Introduction
It was the year 1957,  twelve years after the atrocities of World War II ended and the rebuilding began. Eli had been born in 1943, nine months after my father returned from his deployment in Europe. He was the typical teenager, extremely active, excitable, and someone who loves adventure. Yet it was that sense of adventure that caused this entire story to unfold, along with myself to be dragged into this absurd tale. It all started the night of July 23 before I was dragged into the action by my best friend. My name is Wiley R. Jefferson and let me tell you the mystery that started it all. With that all being said, I’ll allow Eli to take over.
      Part I
            Eli’s POV
I had been walking down the street with my ball in one hand and my glove in the other. I had just come home from a tough game, resulting in a win for my team, with the rest of the kids in the neighborhood. As I thought of the play I made which was worthy of the Great Bambino, I absently threw the ball to its zenith, catching the ball as it reached me after it's decent. However, I was not looking to where I was at the time, and as I threw the ball up one more time the ball started its decent straight into a window,  not  just any window, but the window of old man Muller. Not a lot was known about Ernest Muller. It was a rumour that he was a high ranking Nazi who escaped before trial, a member of the United States secret service, and even an member of the the German Mafia. Extremely inactive in the community  Mr. Muller, being the reclusive man he is, when seen would be dressed in rags and often reek.  As the debate to turn heels and get away as fast as my legs could carry me partook within myself, I didn’t realize that the object of my worries was slowly walking up to my person with a non too pleased look gracing his face. After finally catching on that I was caught red handed a grimace matching if not exceeding the one present on old man Muller’s face became present on my own. He finally reached me and despite how dense I was, something everyone loves to remind me of, even I could tell it was not looking good for me.
The hermit like man grabbed my shoulders and looked me dead in the eye with flames and hatred I thought I would only see in the Salem Witch Trials. He then said quietly, in a voice raising barely higher than a whisper, yet rung out for all to hear ,“ You're planning on fixing and paying for my window correct, Kid?”
Fearing for my life, I quickly responded, “ Of course Mr. Muller, that’s no problem at all, I would be happy to fix it, I’ll even use the money I’ve been saving up for a new bike” struggling to maintain a calm and collected face. This was not an easy feat, as I was being stared down by the demon of the neighborhood, making whatever promises that allowed me to leave,the sooner the better.
Finally he turned down his glare before I combusted on the spot, stating, “Good. I expect you to be there at seven in the morning and  I’ll have the materials by then. You can reimburse me when you get there.” before turning on his heels and heading back inside.
Feeling like I dodged enough bullets to be casted in the Matrix, I began to head home for the day, my mood instantly improving when I realized that it was steak for dinner, one of my favorite foods, despite the rarity that I’m able to have it. Unknown to me, the events of that day would completely change the rest of my life. So as I layed down for bed, after dinner, and cursed the name that is Mr. Muller, in hindsight I should have come up with  much better comments than ‘that no good old fool,’ or ‘unfair geezer.’
When I awoke the next morning, going extra sluggish in order to prolong the freedom from the work that I was destined for, I trudged down the stairs just in time to see my mom about to leave for work. She gives me a questioning look as I typically don’t awaken until around nine thirty, and even during the school week she has to drag me out of the bed for me to be awakened around now. I tell her something about me and the boys planning to meet up early for an early morning baseball game, something she reluctantly accepts, but in reality I’m just worried about what old man Muller would do to me if I showed up late. I gave her a hug before running out the door only slowing down when I was clearly out of sight.
I arrive at the Muller residence around 6:55 A.M., with Mr. Muller waiting outside the door with a large sheet of glass and multiple planks beside a ladder leading up to the demolished window. Seeing me arrive he called out, “at least you have the common decency to show up on time,” barely looking up. He walks over to me, handing me the bill of the materials, and I nearly pass out right then and there, the total came to 19 dollars 30 cents, leaving me with only 40 cents saved up for the bike, meaning my months of saving was fruitless.
  I manage to keep myself steady looking up to see where Mr.Muller went, but when I looked up, it was only in time to watch the front  door slam closed. Deciding against following into the house to try and negotiate or beg for a better deal, I quickly settled down for work. Climbing up the ladder to see the damage that was done on the window, I discovered roughly half the window was destroyed, while the other half was cracked. Realizing it was going to be a lot more work than I had expected, I quickly got to work, but not before noting that the window was tinted to black, as if it was painted over. Thinking nothing of it, I went down and started clean up the broken glass before someone ended up cut. Starting to get to work, I realized that it was too awkward trying to pry off the boards myself, along with keeping the boards and the old window from falling as I did this. When I brought this up to Mr. Muller, he told me if I was unable to continue working today than I can continue where I left off tomorrow with a friend. AS he walked away I heard him mutter under his breath “... besides with two they’ll be done quicker. And none too soon as it would be best to get him out of the house, especially that room as soon, as possible.”
Hearing this I grew suspicious, but also relieved as I wouldn’t have to perform the entire task all by myself. I knew just who I could get to help me too, Wiley Jefferson, distantly related to Thomas Jefferson, or so he says, but more importantly my best friend. So before I walk home I headed over to Wiley’s in order to call in a favor I have, making it so he has to help me regardless. That doesn’t mean he enjoyed having to help, in reality he was most vocal against helping, but in our friendship if you call in a favor you have to help regardless of preference. I didn’t feel bad, as last time Wiley called in a favor resulting in making me perform in the talent show.
So afterwards I went home grabbing a sandwich, as mom was working late and dad was on a work trip, before going to bed early as I had to wake up again at 6 A.M..
      Part 2
           Wiley’s POV
I woke up to my alarm already hating Eli for forcing me to help him out. Not only do I have to help him work, but I have to help him fix Mr. Muller’s window who has been believed to have terrorized kids for simply stepping on his lawn. So I head out the door after grabbing a quick slice of toast from downstairs before the two terrors, my older twin sisters by a year, take it all.
When I arrive, Eli’s already there waiting for me, so that we can start. I climb the ladder, with the hammer in one hand, and the other firmly planted on the ladder, as Eli holds it from below. Leaning in I pry the boards off nail by nail, my hands cold from the wind. Eventually all of them are off, the rest of the old window giving way and falling down to the grass below. I look into the room and see glass covering the floor.Taking the hammer and sliding it along the window edges to remove all of the glass I slowly hoist myself into the room to clean up the broken glass. I slowly pick up the glass using one of the present folders as dust pan. I go over to the trash and find a couple of hastily thrown out folders in German. Yes while it was true that Eli was the brawns, I am and will always be the brains. Flipping through the file, I find a word I understand here and there, but it isn’t until the last page that I became astounded, because there at the bottom of the page was a signature, not of just anyone but of one Adolf Hitler and one Ernest Muller. It hit me like a bag of bricks. Some of those neighborhood rumours had merit. Muller really was a high ranking Nazi who escaped trial, and that was why he was so antisocial, as he was trying to stay under the radar. Hearing the door open, I shove the file in my jean jacket hoping I hid it in time. I go over and begin to climb out the window onto the ladder, when old man Muller enters muttering to himself saying, “ I should have gotten rid of those papers years ago.” He goes over to the waste bin and notices one of the papers are missing. Meanwhile I was trying to make myself look as inconspicuous as possible, but to no avail. He looks over to me, wondering if I was the reason it was missing, and I almost got away with it until, the corner of the report poked out of my jacket making itself known to all. Mr. Muller absconds over and grabs me frantically trying to get the folder from me. Well of  course the first thing I do when I was grabbed was take a handful of his own clothes and pull right back. Ernest Muller ended up flipping out and over the window sill, falling the 10 odd feet down to the bottom. As soon as he hit bottom, Mr. Muller was out like a light.
      Epilogue
  That was the first mystery myself and Eli ever partook, roughly 23 years ago. In the end Mr. Ernest Muller was tried for war crimes and found guilty being sentenced to life without parole. It was on that day that me and Eli became inseparable, eventually becoming world renowned detectives, but more importantly best men at each others’ weddings. We partook on many more adventures, some more crazy or dangerous than others, and some longer and more drawn out, but those are tales for another day and another time.