MOBILEREAD MASTERPIECE THEATRE: MYSTERY

Sponsored by PocketBook and Bookeen
providers of the PocketBook Pro 902 & the Bookeen Opus

Good evening ladies and gentlemen [and assorted life forms] and welcome to the new season of MobileRead's Masterpiece Theatre: Mystery. I'm your host, Alexander Turcicooke.

Tonight we begin a new contemporary mystery series, set in the mean streets of an unnamed metropolitan urban wilderness, where death roams freely amidst the members of an unsuspecting organization, and only the tireless efforts of a talented amateur detective can stand against the onslaught of mindless mayhem and senseless slaughter.

This series is being underwritten by our good friends at PocketBook and Bookeen, whose generous support is highly appreciated by all the members of MobileRead, partnering together to further the dissemination and advance of mobile reading in the twenty-first century and beyond. MobileRead gratefully thanks PocketBook and Bookeen for providing some of the prizes to be awarded to the lucky MobileRead members, who are perspicacious enough to solve this baffling mystery and answer the question: What The Butler Saw?

From all of us at MobileRead: Thank You PocketBook and Bookeen!

SERIOUS STUFF

I couldn't have done it [no, I just didn't confess! - the story hasn't started yet!] without the help of the following MobileRead members:

Zelda_pinwheel -- casting, translation, plot lines.
Javed -- Creative/Musical director
FlorenceArt -- translation.
dsvick -- ebook creation
brattzo -- cover art

and all the zany MR members who inspire this kind of persiflage!

This saga is dedicated respectfully to the late MobileRead member Patricia (Pat Clark) taken too soon from our grieving community. I had planned a role for her in this adventure, and hope she is reading it now along with us.

[Don't you dare peek ahead at the end!]

And to our recently lost Derek (delphidb96), another unexpected loss that has saddened our community.

I also dedicate this saga to all MobileRead members who have suffered unexpected grave medical conditions (you know who you are). Perhaps reading this will give you a chuckle or two as you deal with your personal challenges. Your MobileRead family will always be with you.

Anyone who feels insulted or outraged by anything that follows - I apologize in advance - it's all meant in jest.

Anyone who feels left out at not being included as a character, please wait for the next serial. I take hints.

Praise  for

World Wide Acclaim  for ...

errrr

Stuff people said about What The Butler Saw

SUPER!  - KK

Carp.......now I have to re-subscribe to the lounge  - desertgrandma

Awesome! Love these contests.  - Angst

More MURDERED Mods Yippee !!!  - Kevin2960

that plucked chicken is kind of scaring me  - bjones6416

Careful, you could put out an eye on his coccyx!  - Recluse

Nice! I already know the killer too! - SweetPea

It's no wonder why the imaginary monkey is in charge.  - Recluse

I wonder what happens if you use a left-handed hammer with your right hand.  - montsnmags

Attend, Watson... the game is afoot!  - Steve Lyle Jordan

And he seemed like such a 'down to earth' guy  - desertgrandma

they're all guilty! - ShortNCuddlyAm

mind the stray chickens – kindlekitten

I know that the murderer is zany – Logseman

Hordes of undead killer chickens. Just what I need to round my Tuesday off.  - ShortNCuddlyAm

Beetles and earthworms are not enough!  - SneakySnake

I think anyone who really gets the correct answer deserves a big prize – bpugliese

I'm still not sure who was murdered  - Mr. Pockets

You should see my painting knifes – FlorenceArt

I know who did it! I know who did it!   - ShortNCuddlyAm

I don't even know what that MEANS - bjones6416

THE WAIT IS OVER!

MobileRead is proud to present

[editorial disclaimer]

errrmmm, couldn't find a legal way to block,

the publication of a new serialized murder-mystery novelette starring .... lots of MobileRead members! Maybe even you! Yes, you! Stop looking behind you ... there's no one there. Names were not changed because you know you are GUILTY! GUILTY! Until proven otherwise!

So my fellow suspects, errrm, readers, turn the page if you dare and enter the twisted and dangerous world of my innermost thoughts, and see if you can guess: WHAT THE BUTLER SAW!

[Anyone still willing to continue reading agrees to totally absolve MobileRead, the author, and all of our descendants, family, ancestors, and pets from any liability for slander, heart attacks, sleep deprivation, damaged keyboards or screens from involuntarily expelled liquids, hurt feelings, or loss of employment from reading on the job.]

Push the Big Red Button - fasten your seat belts - and prepare for a ride of mystery and mayhem extreme!

Patent pending.

One choice to rule them out,

one choice to bind them.

One choice, one final clue

the mystery is solved for you.

-- LCF

IN THE RAIN

It was a dark and stormy night. Really! Dark and stormy that is. Sickly chartreuse lightning flickered fitfully over a frightened city, as wind-swept sheets of rain laid siege against shuttered doors and windows. Thunder boomed and cracked, as the fierce storm winds eviscerated hapless clouds scudding over the dim face of a wan moon. Moonlight failed to pierce the lowering clouds, racing before the storm yet to come, leaving the streets shrouded in dank and total darkness. The streetlights had all been darkened; not even a traffic light was ablink. This was a time to seek safety from the elements, as they whipped up a night fit for a witches sabbath.

Two dim cones of yellowish-orange light appeared and gradually brightened, as a lonely yellow cab plowed through flooded streets carrying a lone, desperate passenger. What hellish reason would force anyone to travel through streets ripped from the sound stage of "The Perfect Storm?" The cab slewed to a skidding stop in front of a massive, bleak, elongated building that exuded a palpable aura of malevolent menace and impending doom. There followed a pregnant, silent pause as the winds hushed to observe this anomaly.

The cab's passenger door suddenly opened, and the interior light snapped on spotlighting a slender, graceful, feminine form clad completely in black. Even before she spoke a word, you knew this was a foreign import new to these gritty mean streets. "This the place, sweetheart?" growled the cabbie, in a voice roughened by too many cheap cigars and far too many shots of cheap rot-gut. She bent her head over a much-folded scrap of paper, trying to read the scribbled street number in the margin. "Oui" she replied, and passed a fistful of crumpled bank notes over the seat back to the waiting palm. "Keep ze change.!"

"Right, as if I ever give back change" muttered the urban hack, coughing wetly into his palm.

Stepping onto the sidewalk was like stepping into a cold mountain stream at full flood! Icy water rushing past her ankles ruined her black velvet stiletto heels and elicited a shrill imprecation: "Non mais je rêve, un temps à ne pas mettre un chien dehors et moi on me tire de mon lit, par tous les écureuils il y a intérêt à ce qu'il y ait un bon vin chaud qui m'attend...".

"This is insane, you wouldn't put a dog outside in weather like this but me I'm dragged from my bed, in the name of all squirrels there better be some hot wine waiting for me..."

The returning winds immediately wrenched her lacy black parasol from her hands, spinning it across the moon's bleak face before impaling it on a nearby lamp-post. "Saleté de vent ! On en fait plus des comme ça, en plus !"

"Damned wind ! And they don't make those anymore, either !"

muttered the hapless fugitive, clutching her sodden fedora on to her lank and dripping hair plastered by the gusts against her cheek, "Alex better have a really good reason for this emergency meeting!"

The cabbie wordlessly watched his passenger enter the maelstrom of wind and water, backlit by the ceaseless play of sheets of lightning against the sickly moonlight. Slamming the door shut returned the street to total darkness, as the cab inched away from the curb, removing the safe haven of its headlights from the desolate street.

Kicking off her sodden shoes, Zelda dashed to the imposing dark door, barely able to make out the discreet "MR" brass plaque as the lightening continued to flicker above her. She pressed and pressed the bell without getting any response. "Great, no power, no door bell!" She dashed back to the curb but the cab was long gone. Sheets of rain thoroughly soaked her as she frantically searched for a way into the building. The door and walls were too thick, and the storm too loud, for her to attract anyone's attention.

Then, in a momentary flicker of lurid light, she espied an old drain pipe at the corner of the building, which ran past an open window on the third floor. Whispering "Nancy Drew be with me tonight" Zelda began to shimmy up the drain pipe, fatally ripping her sleek black stockings and causing major damage to the rest of her ensemble. Our plucky adventurer, after innumerable slips and and near-falls, finally reached the window just as the ancient drain pipe began separating from the bricks. A final desperate leap landed her draped over the windowsill as the drain pipe fell towards the distant sidewalk with a resounding crash. A final belly flop dumped her damply onto a cold marble floor. Water pooled around her as she tried to take her bearings in the darkness.

Gazing out of the window, Zelda mused "Well, this is just dandy. I'm inside now ... but with no way out until the power comes back on."

IN THE DARK

As Zelda began wringing the rain water out of her sodden clothes she heard distant laughter, shrieking, screams, and the sound of angry gibbering!

"Great," she muttered, "they've started the meeting without me."

"I'd better get a move on it before Adrian finishes off all the hors d'œuvres and the best wine."

Glancing about the darkened hallway to gain her bearings, she noted the suits of armor looming over her in a flash of the constant lightning. In a second flash of lightning, the armor was gone!

"Has Alex been re-decorating?" she mused. "I don't remember MR ever having suits of armor before."

As she groped her way towards where she remembered the stairwell was supposed to be, Zelda felt the prickling sensation between her shoulder blades that meant either she was being watched by silent, hidden eyes, or that something had hitched a ride on her clamber up the drain pipe. Slapping her back for defense or courage, she continued toward (she hoped) the stairwell to the MR offices ...

and promptly fell flat on her face. In a pool of sticky fluid containing a recumbent and silent form. She froze until the next flash of lightning occurred ... revealing a man's body in a pool of red, sticky fluid. Under the man's hand was a paperback book awash in the crimson fluid. Zelda could just make out the title "What the Butler Saw" written by Rock Lobster. "Jeesh, who reads the pulps anymore" she pondered.

Zelda slowly reached out a trembling, yet resolute, hand and turned the body's head towards her ... revealing the horribly contorted visage of .... pshrynk!

"Oh no, not again mon frère" screamed Zelda! "Une fois ne t'a suffi donc pas?"

Wasn't one time enough for you ?

*cough*

"May I be of assistance?" inquired a soft, discreet, and highly cultured voice directly behind her.

Zelda tried to rise, whirl about, and raise her fists all in the same motion ... only to pitch forward into the chest of the tall, formally dressed man, who coughed discreetly and said "If Madam would please step this way on to the dry floor." As he led Zelda away from the gently floating body, Zelda looked up and squeaked "DaleDe! What's happening here tonight? Who killed pshrynk ... again? Why did Alex send out for all the Mods to attend an emergency meeting tonight?"

"My name is Jeeves, mum" replied the stately figure with a flickering candle in his upraised left hand, directing his gaze at a point 2 inches over Zelda's right shoulder. "We heard your somewhat impromptu arrival, and Colonel Alex has directed me to locate you and convey you to the study."

"Errrmmm," politely clearing his throat first, Jeeves continued "I'm afraid you will be liable for all damages incurred by the drain pipe."

"If you would step this way please." Jeeves placed a white-gloved hand under Zelda's elbow and ushered here firmly toward the staircase.

"But ... but ... what about pshrynk? He's dead! Lying in a pool of his own blood!"

"M'enfin, ne me dis pas que tu le vois pas, plus près il te mordrait !"

"Don't tell me you don't see him, if he were any closer he'd bite you !"

"Not to worry mum," murmured Jeeves in a confident tone, "housekeeping will clean up any mess left by the storm. Watch your step now, the stairs are slippery."

IN THE STUDY

Completely overwhelmed by the night's events, Zelda allowed herself to be propelled up the frigid stone staircase (what had happened to the carpet she wondered), clinging to Jeeves's elbow in the dim pool of candle light.

As they reached the top of the staircase, the study door was flung violently open, and VintageSeason stormed out waving his fists back into the softly lit room. "You've gone too far this time Colonel Alex" he roared, tugging at his unruly beard, "Your arbitrary decisions and rules will cost you dearly! And all those around you! I swear you'll pay for what you've done!" Trying to slam the six-inch-thick oak door proved futile, so he settled for storming away in a high dudgeon.

He wheeled round and blinked abruptly as he caught sight of the two figures on the landing. "Oh, Hi Zelda. What are you doing out on a night like this?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned and continued "Say Jeeves, think you can rustle up a cab for me?"

"Indubitably sir," replied the unruffled manservant, "If you would just wait here a moment please."

Jeeves conveyed Zelda into the study, across an immense Turkish carpet, up to a mahogany desk the size of Kansas. Behind it, in a leather executive chair with heat AND massage, sat Colonel Alex, the ruler of all things MR. Encased in a scarlet smoking jacket and wearing a matching fez, he was just lighting up a cheroot.

Looking up in apparent surprise, Colonel Alex lazily inquired "Why Zelda, what brings you to our humble abode? Aren't you still busy working on your shum eradication plan in gay old Paree?"

"What?" shrilled Zelda "Non mais je rêve ! C'est une blague non ? Tu te fiches de moi là ? Et puis laisse tranquille les shums, je m'en occupe.

I must be dreaming. That's a joke right? You're kidding me? And leave the shums out of this, I'll take care of them.

"I got your farking note ... something about "an emergency meeting of all MR mods ... a life or death situation ... come at all costs"

So I came .... and boy did it cost me! Have you priced out air fares lately? And the strip searches at both airports ... just because I was dressed all in black and carrying a black parasol!"

Before she could continue, Colonel Alex leaned back in his luxurious chair, palmed on both heat and massage, and began to chuckle in a particularly annoying avuncular fashion. "Zelda, Zelda, Zelda! I fear you've been the victim of an extremely vicious practical joke! I sent no note ... to anyone. There's no emergency situation, apart from this pesky power outage, that is. I've had to commandeer all the emergency flashlights in the building just to have enough batteries to power my chair - doctor's orders you know ... for my back, harumph, war injury you know. Leading the charge, and all that rot."

"Rot is right!" screamed Zelda. "There's a dead body in your hallway downstairs! In a huge pool of blood! Haven't you seen it? Pshrynk has gotten himself murdered again! Again! How does the man do it?"

Colonel Alex "tut-tutted" in a soothing fashion, which only infuriated the French fugitive even more. "Zelda, Zelda, Zelda! No one's been murdered tonight, least of all Pshrynk! Everyone knows lightning never strikes twice in the same place, and all that rot. Why should anyone want to murder him again? Eh?

Unless, or course, you accidentally murdered him yourself during your somewhat awkward ingress into our locked building? Hmmm... did you? And failed to notice it in the dark?

Is that what happened?"

"Quel âne. Tu pârles d'une idée de génie : mais bien sûr, en passant par la fenêtre, les mains vides et depuis l'autre côté de la pièce, j'ai réussi à estourbir pshrynk jusqu'à ce que mort s'ensuive. Sûrement, oui. Ou bien, c'est peut-être que j'ai des visions ! Mais oui ! bon, pour la prochaine, j'espère que ça sera Elvis qui m'apparaîtra. Jeune, de préférence. Pfff. N'importe quoi, franchement.

What a donkey. Talk about a genius idea. Of course! While coming through the window, empty handed and from all the way on the other side of the room, I managed to knock pshrynk out all the way till it killed him. Surely that must be it. Or, perhaps I'm having visions! Yes! Of course! Well, for the next one, I hope it's Elvis who will appear to me. Young, preferably. Pfff. What a bunch of malarky.

Zelda fell into a chair as if she had been pole-axed, totally but temporarily flummoxed by the Colonel's astute yet asinine questioning.

"Just how long have you been heating and shaking your brains?" snapped Zelda. "Whatever powers of reasoning you ever possessed seem to have been pureed, par-boiled, and poached!"

"I don't have to put up with these kinds of insults" roared the Colonel! "Jeeves! Jeeves!" he shouted as he furiously rang the flawlessly silver bell on his desk.

