The first place to start investigating would obviously be Dads office in the basement.

Simone agreed to stay in the kitchen on our computer, researching everything she could about Angel Soft and every other toilet paper company out there as well as any conspiracies involved in their industries. I would look through Dads bank statements, patent forms, and other legal documents to see any motive for his murder from a business standpoint. The basement was warm and thick, like sucking through foam every time I breathed in. Dads model bidets lined the back wall, standing upright against dusty bricks. There were nozzle bidets attached to regular toilet tanks, porcelain bowl bidets that looked like something out of a modern art catalogue (there werent even stands for these bowls, they just sat right on the ground), urinal-style bidets, and finally, Dads two tier bidet. This is his baby, his model that will join the two worlds of dry and wet toilet sanitation. It looked like a normal toilet, but it had two tiers for the seat and it attached to two tanks in the backone for flushing, and one for rinsing. The problem with separate bidets is that you have to stand up and move to the bidet to rinse off, and most people prefer buying toilet paper to potentially soiling their bathroom floor while traveling between thrones. With this baby, you wouldnt have to worry about that. After doing your business, you push the lever on the left side of the bowl. This triggers the faucets located in the higher tierthe tier closest to your nether regions to rinse front and back. After rinsing sufficiently, you push the lever on the right side of the bowl. This triggers the drier on the sides of the higher tier to dry you enough to stand. After you stand and pull your pants back up, you push the button on the tanks, which flushes the waste away. This way, people dont have to worry about moving from one place to another, while keeping sufficiently cleaner down there than what theyd experience with cheap removable bidets.

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Its really a brilliant idea. Dad calls it The Bird after Larry Bird because Larry cleans house on the court. Simone told me I should sketch a picture of the bidet so you could see it for yourself, so here it is.

Dads work papers were all in a filing cabinet by the water heater. He never locks it because he never needs to, so I shuffled through the cabinets looking for anything interesting. Not much. Most of the drawers are full of birth certificates, insurance clauses for the house and car, mortgage agreements, etc. until I got to the bottom drawer. Bingo. Bank statements for loans and transfers made with the purpose of Grays Bidets. The basement was so warm, or maybe I was just sweating. I opened the little window above the model bidets. The air outside wasnt much cooler, but it blew in and out of the room, making the air less thick and pasty. The grass needed mowing in our front lawn. Maybe Id get to

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that today. Looking outside with my eyes at ground level, I pictured what itd be like to be buried this way, with my head out of the ground. What would my eyes see before things went black? If I strained my neck, I could see wisps of the clouds, but that took a lot of effort. It would probably be the carsthe gutter-level view of all the cars passing by, probably splashing mud onto the grass. I closed my eyes and imagined being buried in mud, watching muddy water splash near me onto the yard from the dirty undersides of all the cars passing by. If that were the last thing Id see, I could probably find it beautiful. Juniper, Mrs. Pascals Rottweiler, let out a deep hollow bark from next door, making me jump and open my eyes. I slapped my face. Stop it, Henry. Focus on this. I moved back to Dads file cabinet and leafed through the documents spread out on the floor. One paper felt slightly heavier than any of the other forms. I held it up. State of Oregon Department of Consumer and Business Services Division of Finance and Corporate Securities It was watermarked with the Oregon governmental seal. CONSUMER FINANCE LICENSE UNDER THE OREGON CONSUMER FINANCE ACT License # 0334-056-Q My dad got the business approved. He was officially granted authority start his own bidet company. I looked at the date. It was signed in tight cursive by Todd K. Dixon, Division of Finance and Corporate Securities on March 23almost three months ago. Hey, Henry, come here. Simone poked her head inside the doorway at the top of the stairs.

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I looked up. You find something? She waved her arm. Come look at this. I dropped the certificate, jumped the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over the doorway, and leaned over Simones shoulder to look at the computer screen. A picture. I stared harder. What is it? I asked, searching the screen. I found this meme of Keanu Reeves wondering if there are no bidets in the U.S. because the government owns the toilet paper industry. Simone giggled for a second, but then stopped when she saw me not giggling back, letting only Junipers howls from next door fill the silence. Sorry, buddy, she said, closing the browser. Im still looking. Simone clicked vigorously while I walked back down the basement stairs, probably just trying to sound busy. When I walked back to the filing cabinet, I stopped. The air smelled a little different. Juniper still hadnt shut up. I looked back out the basement window, hearing a car ignition start down the street. Wait a minute. I ran back to the filing cabinet, clutching all the papers in my fist and almost leaping back across the room to the open window. My heart played against my sternum like a heavy mallet. I thumbed through the file of documentsJuniper still barkingsaw the business license and dropped all the other papers. The watermark was still there. The basement door creaked behind me. Henry? I heard Simones feet tapping each stare as she walked toward me. The name, Todd K. Dixon, there it was. Only Someone switched the document. I looked at the name again and again. What? Simone asked.

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Right here, when I left. The signature line was blank, with only Dixons printed name below the line, in laser ink, where it doesnt do anything. The documents unsigned. Now its unsigned. It was signed before I left the room, wasnt it? It was. In tight cursive. My palms felt sticky against the tips of my fingers. Juniper finally shut up next door. I looked out the window, watching a black SUV drive by our house and turn the corner onto Landing Dr. disappearing down the street.

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