Elementary Snidely

"But I don't understand how you can just stand here, out on this beach, and declare that Jason Dunn has run away with his college football offensive team coach and lost his virginity, Doctor Klein. The Dunns paid us to find their son, and I very much doubt they will be amused with the elaborate and very offensive story you've come up with by way of explanation."

"It's elementary, Snidely. And if you'll just take another stroll down this beach with me while we're waiting for the police, I'll show you how easy it is to work out."

Klein didn't wait for an answer; he just strode off down to the water line, puffing on his pipe, swinging his walking stick, and looking at the sand, and then turned south. With a slight shrug, Snidely followed him.

"Here, what do you see there, Snidely?"

"Footprints. Footprints on the wet sand. I don't see what that proves, Doctor."

"Observe the footprints and learn, Snidely. How many pairs of footprints do you see?"

"Two."

"And are they the same?"

"Well, no. one set is dug in more than the other and is set at longer strides.

"Precisely. Let's follow them. Oh, by the way, what is their relationship to each other?"

"They are proceeding side by side," Snidely answered.

"Very good. But what do we have here, now?"

They appear to have stopped and to have come to facing each other, almost toe to toe."

"Very good. And so, there we have it," declared Doctor Klein, as he puffed contentedly on his pipe.

"Have what?" Snidely asked, his faced screwed up in confusion.

"Oh, for the love of. . . . All right, let us follow the footsteps as they resume, shall we?"

They strolled down the sand, parallel to the breaking waves.

"And what do you see there?" Klein stopped abruptly and asked.

"Well, the sand looks a little scruffed up, but there are those footprints pointed at each other again."

"Notice anything different about them?"

"N-o-o. Wait, yes. The smaller ones appear only as toe prints and they are at the same level and inside the larger ones. And the heels of the bigger one appear to be dug in. Don't know what you'd make of that, though."

"Well, what do you make of these?" Klein asked, as he stuck his walking stick into the line of sea oats nearby and came up with two garments? Let's see, blue medium-sized Speedo and orange large-sized boxer trunks.

"That certainly does look suspicious, I must say, but hardly conclusive. There's nothing to tie these footprints and the bathing trunks to anyone or to each other."

"Fair enough. Look at the steps leading away from here, Snidely. What do you see?"

"Both sets are shallower than before and the strides are farther apart."

"So, that would mean . . .?"

Snidely cogitated on that for a while and then a light went on over his head. "They were running from this point. They both were running."

"Brilliant! You got it in one. Let's press ahead, shall we?"

And after fifty feet or so, Klein stopped and pointed at the wet sand. "And here, what do you make of this, Snidely?"

"Well, I'm afraid I don't want to say." He was looking at another area of the sand that was scruffed up. In the middle of the churned-up sand, the two pairs of footprints were pointed in the same direction, with the larger ones close behind and between the two lighter ones, which were set wide apart. Both sets were dug in at the balls of the feet. And in front of the lighter footprints, Snidely could see two palm prints burrowing into the sand."

"I say!" he said with a snort. "I still don't see that this absolutely proves anything, Doctor Klein. The Dunn's are very important people. You can't just jump from this evidence to the conclusions you have drawn. Just what makes you so sure of your findings?"

"Lord love a duck, Snidely, are you blind, Man? Look over by that rock. If I'm not seriously mistaken—and I rarely am—that is Jason Dunn on his side with his leg waving in the air, and that's Coach Tomlin lying behind him with his big dick stuffed nine-tenths up young Jason's ass and side-splitting him for all he's worth."