Bad Apples

In every town, in every city, there are always criminals lurking around every corner. You might imagine the stereotypical beatneck thug, or even the high-class politician taking one dip too many into their campaign coffers. Yes, those are the easiest to spot... But that is what makes them the least sizable threat.

It is those lurking in plain sight, the ones you never even thought to question, that you should be on your toes looking for. Don't belittle the clerk at the grocery counter; it could be your last meal. Don't annoy the taxi driver; you may find yourself at a 'dead end'. There are bad apples everywhere, waiting to be weeded out...

But the last place we may check to find these bad apples may be the ones in our own buschel: and those might be the most dangerous of all.

---

Another day in Twinbrook taking names, looking for crime, hacking the police database for leads, playing pretend cop for the good guys at City Hall. Jebidiah Kane hated this job, but... it was a job.

You know, the kind where you won't get hit with a baseball bat of guilt every time you come home to your wife.



When Jeb got a call to the local grocery, it was nothing new nor surprising. "Thanks for coming so quick Mr. Kane, I knew you were the man to call."

'Aren't I always,' Jeb groaned to himself. 'Even when it's the most mundane thing ever.' Clearing his throat, he answered with a brief, "What seems to be the trouble, Clark?"

Clark Peddler looked around suspiciously before responding, "Our apples have gone missing. We got a huge shipment in this last week, but they all just vanished a few hours after arrival. I'm betting all my money that local gang's got something to do with it. They've been terrorizing us more and more the last few months."



"Well, don't jump to too many conclusions right away," Jeb said thoughtfully. "But it is probably the most likely culprit. I'll get back to you when I find a lead."



Jeb didn't even bother sticking around the grocery to look for evidence; when something this big went down, people weren't stupid enough to leave things like fingerprints laying around. It was better to just jump right to the heart of the matter.

And the heart of the matter in this case was this 'local gang' -- and the best way to get information was the source itself.



"Let's cut right to the chase, Marta." Jeb certainly didn't waste time. The more pansy-footing around the issue, the more excuses she was likely to come up with. "Big shipment of produce missing at the market. I don't want to have to ask twice... What'd you guys do with it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Kane."

"Sure you don't. Now, you've done your obligatory lying... So, tell me the truth. I don't want to have to make things messy."



"I'm bloody serious, Kane," Marta Tomasi responded, her expression that genuine aire of defenselessness those thugs prided in their female members. Well... if she was gonna play hard to get, then Jeb would just have to play hard.

Marta Tomasi had not been a resident in Twinbrook for long, but she'd already struck up quite the reputation. Jeb couldn't help but be reminded of Cody, all those years ago in Riverview; a sultry female using her femininity to get what she wanted... Money, recognition, status in the criminal community. Rumor had it that Marta's quick-fingeredness with a safe was legendary, as was her ability to con men out of their share of the profits.



But Jeb wasn't going to let her get her way, this time.

After tugging her inside away from prying eyes, Jebidiah let loose. "I've had it, Ms. Tomasi. These games don't work on me."

"Well they aren't games when you're telling the truth, are they, Investigator?"

"I don't need scumbuckets like you telling me you're capable of the truth when you're living happy and free under the law, Marta. Now give me answers!"



"You ain't gettin' nothing from me, you sleazebag!" Jeb forgot how feisty this one was... And how strong. That first uppercut to the face nearly scrambled Jeb's brain, but all it took was a quick comeback that she didn't expect to get the upper hand.



"Tell -- Me -- Where -- They -- Are -- TOMASI!" Jeb yelled as he bobbed about in a circle, his arm wrapped so tight around her throat she probably couldn't answer even if she wanted to.



Marta managed to squeeze out of his grasp, and immediately slammed her hands into Jeb's face to try to knock him away. "I'm not giving anything to a traitor like you!" she yelled back in defiance.



But... her defiance was simply no match for the 'persuasive' methods of Jebidiah Kane. Not today, at least.



"Aaaggh, fine, alright alright! Yer gonna freakin' break my back!" Marta rubbed the sore spot as one would try to soothe their soiled pride. "The Hawks didn't have anything to do with the heist. We were gonna take some, but by the time we got there, everything was already gone, so we split. Ya happy?"



Jeb groaned. "That's all you've got? Dammit... Guess I'm gonna have to do some snooping around, then."

"Haha, good luck with that," Marta responded with a foxy roll of her eyes.