"You rang Sir?" inquired a discreet voice just behind Zelda's left shoulder.

Zelda leapt from her chair ... Jeeves had entered so quietly she had had no idea he was behind her.

"Remove this, this .... Person! from my presence! Immediately!" roared the Colonel.

"Very good Sir," murmured Jeeves as he clasped Zelda's left elbow and turned her to the door.

"I'll get to the bottom of this farrago" shouted Zelda, as she was politely but firmly removed to the study door. "I'll find out who murdered Pshrynk!" "DaleDe will help me, won't you?"

"Whom are you referring to?" inquired the imperturbable manservant.

Zelda looked up and gasped "Nate! What are you doing dressed up like DaleDe?"

Jeeves' left eyebrow crept up his forehead exactly one-eighth of an inch as he replied "Beg pardon mum, my name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service."

The astonished Zelda was removed from the study, back into the flickering candle-lit world of the dank hallway. She heard the study door close softly but firmly behind her, and the soft thunk of a latch being thrown and the muted click of a key turning in a well-oiled lock, leaving her in the dark literally, figuratively, and completely!

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Part the First

PART THE FIRST

Zelda pulled herself together and turned to the patiently waiting butler. "Nate, errr, Jeeves, can we go back to Pshrynk's body? It looks like it's up to me to solve his murder and apprehend the miscreant."

"As you wish mum," murmured Jeeves, "If you would kindly step this way."

Zelda couldn't help staring at Jeeves' face, muttering "I could have sworn you were DaleDe before, but I guess it was a trick of the light."

"Yes mum," agreed the sharp-eared manservant, "appearances can be deceiving in these conditions of suboptimal illumination."

They proceeded back down the corridor, their tiny wavering circle of candle light throwing grotesquely magnified shadows in front of them. Zelda stopped suddenly, seizing Jeeves' arm in a painful grip.

"Did you see that?" she whispered hoarsely? "A gray dog just ran down the hall ahead of us. It looks like vivaldirules is here tonight too! I wonder if he's seen anything fishy?"

Jeeves gently but firmly disengaged Zelda's long fingernails from the now tattered sleeve of his jacket and replied "Sorry mum, I didn't see anything but the shadows. As I mentioned, appearances can ..."

"Yes, yes" interrupted Zelda, "I get it. You're the perfect servant: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Colonel Alex's perfect little toady."

"No need for insults," whispered the ashen-faced Jeeves, "I try to give satisfaction to my master."

"T'inquiète, on a compris. Comptez sur les domestiques pour toujours voir ce qu'il faudrait pas, en étant eux-mêmes invisibles."

Don't worry, I get it. Count on the help to always see what shouldn't be seen, while being invisible themselves.

They slowly descended the barren stairs. Zelda noted, but forbore to comment on, the line of wet dog tracks preceding them to the crime scene. They slowly approached the chilling corpse, still afloat in a large reddish puddle, book clutched in hand.

Zelda tip-toed forward, eyes glued to the grisly sight of her friend, her mind awhirl with speculation and suspicions. Who were pshrynk's enemies? Who wanted him dead? Who could perform such a heinous deed of dastardly violence?

She knelt next to his outstretched hand, careful to keep her skirt from touching the sticky red pool. Even in her dazed condition, she noticed the flurry of paw prints spread widely through the grisly puddle. Slowly, carefully, she reached out and removed the sodden paperback from his lifeless grasp.

"Yecchhh" she hissed, "I don't remember any of Nancy Drew's clues being this disgusting" Holding the dripping book by its spine, she continued her examination of the body.

"I wonder what the murder weapon was," she mused aloud.

*cough*

A discreet cough behind her reminded her that Jeeves was still standing behind her. "Excuse me for the rude intrusion, but I couldn't help overhearing your query. Perhaps this object might be of interest to you?"

Looking up, Zelda's eyes widened with terror as she saw Jeeves holding a large empty wine bottle above her head. She desperately lunged to the side, dropping the book, trying to escape what seemed to be certain death!

Jeeves continued, politely ignoring her irrational display of terror, "I found this bottle lying by his head. Perhaps it is the weapon you are seeking?"

Badly rattled by the bizarre sequence of events, Zelda lost her sophisticated European poise and blurted "Blimey, Pshrynk got brained with a bottle of bubbly!"

In the next convenient lightning flash, Jeeves examined the label and demurred, "No mum, not 'a bottle of bubbly' but rather a 2006 Saint Pourçain. An excellent choice indeed."

"An excellent choice for what? A murder weapon?"

"Tant qu'à faire, autant massacrer avec un bon cru, sans doute."

Well, might as well choose a good year, for your massacres, I guess.

As Zelda crawled over the chill marble floor to regain the dropped book, Jeeves continued to descant as if nothing untoward had occurred. "This bottle closely resembles the bottle I observed earlier suspended over the decedent's head. But I may be mistaken. I wasn't close enough to read the label."

Slowly, Zelda raised her eyes to the motionless manservant. Softly she inquired, "What are you saying, man? Did you see who murdered Pshrynk?"

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Part the Second

PART THE SECOND

"Not in so many words," replied the impenetrable narrator. "I was merely recalling an unpleasant scene inadvertently overheard and overviewed by myself earlier this evening."

Zelda impatiently asked "And .... what did you see?"

"Well, I don't like to tell tales out of school, if you catch my meaning, mum," prevaricated the embarrassed envoy, "but earlier this evening, whilst I was polishing the ancestral armor in this hallway, which rendered my form hidden to a casual observer that might chance to stroll through the hallway -- it was dark due to the power outage too -- as I was saying, whilst engaged in pewter polishing activities ..."

"Enough!" screamed Zelda. "Assez tergiversé, passons aux choses sérieuses !"

"Enough procrastinating, get serious !"

"Get to the point man! Who, err whom, did you see? Doing what? To whom?" "And why?"

"Why, pshrynk was having a spirited discussion with ravenne, very near where he is lying right now. I couldn't clearly hear what the topic being discussed entailed, but I clearly discerned ravenne's arm raised several times. She seemed to be holding a bottle of red wine -- I could just make out the color when the lightning illuminated the window behind them."

Jeeves paused thoughtfully a moment, and then resumed "All I could understand was a few of the more loudly enunciated phrases from ravenne; pshrynk tended to look down and mumble."

After another lengthy pause, Zelda demanded "Well, just what did you think you heard?"

Jeeves sorrowfully shook his head of sleekly oiled hair and replied "I wouldn't want to have to swear to this in court, mum"

"Does it look like we're in court now?" shrieked an exasperated Zelda. "Out with it man! Tu te fiches de moi, c'est maintenant que tu te décides de la fermer ?"

"You've got to be joking, *now* you stop talking ?"

"Well mum, recognizing that I regrettably cannot be 100% positive, I believe I heard ravenne repeatedly use the phrase 'you'll be sorry' and perhaps a fragment that sounded like 'get even' -- but these are only my imperfect aural interpretations."

"I was then summoned away from the scene by hearing Colonel Alex's bell. Realizing that my impertinent interest in this fracas had made me tardy in bringing the Colonel's hot toddy up to the study, I hastened toward the stairs. An unnaturally loud exclamation from ravenne caused me to turn round on the stairs. My last sight of pshrynk alive was framed by a lightning back-drop, with ravenne front and center brandishing the bottle of red wine."

Recounting this painful scene deeply affected Jeeves, who was so overcome with emotion that he had to use his gleaming white handkerchief to discreetly dab away an errant tear trying to course down a sallow cheek.

Zelda's heightened powers of observation instantly noted the small reddish stain on the corner of Jeeves' hanky.

"Tiens tiens ! ça serait pas le début d'une piste que je vois, enfin ?"

"Well, well ! Could that be a clue I see, at last ?"

Before she could investigate this tell-tale stain, Jeeves pocketed the cloth and inquired: "Shall I conduct you to interview ravenne? I believe she is still on the premises."

Zelda accepted the invitation and accompanied Jeeves back up the staircase, still clutching the sodden paperback.

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Suspect #1

SUSPECT #1

Jeeves led Zelda through a series of dark hallways she didn't remember ever seeing before in her previous visits to the MR building. They twisted and turned on themselves so often, she expected she and Jeeves to meet themselves at the next corner! But Jeeves sure-footedly blazed the trail to ravenne's room. As they reached the final corner, Zelda abruptly bumped into a shadowy figure limping around the corner.

"Yvanleterrible! What are you doing here tonight? Did you get a note from Alex too?" exclaimed the astonished Zelda.

"Oh Hi Zelda. Yeah, Alex called me this afternoon before the power went out, to come in and repair a broken drain pipe. He said some clumsy oaf of an intruder had shimmied up the side of the building on it, but they were so fat they pulled it right off the bricks."

"Charmant ! Je vois que la galanterie est bel et bien morte, de nos jours."

"Charming ! I see chivalry really is dead, these days."

"Fat! Fat! He said that? Fat-headed is more like it!" spluttered the highly incensed Zelda.

"Well, I don't know about that," replied yvan, "but he did tell me to send the bill to you. I wondered at the time if you had been elected to Treasurer of MR, but now I understand. You broke it."

"Stop staring at my hips, you cad, I'm still only a size 2 I'll have you know!

.... Wait a minute, I didn't break in, errr, climb in until tonight. How could Alex know this afternoon to call you in?"

But yvan had already started limping off, muttering "He knows I can't go out and fix the blasted pipe until this farking storm moves on. I've got so much metal in my leg I've become the human lightning rod. No way I'm going out now on a ladder."

Zelda's mind raced in circles like a rabid hamster in a turbo-charged exercise wheel! Just what was going on here tonight? Was yvan lying about the phone call? Did Alex booby-trap the pipe, knowing it would be the only way inside the building once the power went out?

Jeeves coughed discreetly and said "If you would just walk this way mum."

They soon reached a door with a hand-written index card stapled to the wood reading "ravenne" "go away"

Quick-witted Zelda noted a smear of bacon grease on the lower left corner of the card.

"Mais que vois-je ? Une trace de doigt ? Et on dirait que ça sent le bacon... encore un indice ?"

"What's that I see ? A finger print ? And it smells like bacon... another clue ?"

Before she could investigate more closely, Jeeves had rapped smartly on the door, causing the card to fall off and be wafted down the hall by a cold, gusty draft. A shrill voice shouted "Can't you read? Go away! Leave me alone! I'm busy!"

Zelda responded "Ravenne! It's me -- Zelda! Please open the door -- there's been a murder!"

A long silent interval ensued, pregnant with the sense of someone thinking furiously on the other side of the dingy door, and maybe peering through the keyhole.

Abruptly, the door was flung open and Zelda was engulfed in a fervent but tipsy embrace. "Zelda, my friend, what are you doing here? Tonight of all nights? In this miserable weather? Come in, come in and have a glass of vino. You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

"That's all Jeeves, thank you. You may return to your duties. I'll take care of Missy Zelda now."

"Very good madam" replied Jeeves as he melted soundlessly back into the shadows.

Ravenne poured a glass of red wine for Zelda (who was craning her neck, trying to read the label on the bottle, but ravenne had spilled wine all over it) and said "So fill me in. A murder you say? Are you sure? Who? Where? Did you do it?"

Zelda choked on her wine and spluttered "Of course I didn't do it. I just got here. Alex had sent a note ordering all mods to attend an emergency meeting here tonight. So I hopped on a plane and had to climb up the drain pipe to get into the building tonight. That's where I found the body. Oh ravenne, pshrynk's been murdered. In the hall below the stairs."

"Oh Zelda, you're so confused. It must be jet lag. Pshrynk was murdered last year. Remember? All that string lying around the rooms, and that rude private dick? Wait, isn't that a naughty oxymoron -- private dick? No matter, you must have just had a flashback tonight. Maybe you were struck by lightning while climbing up the drain pipe -- your hair is really frizzy tonight you know."

"Stop being so silly and have another glass of wine. This is a really great vintage ... I call it wine to die for."

"Hou là, elle est mauvaise celle-là ! (tihi !) Bon, au moins le vin est bon..."

"Groan ! What a stinker ! (heehee !) At least the wine is good..."

Zelda erupted in a fury fueled by drinking two glasses of really fine wine on an empty stomach. "No, I don't have jet lag. No, I wasn't struck by lightning. You know what rain does to naturally curly hair! My mind is just fine, thank you very much. I know what I saw, and I can prove it. Just ask Jeeves to come back. He saw pshrynk too. He'll back me up!"

"And ... and ... he told me all about your violent argument earlier with pshrynk tonight, when you tried to club him with a wine bottle! You didn't see him, but he was in the hallway polishing the armor. He saw you ... and pshrynk ... and the bottle."

Zelda paused for breath, and to pour another glass of wine. One thing WAS true tonight ... this was a great vintage. Too good to waste.

Ravenne began chuckling, almost choking on her wine. "Zelda, there isn't any armor in that hallway. Never has been. Where would Alex get any armor? Alex in armor? Don't make me laugh!"

"But what about the argument? Are you denying that too? Didn't you threaten him?"

"There was no argument, Zelda. The thunder and rain were so loud in that empty hallway that we had to shout to hear each other. Pshrynk is deaf in one ear (he won't admit it) so he kept tipping his head to hear me since he couldn't read my lips in the dark. I was just showing him this fantastic new vintage I had discovered in the MR wine cellar."

"I keep shouting at him that he'd be sorry if he didn't try this wine, and we could get even with Colonel Alex for stealing our flashlight batteries. That's all."

"But,... but you kept raising the bottle!"

"Sure, I had to keep holding the bottle above his head, to show him the delicate blush of the wine - I used the lightning flashes to highlight it for him. I had to do it a couple of times to get the right color of lightning. Don't tell me that silly butter-fingers spilled the entire bottle of wine! That WOULD be criminal!"

Ravenne's slick explanations sounded so plausible, so ordinary, ... so real. Had Zelda really been struck by lightning -- and imagined the whole thing? She looked down at her lap and saw the forgotten paperback, now nestling in a puddle of wine on her skirt. That at least was real. Let's see ravenne deny this!

She picked up the book to show ravenne her evidence and noticed that soaking in the wine had literally glued all the pages together so that the book opened in the middle. Zelda peered down at the wine-smudged print, now wishing she hadn't had that third glass of wine. Her vision was really blurry. Wait, it was the page that was blurry, not her eyes. The wine had soaked thoroughly into the pages, completely obscuring the text except for the last line on page 202, and two scribbled lines below it in pshrynk's distinctive illegible scrawl. Holding the book up to ravenne's candle, Zelda puzzled out the only legible words in these three lines:

Did ___ ______ __ __?

___ ________ who ___ __.

He ___ ___ __ ____.

Was this a message from beyond the grave? From a dead man? Was pshrynk trying to identify his killer? Would it be in code? How could she clean the wine off the rest of the message without destroying it?

"Déjà que l'écriture d'un médecin vivant est indéchiffrable, alors un médecin mort... je suis pas sortie de l'auberge."

"Trying to read the handwriting of a live doctor is bad enough, never mind a *dead* doctor's handwriting... I'm not out of the woods yet..."

Zelda held the book closer to the candle, trying to dry out the page.

Just then, there was a discreet knock on the door.

"Enter" fluted the now tipsier ravenne.

Zelda looked up as Jeeves entered the room, then did a double take, spilling wine down her chin. This alcohol-laden dribble, combined with a strong gust of cold wind from the hallway, flared the candle flame, igniting the wine-soaked book into a small conflagration in Zelda's lap.

"Permit me, madam," said Jeeves, spraying the flames with the soda siphon he was carrying on the drinks tray. "I'm afraid that wine will leave a nasty stain in your skirt fabric."

Zelda stared wild-eyed at Jeeves, exclaiming

"Mtravellerh! What are you doing in Nate's, errr..., DaleDe's, .... errr Jeeves' suit?"

