“Did you bring the shovel?” whispered Al.
Ted proudly presented the tool, glinting under the dimly lit lamp.
Al slapped his forehead
“That’s a trowel, you fool!”
“Well, you try smuggling in anything larger than this under the nose of that meddlesome woman,” responded Ted indignantly.
“Oh, never mind!” Al grabbed the light and held it aloft.
“There, that’s where we’ll start digging for the body,” he said, gesturing.
“Are you sure it’s here?”
“It has to be! Rumor has it Old Man Rufus buried it himself, before he was found hanging in the motel across town.”
Both men jumped.
“If you’re done for now, everyone’s gathered in the dining room,” Mrs. Barrow’s voice echoed down to the backyard.
Al and Ted looked grumpily at each other.
“What are they up to now?” questioned Hilda, untying her apron and joining Mrs. Barrow on the patio.
Mrs. Barrow smiled.
“Probably another harmless mystery cooked up by Al, he really misses being a detective you know.”
Hobbling up the garden path, Al and Ted joined the other residents of Barrow’s Old Age Home.
Their investigation would have to wait till after supper.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner