The tenants were gone, the heat was cranked to tropical levels, and every room was covered in cooked pasta. Years later, one question remains: why?
When Alan arrives to perform an eviction, he expects the usual abandoned belongings and cleanup. Instead, he opens the door to what can only be described as a carbohydrate crime scene. The apartment is empty, the heat is blasting like a sauna, piles of unwanted clothes sit in every room, and cooked pasta covers nearly every square foot of floor space. With no note, no explanation, and no tenants in sight, Alan, the movers, and the landlord are left trying to solve one of the strangest mysteries in Constable Files history: who spends all night cooking enough pasta to cover an apartment—and why? A true story proving that sometimes the most baffling cases aren't the difficult ones, but the ones that make absolutely no sense.
