COMMENDED
A day in the life of Tom Sharkey: P.I. Extraordinaire
Sam O’Connor, Manchester Grammar School
Today is going to be a good day. I am going to find a case and I am going to solve it. My daily pre-breakfast motivation
completed, I heave myself out of bed and wander over to the kitchen, grabbing my dressing gown off the floor next to the coat
rack as I go. I need a new one; a person of my intellectual status needs a good dressing gown to pace up and down their
apartment in. As I ponder over this, I pour myself a bowl of cereal and some juice, getting halfway through it before wondering
why my glass is filled with milk and my cereal tastes of orange juice. Oh well. Tastes better like this.
Breakfast completed, I dump my bowl into the sink along with last night's dishes, swap my dressing gown for a trench coat, pull
on some shoes, and head out the door.
It’s raining. Another typical day in Hull, another short run to the bus stop and another long, damp bus ride to my destination:
Hull Central Library, my centre of research and base of operations. Steaming slightly, I fling open the doors and stroll to the
main desk.
“Morning, Carroll”
I use my usual charms on her, and she responds in her unique and delightful manner,
“It’s 3 in the afternoon, you moron, so shut up and either get reading or get lost.”
Oh Carroll, with her gorgeous smile and impeccable manners. She knows she wants me. She’s just playing hard to get, knowing
it will only make my victory all the sweeter when it arrives.
I continue to my usual spot by the newspaper archives, where I search for crimes unsolved to bring my name into the limelight.
Strolling over to the bookshelves I think of what to look for today. L is as good a place to start as any. Pulling out a sheaf of
newspapers I stagger back to my chair and open the first one. Then the second, and the third.
After hours of laborious and thorough research, I’m starting to get thirsty. I pick up the newspapers, return them to the shelf
and check my watch: 3:15pm. I’m of more use to society watching for new crimes anyway; most of the things in these
newspapers are below a man of my talent.
As I’m leaving the library I hear Carroll talking to one of her friends, a ghastly woman named Mildred, a woman so self-obsessed
that she has yet to recognise my genius as a detective. Because of this insufferable flaw, I decide not to join in their
conversation, but instead wait until the Mildred woman leaves to say my farewells to Carroll.
Leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf I hear Carroll mention visiting the Fair in town later tonight. Undoubtedly I was
meant to hear this: Carroll was inviting me to join her without raising the suspicions of the terrible Mildred. Excellent. A perfect
opportunity for me to scout out for crime at the fairground while I wait for Carroll, the place is bound to be rife: jostling crowds
and naïve fairgoers are a perfect target for pickpockets. Little do they know that I shall be watching them.
So, where to wait? Having just arrived at the Fair, I am already on the lookout for crime - a good detective never wastes their
time - where better to search from than the big wheel that looms over the fairground? On the wheel, I take my place, my own
private crow’s nest.
Hull stretches out in all its glory: the shining lights of the Fair, the magnificent Humber Bridge stretching into the sunset. This
city is truly the New York of the North: full of life, love, and, of course, crime.
As I reach the peak of the ride, something below catches my eye: a clown. (The most dangerously insane of all individuals, who
knows what they’re hiding in those shoes.) Stealing somebody’s bag from next to a bench. It sickens me: the depths these
creatures will sink to. I must get off this ride. I can’t let him get away.
He got away, disappearing into the crowd as I struggle to escape from this painfully slow moving contraption. But even in the
depths of my despair, I spot a shining beacon of light: Carroll! She is here at last, although accompanied by Mildred. I keep a
thorough track of her until I disembark the ride, and then I’m racing through the crowds to the spot I last saw her. Where is she?
I look round frantically, and spot her disappearing into a hall of mirrors.
Once inside, I slow down, manage a casual pose and set off through the hall of mirrors. They do crazy things, these mirrors, as I
pass through them they make my hair look lank, my beard straggly, my coat muddy. Amazing what they can do with these
things, really. But I can’t spend too long admiring the ingenuity of the mirrors, I must catch up with Carroll.
I eventually find her outside a coconut shy alone. Time for me to use a little bit of my magic on her. I surreptitiously purchase
some of the wooden balls from the squat looking man behind the counter, and taking care not to attract Carroll’s attention,
walk up behind her and whisper in her ear:
“Allow me.”
She screams. Not the reaction I expected, but I suppose she can’t have known it was me. I’ll make sure she knows.
“Hi Carroll”
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“What the hell are you doing here, you lanky creep?”
Oh no, Mildred’s here.
“I,” I state with a certain grandiose, “am hunting criminals.”
“By which you mean stalking Carroll. Again.”
“What? No, it was a mere coincidence that I bumped into you two, ah, lovely ladies, and I thought I’d say hello.”
With the irate Mildred tamed, I turn my attentions to Carroll,
“As I was saying, allow me to win you one of these delightful prizes, to make up for the little shock I gave you”
Carroll simply nods her head, still shaking slightly.
I leave her speechless, take her breath away. It’s time to move in for the kill.
I shrug off my coat, take aim, and just as I hurl the ball with all my considerable might, Carroll bursts into laughter, sending my
aim wild. Without waiting to see where it strikes, I spin around to confront Carroll.
“What were you laughing at?” I demand of Carroll, who is bent double, tears streaming down her face.
“What am I laughing at? What are you wearing?”
“What am I...?”
Ah. Upon looking down, I realise that the spotted pyjamas that were previously concealed by my coat are now fully exposed.
Deciding that this would be a good time to make a hasty retreat, I grab my coat off the floor and disappear into the crowd, not
even stopping to say goodbye.
No more distractions. I will find the clown. I will solve this, and Carroll will be mine.
In the end, I find the clown through the simple method of almost walking into him. It insults me how casually he wanders the
fair, acting as though the bag were his own. After following him for several long minutes, I seize my opportunity when he turns
down a thin alley between two tents. Walking up to him, I place a firm hand on his shoulder and proclaim:
“Where do you think you’re going with that bag?”
He turns around, startled, a sure sign of guilt.
“I’m going home, with my bag, weirdo.”
He turns his back on me, and starts walking away. The cheek!
“I’m warning you, I know you stole that bag, and if you return it without fuss, I might just let you go.”
“Sod off.”
He doesn’t even turn around. I won’t stand for this.
I seize the bag and attempt to wrest it from his grasp, only to find a hand on my own shoulder, and a voice I know all too well.
“Accosting innocent civilians again, Sharkey?”
I spin around to face the policeman, a grizzled constable of whom I have fallen foul before.
“This is no innocent civilian! He’s a thieving monster!” I retort, angrily.
The constable simply shakes his head.
“You’re not exactly innocent yourself, Sharkey, I’ve been told to bring you in for assault”
“Assault?!” I demand of him. Who does he think he is?
“You gave some poor bloke at the coconut shy a concussion and then ran off. Now I find you mugging a clown! You’re
spending the night in the cells. Again.”
With this, I’m dragged off despite my indignant protests, and spend the night in a cold cell, fuming over the obvious corruption
in our police force.
Another day. Another morning in the station. But despite all of this, today is going to be a good day. I have a case.
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