So this morning I got on the treadmill in my apartment building and found this in the cup holder:
My first thought was, why is this book here and not in its rightful place of honour on my bookshelf beside my Silver Blades and Babysitters Club collections? But secondly, that this must be some sort of clue. I mean, first I find a mysterious bouquet of roses in my hallway, and now this? There had to be a connection.
The whole thing was especially strange because I was the only person in the gym at the time. Immediately, my eyes darted in every direction, searching for signs of activity. If someone had planted this, surely he or she must have stuck around to witness my reaction.
But nothing. Just me, some free weights and the annoying Breakfast Television personalities babbling away on closed caption. Resignedly, I turned on the treadmill, and as I ran, searched the contents of the book for clues. No inscription on the cover. No notes in the margin. At least as far as I could tell. They could have been written in invisible ink. I made a mental note to pick up some lemon juice and sodium carbonate on the way home. (Thank you PBS and your high-quality educational 90’s programming:
Nope, no clues. Just good old’ Jigsaw, the precocious little detective and his adorable Asian sidekick, Mila Yeh. It was actually kind of a good story.
But I digress.
I told my sister what happened, and she was all “Settle down Nancy Drew, it’s probably just a coincidence”. But I’m not convinced. I’m starting to think it might be The Riddler messing with me, because this is like, the hardest brainteaser ever. What the hell do you get when you combine a jigsaw and a rose? Some sort of misguided horticultural experiment? The work of a disgruntled Bachelor contestant?
I’ll keep you apprised of all further developments. And in the meantime, I’ll be skulking around my apartment in all black and hiding in air vents. That always looks so cool on TV.