"Yeah... Thanks," Jeb mumbled as he began to turn to leave.



"You know..." Marta continued, the corners of her lips turning up slightly at the disgruntled look on the PI's face. "There was once a time when the likes of Jebidiah Kane didn't need to chase down apple snatchers to rub two Simolie's together. There are legends in our circles of Blackjack Kane... Hackers that worship the codes he wrote, safecrackers that idolize the knobs he could turn.'

"That man... He could be doing so much better than chasing apple shipments. Whatever happened to him, Jeb? Whatever happened to that man?"



Jeb stared into Marta's eyes with a gaze of disbelief. How did she know? Had he really become that famous to the criminal kind? While the idea was a little gratifying, it was also a little frightening: how long until the cops got wind, as well?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Marta." Jeb shook his head as he turned to leave. "And Blackjack's a stupid name for a legend."

"If you say so, Mr. Kane. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some shuteye before I actually do some meaningful thuggery tonight. Pardon me for wanting to give you a worthwhile case to work on."



Jeb grumbled, but finally turned to leave. As he did so, the rock in his stomach began to grow. 'That man... He could be doing so much better than chasing apple shipments.' Those words stuck in his mind like a puddle of hot glue -- and just as painful.

---

The remainder of the weekend, Amelia didn't see or hear from Alesha at all. Eva eventually called to let them know she'd shown up safe and sound (hank the plumbbob!), and there was no need to worry... but Amelia was confused why her friend would do something like that in the first place.



Amelia had never been to Alesha's house. It was a lot closer than she imagined, the way Alesha had described it... Meredith made sure to give careful directions, though oddly not worried that her little girl was taking a bike-ride this late at night. (Tsk, Meredith.) When Amelia finally arrived, she was really surprised; this wasn't anything like what Alesha had described.



Although she was a little bit grossed out at all the swamp everywhere (and ew, was that a frog?) Amelia scampered up the front steps and rang the front door.

She didn't have to wait long, though; from the small house within, it was easy to hear people scurrying about towards the entrance.



When Amelia saw her friend pop out the door, she thought that she didn't look quite as pleased to see her as she thought she'd be. "Oh, uh, hi, Amelia..." was Alesha's greeting.

"Hey, Leesha... What's going on?"



Alesha quickly stepped out and continued talking with a low voice. "What're you doing here, Mia? I thought I told you we were renovating and.. you know.. couldn't have visitors."



"Yeah, sure. I see lots of building going on. Why would you lie to me, Alesha? I'm yer best friend... I don't care where you live. I do care that you'd run away from home and not tell me, though."



"I.. I'm sorry," Alesha stuttered. "I was just really embarrassed, okay? I wanted you to think everything was happy here. Like at your house. Where your dad actually comes home, where your mom has food on the table by 6... It's just all perfect and stuff. And I wanted you to think I had that, too."

"Hah, yeah, because I really care that your mom is as annoyingly picky about when and where and how and what we eat, and that my dad is aaallways around so I can never do anything reeaally fun," Amelia said with an eyeroll. "I honestly don't, Leesha. I like your mom, and as long as she makes something other than fish soup, I'll survive. Did I mention that's why I'm here? She made it tonight. AGAIN."



The two girls gave each other a tight squeeze. "Just don't tell anybody at school, 'kay? I don't want everybody to know I'm poor, and--"

"Trust me," Amelia responded as she held her friend tight. "I won't say a word."

---

Meanwhile, Jeb was going the long way 'round to getting the answers he needed: interrogating the locals. This always proved to be a quick way to get to the bottom of things, but he was surprised just how quickly it worked, this time.



"Missing apple shipment, really?" Lolly Racket asked Jeb with wide eyes.

"Yeah... Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Well, grandma and I just picked up a whole sack of apples just this morning..."

Jeb pondered this for a moment. "Where did you buy them from, exactly?"

"Oh, that sweet man Oliver Mayweather, he opened up his own stand just across from the theatre. 'Course, it's closed now, but I'm sure he'll be open again tomorrow, he looked like he had more than enough to last him for a few days of sales."



Well, that sounded a bit too suspicious. So, where the thugs actually stealing the produce, but having it sold under a different face to take the blame?

And lookie here, wasn't it his opportunity to find out.



"Oooh, lookit meee, I'm Jebidiah Kane, the loser PI who acts like apples are big business," Mr. Racket responded when Jeb interrogated him about the possibility of the thugs' involvement.



