Inedible Arrangement

Case Log #452

I was the first time my wife and I had embraced in months.

“You aren’t going to answer that, are you?” I could see the familiar disappointment in her eyes. I looked at my phone. I looked at back up at her.

“I’m so sorry darling. I have to take this.”

The promises I had made to my wife only moments earlier were already exposed as a regrettable lie.

Is my life’s calling worth sacrificing my marriage for? Do I flush a fairy tale love story down the toilet to bring justice to those who desecrate the sacred throne?

Those are the questions I have to ask myself every day.

But, on this day, like so many others before, I cowardly chose my life’s calling over my crumbling marriage.

“There’s been a tragic diarrhea mishap at the local Edible Arrangements shop.” I told her. “It’s a disaster like they’ve never seen.”

She didn’t respond. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know.

I knew if I walked out the door I might not get another shot to make it up to her this time.

We’d been through this hundreds of times. In the past, I’d always been able to win her back. But this time it seemed different. This time it seemed final.

These thoughts still lingered as the door slammed behind me — but I would have to suppress them for now. There was fecal matter to be investigated. I would have have to deal with the repercussions in my marriage later.

As I approached the scene, it was obvious this was not business as usual at Edible Arrangements. There was no one cutting fruit, nobody carefully stacking and creating. Nobody was even manning the phones.

The Manager greeted me as I stepped out of the car.

“The air is so thick inside I allowed everyone to work from the parking lot — just while we get this sorted out.” He explained.

There was a quiet look of desperation on his face. His furrowed brow was sweaty and his hands were quivering.

He continued. “I’ve never witnessed a desecration like this before. Feathery diarrhea everywhere.”

I nodded and carefully surveyed the scene. It was gruesome indeed. Sopping brown toilet paper was strewn across the bathroom floor and moist bits of feathery light brown feces had floated into the kitchen.

“What’s that brown stain on your apron?” I probed without taking my eyes off the diarrhea hand print on the wall.

“Oh this?” He seemed surprised by the question. “It’s just a crushed raisin. We use raisins in some our bouquets.”

I didn’t respond.

The fecal water had mostly drained but diarrhea puddles and poop stains on the wall were reminders of the slovenly massacre that had taken place here.

Diarrhea infused urine seeped into my socks.

“We think it happened about this time yesterday.” The manager continued.

“Nobody discovered it until I came in to take my morning dump.”

The look on his face told me he had been to hell and back.

“The diarrhea water flooded our fruit storage unit.” He looked out the bathroom door into the kitchen. “And in our business, fruit is money.”

He looked down at his feet. “We tried to wash most of the fecal matter off the fruit. My staff did their very best to wipe down the storage unit.”

“Tell me more about your staff.” I probed. “Does anybody have a propensity for taking large dumps?”

Before he could answer, the bathroom door swung open spraying a cool mist of sewer water across my face.

“Mr. Manager!” An obese teen swung open the door. Her Edible Arrangements uniform was spattered with brown globs.

“Mr. Manager the fruit man is here with a fresh delivery.” She seemed oblivious about the investigation she had interrupted.

I gestured towards the bathroom door. “I’ll let you deal with the fruit delivery while I interview this young lady and the rest of the staff.”

She led me out to the temporary sales station that had been set up in the parking lot. Edible Arrangements were strewn across a makeshift checkout table. Prices were handwritten on brown-stained poster board.

She put her hands on her hips and gestured towards the growing line of customers. “We’re still in shock. But we’re doing the best we can to keep up with orders. It’s the busy season.”

She motioned towards the towering structure of fruit on the table. “A lot of our customers will eat an entire edible arrangement in one sitting.”

She paused as if she was unsure how to continue. “When they come back in to pick up their next order, sometimes it will trigger a B.M.”

I scanned the crowd gathering in the parking lot.

A portly assistant manager tried to control the unrest. “Mr. Manager! These customers want their arrangements!”

“Has all of the fecal matter been cleaned from the fruit?” The manager was clearly overwhelmed by the chaos.

“I think we got most of it.” The assistant manager speculated.

“Then let’s get those orders filled ASAP.” Mr. Manager signed the invoice from the fruit man.

He looked back at me and gestured back towards the crowd. “Many of these customers come here to take a dump every day. It’s their home away from…”

His voice trailed off when he noticed I wasn’t listening to him.

“What time did you make your delivery here yesterday?” I walked over to the fruit man and put my hand on his shoulder as he opened the door of his truck to leave.

He looked surprised that I was speaking to him. “It was about this time yesterday — now if you don’t mind, I‘m late for my next delivery.”

I continued to probe anyway. “How’s the fruit harvest looking this year?”

“How would I know?” Impatiently snapped the fruit man. “I’m merely a truck driver. You‘d have to ask the farmer about the harvest.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let you get going to your next delivery.” I reached out to shake his hand.

“That’s a lot of brown under your fingernails for someone who isn’t a farmer.”

A familiar whift of day-old brown sewage hit my face as he extended his hand towards me.

“Work has been busy and the fruit business is thriving. I haven’t had time to wash my hands since the last time I took a dump.”

“And the last time you took a dump was here, in the Edible Arrangements store. 24 hours ago.” I studied his face, knowing that he was now cornered.

The fruit man slumped. He knew he’d been caught. He took off his hat and leaned against the truck door as if he felt his world crumbling.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He muttered as he slid down the side of his truck into a sitting fetal position.

“I didn’t know my bowels were capable of this kind of holocaust.” He continued hesitantly.

“Sometimes the farmers have to pay me in fruit when they run out of money. I had a surplus of grapes on my hands. I had to eat them before they became rotten.”

The fruit man silently sobbed. A single tear dripped onto the parking lot pavement and evaporated.

“It was major diarrhea. I knew the toilet was going to have trouble with the load…I probably should have flushed twice.”

He glanced up at me with misty eyes and continued. “When the toilet water started rising I panicked. I didn’t know what to do…” His words were interrupted by the booming voice of the manager.

“You can cancel that fruit order for tomorrow…and every fruit order for as long as you live.”

The fruit man hung his head.

I put my hand on the manager’s shoulder and delicately adjusted his brown-stained tie. “Mr. Manager.” I looked into his pained wrinkled eyes. “We have the power to teach someone to keep their poop in the toilet, but we can’t teach compassion.”

I tossed a roll of toilet paper towards the fruit man. “Wipe that feces off your chin.”

“Gentlemen you’ll have to excuse me now” I turned to walk away. “I’ve got someone special to get back to.”

“Wait!” Mr. Manager grabbed my shoulder. “We’d like to offer you something to show our appreciation for what you’ve done here today.”

He opened a large white box and pulled out the most magnificent edible arrangement I’d ever seen. “The box is slightly little stained from the diarrhea, but the fruit has all been cleaned.”

“My wife loves edible arrangements.” I imagined the look of loving gratitude and forgiveness as she opened it.

“She’s one of our best customers.” The Manager gleamed back at me. His eyes showed me I had made the right decision to take on this case.”

I quietly smiled to myself as I stepped into my ride.

“Step on it, driver! I’ve got a special delivery for a special lady — and she doesn’t eat fruit after 10 P.M.”

Dave Alexander is Chief Investigator and Lead Detective at www.ShitterSleuth.com.