Victoria's Secret

It all started one afternoon. The previous day had brought showers, more than showers anyway. It had been the worst flood Tillson Community had seen in over a century. According to the weather channel, they could probably expect more of that. The strappy, young, Italy-born gardener of the Johnsons inspected the damage. The lovely hibiscuses he had been grooming were ruined. He cussed in his Italian language and got to work. Just as he turned to leave, his eye caught a glimmer of something. Like a piece of silver. He bent to inspect the land and dug with his gloved hands. His hands caught something. He pulled a little and dug even faster.
"Oh my goodness!" he exclaimed. And then he ran in to alert the Johnsons.
Five whole hours had passed since the gardener had found what he found and now he was seated in the living room, with the Johnsons. Their only daughter, fifteen-year old Victoria, was there too. She stood with hands folded.
"So you mean to tell me you found Freddie? He's been dead for over two months now!" Mr. Johnson exclaimed.
"Yes , sir. I found the dead dog buried in your front lawn," the gardener repeated for the umpteenth time that hour.
"We need to call the police. That means Freddie was murdered," Mrs. Johnson said worriedly.
"I doubt if the police will come running down here over the case of a dead dog, sir," the gardener said.
"True, true. I'll inform Detective Stone." Mr. Johnson left the room.
"Let me get you some snacks, dear," Mrs. Johnson said and she also left the room.
Victoria stared intensely at the gardener. His eyes looked weary and his nose looked like it had been broken a couple of times.
"I know who did it," Victoria said.
"What? What are you talking about, young girl?"
"I have a secret. I know who killed the dog. They're right. Freddie was murdered. But who could have hated the dog so much? Who would want it dead?"
The gardener shrugged.
"Well, it was me."
The gardener almost choked. "What?!"