GETTING INTO A JAM - Part Primum

PART PRIMUM

Jeeves' right eyebrow crept up his forehead exactly one-eighth of an inch as he replied "Beg pardon mum, my name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service."

Zelda's mind reeled at this new apparition, but she rallied and began questioning the new version of Jeeves.

"Jeeves, please confirm to ravenne that there is a body in the hallway by the stairwell, and that pshrynk has been bludgeoned to death with a wine bottle."

Jeeves' eyes briefly flickered (with regret?) as he replied "Beg pardon mum. I am unable to confirm those statements. There is no body in the hallway. And pshrynk was not bludgeoned with a wine bottle."

Zelda fell thunderstruck back into her chair, as ravenne anxiously fanned her and offered her another glass of wine. Zelda pushed aside the proffered wine and shrieked: "You saw it! We saw it! You took the bottle!"

"Are you denying pshyrnk is dead?"

"Why no mum," replied Jeeves calmly. "Master pshrynk is indubitably dead. But there is no body in the hallway."

Shakily, Zelda asked "Where. Is. The. Body?"

"In the kitchen, mum, next to the refrigerator. Shall I convey you there to demonstrate?"

Completely overcome by events, Zelda allowed herself to be led docilely back into the hallway.

"Hey Zelda, feel free to drop in the next time you're in town!" chirped the now-blotto ravenne, as she slammed and locked her door.

As Jeeves turned to enter the hallway, Zelda noticed the index card had been re-attached to the door, but now read "do not disturb" "this means you Zelda".

Jeeves led Zelda through another set of twisting hallways, dimly lit by the continuing storm's jagged lightning. One particularly brilliant flash revealed a small red dot on Jeeves' otherwise flawlessly white collar, just below his left ear. But before she could inquire about it, they had reached the kitchen door.

Jeeves paused and softly intoned "I must warn you -- this isn't a pretty sight. Not really suitable for a lady to view at all."

"ça va, j'ai l'habitude ; on se fréquentait pas mal de son vivant."

"It's okay, I'm used to it ; we used to spend a lot of time together when he was alive."

Slowly, the massive oak door opened, into a dark kitchen filled with the menacing shadows of monstrous appliances and racks of knives. There was a large pile of bloody white chicken feathers on the drainboard, next to some greenish rags.

Jeeves advanced his candle into the room, revealing a body stuck to the floor in a congealing red puddle. Awash in a feeling of distinct and highly unpleasant déjà vu, Zelda slowly approached the corpse. Once again, pshrynk's body lay face down in the puddle, a paperback book clutched in his outstretched hand.

As she knelt next to the body, she was badly startled by a voice coming from the darkness on the other side of the body. "Hey Zelda, didn't know you were in town. Watch what you're doing! I'm almost done with my latest flower painting - I call it 'Rose Rendered in Strawberry Jam' -- have a gander."

Jeeves advanced his candle to reveal kennyc on his hands and knees putting the finishing touches on a finger painting of a rose in the rapidly solidifying red medium. Zelda sniffed -- sure enough -- pshrynk was lying in a huge pool of strawberry jam!

"Hey Jeeves -- be careful with that jam jar! I might need some more to finish the last petal here."

Zelda looked up to see Jeeves holding up a huge, institutional-sized jar of strawberry jam that had a starburst of cracks running up one side.

"I wonder how this jar sustained such damage" mused the manservant. "It was undoubtedly intact the last time I saw it earlier this evening. It must have contacted an extremely hard object whilst traveling at a high rate of speed."

"C'est vrai qu'il avait la tête dure, le pshrynk..."

"He did have a pretty hard head..."

"But I'm sure she only dropped it due to its vast weight when startled by the thunder, rather than deliberately direct it at Pshrynk." continued Jeeves, as he handed the jar over to kennyc's eager fingers. "Although there was quite an unprecedented clash of temperaments in here during the storm."

Zelda looked up from her efforts to loosen the paperback book from pshrynk's sticky hand, and softly asked "Who dropped it Jeeves?" "Ravenne?"

"Why were YOU here, and what exactly did you witness?"

GETTING INTO A JAM _ Part Secundum

PART SECUNDUM

"Well mum," murmured Jeeves, "If I might direct your attention to that unsightly heap of feathers and bloody offal on the drainboard. I had entered the kitchen earlier this evening to initiate the preparation of Colonel Alex's hot toddy, when my delicate yet sensitive olfactory sense detected something distinctly "off" in the kitchen. Fearing an incursion of vermin, I investigated immediately and located this loathsome leftover. I immediately fastened upon kennyc as the likely culprit, as he has quite the reputation for chicken harassment, slaughter, and consumption. While I was upbraiding him over his carnal culinary activities, I noted out of the corner of my eye Pshrynk and Nekokami had entered the kitchen, arguing vociferously by the refrigerator. Pshrynk was holding something in front of him, and both were bending over this unknown object"

"What were they arguing about?" questioned Zelda, not really expecting to receive an unambiguous answer.

"Well mum," prevaricated the lightly perspiring Jeeves ....

"I know, I know .... you can't be 100% positive of what you overheard, won't swear to it in court, yadda, yadda, yadda, ... I've heard it all before! Just get on with it man!" interrupted Zelda rudely.

"Vraiment dommage qu'on n'a pas de télécommande pour ce genre de trucs, l'avance rapide m'arrangerait grave juste là."

"A remote control with a fast forward button would come in so handy at times like these."

*cough* Jeeves cleared his throat and fixed an admonitory gaze 1/8 inch above Zelda's left eye, continuing "Well, my attention WAS fixed on extracting a confession from the wily kennyc as to the authorship of the grisly gastronomic goulash reposing on the drainboard, so that all I can recall clearly hearing was Nekokami screaming "No", "watch out", and "that's no way".

"I'm sure other words were shrieked, errr, spoken forcefully by the young lady, but I did not catch them. Pshrynk's remarks were spoken too softly to be discerned. It WAS storming you know."

"Did you see anything suspicious?"

"Well, my attention was focused on that dastardly kennyc, but several times I thought my perceptive peripheral powers of vision had noted Nekokami's upraised arm bearing this enormous jar aloft, over Pshrynk's bent head. But then I heard Colonel Alex's bell ringing furiously, and rushed out of the kitchen, tardy with his evening hot toddy. As I turned to close the door behind me, I saw as in a flickering frame of film, Pshrynk still alive framed by a lightning back-drop, with Nekokami front and center brandishing the jar of strawberry jam."

Noting the somewhat resentful tone of voice from the offended manservant, Zelda turned to corroborate Jeeves' statement with kennyc. But he had managed to slither away into the darkness during the interminable monologue, leaving a slowly congealing trail of knee prints leading into the Stygian darkness of the kitchen. Jeeves remained sulkily silent, offering no further embellishment to his tale.

Bending again to the cooling corpse, Zelda began freeing the paperback from Pshrynk's hand, one sticky finger at a time.

"Bon, je te savais bec sucré, mais là tu pousses le bouchon un peu trop loin, Maurice."

"Sheesh, I knew you had a sweet tooth, but this is really going too far."

The book finally popped free from Pshrynk's posthumous grasp, landing Zelda on her derriere looking up at the towering valet.

"Perhaps you wish to corroborate my report with Miss Nekokami" asked Jeeves. "I believe she is still on the premises."

Paperback firmly adhered to her hand, Zelda accompanied the petulant butler into the hallway and down a steep set of stairs.

GETTING INTO A JAM - Suspect #2

SUSPECT #2

Zelda reluctantly followed Jeeves' flickering, wavering candle down, down, down the dank and musty steps, into a fathomless damp darkness populated by ...... Zelda shuddered as her overstimulated imagination filled the gloom with unknown figures of menace and terror. Would these steps never end? Would she ever see the light of day again? What the fark was Nekokami doing in the MR catacombs .... tonight of all nights?

Zelda stumbled and nearly fell flat on her face as she abruptly stepped off the final step onto the cellar floor.

"Careful there," chirped a familiar voice as friendly hands helped her regain her balance.

"SneakySnake" exclaimed Zelda. "What are you doing here? Tonight? At all? Don't you live Down Under? How did you get here?"

"Dis-donc, ça descend jusqu'où au juste, cet escalier ??"

"Just how far down do these stairs go, anyway ??"

SneakySnake adjusted her kitty jammies, yawned, and explained. "Well, tomorrow I was over visiting Marc, who was throwing one of his super parties. I had one too many ZCD's and stumbled into Adrian's lab to have a kip on some folded lab coats. I guess I accidentally hit the wrong buttons or levers, or something, on that glowing machine -- I was only trying to dim the lights so I could catch some shut-eye -- and next thing you know I was sitting in Colonel Alex's office! On his desk! Boy, was he cheesed at the skid mark I left on it."

She paused to lick what looked suspiciously like strawberry jam off her fingers, and continued.

"Well, he had that snooty manservant of his, Jeeves, ... have you met Jeeves yet Zelda? ... drag me out of the study into what Colonel Alex laughably called the MR dungeons. It's really a broom closet with no lock on the door. I was SO zonked on the ZCD's and I guess cosmic jet lag ... I didn't notice the door was unlocked until just now."

"Oh Hi Jeeves," she chirped, noticing the dark-clad manservant standing behind Zelda in the shadows, "No hard feelings, right? What day is it anyway?"

"It is today," stiffly replied Jeeves, stung by her uncomplimentary description of his magisterial bearing. "It has been today all day long, and will continue being today until tomorrow occurs."

SneakySnake blinked twice, swallowed the last of the suspected strawberry jam, blinked again, and said "Right." She then wandered off into the darkness, sucking her thumb and humming "The Teddybears' Picnic."

*cough* "If you would just step this way mum" murmured Jeeves deferentially, discreetly reveling in having rid them of the noxious antipodean presence. Zelda's brain had stopped even trying to work sometime during Jeeves' explanation of temporal dynamics. She allowed Jeeves to lead her to a bright red enameled door, tucked in between two massive stonework groins. As Jeeves leaned forward with candle in hand to rap smartly on the door, Zelda noted what appeared to be a chocolate hand-print on the door panel above the brass door knob.

"Encore un indice, là ? Ou bien celui qui s'occupe du donjon n'est vraiment pas une fée du ménage ?"

"Another clue? Or poor housecleaning in the dungeons?"

"Go away, I'm asleep" shouted Nekokami through the closed door. "You must be a bad dream. Go away or I'll pinch myself and wake up."

"Nekokami, please open your door. It's Zelda!" pleaded the flummoxed French detective wanna-be. "I need to talk to you."

..... "WHO?"

"Zelda! It's Zelda! Please open up -- it's freezing cold out here!"

..... "I don't believe you. Zelda lives in Paris. What would she be doing here tonight? How would she get here? The storm closed down all the airports. Did she swim over?"

"Tell her Jeeves, .... please, .... tell her I'm Zelda and I'm really here."

.... "Jeeves is out there too? Why didn't you say so! Come on in!"

The shiny red door abruptly opened, revealing a softly candle-lit room with dusky pink walls and no windows. Zelda was snared into a sticky embrace "Zelda! It is you! What brings you to our soggy shores? How did you get in the building tonight? Look at you! You're a mess!"

Nekokami drew Zelda over to a low divan, and dismissed Jeeves "You can go back to the Colonel, Jeeves, Zelda and I are going to have some girl talk!"

"Very good madam," murmured the obedient servant, and Jeeves once again melted into the shadows, closing the door behind him.

"Have a donut Zelda! Watch out for the runny chocolate and that strawberry jam Pshrynk just insisted on adding to a perfectly good chocolate iced masterpiece."

"Pshrynk .... Neko ... I'm afraid I have some terrible news. Pshrynk is dead! In the kitchen. Apparently struck in the head with a large jar of strawberry jam. Tonight! Jeeves and I found him .... again." Zelda choked out in a quavery voice, spewing a gentle cloud of donut crumbs into the air.

"Dead! Pshrynk dead! Impossible!" Nekokami retorted sharply. "He was alive and well when I left him in the kitchen, watching kennyc doing unspeakable things to that poor chicken. Did you kill Pshrynk tonight? Why Zelda, why?"

Zelda sank under the weight of another unfounded false accusation, and replied "No, for the last time, I did NOT kill Pshrynk. He was dead when I found him. But Jeeves did see and hear YOU arguing with Pshrynk earlier tonight - in the kitchen - where I found his battered body!"

"Oh, poor Zelda, we were just discussing what's the best thing to smear on a donut. I had just finished icing a sumptuous cake donut with creamy chocolate when Pshrynk tried to add strawberry jam! Imagine the desecration of pure chocolate with jam! I shouted (it was storming you know) No! Watch out with that jam! That's no way to decorate a donut. Get away from me with that jar!"

"Mouaif, ça pouvait être pire, au moins il a pas sorti les crevettes !"

"Hmph, it could have been worse, at least he didn't try it with shrimp !"

"That irritating man kept trying to spoon jam onto my donut, and it was so dark in the kitchen that we both got totally smeared with the sticky stuff. And then he dropped the jar! I left at that point, yelling at him at the top of my lungs, and asked Jeeves to clean up the mess in the kitchen. I brought my chocolate donuts back here and have been napping all night."

"Here, have another donut! You're looking quite pale Zelda. Are you feeling all right? Did you catch a chill out in the rain? Maybe you've developed a fever and have become delusional. That's it! You imagined the whole thing. Shadows can be deceiving during a storm, you know. "

Zelda was indeed shivering, partly from the cold but mainly from the cold realization that her fragile grasp of reality was slipping even further .... further than she could ever have imagined. What was going on in this madhouse tonight. Why were her friends accusing her of murder? Who was the real murderer? What was Jeeves' role in all of this? She did feel a little flushed. Maybe, .... just maybe this was all a feverish ... and very detailed ... hallucination?

Zelda lifted a hand to feel the temperature of her allegedly fevered brow and promptly smacked herself in the head with the paperback book still stuck to hand. Her sodden spirits surged as she realized -- this book was real! And covered with jam, which had glued all the pages together so that the book once again inexplicably opened in the middle at page 202. The jam had soaked thoroughly into the pages, completely obscuring the text except for the last line on the page and .... gasp! .... two lines scribbled by Pshrynk on the bottom of the page!

"Look!" shouted Zelda, trying to pry Nekokami's attention from the box of donuts, "here's the book I removed from Pshrynk's dead hand! Call Jeeves back! He'll tell you where I found it!"

Neko rang the bell to summon Jeeves as Zelda peered nearsightedly at the gluey page. Crossing her eyes as she tried desperately to decode the writing, Zelda could only (maybe) discern:

___ ___ ______ do __?

___ ________ ___ ___ it.

__ ___ ___ of ____.

Just then Jeeves' thunderous knocking at the door startled her so badly she dropped the book -- of course it landed face down -- onto the carpet.

Zelda dropped to her hands and knees, frantically trying to peel the sticky missal from the carpet as Jeeves entered the room.

"On sait bien que la tartine tombe toujours du côté beurré, visiblement ça vaut pour la confiture aussi..."

"Everybody knows the toast always lands butter side down, clearly that goes for jam too..."

"Hi Jeeves, I think Zelda needs some help cleaning her mess off of my carpet." Neko explained, sounding rather put out by this wanton wasting of perfectly good jam.

"Permit me madam," said Jeeves, inserting one white-gloved fingernail under the edge of the book and gently peeling the pulpy mass up from the carpet. He lifted the book free of the carpet with a sickly squelchy sound and gingerly handed it back to Zelda. Alas, page 202 had stuck to the carpet so firmly that it was now completely covered with a opaque coating of carpet fuzz, jam, dog hairs, a small white chicken feather, and a large dollop of milk chocolate.

