head in and an old lady was standing in front of a big pot. When I saw the broom sweeping itself I knew she was an abnormal lady. “Hello?” I called to the old woman.

“Eh? What ye’ say? Me hearin’ ain't as good as it was when I was yer age!” “Hi!” I yelled. “What are you doing?” “Me? I is just an old peddler makin’ a livin. Ye’ look like ye’ need sum help. What is it ye’ want? Love potions? Tern yer brother into a rat? Superpowers? A-” “Yes! Superpowers! Just what I need!” “That’s to be 100 buckaroos ” “What! That is all I’ve got!” “Superpowers are expensive.” “Fine” I grumbled emptying my wallet into the old ladies hands.

That is how I got my powers, giving all my money to an old witch. What the witch didn’t tell me was along with superpowers you also live forever so I am 1,000 years old and still young. If I say so myself I think that thanks to the witch I am a fairly good private eye because I can make my steps silent be invisible and I can hear and see really well so if you add all of that up, I am pretty good. Also! I forgot to mention I could fly!

A normal day for me is probably like some sci-fi movie for you but for me, since I met the witch it is normal. First, I get up and make breakfast. Usually cereal but if I feel adventurous I will have an Bird of Paradise egg. Then I fly to my office and wait for a call to work. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! “Yes?” I asked. “Murder on Oak Street! I want you to look for clues then try to follow him.” “I’m on it!” I call as I fly out the door to Oak Street.

When I get there I go to the scene and use my high power vision to look for fingerprints and other small clues on where to go. Lying on the ground was a gun that had very distinct fingerprint on it. On an old and creaky fire escape ladder I spied  a  fingerprint that looked the same then another a little farther on.

I call the police and tell them my discovery. They arrive minutes later and I guide them up the escape until I find a print on a door knob of the top floor. “In there.” I whisper. I went into the building and in the messy room I saw many of the same fingerprints on the escape ladder. “I think this is where he lives, his fingerprints are everywhere!”

“Lets wait until he comes back then we can fingerprint him and ask him some questions. We won’t be needing you anymore, Private Eye. Thanks for your help.” The chief police said. “Farewell and good luck!” I replied

As it turns out the man I thought the murderer was indeed the murderer.

THE END