Gun drawn, I open the door with a slow creak, eyes peeled for movement.

I got the address from the receptionist. All it took was a little distraction for me to peer over and memorise the writing on the notepad.

I had noticed the whispers around the office… talks of supplies, ballrooms, and even sharpies. These were odd words that made me think, and everyone stopped talking as soon as they saw me!

It’s my last two weeks before retirement, do they think I’m outdated? I seem to get filing jobs nowadays, writing up reports and labelling evidence. They must think I can’t do this anymore!

But I followed the clues. When a case got big enough, it was talked about in the break room, and soon enough I caught wind of it…

I couldn’t see why it wasn’t solved yet, it seemed easy to me!

Supplies in a ballroom contaminated with sharpies! Sounds crazy, but these are code words we used a while back, in case we had any moles in the precinct.

I caught sight of addresses scrawled on notepads, and, though they didn’t seem to connect, I knew they had to.

‘Supplies’ meant class A drugs, most likely hidden - that’s what ‘ballroom’ meant a few years back. I wasn’t sure where ‘sharpies’ came in, but perhaps that was new slang.

There were a few addresses, cake shops, party places, but one didn’t fit.

A conference room nearby. I kept hearing whispers of a date, tomorrow, in fact.

“One more bust before I go?” I asked my gun, before putting it in my holster.

I took a cab, feeling tense. I should’ve called for backup, but they obviously didn’t trust me anymore…

The building was cold and empty, with a few balloons on the ceiling leading up the floor. It made me think of my own retirement next week, I wondered what it would be like…

The door to the room was open. I drew my gun and walked in…

“SURPRISE!” People shouted, leaping from behind tables as the lights came on.

In panic, my gun went off with a bang, making everyone scream.

“What the…” I read the banner. HAPPY RETIREMENT!

“That’s not until next week…”

“No, no,” my wife took the gun from my hands. “It’s this week, hun.”

“Oh. Did I shoot anyone?” I asked.

My love of 36 years shoved me the gun. It was empty. I frowned.

The chief came over with a grin. “You aren’t very discreet when looking for clues, old man. Also, you nap a lot… it was easy to see your notes and sort out your gun so you wouldn’t shoot anyone!”

In wonder at my co-workers, I look at the cake that has my face on it.

GOT YOU! It read. I smiled and blew out the candles.