"I'm afraid you will be held liable for the replacement cost of that book by the MR lending library staff" commented Jeeves as he fastidiously changed into a new pair of spotless white gloves. As he tucked the soiled pair into his slacks' pocket, Zelda noted a small red stain on the side of Jeeves' otherwise flawlessly starched white shirt next to his suspender clip. Before she could tell if it was jam, Jeeves had re-buttoned his jacket and inquired "Will that be all madam?"

"No Jeeves, that will NOT be all" stormed Zelda, who then stood up, looked at Jeeves, and nearly fell down again. "Montsnmags! What are you doing in ... mtravellerh's .... Nate's ... DaleDe's .... whoever's suit? How many times is this going to happen to me? What's going on?"

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

Jeeves' left eyebrow crept up his forehead exactly one-third of an inch as he replied "Beg pardon mum, my name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service."

Zelda's mind reeled at this new apparition, but she rallied and began questioning the new version of Jeeves.

"Jeeves, please confirm to Nekokami that there is a body in the kitchen, and that pshrynk has been bludgeoned to death with a jam jar."

Jeeves' eyes briefly flickered (with confusion?) as he replied "Beg pardon mum. I am unable to confirm those statements. There is no body in the kitchen. And pshrynk was not bludgeoned with a jam jar."

"Evidemment. Au point où on en est, fallait s'y attendre."

"Naturally. At this point, how could I expect anything else ?"

Zelda breathed in deeply, then exhaled, looked at Jeeves' new incarnation, and decided to breathe in deeply again. Suppressing a shudder, she ventured to ask "OK, Jeeves, I suppose you're going to tell me that Pshrynk's body is now in a new location? And he was killed by a different weapon?"

Jeeves fixed his gaze exactly one-eighth of an inch above Zelda's nose and replied: "Earlier this evening, I did happen to notice what appeared to be a corpse in the MR parlor. Would you like me to convey you there to ascertain if it is still there?"

Zelda's brain now felt as if it had been taken for a ride in a Waring blender - on the puree setting! "Since when do we have a parlor?' she demanded. "Where is it? I've never been in it!"

"Of course you've never been in it silly" spluttered Nekokami, trying not to choke on her donut. "The parlor is reserved for courting couples only. Right, Jeeves?"

"You are entirely correct madam," replied the insufferably perfect servant. "Only couples of an amorous disposition."

"If you would step this way, mum" inquired Jeeves in his treacly tones that made Zelda's skin crawl, as he led Zelda back up the staircase, candle bravely flickering in the vast void of darkness.

"Hey Zelda," called Nekokami, "next time you're in town why don't you bring some of those fancy French pastries, you know, croissants? They'd be a nice change from all these donuts."

Jeeves led the trembling Zelda back up the staircase into the main MR lobby. Turning sharply right, Jeeves tapped softly on a door smothered in plush pink padding and decorated with hearts and bows. Receiving no answer, he opened the door a fraction of an inch and whispered "Anyone home?"

As they waited for an answer, he explained to Zelda "One must enter this room with the greatest care and discretion lest one surprise a couple locked in the throes of passion, to the unfathomed embarrassment of all parties. It can require a few moments for the untangling to finish."

As Zelda stood impatiently in the drafty hallway, a long shadow approached them, growing shorter and shorter as the indistinct figure neared them. Zelda nearly jumped out of her skin when she recognized the chirpily cheerful figure approaching them.

"DixieGal! What on earth are you doing here tonight? Are you trapped too? Have you seen Pshrynk, errr, that is what's left of him? Did you see his murderer?"

"Whoa gal, slow down and start making some sense" answered the transplanted southern belle, busily wiping a pinkish smear off her nose. "What's all this about Pshrynk? What's the old coot gone and done now? Did he have more than one fiance? That dog! I always told him his philandering would be the death of him!"

"Here, want a lick? There's some ice cream left."

Zelda had thought that things couldn't get any more confusing tonight. She was wrong. She was SO wrong. Was she to be dead wrong?

"Why are you here tonight bambi?"

"Why am I here? Pshrynk called me, that's why. He was planning to break up with his latest fiance and asked if I could bring a few gallons of homemade strawberry ice cream for the poor gal to comfort herself with once he'd cut her loose. I just happened to have rustled up a batch and came right over with my jumbo-sized stainless steel heavy duty ice cream scoop. I can't seem to find it now, and had to use my fingers to finish off the last of this ice cream. What a mess!"

What a mess indeed! New facets of Pshrynk's character appeared at every turn! Did Zelda ever really know the man?

"Hé ben ! On dirait que pshrynk c'était un vrai sac de noeuds, et qu'on n'a pas fini de les démêler !"

"It looks like pshrynk was a real sack of knots, and we're not even close to untangling them all !"

"Well, gotta head out now -- left some ribs on the grill! Catch you later Zelda! You too Jeeves!" And with that, DixieGal vanished down yet another dark hallway, leaving Zelda once again -- literally and figuratively -- in the dark.

Jeeves approached the satiny door and again cleared his throat loudly. Receiving no answer, he swung open the door and indicated that Zelda should precede him into the boudoir of illicit goings-on.

"Be prepared to close your eyes instantly if we should surprise a lingering couple beyond the reach of reason." he whispered urgently.

Zelda stepped into plush carpet that reached her ankles. In the fitful candle light, it appeared a garish blood-red crimson color. As they advanced soundlessly into the claustrophobic den of unbridled passion, a wordless cry of horror was wrenched from Zelda's trembling lips. What a twisted sight of passion gone wrong confronted her horrified gaze!

"Pauvre pshrynk, tu as payé cher tes passions..."

"Poor pshrynk, your passion cost you dearly..."

Pshrynk, in a state of extreme dishabille, was draped over a white love-seat, his arm dangling towards the floor where a red pool of liquid had collected under this divine divan. His body was spattered with a thick reddish fluid dripping sloppily onto the floor. Zelda immediately noted the paperback book once again clutched in his lifeless fingers, floating on the sodden carpet. His eyes were open -- and his face expressed surprise and bewilderment, with the faint trace of a racy smirk. A large, circular dent occupied the exact center of his forehead.

Several "Visit Wisconsin - America's Playground!" brochures were scattered over the carpet. Although shocked beyond reason, Zelda did notice a thick scattering of cat hairs blanketing the sofa's upholstery, with some floating in the crimson puddle under the book.

"Who could have done such a horrible deed" moaned the hapless Zelda, once again forced to witness the demise of her dear friend in an unforgettably hideous manner. "Who, Jeeves, who hated Pshrynk so much?"

*cough* "Well mum" began Jeeves in a tightly outraged tone, "I did happen to see this cad earlier this evening engaged in an extremely emotional disagreement with Miss Dreams -- in this very room! I was plumping up the pillows in the window-seat when they entered the room. Emotions were running so wildly, I was not noticed ... and hence was forced to witness the distasteful scene from behind the draperies!"

"Why Jeeves .... why are you calling Pshrynk a cad?" an astonished Zelda inquired.

"Why ... he made the lady cry! In public! And had the unspeakable nerve to laugh at her distress! Trifling with the affections of such a delicate damsel! Why if I weren't a gentleman's gentleman, I'd have been tempted to deal with this cur myself!" replied the incensed Jeeves, wiping a perfectly round bead of perspiration from his empurpled brow! "He was NOT a gentleman!"

"What were they arguing about? What could you hear? Why was she crying? Why did he laugh?" Zelda spluttered a series of questions, little expecting a complete answer, judging from her past interrogations of Jeeves' past incarnations.

"Well mum, the drapes were extremely heavy velvet and did tend to muffle the dialogue, and the lady was crying so hard her voice was quite unintelligible at times, but I did overhear her sob out these phrases: "over your dead body," "make me sorry," and "I hate...." "That's all I could understand between her outbursts of grief and rage."

"Bon dieu ! c'est largement suffisant pour impliquer Dreams. Est-ce que nous sommes face à un crime de passion ?"

"Good god ! That's plenty to incriminate Dreams. Are we faced with a crime of passion ?"

"That's incredible Jeeves! Then what happened!" Zelda breathed out expectantly.

"Well mum, at that point I could hear Colonel Alex furiously ringing his bell for his nightly hot toddy and I realized that witnessing this fracas had caused me to be unacceptably late in delivering this libation to my master. At this point, the couple was arguing so intently, I was able to steal from the room by crawling behind the love-seat to the door ... the carpet muffles sound wonderfully!"

"By this point, Pshyrnk was proffering a bowl of strawberry ice cream as a peace offering to the young lady, who hurled it in the direction of the cad's head! As I turned to close the door behind me, I saw as in a flickering frame of film, Pshrynk still alive framed by a lightning back-drop, with Dreams front and center brandishing an extremely robust ice cream scoop above his head!"

"I imagine this is the item in question mum" continued Jeeves, as he swung a large stainless steel ice cream scoop past Zelda's astonished face. "I found it behind the love-seat, wiped clean of all fingerprints. What a well-balanced instrument -- a real pleasure to use!"

"Be careful with that thing" screamed Zelda, "you nearly coshed me with it!"

"Oh, no danger of that mum," retorted Jeeves, "as you know I have perfect depth perception. You were in absolutely no danger at all."

"Perfect depth perception, eh? Then how do you explain that scar on your cheek? The crowbar jumped you when you blinked?"

*cough* "If you must know, this cutaneous imperfection is a dueling scar, honorably won whilst defending the honor of a young lady." simpered the complacent Jeeves. That man had an answer for everything!

"Well, no matter, I suppose we'd better go find Dreams and hear her side of the story," muttered Zelda. "Let's go Jeeves."

*cough* "Isn't madam forgetting something?"

"What? Oh, yeah, right, the sticky book."

Zelda pulled the book from Pshrynk's grasp with a sickly squelch and carried it from the room, Jeeves leading the way again, his ramrod-straight back radiating smug self-confidence.

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO - Suspect #3

SUSPECT #3

Once again Zelda found herself following Jeeves' flickering candle into the darkness cloaking the goings-on that seemed determined to drive all vestige of reason from her tired, aching brain. Would this interminable storm ever end? Would this night finally show signs of coming dawn light? Would there ever be a morning after? After .... Not for Pshrynk, that was certain.

Lost in her derailed train of thought, Zelda paid no attention to their route, blindly following the candle flame much like an addled moth. Would she find certain destruction too when she reached the flame? Or ....

*bump*

Zelda unpeeled herself from Jeeves' back and apologized for slamming into him. She had been so engrossed in her maniacal musings, she had failed to notice Jeeves had stopped outside a tightly closed door with no name on it.

Just as he raised his hand to discreetly tap on the wood panel Jeeves tipped his head to one side and inquired "Do you hear something?"

Zelda too could just hear ... music! There was someone playing a ukulele coming down the hall towards them strumming away and tapping their feet.

Zelda's foot began tapping too as she made out the tune "Ain't She Sweet" tinkling its way down the hall. Jeeves too was not immune to the music's bucolic charm and swayed noticeably one-eighth of an inch to the right.

"Tom! What are you doing here? Why are you serenading us? Have you seen Pshrynk at all tonight? Do you know what's happened?"

Zelda blurted out a stream of questions, not waiting for -- really not expecting -- any answers as Tom entered their tiny circle of light, madly strumming and humming away.

"And why on earth are you wearing duct tape around your waist?"

Tom finished the current verse with verve and flourish, tucking his instrument into a handy shoulder pouch. Zelda couldn't help but notice the almost invisible red stain on its strap.

"Why Zelda, what are you doing here? Did Pshrynk call you too? He said he was going to ask DixieGal to come over, not you! But it's nice to see you too of course."

"Pshrynk called YOU too? Décidément, les demoiselles du téléphone n'ont pas chômé ce soir !"

"The telephone lines must have put in overtime tonight !"

"Oh yeah, he called yesterday and asked me to come over with my trusty uke. Said something about hysterical womenfolk needing their savage breasts soothed, or something like that - there was so much static on the line I could barely understand what he was shouting about. And we menfolk have to stick together you know, so I packed up my old friend here and came right over! Is this the right room?"

"You are most correct sir" responded Jeeves, "this is the domicile of the abandoned damsel requiring soothing. Miss Dreams has had her dreams bent, folded, spindled, mutilated, and crushed beyond all human capacity for suffering. Play on."

"Wait! Before you begin, what's the story behind that duct tape Tom?"

"Well, Zelda, you remember my dog Norton, who only knows one trick? Well, yesterday the UPS lady brought my new K3 to the door. As I was signing for it, Norton wanted to show off so he grabbed my shorts leg and yanked them down. The UPS lady ran off shrieking 'Pervert' - and took my K3 with her! She hasn't been back yet! So I thought, since I was commissioned to soothe a distraught lady, I'd better make sure NOT to repeat that episode here tonight. All I had was duct tape, so I've taped my shorts to my waist. Chafes a little, but I feel really secure."

"God, but I love that little pup!"

"à chacun son heure de gloire... même les chiens, apparemment."

"every dog has his day..."

In the ensuing silence following this moving anecdote, Jeeves once again raised his hand to tap on the door. Unfortunately, before his knuckles reached the wood, the Donna Summers disco version of "I Will Survive!" blasted through the flimsy door, flattening the trio against the wall with sheer decibel power!

The door flew open, barely hanging on at the hinges as a veritable dervish danced demonically into the hallway.

"Hi guys! Thought I heard some voices out here! Come on in! It's party time!" shrieked Dreams as she wildly gyrated up and down the hallway, knocking Tom off his feet as she attempted a "dip" with him.

Jeeves stuffed his white gloves into his ears, plunged into the dimly lit room illuminated only by a spinning candle and the dying flames in a fireplace, and decreased the volume before their brains imploded.

"I believe it is now safe to enter the premises" intoned Jeeves, as he extracted the gloves from his aural canals.

Zelda looked around for Tom, who had prudently crawled away to safety. Shrugging, she entered Dreams' converted ballroom as Jeeves excused himself to see Master Tom to the door.

Dreams had breathlessly collapsed onto the bed, fanning herself with a "Wisconsin - Dream Get-Aways For Couples" brochure.

"Want some ice cream Zelda? I've got gallons and gallons of the stuff. Take a load off and tell me what brings you here to my not-so-humble abode."

"Dreams -- I've come about Pshrynk!" explained Zelda.

Dreams' eyes narrowed dangerously, as she snarled "You came about Pshrynk! You too Zelda? I thought you were my friend? He was bonking you too? Are you replacing me? Is that why he tried to dump me tonight? Was it for you?"

"No, no," Zelda hastened to explain. "Jeeves has already told me about your break-up with Pshrynk, how he dumped you and humiliated you in the boudoir. I'm so sorry he treated you that way, but it was no reason to kill him, was it?"

Dreams' face assumed an ugly, blotchy red appearance, spittle flying from the corners of her painted mouth as she hissed "He didn't dump me! I dumped him! I found out tonight he was planning to move to Wisconsin so I wouldn't find out about his other pieces of fluff! Wisconsin! Can you imagine that? Nobody really lives in Wisconsin voluntarily do they?"

"It's all right Dreams, I know all about it. Jeeves saw and heard your argument, when you told Pshrynk that you hated him, and threatened him. Remember?"

"Oh bosh! Jeeves obviously misunderstood what I said. There was a storm you know! I could barely hear myself scream as it was. See, Pshrynk gave me these brochures and revealed his evil plans to sequester me in the frozen hind-quarters of America's heartland! You know I can't stand cold weather! I simply told him that I would partake in such a move only "over his dead body" - a joke, get it? I explained that his plans made me sorry I ever got involved with him, and that I hated the idea of moving to Wisconsin. I jumped to my feet, spilling that damn strawberry ice cream all over everything, including him, and ran back to my room to have a good cry. He was very much alive - and laughing - when I left the room."

"Now I'm all better and ready to move on with my life, with someone new who appreciates me!"

"On dirait que certains cadavres n'ont pas sa réticence quand il s'agît de déménager !"

