A Clue

I was walking home from the library carrying a book about detecting and murder (The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective. So far? Excellent). It was the first time I'd been out of the house all weekend, as I am still harboring that crapulent cough that all the cool kids have been carrying around this season.

The library is only 5 blocks away from our house, and every time I go there I wonder why I don't get library books more often. Well, I've only just now shaken the habit of buying armfuls of books every trip to Powell's, and I prefer to zone out with the iPod on my daily Tri-met commute, so I know why. I just like the library because it makes me feel smart (because of all the books) and urban (because of the walking).

It hadn't started to rain yet, but it looked like it might at any time. The neighborhood was quiet, but not that I'd notice since I had my iPod set on "really fucking loud", as usual. I tend to walk with my head slightly down, so I can avoid eye contact if anyone walks or drives by. On the corner of my street and the street that leads to the library, I noticed a small piece of ripped-up blue paper.

"That looks an awful lot like a social security card," I thought. Seeing as the husband's wallet what was taken a few weeks ago contained his social security card, I investigated further. There was another piece, damp like the first one. And another. This was weird, I thought, but it can't be the husband's.

Oh, but it was! I found about 7 pieces, and the last one actually had part of his name on it.

So now we want to know: who tore it up? And why? Did the kids who took the wallet feel at least a little bad, and so they ripped it up to protect his identity? Probably not. Did they rip up the card after making note of the number, to get rid of evidence? Again, probably not. Did a good Samaritan find the card and, not knowing if the owner lived nearby, rip up the card to keep the number out of the hands of those with nefarious schemes? That's the most likely scenario.

Now I want to go detect some more. Grab me a big magnifying glass and comb the streets looking for bits of the husband's former paperwork. Unfortunately, it's raining pretty hard now, so whatever is left is probably down the grate and gone forever. I guess I'll have to go back to just reading about mysteries. Harrumph.

Phlyd update: now that I have stopped medicating him, he is eating and behaving like his old self. I even caught him last night crouching over Newman and growling in what we think is a dominance thing: a way of reminding Newman who's the top cat around here. We call it the neck thing, and although I find it creepy when Phlyd does it, I waited a little before swatting him off Newman's back. I figure, what with all he's been through, that Phlyd deserves a little macho show.