I, Jimmy Cheng

Author's Introduction (Don't Skip)

Author’s Introduction (Don’t Skip)

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Problem is, I never know where to begin. This story is no exception, as you can probably already tell for yourself. I guess if I had to describe this little hobby of mine, I’d say it’s both a gift, and a curse. A gift because I enjoy doing it (or at least trying to), and a curse because quite frankly, my prose are the worst you could possibly imagine.

Case in point; the dogs bellowed like a howling mad batch of…dogs.

Okay. Fine. It’s just a curse. Just a curse.

But hey, you know what? Who says that’s such a bad thing? Certainly not I. Quite frankly I could start this whole thing by writing a cook book for charbroiled turnips, and you’ll still be reading this book. And we all know why that is, don’t we? It’s because I’m Jimmy Cheng, that high school senior that everyone’s been talking about. The one that single-handedly solved the murder of Angel Valley’s sweetheart, Melissa Wyndon, and foiled the town’s biggest drug ring.

The reason you’re reading this book is simple. You, just like half the people in the world (CNN assures me I am this important) want to know as much as you can about the Angel Valley man of the hour, and you don’t care if it’s in a tell-all book that both admits and proves (at the same time no less) that the author can’t write for shit. You, just like everyone else who made a conscious decision to buy this book, are so inclined because you seek the answer to the all important question, who is Jimmy Cheng?  

Oh, and you probably also want to know how I caught Melissa’s killers. I’ll tell you all about that soon enough. But first, the basics.

At midnight, February 12, 2012, a girl by the name of Melissa Wyndon was found dead outside the local nightclub 4KX. She was shot point blank, twice on the chest, and left for dead. She wasn’t killed instantly, but she died soon enough. And as you all know by now, the man who pulled the trigger was a two-bit hitman by the name of Max Topper.

But, as you probably also know by now, Max Topper isn’t where this mystery ends. There’s more to it than a simple contract killing. Unfortunately, most of you aren’t aware of the real story because it isn’t on the national media. The case is still pending trial as I’m writing this, so there’s only so much the press is really allowed to say about it. They’re all very hush hush on the details. Hopefully though, by the time I publish this, it’ll be soon enough after the trial that I’ll be the first one to break the news without getting into more trouble with the law for saying things that I really shouldn’t.

Either way, I’m writing this now. From my words to your eyes, consider this the answer to all your questions about the mystery in question. As the guy who personally cracked down the case, not only will my thorough account aim to explain who was responsible for Melissa Wyndon’s death (directly and indirectly of course), but it’ll also tell you why. 

But first, a few things should be cleared up before I start to contradict some of the crazy things I’ve been hearing about this case.  

Number one; Times Magazine says that I solved the case with the aid of the local Angel Valley police. The only amendment I would make to that is that I didn’t so much solve it all with their aid, so much as I did in spite of it. More on that to follow on the rest of my story, but suffice to say that their efforts actually nearly cost me the case. And my life. And the life of everyone else who was helping me. You’ll see how in the subsequent story. Prepare to be surprised.

Second point of clarification. No, I was not going out with Melissa Wyndon. We shared English lit together, but that was it. I’ve been seeing a lot of TV anchors spinning some kind of whacko romance story out of this whole tragic event. Please. No. Shut up. We never talked, and the only reason I even got pulled into this whole debacle to begin with was because at first the cops suspected me of having committed the deed (which goes back to point one mentioned in my last paragraph).

Third; an honest confession. I didn’t solve Melissa’s murder alone like I might have led some to believe (readers of my first page included). I had a great deal of help from someone who gets far less credit than he deserves, but who’s told me numerous times that he doesn’t want the added attention of being in my, and I quote, “stupid fucking book.” More on him to come later. But you’ll probably be pleased to know who it is.  

Fourth; Melissa Wyndon was not Gandhi. I know it’s custom for people to have their own overblown perceptions of anyone that passes away, but if I’m going to tell this story right, I need to be honest with you. Melissa Wyndon wasn’t some random, innocent bystander swept up by some cyclone of death (see what I’m saying there with the bad prose?). I don’t expect her closest friends and relatives to admit or understand it. And to be honest, I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. But to the rest of you who insist on knowing the truth, as sad as it was, there is simply no denying the role that Melissa played in her own demise. Not to say that she deserved it, or anything so crude. I guess my point is that there’s plenty of blame to go around, and in a case like this, even the most innocent are guilty in their own way. 

A few words of caution before I begin. This book isn’t for the faint of heart. I’ll try not to keep it so overwhelmingly dark, but the truth is what it is, and there’s only so much sugar coating a guy can do to hide the stink of shit underneath. High school can be a dangerous place for all the wrong people. Especially in a place like Angel Valley.

But you’ll learn all about that soon enough. Because high school is where this story starts, and for some, where it ends.  

To all those unfamiliar with the shady details of my town, let it be known that in solving the riddle of Melissa Wyndon, you’ll be getting a front row view to my alma mater, and the types of characters that make it what it is. Because understanding the story of Melissa Wyndon’s death starts with the people who made her who she was.

And so, with all that cleared away, I think I’ve finally realized where to begin.