A gust of wind blew open the bedroom door of Spurlock Homes. Spurlock opened one eye slowly and wiped the gunk out of it with his sleeve. The sun was shining and fading Spurlock's classic Farrah Fawcett poster on the wall.
Spurlock closed his eye and pulled the covers over his head to block out the sun. At that moment, the piercing scream of Momma Homes rattled the house.
"SPURLOCK!"
Reluctantly, Spurlock got out of bed, put on his lucky pants and his Tuesday blue Dr. Who t-shirt and headed down the stairs.
"SPUR- oh, there you are, dear," said Momma Homes. "here's some oatmeal. Do you have any of those cute cases today?"
"Momma," answered Spurlock, "My cases aren't cute, but no, I don't have any." Exasperated he continued, "I haven't had any for a month."
Momma Homes turned away to cover her smile and asked, "What about those flyers? Didn't they work?"
"I think Captain John had his deputies take them down. I didn't get a single call."
The phone buzzed in Spurlock's pocket. With his left hand he checked his phone and with the right he grabbed a spoonful of oatmeal. Mumbling a farewell, Spurlock headed out the door.
It hadn't always been this way for Spurlock. Five years ago he'd had a booming business. He solved crimes and made cabinets on the side. He lived with his girlfriend Shirley, had a brand new bike, and a smile that even a dentist could love. Then one day a cabinet he'd sold to the mayor broke and fell on the mayor's wife .The publicity was not good. So much for that saying. All publicity is NOT good publicity. The cabinet orders dried up and the investigations sputtered to a halt.
Spurlock went into a downward spiral. He played pinball until he ran out of quarters during the day and cried at night. Shirley got upset that she couldn't do laundry and left him. Someone stole his bike and Spurlock couldn't muster the energy to solve the case. His depression continued. His mother took him in and hired a life coach.
Meet Martin Jones. Martin is a terrible life coach. He seems to dislike life from the top of his bald head down to his too-small feet. The only advice he gives is that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Martin never leaves after he says this. He just sits there and looks blankly at his clients. It's never clear whether he expects his clients to leave either. This usually results in a lot of awkward silences. After one hour, Martin always tells his clients to leave. He usually does this by saying, "Out." It doesn't matter if his clients are in the middle of a sentence. Spurlock was sobbing in one session, but when Martin's clock reached one hour, he just said, "Out."
Spurlock left. It took his whole walk home to stop sobbing.
The buzzing phone had been a text message. It said Missing Cat 510 East Ave.
Missing pets used to be Spurlock's specialty. He had a way with cats and he was excited to have a case. The start of a smile spread across his face. When Spurlock arrived at 510 East Avenue, his mind went blank.
Spurlock didn't know what to do.
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