"Seems there certain cadavers aren't as shy about "moving" as she is !"

Zelda collapsed under the weight of these plausible explanations. She looked blankly at the book in her hand and thought why bother. It's probably stuck open again at page 202 and there will only be a few letters or words legible. So she threw the book onto the pile of Wisconsin travel brochures heaped up on Dream's bed-spread, all of which were coated with the same cat hairs she had seen on the love-seat. She closed her eyes and leaned back, listening halfheartedly to Dreams' frenetic humming, trying to make a shred of sense out of tonight's events, real or imagined.

"Hey, isn't this Pshrynk's book?" asked Dreams when she noticed the sodden paperback. "What are you doing with it? Did you steal it after you killed him? Did he jilt you too? Don't worry, I'll never tell anyone you did it."

Dreams quieted down as she perused the pulpy paperback. "Wow, this has ice cream all over it. Blecchh. What a slob. Can't even take care of his own reading material. Let's see .... I can just barely make out .... on the bottom of page 202 .... looks like Pshyrnk's scribbling all right ...

___ the ______ __ __?

Ask ________ ___ ___ __.

__ was ___ __ ____.

Well, this sure doesn't make any sense."

With that, Dreams swept up all the travel brochures, along with the puzzling tome and threw them into the fireplace, where they burnt with a sickly sweet flame into black greasy ashes.

Dreams turned her attention back to Zelda, suddenly remembering she was still in the room.

"Say Zelda, did you get a good look at that dishy Jeeves? Was he wearing a wedding ring? Do you think he's seeing anyone? Wonder what he's wearing under that starched shirt. Is Wednesday his afternoon off?"

Zelda attempted a tactful reply "Sorry Dreams, somehow I don't think you have a ghost of a chance with this particular Jeeves. Errrr.... I understand he's already involved in a serious relationship.

[*in a low tone* You'd have a better chance with Adrian.]

"Oh well, a girl can dream, can't she?" sighed Dreams, and then giggled girlishly, "I made a joke, get it? Dreams - that's me - dreaming? Pretty good huh?"

"Wait a minute. You said something about killing Pshrynk. That wasn't true was it? You made up this whole murder thingy to cover up YOUR affair with Pshrynk didn't you? Didn't you?" You're the new squeeze Pshrynk was trying to run off with! I hate you! Hate you!"

"Comme elle y va ! Une affaire avec pshrynk, maintenant ! Et puis quoi encore ? Je suis coupable de tous les crimes, ce soir, à les entendre !"

"That's putting it on a bit thick ! An affaire with pshrynk, now ! What else will they come up with ? To hear them all talk, it seems I'm guilty of every possible crime, tonight !"

Zelda recoiled from the sudden vitriolic attack and madly rang the bell for Jeeves.

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD

Zelda raced around the end of the bed, eluding Dreams' demonic attempts to "scratch her hussy eyes out of her harlot face," and reached the door just as it began to open.

"Oh Jeeves, am I ever glad to see you ...."

PSHRYNK!!!!

you're not dead! You're alive! Really alive!! It was all just a dream!! I'm not crazy!"

babbled the nearly incoherent Zelda, as the manservant hesitantly entered the room.

Both of Jeeves' eyebrows shot up his forehead exactly one-eighth of an inch as he replied "Beg pardon mum, my name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service."

Stepping back a fraction of an inch, he continued "You rang?"

"Please remove the trash from the room Jeeves" commanded Dreams, looking pointedly at Zelda, "It's beginning to smell."

"This way mum," murmured Jeeves as he led the now near-comatose Zelda from the room. "And please cease endeavoring to embrace me mum -- it's most irregular behavior!"

Jeeves shuddered delicately as he peeled Zelda's trembling arms from about his waist. As he straightened his coat, Zelda noted a small red stain on his left cuff, just below the gold cuff link engraved with a "J" in fancy script.

"I don't understand this at all! I saw your lifeless body in the parlour a few minutes ago. Jeeves, errr, an eye-witness claimed you had been murdered by Dreams after you ditched her. Bludgeoned with an ice cream scoop. Mais peu importe ! Tout est bien qui finit bien ! Même contre toute attente..."

"But no matter ! All's well that ends well ! No matter how unexpected..."

"What a distasteful tale you've been told mum" Jeeves answered, repressing a distinct flinch at the mention of the undignified murder weapon.

"Let me assure madam that there is nobody, errrr, no body in the parlour -- now or on any night. As you know, Colonel Alex had sealed the parlour ever since that horrible night. You remember, when Adrian held his "come as you are" party? Not even fumigation, followed by exorcism, has removed the taint of those unholy revels! Strange sights and sounds still occur nightly as tortured souls still trapped in the mazes of their ZCD-induced stupors attempt to form conga lines and perform the "Hokey-Pokey!"

"Ghastly!"

"Perhaps madam had earlier broken into the parlour, after breaking into the building, and been subjected to hallucinations induced by the strange powders thrown into the lava lamps?"

"Oh no Jeeves, it was definitely Pshrynk, errr, you that I saw lifeless on the sofa. I couldn't mistake your face."

"Well mum, perhaps we ought to return to the alleged 'scene of the crime' and ascertain the veracity of your recollections." replied his unerringly logical brain.

Once again Zelda allowed herself to be led through the still unfamiliar corridors, back to the parlour with its grisly sickly display. She kept glancing up at Jeeves, pinching herself to reassure her tired, beleaguered mind that this was no dream. Pshrynk really was walking beside her, big as life! Literally!

Lightning continued its incessant flickering, dimly seen through the skylights as they proceeded cautiously through the still-dark corridors. As they rounded a corner, Jeeves stumbled slightly and righted himself smartly with a muttered apology.

"Jeeves, you're bleeding!" exclaimed Zelda, as fresh red droplets pitter-pattered onto her hair.

"Just a scratch mum, nothing to fret about" explained Jeeves.

"But what happened to you? Did someone try to kill you? Who?" Zelda was nothing if not consistently persistent.

"I'm not quite sure mum, it's a bit of a blur to me. Earlier tonight I had repaired to the library to dust the shelves, when I chanced upon a classic mystery tale. Perhaps you've read it yourself? 'What The Butler Saw?'

"Mais je ne lis que ça, ce soir ! On dirait du Italo Calvino..."

"That's all I've been reading tonight, over and over ! It's like a novel by Italo Calvino..."

A ripping good yarn, I've always thought. But perhaps I'm a bit prejudiced, seeing as how I do fit the title role. *cough* Sorry for the personal digression mum.

As I was saying, the sight of this marvelous read prompted me to engage in truly unprofessional behavior. I confess I sank into a conveniently placed wing-back chair and began to avidly peruse this tale of murder and mayhem. I had reached page 202 when my attention was abruptly wrenched from this fascinating chronicle by the angry sound of Colonel Alex's bell. Horrors! I was late bringing up his nightly hot toddy. I scribbled a quick note to myself on the bottom of the page before reluctantly closing such a seductive read. As I sprang to my feet, I accidentally extinguished my candle and dropped the book in my subsequent confusion. I moved with all possible alacrity toward the door using the provident illumination provided by the storm, and suddenly beheld a vague shadowy figure emerge from the corner of the room. An arm was raised over my head, vividly illuminated by the pyrotechnic background offered by the near-constant lightning. It was a shapely feminine arm clutching .... something rather large."

Jeeves paused to dab a bead of perspiration from his manly brow, and draw a restorative breath.

"Well, what happened? Who was it? Did they cosh you?"

"Apparently whoever it was missed. I've oft noticed and lamented the poor standards of performance of today's generation when it comes to activities requiring motor skills." Jeeves commented.

"Oui, enfin, ça tombait bien pour toi, avoue."

"Well, you have to admit, it's a lucky thing for you things aren't what they used to be."

"Then why are you bleeding?" demanded Zelda.

"I can only surmise that when I reeled away from the intended blow, my head must have inadvertently contacted the corner of a nearby bookcase. This unexpected contact produced a profound disorientation in my mentation."

"You knocked yourself out cold"

"Somewhat crudely but accurately phrased, yes. I rapidly regained consciousness, no doubt aided by the continued clanging of Colonel Alex's bell as he demanded the delivery of his toddy. I dusted myself off, staunched my cranial hemorrhage with the application of pomade, and resumed my duties. I was just collecting Colonel Alex's empty glass when I heard the bell in Miss Dreams' room."

Zelda's mind had by now surrendered; little white flags were waving madly in her eyes as she valiantly tried to process this new information.

LET'S DO THE TIME WARP

.... AGAIN

Jeeves continued to lead the way back to the parlour, the alleged scene of his, errr Pshrynk's, recent murder, with Zelda meekly following, enclosed in her private fug of conflicting theories, facts, observations, fears, and possible hallucinations. Nothing made any vestige of sense anymore ... but then had anything made sense since she hauled herself through the window into this macabre fun-house of horror? Was it even still the same night? There was no way to judge the passage of time in these unlit corridors. She had to trust herself and her safety to Jeeves until she could reach ... or contact ... the outside world. And that couldn't happen until the power was restored. Would this farking thunderstorm EVER end?

"Tu parles d'une recherche du temps perdu... Marcel en personne n'aurait pu faire mieux."

"Talk about going in search of lost time... Marcel himself couldn't have done better."

"The parlour is just down this hallway," murmured Jeeves, as he steered Zelda into yet another unfamiliar unlit corridor.

The sound of a distant foghorn shattered the silence.

"Ah, the doorbell" remarked Jeeves. "Please wait here while I ascertain who is visiting us tonight."

Jeeves rapidly swanned away in a totally new direction, leaving Zelda literally and figuratively in the dark. Since when did MobileRead have a foghorn as a doorbell? How could someone ring it if the power was out? Who else was going to show up tonight?

"Bon jour Zelda! I didn't know you were in town too! You should have called me and let me know. We could have had dinner together."

Zelda wheeled around, heart hammering, eyes starting from her parchment-white face at the figure illuminated by the oil lamp she was carrying.

"Florence! What are YOU doing here tonight? How did you get here? Have you seen Pshrynk yet? Was he dead?"

Florence bent a concerned look upon her obviously agitated friend and patted her hand gently.

"Why Zelda, Pshrynk's the reason I'm here tonight. Colonel Alex has commissioned me to paint Pshrynk's portrait for the MobileRead Portrait Gallery. You know, that line of oil paintings in the library?

Anyway, we have an appointment tonight for his first sitting. I'm on my way to the library right now to set up my easel. Send him along when you see him, OK? We need to get started right away before I lose this unique lighting."

"Elle vient faire un portrait mais ça sera plutôt une nature morte !"

"She's here for a portrait but she's going to have to make do with a still life !"

With this, Florence departed rapidly, leaving a tiny smudge of cadmium red on Zelda's hand, and she was once again on her own in the Stygian darkness.

"Psssst! Dollface! Over here!" A raspy voice hissed in the darkness.

Zelda twirled wildly, trying to locate the source.

"No, over here! Behind you!" ... "Ow ... that's my foot you're stamping on!"

With a familiar rasp, and the pungent smell of lighter fluid, a Zippo lighter flared into existence in Zelda's face, temporarily blinding her and igniting several wayward wisps of her rain-frizzied hair.

Pushing aside the hand holding the lighter, Zelda demanded "Who are you? Where are you? And stop calling me dollface ... my name is Zelda!"

"Awwww .... don't be so touchy little lady. Just trying to be friendly, that's all. You know .... 'Cherish la femme' ... and all that. Jeeessh, they told me you was feisty, but not downright hostile!"

As Zelda's eyes adjusted to the Zippo's flickering flame, her eyes flew open as she shrieked "You're the cabbie that drove me here from the airport! I saw you drive off. You abandoned me here! How did you get in? What are you doing here? How do you know who I am?"

"Surprised to see me again, ain't ya? Well, I'm not really a cabbie. All right, sometimes I do do hack work, when I don't have a paying client, but I'm really a Private Investigator. Really! Name's Rock Lobster. You can call me Rock, but not Rocky. I hate that! Unless of course it's whispered to me in the dark when ...... *cough*

Anyways, this Colonel Alex moke hired me yesterday to shadow you. See, he was tipped off there was gonna be a break-in here tonight, and someone was gonna get hurt. Seems his source fingered a French connection for the perp, so I hung around the airport International Arrivals gate tonight until you showed up. I'll never forget the sight of those black-stockinged gams coming down the ramp .... *cough*

Anyways, I followed you here by driving your cab! Pretty slick, huh? People always look behind them to see if someone is following them. They never think to look in front of them! Am I right? You never suspected I was tailing you, did'ja?"

Not waiting for an answer, Lobster plowed on with his yarn:

"I've had you in my sights the whole night! Up and down and back and forth ... man, my feet are killing me! How big is this farking building anyways? Anyways, what I can't figure out is how you managed to off that mug in the library without me seeing. Did you use knock-out drops on me? I'm a sucker for a free drink. Or did you hypnotize me? Come on, give with the info honey. How'd you pull this caper off so slick?"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce charabia ? C'est un massacre de la langue, ça c'est sûr, mais de laquelle ?"

"What on earth is this gibberish ? He's murdering the language, that's for sure, but which one ?"

Zelda clutched a lock of hair in each hand, took a deep breath, and calmly explained: "Well, the reason you didn't see me murder Pshrynk is because I DIDN'T DO IT! *errrr* I didn't kill anyone tonight! I just kept finding the bodies after they were already murdered! NOT by me! Got it?"

"Now stop following me and help me get out of this funhouse from hell!"

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S)

.... FISHIE THE FIRST

"Riiiiight ......"

Lobster just stared blankly at her, switching his Zippo from hand to hand as the case heated up. Then his face lit up as a new series of ideas cascaded into his brain and out of his mouth.

"Now I got it! You're a member of a gang of international criminals! Hired to fly over from France tonight and off that dude in the library! You were the decoy! Everyone knows I never could turn my back on a set of curves like yours, sister! So, while I was following you with my tongue hanging out like a dog in August looking for a cool drink of water, your buddy waz doin' the deed in another room! You Frenchies are pretty slick! Almost had me there. But I got a little surprise for you too!"

With that prophetic pronouncement, Lobster reached behind him in the darkness and rolled a tightly trussed figure into the wan circle of light cast by the "Sam Spade Commemorative" Zippo lighter. Lobster stretched out a patent leather clad foot and roughly turned his captive's face up to the light.

"filip!" shrieked Zelda, falling to her knees besides the helpless bundle. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in another story line. How did you end up here?"

"So you two DO know each other! I was right! Gang members! I've been dragging around this load of bad all night too! Had to stuff a sock in his face to stop his whining. Just couldn't take it ... that I'd seen through his sorry disguise as a tourist and nailed him for what he was ... a cold-blooded murderer! Kept yammerin' at me in some god-awful lingo I couldn't make heads or tails of. Gave me a headache."

Lobster turned aside to light the cigar stub parked behind his right ear. Zelda took the opportunity to remove the sock from filip's mouth and to untie his limbs. As soon as filip could draw in a breath he began shouting:

"Imbécile ! Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce traitement ?? J'ai rien demandé à personne et d'un coup me voilà kidnappé à l'aéroport, ficelé comme un saucisson, flanqué dans un coffre de taxi puant avec un cadavre pour compagnie, traîné je ne sais où le long de ces couloirs gelés et noirs comme un four... Vous êtes malade ou quoi ?? Comment ça se fait que personne ne s'est encore décidé à se débarasser définitivement de vous, ça me dépasse !"

"You imbecile ! What's the meaning of this treatment ?? There I was, minding my own business, and suddenly I'm kidnapped at the airport, tied up like a sausage, thrown in the smelly trunk of that cab along with the body of the cabbie, dragged up and down these freezing hallways in the dark! Are you totally insane? How nobody has decided to get rid you once and for all is beyond me !"

