You walk over to the balding police officer with a confident stride.

“I know who did a murder here!” you state, loudly.

“Oh really? You do? That would be super helpful to know,” he says.

Lana, Denise, Spike, and Tiki Dan all perk up.

“Everyone wanted Benny’s rare Hawaiian shirt,” you begin. “Including Lana. She made out with him, and while he was distracted, poisoned Benny’s drink. Notice that she wore a cheap, though similar looking shirt to his? While Tiki Steve was lighting up drinks, Lana used the distraction to switch their shirts while Benny was woozy. That’s why his shirt is too tight and hers looks like a big dress. See the lipstick on the collar? It’s Lana’s own lipstick.”

“What are y’all talking about?” Lana says in a southern accent that took you completely off-guard. “This is my shirt, y’all!”

“Check the tag,” says Denise. “Hawaiian shirt collectors put their names on the tags of their shirts. Everyone in the Hawaiian shirt community does it.”

The officer checks the tag on Lana’s shirt and the label reads “Tiki Benny.” Also, she had an empty vial on her marked “poison.”

“Good work,” says the officer as he cuffs Lana. “I’ll take all the credit, of course, but you should look into becoming a gumshoe.”

Gumshoe, eh? You like the sound of that. Maybe you’ll quit running for president to become… a private eye.

THE END