Page 17 - Demo

slippery rock gAzette
August 2021|17
The Stone Detective
If part of your business model includes remodeling bathrooms, you may recognize the clues in this wall space behind a shower.
The Case of the Gangsta Rat
Frederick M. Hueston, PhD
brought my bat, but I grabbed a broom on the way back to the kitchen. There he was, sitting there bold as brass, as if he was purposely teasing Flo. I swatted at him and he took off under the stove. I helped Flo down from her perch and told her I needed my morn- ing cup of joe after the ex- citement. I went back to my regular stool, sat down, and then my phone rang. Yes, it rings at all hours of the
morning.
The voice on the other
end said he was a contractor who was doing a bathroom re- model in some big wig’s home. He said they had a problem with the shower in the master bath and thought it might be leaking, since he saw some water spots on the opposite wall to the shower. He told me he needed someone with some test equipment to see if it was leaking. I told him I could look at it right away. He said, “Thanks, see ya later.”
I arrived at the home, or should I say castle. The place was huge. It was almost the size of the Biltmore House in North Carolina. I parked the old Woody
Iwoke up to the sound of a gunshot echoing down my street. Heck, it was 5 in the morning! I don’t live in a bad area, but I immediately went to my gun safe to grab my old Louisville slugger. You thought I was going to say shot gun, didn’t you? Well, I have one of those too, but for some reason, walking out of my front door holding a bat seemed like the thing to do. After all, I’ve already been tagged by some of the neighbors as a crazy old man. Why, I have no idea. Maybe ‘cause I drive a 1953 Woody station wagon. They don’t build them like they used too. Plus, I don’t have to worry about all those fancy electronics. After all, I learned to drive a stick shift, and even how to roll the window down with a crank and not a button. But enough about me and my eccentricities; let’s get to today’s case...
As soon as I stepped
outside, I found out it
wasn’t a gunshot, only a
backfire from a car. But
I just gave my neigh-
bors another reason to
call me crazy. Yup –
you guessed it. Forgot
to put on my robe and walked outside in my underwear. It’s a good thing I don’t sleep in my birthday suit.
I walked back inside, got dressed and headed over to see Flo for some early morning java and perhaps some French toast. As I walked in the door I could hear Flo screaming in the kitchen... again. Luckily, it was early and the diner almost empty; only the old admiral was there, and he’s almost deaf.
Well, if you remember my last story, there was a mouse incur- sion in the diner. This time it wasn’t a mouse, but a rat. At this point I was thinking I should have
in front of the house and was im-
mediately greeted by a short, who called me.
stout gentleman. He was wearing
a t-shirt with his company name Please turn to page 19
on it, so I assumed he was the guy
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