As filip stopped to inhale, Zelda quickly asked: "filip, why are you here? Were you on my plane? What's going on?"

Filip blushed slightly as he replied in a calmer tone "Well, you see, I was SO grateful for winning the iPad in your wonderful MobileRead contest that I decided to use my vacation and come over to thank you folks personally. I was sitting in the back of the plane, and didn't see you until we arrived here and were disembarking. Just as I was about to call out to you, this fathead slugged me with his shoe, tied me up, and stuffed me into the trunk of an obviously stolen cab. Is he insane, or is this how Americans carry on a courtship? He's been staring at you, drooling, ever since he saw you."

Zelda shuddered visibly and strongly denied any connection with the gormless gumshoe. She helped filip to his feet, and the two turned to face Lobster, now puffing contentedly on his loathsome stogie and clicking a pair of handcuffs open and closed, open and closed.

Knowing she would regret asking, but unable to resist the urge to shut Lobster's trap for good, Zelda had to inquire: "So, Rock, if you had filip hog-tied the entire night, dragging him around with you, AND you never took your eyes off of me, *shudder* AND I was never alone all night, how could either one of us had the opportunity to kill anyone? Eh?"

"Not to mention the fact that the alleged victim answered the door and let you in just now!"

Rock Lobster stood rock still. That WAS a poser. He knew he had a body. He knew he had a suspect -- two of them! And they were foreign to boot. How to connect the one to the other? How would Dick Tracy solve this case?

Glaciers shrank visibly as Rock scratched, rolled his head to loosen his neck, glared in every direction for possible leads, and finally returned his eyes to the guilty pair. Damn, they looked guilty. They HAD to be guilty. He didn't have any other suspects, besides himself, and he was pretty sure he hadn't murdered anyone .... yet.

Suddenly he jerked his head to one side and shouted "Did you hear that? Down there! They're getting away! After them!"

And he tore off running as fast as he could down the darkened hallway, taking the light with him!

"C'est ça, tire-toi puisque tu n'as pas de réponse ! Quand je pense que tu vas essayer de facturer cette pantalonnade... j'aimerais bien voir le détail de cette note !"

"That's right, run away since you haven't got any answers ! To think you're going to try to get paid for this farce, I'd love to see how you explain *these* expenses !"

As Lobster's voice and light faded into the distance, Zelda leaned against the wall in the newly darkened hallway and remarked:

"Well, looks like we're left in the dark. Again."

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S) FISHIE THE NEXT AND the obligatory love scene

THE OBLIGATORY SEX LOVE SCENE

"Got any matches, filip" asked Zelda, not really expecting an affirmative response.

"No, but I do have this!" answered filip. Zelda heard a rasp, smelled a harsh metallic stench, and was suddenly blinded as the hallway was abruptly lit up like sunrise on the Sahara Desert, and became just as hot! Zelda smelled more of her frizzy locks incinerating on her forehead.

"When I was locked in the taxi cab's trunk, I found an emergency road flare and was able to jam it down my pants. I thought I might be able to use it as a weapon against my kidnapper, if I ever got out."

"So that was what I felt when I hugged you, and I thought ..... oh dear ... I thought .... you know .... I'm so embarrassed ...." stuttered Zelda as she hid her crimson face in her hands.

"Oh contraire ma cherie, I WAS glad to see you! Really glad. Excited (you might say) to see you."

"Oh filip" sighed Zelda, "for a brief moment I feared all I sensed was that thing!"

"L'amour surgit toujours quand on s'y attend le moins..."

"Love always appears when you expect it the least..."

Filip drew himself up sharply and declared "I am a Frenchman! We do NOT use 'things' ... we do NOT need 'things' ... I am 100% man!"

*sigh* filip ...

*sigh* zelda ....

*sigh* filip ....

*sigh* zelda ....

"Blow out the flare filip" sighed Zelda.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing, filip replied: "No can do! Hey, what's behind this door?"

Zelda again beheld the opulently bedizened door leading to the parlour, and wasted no time hauling filip into the sensual wonderland awaiting them inside.

"I sure hope Jeeves remembered to clean up in here! All that sticky ice cream ... and blood ... and the body on the divan. Oh well, the carpet will be plenty cushy enough." Zelda exulted in finally having the proper reason to enter the parlour of forbidden pleasures!

*moan* oh, filip

*moan* oh, zelda

*moan* oh, filip

*moan* oh, zelda

"Dollface!"

*moan* oh, "WHAT? Who said that? Show yourself now!"

"Hey kids, I'm back" shouted Rock Lobster. "Come on outta there where I can see you. Wow, it's bright out here! Who lit the fireworks? Oh sorry, am I interrupting something? I wouldn't want to intrude, you know, since it would be rude and all that, except that while you guys was canoodling I just happened to run down the real murderer! Fast little guy ... can take corners like a scalded cat! But I got him."

"Encore lui ! C'est vraiment le roi des cheveux sur la soupe..."

"Him again ! Somehow he always shows up at the worst time..."

Zelda hastily rearranged her disarranged ensemble and emerged into the harsh light filling the hallway. Blinking furiously until her eyes adjusted to the million candle-watt level of illumination provided by the smoldering flare, she tried to focus on the new figure held firmly in Lobster's right claw, errr, mitt.

"Hi Zelda! Hi filip! What's up?"

"Catire!" screamed Zelda, "what are you doing here tonight? Why were you running away? What has Rock Lobster done to you?"

A silence fell in the hallway until Lobster shook the dangling diminutive figure, which began to splutter into life.

"It's a fair cop!" answered Catire, "he got me dead to rights, he did!"

And then more silence, until Lobster prodded the hapless captive again.

"I did it! I did all of them. Yup! Slaughtered all of them! Everywhere! Guilty as charged! I confess fully and freely and throw myself on the mercy of the court!"

"Oh Catire," sighed Zelda, "have you been reading Rumpole late at night again? That's a terrible cockney accent! And a terrible confession."

"Just who did you kill, eh?" asked filip.

"Well," stalled Catire, until Rock gave him another prod, "All of them! Yup! Every body! Every dead body I mean. Not yours. Yours is still alive. Can I kill you too?"

"What did you use for a weapon?" inquired Zelda.

Silence. Another prod. "A deadly weapon! Yup! That's what I used! Deadly weapons! All of them were deadly!"

This informal interrogation of the alleged perpetrator was about as illuminating of the truth as a Pat and Mike routine on St. Patrick's Day.

Another shake elicited "And it sure wasn't easy! All that killing! And the bodies kept moving! After they wuz dead! Tweren't very fair oiy say."

Rock Lobster opened the handcuffs, drawling out of the corner of his mouth "Well, I don't know about youze two lovebirds, but I'm satisfied. This jamoke is our perp, sure nuff! I'm collecting this collar, and the reward. You two just get back to whatever foolin' around you was engaging in."

Catire meekly extended his tentacles, errr, arms towards the shiny metal bracelets, beaming with joy at his new-found notoriety. He was already planning his first press conference and his insanity defense plea.

"No, no, no, no, no, no" stammered Zelda. "You can't arrest Catire. He can't confess to murder. Pshrynk's alive! He answered the door tonight and let you in! You saw him! There was no murder! Go away and leave us in peace! Please go away now! Someone ring for Jeeves to show you out. Out of our lives!"

"I know where the butler's pantry is" cried Catire, and he scuttled off into the darkness. "Jeeves! Oh Jeeves! We need you."

A pregnant silence fell on the brightly lit group standing motionless in the hallway. It was a stand-off! A true stand-off! A test of wills! A testament to the truth! A matter of honor! A reason for life-long psychotherapy! Our hapless group had achieved, at great personal cost, truth stranger than fiction! No one could make this stuff up!

*cough*

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S)

RECIPE FOR DISASTER

*cough*

That delicate sound hung in the air like the stench of yesterday's socks. You knew what it was, but you didn't want to admit it. And you sure didn't want to look at it!

Fearing for her sanity, her very being, Zelda slowly turned to face the newly arrived manservant.

"Someone called my name?" asked the velvety smooth voice of extreme reason.

"Oh no, not again, this can't be happening again. It CAN'T" sobbed Zelda, collapsing onto the chilly hall floor, burying her face in her tattered skirt.

"Beg pardon mum? What is happening, or not happening, if I may be so bold to inquire?"

"Oh NatCh, I suppose you're going to tell me your name is Jeeves, .... yadda, yadda, yadda." moaned the feverish Zelda, as filip and Rock looked on in astonishment at her outlandish histrionics.

Jeeves' forehead crinkled into evenly spaced parallel ridges as he replied "Beg pardon mum, my name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service."

"Mum."

Zelda raised a stricken, tear-streaked face and whispered "I suppose you're going to tell us that Pshrynk is dead .... again ... still ... yet? In the parlour?"

*cough* "No mum." replied the maddeningly marvelous manservant.

"No?"

"No mum. There are no personages, dead or alive, currently in the parlour. Some apparently 'live and kicking personages' did however occasion the necessity for my cleaning services in the parlour just now. I removed several deposits of *shudder* liquid of unknown origin, and thoroughly cleansed the room with bleach."

"ça plairait pas à la police scientifique, mais ça vaut peut-être mieux quand même..."

"Forensics wouldn't like that, but it's probably for the best..."

Zelda and filip blushed furiously at this recital, and Zelda strove to change the subject.

"Where is Florence? She was scheduled to begin painting Pshrynk's portrait tonight in the library. She could tell us if he's alive or dead."

"I regret to inform you that Miss Florence departed in rather a huff earlier this evening." replied Jeeves. "Evidently she had been 'stood up' by Pshrynk, who failed to appear at the appointed time for his sitting."

"Maybe he showed up late and is waiting in the library now for Florence" suggested filip.

Rock Lobster snickered unpleasantly at hearing this naive suggestion, and Jeeves waded in with yet more exposition.

"Perhaps we should repair their imminently to ascertain the veracity of Mr. filip's perspicacious suggestion?" inquired Jeeves. Not waiting for their assent, he motioned for them to enter yet another hallway. As he bent to pick up the still luminous flare, Zelda astutely noted a red smear in the cleft of his manly chin. Sensing her gaze, Jeeves absently stroked his chin murmuring "It's quite difficult to use a cut-throat razor in the dark."

"Tu m'étonnes ! Comment se raser quand son visage change continuellement de forme ??"

"No kidding ! How can you shave when your face keeps changing shape ?"

As the band of desolate yet doughty adventurers passed into a new hallway en route to the library and who knew what fresh horror, they heard loud rapid footsteps approaching from behind them. Frozen in terror, they awaited the arrival of this new messenger of doom.

"Out of the way! Gangway! Gangbusters!" exploded from the darkness as the running figure neared their circle of light. "Oh, that poor chicken! What horrible things has kennyc done to chicken dear? I must get help now before he commits any further atrocities!"

Abruptly, clad in a white tunic liberally covered with huge splotches of fresh red blood, beppe burst into their group. Hair flying everywhere, eyes bursting from his head, arms waving madly about his head, beppe was the picture of panic! White chicken feathers, most bearing crimson stains, were literally flying from his windmilling arms creating a bloody blizzard that blanketed the hallway!

Beppe's voice climbed into a shriek of terror and desperation "We MUST hide the evidence! Quickly! For the love of all that's holy, does anyone have any barbecue sauce? He's going to use the ketchup! On chicken! Oh the tragedy! The insult. This cannot be! Let the poor chicken die with dignity!"

Not waiting for an answer, beppe continued his headlong flight into the corridor, his wails fading into the darkness. Before they could recover from this apparition of madness, a gray dog barking like a blood hound tore past them -- hot on the trail of the receding would-be chicken chef.

Shaken, and curiously stirred by the tidal wave of these raw emotions, the group continued its trek to the library, and whatever new onslaughts on their reason it might contain.

THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY

WHOSE BODY?

Our little intrepid group of travelers soon reached the imposing leather-clad doors of the MobileRead library. Zelda hesitated, hand on the gleaming brass knob, and turned to Jeeves: "Um, you did say there was no body here, right Jeeves?"

*cough*

"I must beg to differ, mum" Jeeves demurred tactfully but forcefully, "I stated that there was NO BODY in the parlour, not that there was NO body. If you follow my reasoning. Mum."

Zelda's world rose up around her, again, threatening to engulf her, again, in a maelstrom of confusion and obfuscation. Choosing her words with the care of an impeached president, she inquired: "Just what do you mean by 'NO body'?"

"Si ça continue, il y aura une nouvelle victime, et cette fois je pourrais avouer !"

"If this keeps up there's going to be a new victim, of a crime I can confess to !"

Jeeves bent an unbearably condescending gaze upon the flustered fraulein and explained slowly and clearly, enunciating each word as carefully as the emcee in the National Spelling Bee contest, "If you cast your mind back mum, you will undoubtedly recall that you specifically inquired as to the presence or absence of a body IN the parlour, and nowhere else in the building. I was able to answer with complete confidence that there was NO BODY in the parlour. Mum. You neglected to mention the library, mum."

"But you're not saying there's NO body ... somewhere .... here?"

Jeeves pondered this somewhat incoherent statement, visibly parsing its structure into its intended meaning. A light of comprehension dawned upon his contorted countenance as he clarified her inquiry: "Yes, exactly, mum."

A long, awkward, somewhat hostile silence ensued. Zelda glared at filip, who visibly beseeched Rock Lobster to say something. Rock turned to face Jeeves and articulated for the group "Whaa?"

Jeeves left eyebrow rose one-eighth of an inch in incredulous inquiry. "Just what I said mum, exactly."

"EXACTLY WHAT!" screamed Zelda, now driven beyond all realms of decorum. "Exactly dead, exactly not dead, exactly no, what? Explain yourself man!"

Jeeves resisted a no-doubt fatal urge to gently pat Zelda's hand and say "There, there" and instead inhaled and prepared to explicate the obvious to his captive audience.

*ahem*

"There is A body in the library. A DEAD body. IN the library. Evidence would seem to indicate that the body is that of Mr. Pshrynk. Dead Mr. Pshrynk."

Everyone loudly exhaled at this pronouncement, under the misapprehension that they finally understood things.

"Like I'd been tellin' ya" rasped Lobster, "there's a stiff in there. I been sayin' it ever since I ran into ya. Remember? That's why I collared that filip person, and then tried to handcuff the confessed murderer, Catire. And YOU made me let them go! Both of them!"

Zelda recoiled from his vicious, but accurate, indictment. Damn, but the fellow was right! In the midst of all his yammering tonight, he HAD mentioned a body in the library. And she had totally disregarded his information, instead believing in her own eyewitness identification of the previous Jeeves as the missing, oft-rumored dead Pshrynk. Or the other way around. Whatever! How could she have been SO wrong? Where DID she go wrong? What could she possibly do now?

"Je vais me faire jeter du fanclub de Nestor Burma pour le coup..."

"They'll throw me out of the Nancy Drew fanclub for sure after this..."

Well, pulling herself upright, Zelda realized she had to face what, or who, was on the other side of the door. It was all resting on her shoulders now. Zelda slowly pushed open the massive doors, moving silently on well-oiled hinges into the darkness beyond. Jeeves held the still sputtering flare aloft to illuminate the plush interior of the MR library.

There! On the hearth! A crumpled mass of humanity! Motionless in an unnatural position! Lying in a gently expanding pool of red! Dead!!!

"Told ya so" smirked Lobster.

"Sapristi" exclaimed filip.

"Not again!" shrieked Zelda.

*cough*

THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY - Suspect # ?

SUSPECT # ?

[Lost count ... haven't you?]

Zelda advanced haltingly towards the hearth, heart in her mouth, dreading what was soon to be revealed to her guilty conscience. Bending over the recumbent cooling corpse, she whispered "Oh Pshrynk, you've gone and got murdered again. Just when I began to think this was all a bad dream and I was about to wake up in my own bed in Paris."

