"Yeah, started the plumbin' as a side business after revenue in the auto shop took a nose dive," Tully explains. "...damn bike lanes."
"I don't care," you say, because you don't. "Just fix my sink."
"As you like," Tully says politely. As you walk away, he mutters "...bitch," slightly less politely.
A half hour later, Tully calls you back into the bathroom. "Reckon I've found the problem, son."
"Yeah?" you come back implatiently. "Did you fix the problem?"
"Well, things ain't always as simple as turnin' a valve or replacin' a gasket, boy," Tully says in a tone that is half-soothing and half-condescending. "Now, I'm a professional and I fully respect the sacred bond of plumber-customer confidentiality-"
"Wha-"
"It's a real thing, son, look it up, but we're getting off track here. That was what my nana called a preamble. Real deal is this: you been murderin' ladies up in here?"
"I-" you stumble, murderously.
"Now I need you to be honest with me or I can't fix the problem."
"No-" you deny. You're pretty sure it's not a crime to lie to a plumber. He's not a federal plumber or anything.
"Look, let me show you what I got. Water was drainin' real slow, just like you said, so naturally I tried to commune with the spirits what reside in your p-trap, as you do, and instead of finding the usual clog demon, I find the ghost of a scared girl sayin' she been murdered-"
"That doesn't pr-"
"-by you, she gave first name and last, and said
all the proof I need's in the pipes. Now what kinda ghost'd go and lie about a thing like that?"
"A j-jealous ex?" you posit unconvincingly.
"Maybe, but then I open up the p-trap and, sure enough, I find a shell casing which I guess'll match the bullet they found in that girl in the dumpster they found day before last, a cracked fingernail with blood on the underside-"
"But-"
"Yeah, guess it's not a real fingernail. One of them fake ones you get put on by the nice Vietnamese ladies tell you how good you look? The wife calls 'em "falsies" though I reckon they don't print that on the box. Anywho, I figure that blood'll be yours. Then I find a gum wrapper all covered with hair. Don't reckon that's related to the murder but it's probably what was cloggin' up the drain. It's running smooth now."
"How-"
"Regularly, I bill and let you pay later, but I think I'll need cash or charge before I leave the premises on this one. I'm sure you understand, bein' as you'll find it tought to pay ol' Tully once you start gettin' them lawyer bills."
You collapse onto the toilet seat and being to sob. "What have I done. Oh, god!"
Tully shakes his head. "You can get right with the lord later, friend, let's get me paid."