The Case of the Cry Baby Contractor
Hear this story read aloud.
Trouble Brewing at the Diner
The day started like most of them do, with me parked on my usual stool at my favorite diner, sipping coffee and minding my own business. Flo came by, topped me off, and said, “You look like you might get into trouble today.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Right as I reached for my cup, my beeper lit up with a 911. Yes, I still have a beeper for when I don’t want to talk on my phone. I jumped, knocked the coffee over, and baptized my trench coat in hot java. Said a few words I won’t repeat, threw some cash on the counter for Flo, and headed for the only pay phone in town.
The Call for Help
“This better be good,” I muttered as I dialed.
The voice on the other end came in hot. “Mr. Stone Detective, this is Vinny Stone, not my real name, but you get the idea.”
The guy had that Jersey accent you could cut with a trowel. “I got a real problem here, you gotta get over here right away! I’m having a heck of a time polishing this marble and nothing is working!”
Great. I thought I was in the mystery business, not the hand-holding business. But the day was slow, and I figured babysitting one panicked contractor was better than listening to Flo quiz me about my love life. So I headed out, fired up the old Woody, and pointed her toward Vinny’s job site.
A Contractor in Tears
When I walked in, the homeowner was nowhere to be found, but there was Vinny, sitting on a five-gallon bucket in the middle of the floor, crying like a toddler who dropped his ice cream.
“Vinny,” I said, “get ahold of yourself. What’s the problem?”
He pointed to the floor like it had personally insulted him. “No matter what I do, I can’t get it to shine!”
One look told me what I needed to know. It was Monterey Black marble, a pain to polish unless you know the trick.
Getting to Work
“What powder are you using?” I asked.
“I’ve tried ‘em all,” he sniffled, “and I still get that hazy gray look.”
“Did you hone it first?”
“Yes,” he said, sniffling again.
I sighed, rolled up my sleeves, and said, “Alright Vinny, get me some polishing powder and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
He brought me a container like a kid bringing the teacher an apple. I set up the machine and said, “Here’s your first problem, wrong pad. White pads are too soft. You need heat, and that means a hog’s hair pad.”
Luckily, Vinny had one in his truck. I threw it on the machine, sprinkled about a teaspoon of powder on the floor, added just a splash of water, and went to work.
The Right Technique
The powder started to dry up as I polished, which is exactly what I wanted. But Vinny panicked. “Hey, you need to add more water!”
I gave him a look that could strip paint. “Do you want to see this marble polish or not?”
He shut up fast.
I kept working it until the floor was bone dry, then stepped back. The marble gleamed like a brand-new mirror.
The Lesson Learned
I handed Vinny the machine handle and said:
- Some marbles need dry polishing
- Monterey Black is one of them
- Others include China Black, Belgium Black, and Thasos White
“Next time, skip the crying and try it this way first.”
Wrapping Up the Case
Another case closed. I climbed back into the Woody, hoping to have a quiet rest of the day. But with my luck, I knew Flo would be waiting back at the diner with a fresh cup of coffee and a smirk.