"Qu'est ce qu'on est bien chez soi..."

"there's no place like home"

Mindful of her responsibility, Zelda began to minutely examine the crime scene. Once again, Pshrynk's lifeless hand clutched a paperback book in its death spasm. Zelda had no doubt as to the title of the deadly volume. And, once again, Pshrynk was lying in a sticky pool of red fluid, that had soaked into the pages of the book. Bending over, Zelda noticed a large rounded dent in the left side of his head, just above his ear. What could have made such an impression? What level of rage fueled the fatal blow? What sort of fiend was responsible for this heinous happening?

*cough*

As if capable of clairvoyance, Jeeves began to answer her unspoken questions.

"I believe you might be interested in this object? I located it in the fireplace just now, but I believe I have seen it earlier tonight and can identify its provenance."

Zelda looked up to see Jeeves wielding a large walking stick above her defenseless brow. Rock and filip cowered against the wall, fearing Jeeves might direct his murderous attack against them as well.

Zelda flung herself to safety, landing in the ashes in the now cold fireplace. Dusting herself off, she demanded "Jeeves! Get a hold of yourself man! Put that down ... now!"

She noticed that in her precipitate trajectory into the embers, she had inadvertently removed the paperback from Pshrynk's clutch and now held it in a trembling hand. Sure enough, it was stuck open at page 202 with most of the typeface obscured by the sticky red fluid surrounding Pshrynk's body. Zelda bent down and sniffed ... yes! ... it was red ink! During the fatal assault, a bottle of red ink had been knocked off the mantelpiece and had shattered on the hearth, soaking into both Pshrynk and his book. Holding the book closer to the last dying embers in the back of the fireplace Zelda haltingly thought she could read:

___ ___ ____er __ it?

___ p_______ ___ did ___.

__ ___ ___ __ them.

Her face nearly glued to the page, Zelda failed to notice the approaching Jeeves, who said "Take a look at this mum" as he thrust the walking stick into her hands. Unfortunately, the stick dislodged the book, which fell into the quiescent embers. The red ink proved extremely volatile, and the book burst into bright flames which rapidly became black flecks of soot gently wafting up the chimney.

"Hé voilà, ça va, ça vient..."

"Easy come easy go"

"Imbecile!" cried out filip, as he pulled Zelda from the flames, frantically beating out the small flames that had erupted along her ensemble.

"Beg pardon, mum" explained the apologetic manservant, "I was merely attempting to draw madame's attention to a possible clue in this murderous mishap."

Zelda breathlessly brushed aside filip's ministering mitts, and snapped: "Out with it man! Whose cudgel is this and how did it get here! Be snappy now, I've had a long night!"

"Well mum, I was employed earlier this evening in this very library, re-shelving errant volumes strewn about on the tables and chairs by erring members. You wouldn't believe how careless some people can be with these fine volumes. Why only yesterday I found .... *ouch* ... was that really necessary sir?" Jeeves inquired archly as he rubbed an aching ear.

"The little lady said be snappy, didn't she?" snarled Lobster, holding his bruised knuckles. "I was just tryin' to speed up your yarn."

"Damn, they said my skull was thick?"

The chastened Jeeves continued "I was standing in the rear corner re-shelving some Gaslight Mysteries when an altercation erupted by the hearth between Pshrynk and an older lady. They were both holding on to the same book, and seemed to be in disagreement as to whom the book belonged to. The storm was raging outside, making it nigh impossible to clearly follow their conversation, but I did hear the lady screech "No you don't," and then a little later "It's not gonna happen," followed later by "I'll make you sorry." I was only able to discern these fragments of a much more extensive interchange, which the lady was punctuating with flamboyant gestures utilizing this walking stick, or one very similar to it."

Jeeves paused to take a breath and discreetly dab a bead of blood from his injured auricular appendage, and complacently noted that all eyes were glued upon him in complete silence, awaiting the conclusion of his tawdry tale.

"I had just finished my shelving duties when I heard Colonel Alex ringing the bell for his nightly toddy. I was able to slide by the dueling duo without being noticed at all, so engrossed were they over the embattled volume. Just as I reached the door I heard a loud crash of breaking glass and turned to behold the old lady -- backlit by a brilliant bolt of blue lightning -- brandishing her staff aloft over the cowering Pshrynk's head. Then all was in darkness, and I left the library. Duty called."

A hush fell over the little group, as each in turn digested Jeeves' tale and cogitated as to the identity of the "older lady" feisty enough to engage in fisticuffs over a book.

"Hey, Jeeves, you found my stick! I've been looking everywhere for it."

All eyes whipped to the open door that no one had heard open on its noiseless hinges.

"Desertgrandma! What are you doing here!"

LET'S ALL GO TO THE LOBBY

THE BLUE ONE NEXT TO THE RED HERRING

"I came for the barbecue. KennyC called me up today. He said beppe was going to whip up something extra special tonight -- some sort of chicken delight, or chicken dear .... I have trouble sometimes understanding that beppe fellow. Real nice .... but .... he has his own way of putting things. But boy can he cook! So I packed up my ABBA CD's and came right over."

Noticing the sea of strained faces staring at her, dg asked "Say Jeeves, why is everyone staring at me?"

*cough*

"I was compelled under duress to divulge a description of your altercation with Pshrynk earlier this evening. I'm afraid they have placed a rather sinister interpretation upon the events and your remarks." replied Jeeves in a hushed tone, as he handed the walking stick to her.

Zelda jumped in quickly, before Jeeves could continue, and demanded: "Jeeves overheard you threaten Pshrynk tonight over a book. Why did you have to kill him? Was it worth it? What had he done to you?"

Desertgrandma's mouth fell open in shocked surprise, then she held her sides and began to laugh loud and long. "Shucks honey, I never laid a hand on old Pshrynk. We were just talking about that old pulp mystery we were both reading. He had got ahead of me and was threatening to tell me the identity of the murderer, so I yelled 'No you don't' at him to make him stop. He saw I was irritated so he kept on pretending to give away the ending. I yelled back 'It's not gonna happen' and told him if he didn't stop 'I'd make you sorry.' When I picked up my big stick he got the message and shut his trap. That storm was kicking up so loud I had to shout to make him hear me. You do know he's deaf in one ear, but won't admit it. He was alive and kicking when I left here to find KennyC and tonight's dinner."

"Encore une théorie qui tombe à l'eau ! Il nous reste qui comme suspect ?"

"Yet another suspect wriggles out of suspicion - who's left?"

"Say," she continued, "where is that book anyway? I wanted to finish it tonight after dinner. Have you seen it?"

Zelda looked at filip who looked at Rock Lobster, who asked "Is there enough barbecue for all of us?"

Before Zelda could regain control of the conversation, dg replied "Sure enough! There's home-made biscuits too."

She sniffed the air in the hallway and exclaimed "It's done! Beppe must have found the sauce. Let's go and snare a drumstick before Kenny hogs it all! Lead the way Jeeves!"

"Very good madam. This way if you please." With this, Jeeves swanned down the hallway, closely followed by desertgrandma, and then, after the briefest of pauses, by Rock Lobster.

"Et tu Rock?" whispered Zelda.

"Hey dollface, I'm not getting any reward for all my work tonight so I might as well get a free meal!"

Filip slunk off too, muttering "They only served us stale peanuts on the plane. And that imbecile Lobster stole and ate my packet. I'm starving. You coming Zelda?"

Zelda was left behind, alone in the now darkened library, still fitfully lit by the occasional flash of lightning as the storm finally began to wane. Well, technically not alone -- Pshrynk's body was still lying on the hearth. At least it had stopped changing rooms. For now. It was like being the last audience member sitting in the theater after the movie is over, watching all the credits for a clue as to what you've just seen -- but failed to understand.

Tonight's events swirled through Zelda's head -- it seemed she had been trapped in this forsaken building for weeks! Nothing made any sense any more. First Pshrynk was dead, maybe, than alive, sort of, then dead again. How could these things happen? Had she fallen while climbing into the building and hit her head? Did she drink too much wine with ravenne on an empty stomach? Were nekokami's donuts spiked with drugs? What was in the ice cream? Had listening to Rock Lobster finally snapped her slender hold on reality? Did filip really care for her? Would they save her any white meat?

All the suspects had proffered plausible explanations for their violent scenes with Pshrynk. All the MR members had reasons to be present here tonight, except her! All the Jeeves had borne a red spot, but what did they mean? Why did everyone but Zelda not notice the changing face(s) of Jeeves? Could she make any sense from the tattered text in the continuously destroyed paperback? Zelda's head bowed slowly into her waiting hands, her shoulders shook with fear and fatigue.

"C'est forcément la fin ! ça ne peut quand même pas continuer ! ...non ?"

"This MUST be the end - it can't go on - can it?"

A strangled sob escaped from her trembling lips as the full enormity of the situation fell upon her. She had failed! Utterly and completely failed! She had no idea ... no clue .... no inkling as to who the murderer or murderers really were.

DO YOU?

THE CORPSE WHISPERER

THE REAL DEAL?

A narrow ray of light fell on Zelda's bowed head as the library doors soundlessly opened to admit Colonel Alex, licking chicken grease from his fingers as he extracted a cheroot from its leather case.

"Zelda! You're still here! Didn't I order Jeeves to throw, errrr, show you out?" he exclaimed. Moving over to the hearth to get a light for his cigar, he noticed Pshrynk's body with a disdainful curl of his lip.

"Oh, right, you were going to solve the murder mystery tonight, weren't you? Not doing too well with it are you? I see the body's still here but I don't see anyone in custody. Guess I'll have to step in as usual and straighten up things for myself."

The Colonel uncapped the speaking tube next to the fireplace, blew down it, and shouted "Hello! Jeeves! There's a mess in the library to clean up. Please come right away!"

A faint answer wafted from the bell of the tube "Very good sir. I'll bring a broom and dust pan, and be right there."

"Hah. Better bring a damn large dust pan, eh Zelda?"

"We missed you at the barbecue. Afraid it's all gone. That scrawny little chicken didn't have much meat on its bones, especially those skinny little legs. But beppe sure knows how to grill a gourmet galliforme!"

Zelda remained silent. She was too overwhelmed to think anymore, let alone engage in spirited repartee with the smirking Colonel. At least now one of her questions had been answered: they hadn't saved any chicken for her dinner.

"Si seulement toutes les réponses étaient si faciles à trouver."

"If only all the answers were so easy to find."

The library door opened once again to admit Jeeves with his broom and dust pan, muttering "I never thought I'd find myself back in one of these penguin suits again! Ever! Thought I'd left all that behind me."

The Colonel motioned silently towards the huddled mass on the hearth. Jeeves, head bowed to contemplate the extent of damage to the furnishings, glided over and began to mop up the spilled ink with his handkerchief, making "Tch Tch" noises under his breath.

The Colonel settled himself comfortably on the sofa, puffed a perfect smoke ring, and gazed at the ornamental ceiling: "Probably wondering what was going on here tonight, aren't you? I imagine you have absolutely no clue who the murderer is, and why old Pshrynkie got himself offed again."

Zelda nodded dumbly, hiding her confused countenance from the Colonel, as she was forced to listen to a list of her shortcomings.

*hehehehehehehehe*

A maniacally hideous giggle seemed to emanate from the kneeling Jeeves, currently engaged in his attempt to lever Pshrynk's uncooperative body onto the dust pan. Zelda's head snapped toward the mismatched duo on the hearth, but only Jeeves' profile was visible -- a new but strangely familiar profile -- now frozen into impeccable immobility.

"Qu'est-ce qui va encore me tomber dessus ? des fantômes ? des démons ? des esprits maléfiques ?"

"what now? ghosts? demons? evil spirits?"

Zelda turned back to face the Colonel, but had that creeping sensation between her shoulder blades that told her she was being watched. Slowly, carefully she turned back towards Jeeves.

"Pilotbob! ..... Oh never mind. I know. Your name is Jeeves. Always has been Jeeves. Always will be Jeeves. No matter WHO you are! You're Jeeves. I get it! I accept it now! No more questions from me anymore! I'm with the program."

"Uh, Zelda, you feeling OK? I'm BOb! Remember me? Pilotbob? I'm just wearing my old avatar. OK? The guys got together for Halloween and decided that all of us would wear the same costume tonight and take turns being the butler! No one noticed at all. Except you! That's why they had to keep saying 'My name is Jeeves. Always has been. Jeeves. At your service.' It's been so much fun tonight ... fooling everybody ... that's why I was laughing just now. When you put on this "penguin suit" no one really looks at who's wearing it. They just see the suit, not the face.

It's been a joke tonight .... well

*looks down at the cooling corpse on the dust pan *

for most of us anyways.

You been drinking tonight Zelda? Your face is very pale and you've got wine spilled all over your skirt!"

"ça y est, je perds l'esprit ! J'en peux plus de cette folie !"

"That's it, I'm losing my mind ! I can't take any more of this madness !"

Zelda collapsed to the floor, feeling as if her brain had just exploded into a psychedelic shower of crimson confetti! It had all been just a joke - on her! Colonel Alex burst into hyena-like howls of laughter, pointing the glowing tip of his cigar at her twitching form: "Hah! Gotcha! Miss Smarty Pants Girl Detective!"

Zelda mercifully lost consciousness, joining Pshrynk on the library carpet.

BEHIND THE CURTAIN

ALL QUESTIONS TO BE ANSWERED?

*house lights dim*

*audience chatter quiets down*

*adrenaline rises*

*all eyes glued to the stage*

Slowly, majestically, the crimson velvet curtain rises, revealing the candle-lit study. A single spotlight focuses on Colonel Alex, seated facing the audience in a leather wing-back chair, cheroot sending blue wraiths of smoke into the rafters. He slowly raises a brandy snifter, swirls its heavy contents, sips, savors, and gazes at the expectant audience over the rim. He allows a knowing yet restrained smile to tug at the corner of his lips. His right eyelid droops fractionally, in an almost shockingly intimate barely perceptible wink. The audience belongs to him -- you can feel the invisible bonds pulling them closer, closer to his soothing visage. He exudes an omnipotent presence. He tilts his head, inhales fractionally, and prepares his explanatory oration.

Here is calm. Here is rationality. Here is certainty. Here is truth....

"Here is a load of horse hockey!"

The sudden interjection is as shocking as a pail of ice cold water thrown on a bride!

A dark figure strides, nay stomps, onto the stage. This is a new Zelda, an angry Zelda, a "mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore Zelda!" The Terminator 2 Zelda.

OK - you got the picture!

She is dragging a formally dressed struggling figure into the spotlight, which she dumps unceremoniously onto the boards, and stands with one foot planted firmly on its neck.

Glaring at the Colonel, Zelda hisses: "So! You thought you could fool the little girl detective! You could confuse her and make her cry and crawl back home! Humiliate her in front of everyone! She'd never figure out the fiendish series of events that occurred tonight!"

"Non I say! Non!"

"Je ne lâche jamais l'affaire ! Jamais !"

"I never give up! Never!"

"I have untangled your web of lies and stand at the center holding all the threads in my hands. I'll explain what happened here tonight! AND what is going to happen!"

Colonel Alex's monocle drops into his brandy snifter with an audible splash, as his jaw follows in turn. Could this be the same Zelda earlier dismissed amidst coarse laughter and gibes? What could have wrought this fantastical transformation? How could she have figured out tonight's Manichean machinations? Has someone revealed that which must not be said aloud?

Zelda hurls a taunting laugh at the pole-axed figure in the chair, and shares the explanation of her rejuvenation: "Nothing a few Zany Carters wouldn't clear up! I found Adrian's stash behind the fake jurisprudence volumes in the library. Now this all makes sense!"

She brandishes aloft the oft-crimsoned paperback with the tantalizing cryptic message. "I know what Pshrynk was trying to say with his last words. He knew the identity of his killer, and tried to warn others without tipping his hand."

