[ WP ] Tell me the story of Jeremy Smith , the world 's worst detective .

It was a dark night in the city that never sleeps,'cept it was n't dark at all because of the lights. Must be why the city never sleeps. In fact, one of its better-looking citizens walked in at around 2 in the morning, crying herself a storm. `` Help me, help me. My husband's been murdered, I just know it!'' she cried, her blonde curls bobbing with each jumping squeal. 
 
 `` Alright, come down, dame. I do n't deal with dames who ai n't calm,'' I said. She seemed calmer. 
 
 `` This is the Aajeremy Smith Detective Agency, is n't it? It was the first one I could find in the phone book—'' Take *that* Aaron Johnson Detective Inc. `` —and I just had to come down right away,'' she said, looking confused. Just like a dame to not know what room she was walking into. 
 
 `` Yes, and I'm Jeremy Smith,'' I said, `` World's Greatest Detective. So you say your husband was murdered. Do you know how or by whom?'' 
 
 `` No, sir, but I think the killer left a note! There was a paper in Dick's pocket that did n't look like it was there before he was killed,'' she said. 
 
 `` Let's go to the crime scene,'' I insisted. Dames love it when you insist. 
 
 Back at her house, she led me to the dead body. Did seem to be a husband-y type. Balding, big nose. Definite beer gut. `` The killer's left this pool of blood under your husband's body. I think it might be a clue,'' I say, kneeling down to inspect the ominous hint. `` We're definitely working with a professional.'' 
 
 `` Mr. Smith, I think that's just my husband's blood. The note, like I told you—'' 
 
 `` Not now, dame! Ca n't you see a man's working!'' I shouted, slapping her across the face. Ai n't no dame gon na be asserting her dominance over a working man like me. `` Plus, I think I know who done it.'' 
 
 `` Really?'' the dame asked. `` Who?'' 
 
 `` By all this blood left at the crime scene, I'd been thinking that it must've been the Blood Bandits. They're always known to leave a lot of blood behind,'' I explained. `` But nah, it could n't be them. Aaron Johnson put them away last November for defiling all those works of art with that blood. But maybe they had an accomplice. Did n't think o' that, did ya Johnson?'' 
 
 `` Mr. Smith, I do n't think that's right.'' The hammer on the gun clicked back. `` Sorry, but I ca n't have you connecting this back to the Misters Blood. Would be mighty unprofessional of me to put them under more fire after I went free while they went to jail,'' the dame said, pointing a gun right at me. `` But, I hired you knowing you were the worst detective in town. Probably pin it on the mailman. But the bumbling idiot actually hit the right answer.'' 
 
 `` And I something else!'' I say, `` Ai n't no dame pointing a loaded gun at me!'' 
 
 Two shots, fired right into my stomach. Thus ended the saga of Jeremy Smith, the World's Greatest Detective.