"Don't waste my time, Max," Jeb responded angrily, but Racket just gave it back by pretending to clean out his ear.

"Oh Marigold, honey, do you think you could swat this fly away from my ear?" Max said after a moment. "I can't seem to get it to go away on my own..."



"Don't test my patience!!" Jebidiah yelled, this time. The fury in his voice was suddenly tripled, and the anger he'd felt at Marta's place felt miniscule in comparison. "You know what I'm capable of, Racket! Don't make me go to that extent!"

"I-I-I--" Max stuttered in response (such a coward, he is). "Seriously Kane, I don't know nothin'! Even if I knew I pry wouldn't tell ya, but I don't, so it don't matter anyways, alright?"



Jeb had had enough; he suspected Max was telling the truth -- he was a pretty easy nut to crack -- but he figured a good smack across the face would do him some good.

"That's the message to send to your cronies the next time they try to stand up to me!" Jeb growled, before marching off in the opposite direction.



There was a moment he considered sitting down to play chess to cool down... take some of his fury out on those stupid game pieces. It'd be much better than going home to Meredith with his anger unchecked. The last thing he wanted to do was go home like this... or with this case unsolved.

He was so close to cracking it, too -- he had a lead on Oliver Mayweather... Oliver... Oliver... say, wasn't that Oliver's roommate?



"Wyatt Walker, I presume?" Jeb said with a stiff handshake. No one slipped by his eyes... Nobody. "I'm Jebidiah Kane, resident PI here in Twinbrook."

"Aah, yes, I've heard many great stories about you," Wyatt responded. "It actually reminds me, I've been having some trouble with my neighbors and I--"

"That's great, but, I actually need your help with something. Can you tell me about Oliver Mayweather?"



"Oooh, sure, Ollie!" Wyatt responded with a broad smile. "Great guy! Wouldn't hurt a fly. Sometimes isn't exactly the quickest on the uptake, real forgetful sometimes too, but he's got a kind heart and at least sometimes does the dishes."

Mm. Not really the information he was hoping to hear, but, at least he figured that it meant Ollie wouldn't give him a hard time with questioning like Thug #1 and Thug #2 had.



"Can we speak in private, Mr. Mayweather?" Jeb asked when he ran into Ollie trying to flee the premises when he showed up.

"Oh... oh, sure, yeah, sure, come inside," Ollie stuttered before letting him in.



"Look, I've had a bad day, and I don't have the patience for any more games, so. Here's the deal. Tell me where you got the apples, and I won't kick your sorry ass."



Ollie seemed to find this funny. "Kick my ass? Really? A nerd like you?" Snerk!



That did it.



BOOM BABY!



"Aaaggh, fine, sorry!" Ollie squealed as Jeb finally finished his signature tactical assault. "It was just a joke, please don't hurt me!"

"Then tell me where the apples are!" Jeb growled.



"They aren't here, they rest are in this fridge storage unit.. er... you know... um... it's next to the bistro... That one place... con... er..."

"Consigment store?"

"Yeeah, that's it. That's where Clark told me to keep them."



Clark Peddler! Jeb should've known it. All roads lead to Rome... But some just lead right back to where you started. He should've smelled that dirty stink all over this case from the beginning. But why? Why would he steal from his own store?

It was pretty easy to find out -- a quick snoop through the trash, and Jeb discovered Peddler's insurance settlement from the stolen produce. Lovely.



Once he had the evidence in hand, it was quite easy to get the money back from Clark. "Fine, here's the money! Mail it back to the insurance agency! Just don't turn me into the cops, I can't lose my business!"

No, Jeb had no intention of turning him into the cops... But, the idea of picking up some pocket change from this settlement would be nice.

Yes, very nice indeed.

---

Another case, solved. As Jeb got home and relaxed while reflecting over the day, he couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of himself. It was he, Jebidiah Kane, that got to the bottom of things... He, Jebidiah Kane, that kicked three consecutive butts in the name of justice. He, Jebidiah Kane, that saved an innocent apple shipment from earning a greedy sim far more money than he deserved.



But he couldn't help but wonder... Was this really what he wanted?

His eyes peered from underneath the brim of his special sleuth hat, but they were not the curious, bright eyes of his youth... They were the aged eyes of a man who was getting too old to be unhappy.

Perhaps there was still time... Perhaps, there was still a way.