Sam Samson, Detective
A Suspense Story
by Grunion Guy
Sam Samson was a good guy.
He liked to help people because he was a detective. He always
worked for free and was very popular.
One day a pretty girl came
into Sam's office. He always had pretty girls in his office because
he was a good guy, who helped people, for free. She walked over
to his desk and began to cry. She was left-handed.
"Don't cry pretty
lady," Sam said. "It gets things all wet and you look
like you're not tough." Sam was tough too. He never cried
no matter what, especially in front of a pretty girl.
"Hi," she said
cheerfully. "I'm Kate Samson."
"Hi," Sam said.
"How are you today?"
"I'm fine," he
"I need your help,"
"How can I be of service?"
"My name is Kate Samson
and I need your help," she pleaded desperately.
"What can I do?"
"My friend has been
killed. I don't know who murdered him, but he was murdered. Somebody
"Don't worry Kate,
I'll solve the case and I'll save your life too!"
"Oh Sam, that would
Then, they kissed on the
lips for twenty two seconds.
Sam and Kate walked down
the street to the crime scene. It was in San Francisco. He had
a trench coat and a hat, and he carried a gun too. The gun had
six bullets in it.
At the murder scene there
was a dead body on the ground with a chalk drawing of itself
around itself. The chalk was milky-white and eerie.
Pete Samson, a detective,
was in charge there. He was a detective too, but not like Sam
who was a detective. Sam was a private detective and Pete was
a public detective. They hated each other.
"What are you doing
here you stupid head," Pete yelled.
"I'm on the case now,
Pete," Sam retorted.
"Well, you're stupid,"
the enraged public detective raged.
"Stick and stones
may break my nose but names will never hurt me!" responded
Sam effortlessly. "Ha, so there."
"O.K., you win this
time Samson. But remember, I've got you on the tip of my tongue!"
The mad detective went home to have coffee.
Sam and his dame looked
over the murder scene hand in hand. It was one of those moments
when they suddenly found themselves alone and wanted to do it,
like in the other detective stories. So they did it. Then they
hunted for clues at the murder scene, happy.
"Oh my God! Look at
this!" shrieked Kate. "There's a big knife sticking
out of his throat!" Upon closer inspection, Sam concluded
that Kate had been right. They had found their first big clue.
They had the murder weapon, which was a big knife.
Blood gushed out on the
ground. It was blood-red. It made a kind of "squishy-squishy"
sound as they waded through it looking for more evidence.
The victim who was dead
was named Kyle Samson. He was rich and famous and had lots and
lots of stuff. The murder scene was at his house where he'd been
killed with a knife. There was blood everywhere.
Kate and Sam looked for
more clues. They soon found an address book titled: Kyle Samson's
Address Book. They thought that maybe the murderer could be somewhere
in that book. Well, not really in it, but his (or her! hint,
hint) name and phone number and address might be in there.
They started with the A's.
There were none. Nor were there any B's. In fact, the book wasn't
even started until the S's. They started there then.
The first name on the list
was Samson, Omar Samson. Omar was an ethnically diverse, and
thus politically more acceptable, and thus more likely to be
published character. He was brown. Sam and Kate walked to his
house, which was in San Francisco near the ocean.
"Where were you the
night of August seventh of this year?" Sam grilled. That
was the night that the murder happened, when the victim was killed.
"I was home watching
TV." Sam, I mean Omar, replied.
"A likely story!"
Sam informed. "For, you don't have a TV. I did research
"How did you know?"
the puzzled Omar asked puzzledly.
"I did research on
you!" he howled.
"O.K., I'll admit
that I wasn't watching television. I was listening to the radio
on the night of the murder."
"How did you know
that I was here about a murder?" Sam asked slyly.
"I don't know,"
proclaimed Omar. For, they had forgotten to do the introduction
"Hi," Sam stated,
going back to the introduction stuff they'd forgot to do. "I'm
Sam Samson and this is Kate. I'm solving the murder of her friend
Kyle. I want to ask you a few questions, okay?"
responded. Omar was brown.
"Now, let's skip ahead
to after you said you were listening to the radio, okay?"
"Then you didn't kill
Kyle Samson, did you?"
Sam was glad that the ethnically
diverse guy hadn't killed the victim because that would seem
to be a racist statement, and Sam was a good guy.
Next on the list was Dr.
Squidlo Samson, the old professor of science at the university.
The University was in San Francisco, near the water, so Sam and
Kate walked there too.
This guy was white, so
he could be the murderer.
"Hi," Sam Samson
said. "This is Kate and we're investigating a murder. Kyle,
your old student was stabbed in the throat."
"I zee," zaid
ze doktor in a Ruzian akzent like all profezors. "I vill
tell you all dat I know."
Oops. Sam then questioned
the doctor quickly and silently because he knew that his God's
spell checker was not going to like the professor's speech much.
Sam just knew that the old professor didn't do it.
Kate and Sam walked back
to Sam's office and did it again. It was steamy and romantic,
too. After they were done and happy again, they waited for some
new evidence to present itself. At five P.M., the phone rang.
It was Pete Samson, the
detective, who hated Sam, the good guy, but always called him
up to give him clues because it turned out they were really friends
and that the whole hatred thing was just an act to trap the real
"Sam," Pete announced.
"Pete," Sam explained.
"Hi, this is Sam."
"Sam," Pete proclaimed
aloud. "I've got some knew information for you that we've
found, and that you forgot to notice at the murder scene."
Sam asked, surprised and yet joyed at the same time.
"Scrawled in blood-red
blood, on the ceiling, by a left-handed person, were the words:
I killed Kyle Samson with a big knife; Signed, Kate!" Putting
two and two together Sam suddenly knew who the murderer really
He whirled around to see
Kate pulling a gun from her purse. She looked like a bad guy
now. She wasn't really that pretty anymore.
"How'd you figure
it out?" Kate asked Sam.
"Well, I noticed right
off the bat that he'd written your name in his book with his
left hand, only he was right handed. Also, a note in blood-red
blood was written by a left-handed person on the ceiling. And
you're left-handed, so you're the murder. Because, in actuality,
you never knew Kyle Samson at all. You killed him with that knife,
wrote your name in his address book really fast, wrote the note
on the ceiling really fast, and then ran over here to blame the
whole thing on the brown-skinned ethnic person. I can't believe
I did it with you!""
"You're pretty clever,
Sam. We could have made quite a pair. But, you had to figure
things out. Everything would have been okay if it wasn't for
those kids and their pesky dog! I'm afraid I'm just going to
have to shoot you with this gun now."
So, Sam pulled out his
gun and shot her instead. She started to die from the fatal gunshot
wound to her face.
"I'm sorry Sam,"
she whimpered. "I always loved you." And she died as
the police charged into the room
Pete said. "I guess you solved another one, Sam. How do
you do it?"
"Elementary, my dear
Just then, Sam's real girlfriend,
who was even prettier than Kate, came into his office, and they
did it. After the cops had left of course.
So Sam was the good guy
still. He'd solved another case yet again. But, he still couldn't
believe that Kate had killed Kyle. But she had. Unless her being
the murder is sexist, and not politically correct publishing
material to editors. In that case, the old guy did it.