Three Streets Down

     Hickory, dickory, dock.
     The mouse ran up the clock.
     The clock struck one,
     The mouse ran down,
     Hickory, dickory, dock.

"It's a good thing you haven't got a trunk, I haven't a clue as to how I'd scatter any mice out of you," says Mr. Figgle.
"Figgle," calls a familiar voice, "Why, I hope that isn't your pocket watch I hear you mumbling to.  You really ought to go out-" Figgle turned around to meet the face behind the antagonizing voice. Yet, instead of listening to her words, he just watched her lips as they droned on and on. He wondered how she managed to talk so vividly to him when he stood there as blank as an uncharted canvas. "-and that's when I saw him at our joint. So I went to thinking about how we could help this guys case."
"And what exactly is his problem again?"
"By golly Figgle, could you pay attention for once? Is there anybody home up there?" says Ms. Verona as she lets out a frustrated sigh. "Well, there was a man who came bursting into our place this morning while I was tidying up. He managed to spit out a few words before he collapsed on the ground. What I got from it was bodies and the word can, I truly couldn't pick up much for it all happened so quickly."
"Interesting, what did he say after his little episode?"
"Here's the kicker, I had to call the ambulance! The garbage man had to help me get him into a chair, bless him, he's the only one who even gave me the time of day. It's a shame I couldn't find his name plate."
"This certainly is interesting news, shall we go and visit the poor chap?"
"We shall indeed, I think it best we at least see to his recovery."

The pair made it to the local hospital. As they entered through the doors they were hit with a wave of sterile, stiff smells. They pushed against the hustle and bustle of the rushing nurses tending to the wounded to reach an information desk.
"Excuse me ma'am," Says Ms. Verona, "I'd like to inquire about an acquaintance of mine. He was checked in earlier, collapsed in my office, and was rushed in here at about 3:30?"
"Ah, tall fellow, a little on the husky side," questions the secretary. A sudden look of dread overcoming her features.
"Why yes! If it's not too much trouble could you tell us where to find him?"
"Well, I'm very sorry to inform you, miss, but I'm afraid he passed shortly after he was brought in."
Shocked, "What a shame. I'll take my leave now," Ms. Verona says as she and Figgle solemnly stride back to the station."

"I don't understand Figgle!" says Ms. Verona as she paces the floor, "He looked perfectly able, most definitely not in the condition to kick the bucket." The two fall into a tense silence, quietly calculating what might have happened to this poor man. Three swift knocks interrupt the silence between them when Hans, the doorman, steps in, "Sorry to bother ye miss, but it seems as if ye have a visitor."
"Thank you Mr. Hans. If you please, send them up."
Moments later, a small round faced old woman hobbles into the room. She looks up at them a sad feeling lingering in her wrinkled eyes, "Dearie, would you be so kind as to help me with my coat?"
Figgle jumps out of his chair, eager to help, yet wordless as always as he helps to remove the sturdy material from her shoulders.
"I'd just like to give my thanks for taking time out of your day to help my little Berny, it's too bad it was all for naught, such a hard worker that one."
"Ah, so Berny was his name," says Verona. "I'd help any day, it was a pleasure to attend to his last moments."
Figgle was fixated on the old woman's coat, holding it in his hands, the calculating look never left his face since the moment the incident arose.
"Figgle, I might as well send you to the moon! At least you'd be at home with all the empty space up there," Ms. Verona preached quite vividly. "would you at least have some decency and welcome our guest?"
Figgle takes one glance up from the coat, only to return it and pull something out of the coat.
"Figgle have you gone-" Ms. Verona starts to fume.
"Ma'am, excuse me, but is there a reason for this bouquet in your pocket? I'm afraid it's starting to crumple," Figgle said as his gaze scrutinized the woman's face.
"Oh my, I guess I forgot to take them out. I've brought them as my thanks to you two." She smiled, though not convincingly enough.
"Might I know the real reason?" Figgle questioned again.
"If you must know, I was about to be going to my friends flat, to pay him my respects. Being the employer of dear Berny, I feel it necessary to make my rounds."
"Ah, that makes a great deal of sense. Now I feel bad for keeping you, should you be on your way?" Asks Figgle.
"That would probably be best. If you need to find me, I'm at the bakery three streets down." Said the old woman, smiling politely, as Figgle helped her back in her coat. "Here," she hands the small bouquet over to Figgle, "I think my friend will survive without her flowers." She takes one last glance up at Figgle and exits the room.
"Shall we head to the bakery tomorrow?" Says Figgle as he sends a questioning look Ms. Verona's way.
"We shall."

Outside of the old woman's bakery Figgle finds himself anxious to speak.
"Would you spit it out already Figgle? The look on your face is driving me mad."
Relieved Figgle starts speaking his mind, "Would you go in alone? I'd like to go around back, and check on a few things. If you hear anything, cover it up, so the hag doesn't know alright?"
"Figgle! I thought of you as a better gentlemen, of course I'll cover for you, but please refrain from calling the sweet old lady such titles." Says a gaping Ms. Verona.
At this, they separate. Figgle behind the building, and Verona flanking the front.
"Good morning ma'am! May I have a cup of joe?" says Ms. Verona.
"Why hello there, it's great to see you. Is your partner with you?" inquires the woman.
"I'm afraid not, he stayed in the office today, loads of paperwork. I've come to learn a little more about your employee Berny."
"He really was a doll, always lent me a hand on top of his own duties." she said smiling back at the memory. Pouring a cup of coffee as she was enveloped in the thought, she made her way over to Verona.
As she sat down facing the window she threw herself into telling a story,
"He came here about three years ago, straight off the streets nonetheless. Came begging for a job. I offered for him to do any sort of service for a negotiable price, since I needed the help at the time. He was dirty and smelled of it too, so I sent him off to the washroom before I would discuss any other business with him," In the back Verona kept seeing passing glimpses of Figgle's fleeting outline. He stopped suddenly, met eyes with Ms. Verona and jerked his head towards the exit. "once he came out smelling mildly better-"
"Ma'am," interrupted Ms. Verona, "I'm very sorry to stop you but I really must be going. I've forgotten about a very important meeting I must attend this morning." said Ms. Verona gathering her coat, staring at the coffee she longed to enjoy.
"Of course dearie, come back anytime." said the old woman, smiling so great any hint of sadness could not be detected.

Ms. Verona rushed out to greet Figgle in a hurry, "What was that about?"
"I need you to issue an arrest warrant for that woman in there." Said Figgle impatiently.
"And why on Earth would I do that?" said Ms. Verona.
"It's all in the evidence. The bouquet, had a poisonous flower hidden in the midst of the roses. Which could easily drop a man down within minutes."
"Figgle there's no proof that sweet old lady hurt Berny, let alone poisoned him."
"I did some digging back there in the trash behind the building, there were body bags. Just as Berny said in his final words, bodies."
"Yes, body bags have versatile uses, any more evidence other than the fact that you're a filthy pig?"
"Terrance Cans. There was a nameplate in the back of the bakery with that name."
"Cans, that was one of the words Berny spewed out. I thought he meant trash cans, or something of the sorts." said Ms. Verona the truth of the matter finally beginning to settle in.
"Exactly, that garbage man, the one without a name plate. Who better to help the old lady do her bidding than one which easy disposal at his hands. And all she would have to do is bake a fatal chocolate cake." Mumbled Figgle.
"Especially if she offered the garbage man, "for him to do any sort of service for a negotiable price," mocked Ms. Verona.
"Well then, shall we go to the police office?" Glancing Ms. Verona's way.
"We shall." Stated Ms. Verona, as they made their way from the bakery three streets down.