"And he had to die for his knowledge!"

She whirls to confront the goggling silent figure in the chair, desperately trying to recover his monocle from the bottom of the snifter.

"It all fell into place for me when I realized that Pshrynk's murder was just a copycat crime, repeating his former murder, committed to obscure the REAL murder victim! Everyone knew but me!"

Colonel Alex dropped his monocle again into the empty snifter as he tried to follow Zelda's tortuous path of discovery. "What? You're saying that Pshrynk's murder was a copycat of .... Pshrynk's murder?"

"That's insane! And so are you!"

"On verra bien qui est fou, ici !"

"we'll see who's insane now!"

Zelda turns back to the silent throng, face shining with the clear light of truth, hard won truth that must be told. Suddenly she thrusts a bloody white feather at her hypnotized audience.

"The key question to ask is: 'Why did the chicken have to die?'"

AS CLEAR AS MUD

WHAT'S THE QUESTION AGAIN?

"Zelda, Zelda, Zelda. That's not the right question. It should be 'Why did the chicken cross the ..."

*slap*

"Don't you dare patronize you, you prevaricating poseur!" hissed the furious fraulein. "Consider that just a love tap."

Colonel Alex cowered into the recesses of his chair as Zelda whirled back to face her anxious audience.

"As I was saying ..."

"As you were saying, NUTS to you sister! And your half-baked theories. As if anyone cared about a dead chicken. Especially once the drum sticks were gone. You're still ticked off because nobody saved you anything from the barbecue. Talk about a poor loser! Jeesh!"

Rock Lobster strode onto stage, shoving Zelda into the wings and resting a wing-tip on the recumbent, still struggling figure on the floor.

"It's obvious what happened here tonight! The big storm! The lights go out! Plenty of booze on the premises! No rules! No reason! Everyone chasing around in the dark! Bodies colliding and sticking together! An unplanned party that went tragically wrong! Someone had to pay the price! And believe you me, it was a damn high price to pay for one night of reckless pleasure!"

Lobster paused to re-light his stogie, and gauge the reaction of the audience to his dramatic explanation.

"No, no, no, no! That was just the regular administrative meeting in the Moderator Llounge! You're just not used to seeing Adrian's Rules of Order in action!" Catire dashed onto stage, replacing the temporarily speechless Lobster, and began jumping up and down on the recumbent figure.

"I did it! I confess! I am the murderer! I surrender! It was part of my plan to take over MobileRead and replace Colonel Alex in that cushy study of his! I was seduced and blinded by all that latent power -- just waiting to be misused in highly creative ways! I just kept murdering the wrong man!"

"Won't someone please arrest me?"

Catire swiveled back and forth, offering his tentacles, errr wrists, for the click of the longed-for darbies.

"You're all farking insane!" shouted filip, as he angrily shoved Catire off stage and planted himself atop the recumbent figure. "I'm sorry I ever came over here tonight! One of your own members (maybe more) lies lifeless and cold, and all you imbeciles can do is make up tales and strut about like puppets on a stage! Someone must have a cell phone. Call in the gendarmes and get someone sane in here to solve this baffling mystery! Obviously it's much too complicated for any of us to figure out 'Who done it'!"

*cough*

*cough*

*cough*

*cough*

*cough*

*cough*

A group of formally-clad butlers filed in from stage right, obviously intent on elucidating the events of the evening in interminable itemization and identification. Colonel Alex smirked in a particularly annoying superior fashion. Zelda burst into tears, unable to tolerate the thought of one more logical explanation that made absolutely no sense. Rock Lobster lit another stogie and pushed the brim of his fedora lower on his forehead. Catire's tentacles visibly drooped in dejection. Filip ran from the stage screaming 'ça suffit'!

ENOUGH!!!

WHO DONE IT?

A DENOUEMENT OF DENIAL

STOP IT! PLEASE STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP! STOP IT NOW!

"What's wrong with you people? Why do you always have to make everything so complicated? So mysterious? So farking wrong?"

"Why can't you just go with the blindingly obvious?"

Total silence descends. Everyone looks at everyone else. Eyebrows are raised quizzically. Shoulders are shrugged. Unkind circular gestures are made suggesting mental illness on the part of the speaker.

The previously silent recumbent figure was neither silent nor recumbent any longer. He stood center stage, foaming at the mouth, shaking his fists at the audience. A single spot-light snaps on and reveals:

A collective gasp causes every candle in the house to flicker. The sound of a hundred palms slapping a hundred foreheads in mute acknowledgment generates a thunder-clap as loud as a sonic boom.

Of course! It WAS so obvious! The butler did it! Just like in all those old mysteries. Everyone knows the butler always did it. How could they be so blind?

.... But wait a minute. Which butler? ....

The audience settles back complacent in their new-found ignorance. It's complicated again. It's still a mystery. There will have to be yet more explanations. Time for more popcorn.

Colonel Alex clears his throat and voices the thoughts of all:

"Errrr .... Well BOb, maybe you could just, you know, give us a little hint ... about ... well, you know, everything that did or didn't happen tonight. And to whom it did or didn't happen to. And why it might have happened ... or not. You know. Take your time now. Any time you're ready."

"And maybe provide some insight into that baffling message penned by the victim (or victims) onto the pages of that paperback."

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Even after reading all those thousands of mysteries uploaded to the MobileRead Library, you didn't get it?"

The ensuing silence veritably shouted: "No! We don't understand a single thing that's happened here tonight. Please explain."

"OK, OK, let's do the big scene in the library, where the all-knowing detective assembles the suspects, explains the improbable series of events that led inexorably to the murder, and then identifies the killer in an outlandishly dramatic fashion."

Yes! The audience settles comfortably in for the promised treat. The suspects fidget in the wings, eying one another suspiciously. A virtual drum roll sounds in everyone's mind, signaling the beginning of the end.

"Cast your mind back to the previous murder mystery that occurred here. The one featuring Rock Lobster as the so-called brainy detective, aided by his beautiful moll. After showering you with red herrings and lies so that nobody could actually logically deduce the murderer's identity, Lobster invents a hare-brained solution just to collect his fee. And you all bought it! Just because he said so."

"Only the chicken had realized the truth, but you all ignored his repeated warning: 'It was the penguin wot done it!' And so the real murderer escaped "undetected," so to speak.

So if this same murderer were to succeed again here tonight, the chicken had to die! Disguising the murder as a barbecue was a brilliant cover story. You were all so busy stuffing your faces on the victim -- your brains stopped working!"

"Bon sang mais c'est bien sûr ! Je le savais ! ...presque !"

"Good god, but of course ! I knew it ! ...almost !"

"And besides," he added with a devilish grin, "all that murdering makes a bloke a wee bit 'peckish'!" (hehehehehehehehehehe!)

*groan*

The suspects in the wings attempt to unobtrusively wipe the chicken grease off their guilty hands.

BOb fixed the audience with his beady black eyes and continued his narrative. "Let's consider then, hypothetically, how tonight's events might have come about."

"So, you want to plan the perfect murder .... again. First, you change your avatar so that no one will ever suspect you -- of anything. Heck, most people can't even describe what you look like now! You diligently do your research, reading volume after volume in the library, and find the same tired plot line over and over again. In every locked-room mystery, regardless of means, motive, or murder weapon -- the butler did it. And yet authors keep writing them and people keep reading them -- and being stumped! Again and again and again! So why not choose this same plot for your murder! The solution will be so obvious no one will deduce or guess it. They'll all try to out-think you! Pretty fiendish, eh?"

"Next up: choose your victim."

"While you are in the library, doing your research, you notice Pshrynk is watching you. He's been on edge ever since the last time he got murdered and doesn't seem to trust folk anymore. He's been spending a lot of time in the library, preparing for his portrait sittings, and has noticed your choice of reading material. Then you see him picking up the last book (What The Butler Saw) you had lifted the plot from, errr, used as a research source. You watch the dawning light of comprehension appear on his face and realize -- he knows what you're planning to do! He alone knows the identity of the murderer BEFORE the murder is committed! That decides the question of choosing a victim real quick!"

"Too obvious of a victim choice? Nah! Maybe they'll suspect the same (wrong) culprit again! Some members probably won't even notice he's dead again."

"So the murder goes just as you had planned.

You disguise yourself in your old avatar, that you've kept carefully hidden in the back of your closet. You look in the mirror and chuckle, realizing that now you look just like Jeeves! If anyone sees you, they'll think they've seen the butler! Not the face of a murderer! No one looks closely at the servants.

The weather is perfect -- storms, lightning, thunder, power loss! Everyone trapped in the MR building with no way out. Even better, right before you kill him, Pshrynk has a loud violent argument with another MR member -- while Jeeves is in the room. Perfect! A suspect -- seen by Jeeves -- the ultimate accurate witness! Things couldn't have gone better if you had scripted them. The perfect murder! Again!"

BUT:

"Only -- you don't realize right away that Pshrynk had managed to scribble a clue to your identity in that blasted book. You have to find out what he's written before the so-called detectives decipher it, and then get that book back to the library before someone notices it's missing. That's where the fun begins!"

"Your only recourse is the trusty MobileRead Temporal Dysjunction Mechanism. You push that big red button to re-live the murder and remove the book before the body is discovered. But, unknown to you, Adrian's been tinkering in the lab again, and things begin going very strangely wrong. Every push of the button recreates the murder -- but with a new cast of characters -- and in a new location! The only thing that remains the same is the identity of the murderer! You panic and keep pushing the button! Temporal absurdities abound! MR members appear and disappear! Time lines are shredded!

And each and every time you're too late to the new scene of the crime to retrieve the book! Just as you get there and bend over the expiring Pshrynk (who always dies looking at a butler) and try to pry that one incriminating piece of evidence out of his death grip, you hear the approaching footsteps of Zelda and Jeeves. No matter how many times you push that farking button, you just can't recreate the original murder and steal back the book."

"Things are not boding well for you. Or are they?"

"You carefully observe each re-creation of the crime and gleefully note the disfigurement of the book caused by the spilled red fluid. Only a few words or letters are legible in each scenario. The detective team's puny intellects will never be able to re-create Pshyrnk's last words, let alone decipher his message. You're safe!"

"Even if Zelda had thought to copy down the words and letters each time and assemble them on a single page, which she hadn't, she and her side kicks would never be able to re-create Pshrynk's last message, and in it, the identity of his murderer."

Scratching noises fill the room as everyone tries to remember the various versions of page 202 and write them out on the nearest scrap of paper. Zelda and Lobster hunch together and argue fiercely over their re-creation.

Did YOU remember to do this?

Did the ....er do it? [Did the butler do it?]

Ask p....... who did it. [Ask pilotbob who did it.]

He was ... of them. [He was all of them]

Now - if this explanation made absolutely no sense to you, or you're thinking "I didn't know about any of this old stuff or about these people - how did you expect me to solve this murder?" ... here is the chain of reasoning that should have led you to pick pilotbob as the obvious and only culprit, based on the clues provided in the story.

The key to solving the mystery is to notice that Zelda and her cronies ignore a key clue - they never try to recreate the message in the book. That is left for the readers to do - the message points to first the butlers, then to pilotbob specifically.

1. Given the title ... the obvious choice is the butler! but which one?

2. The same episode seems to have happened over & over & over .... only with some of the characters changing each time - but when questioned - all of them tell a coherent plausible story - which is supported by the physical evidence Zelda observes each time. Hmmmm.....some kind of time loop? Or parallel time lines?

Count out the ladies as suspects.

3. Other characters pop in and out discussing events that have happened or that will happen .... hmmmm...the time line is not linear.

4. Pshrynk is alive in one of the episodes - but definitely dead in all the other episodes ....hmmmm....multiple time lines again!

5. Rock Lobster has shadowed Zelda all night - so she couldn't have killed anyone without him seeing the murder - so she's out.

6. Rock Lobster dragged filip around with him all night - so Lobster couldn't have killed anyone without filip seeing the murder - so they're both out.

7. Catire is obviously insane and knows nothing about any murder - so he's out.

8. Col. Alex remains in his study, and is served his hot toddy by Jeeves, in all of the episodes - so he's out.

Remember - all the Jeeves describe seeing Pshrynk alive as they are leaving to take the hot toddy to the study.

9. That leaves the Jeeves and the mysterious scribbled clue in the book.

10. All of the Jeeves tell basically the same story - which is corroborated when Zelda questions the female suspects - EXCEPT pilotbob. Remember - he alone never described seeing Pshrynk alive that night. He alone never described witnessing a "fatal argument" between Pshrynk and another MR member. BUT he knows what has gone on that night.

In all respects, except for how he's dressed, pilotbob never behaved like the other Jeeves. In fact, he never claimed to be Jeeves - instead he lied about why Zelda saw so many versions of Jeeves that night.

11. Pshrynk's scribbled note directs Zelda to "ask pilotbob who did it" - to direct her attention to him alone - because the last thing Pshrynk saw in ALL the episodes - was pilotbob -- his killer - dressed as a butler, right after seeing Jeeves leave the room.

12. Super subtle clue for really close readers:

There were 6 incarnations of Jeeves (DaleDe, Nate, mtravellerh, montsnmags, pshrynk, and NatCh)

Pilotbob never uttered a *cough* -

Zelda drags "a formally dressed struggling figure into the spotlight" - obviously one of the butlers -

There are 6 *cough* at the end of the last episode -

Ergo - the 6 butlers coming onto stage are the the 6 butlers who had uttered *cough* during the story.

The butler under Zelda's foot must the the 7th butler (who never said *cough*) - pilotbob - the murderer - in plain sight all the time.

The Winners!!

A few weeks ago we put a challenge to our readers: impress us with your detective skills and help us discover the murderer in What The Butler Saw (ePub). We were truly impressed by the overwhelming response, and I gotta tell ya, we were humbled, silenced and taken by all the wonderful thoughts you sent our way. So thank you all!

And now for the moment everyone on the Internet (just play along) has been waiting for: it's time to announce the winners (randomly chosen).

The First Prize (ebook reader of your choice) goes to ...Schauberger!

The Second Prize (Amazon Kindle 3G) goes to ... Leep!

The Third Prize (Amazon Kindle 3G) goes to ... IceHand!

The Fourth Prize (PocketBook Pro 902) goes to ... jpuntd!

Furthermore, the ten e-book vouchers (from a store of your choice) go to:

federzwoelf, antoniorafael, omk3, lovestoreadalot, FlorenceArt, thrawn_aj, LCF, WT Sharpe, mrscoach, and Bilbo1967!

A big congrats to the winners!

My personal thank you to the entire MobileRead team who worked unbelievably hard behind the scenes - it seriously means the world to me that you believe in what we're doing here! And finally, a big thumbs up to PocketBook for sponsoring a shiny new PocketBook Pro 902 device!

Now, you're probably thinking: "but what about MEEEEE?!" We have good news for you too; Santa has tons of e-book goodies in his sleigh, meaning, stay tuned for our next contest!

--Alexander Turcic

Table of Contents

Praise for

IN THE RAIN

IN THE DARK

IN THE STUDY

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Part the First

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Part the Second

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSÉ - Suspect #1

GETTING INTO A JAM - Part Primum

GETTING INTO A JAM _ Part Secundum

GETTING INTO A JAM - Suspect #2

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO - Suspect #3

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD

LET'S DO THE TIME WARP .... AGAIN

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S) .... FISHIE THE FIRST

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S) FISHIE THE NEXT AND the obligatory love scene

THE PROVERBIAL RED HERRING(S) RECIPE FOR DISASTER

THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY WHOSE BODY?

THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY - Suspect # ?

LET'S ALL GO TO THE LOBBY

THE CORPSE WHISPERER

BEHIND THE CURTAIN

AS CLEAR AS MUD

WHO DONE IT?

The Winners!!