Hall of Fame/HallofFameCDROM.cdr/util4/grab-bag.lzh/VARITALE.ARC/VARIA.VTB

Text File | 1989-01-01 | 18KB | 472 lines

The Inspector Notices a Clue

"Egad," said the inspector, "This sword is BROKEN!"

"Why, so it is," gushed his pretty (and nubile) assistant Cindy.  "You don't
miss anything, do you, Inspector Farthing?"

"Please," he insisted, "call me Ishmael.  We've known each other for five years,
after all!"

"Yes," she agreed, "you DO get to know somebody when you're married to them."
Another clue to add to the heap

"Well, then," mused the inspector, "we have a broken sword.  Cindy, did you
notice that it is also  imbedded in the back of Wayne Wayneright, the richest
man in Nolan City?"

"Why, yes, now that you mention it," exclaimed Cindy hotly.  "Do you think
that maybe there has been some ... FOUL PLAY?"

"Could be, could be," nodded the inspector.
The killer's name nearly revealed!

"Euuuhhhh," moaned Wayne Wayneright (incidentally, the richest man in Nolan
City).  "Euuuhhh, the killer was ... was ..."

"Who??!?" exclaimed both the inspector and Cindy (who was as nubile as ever,
even when exclaiming something).

"No, not him," gasped Wayne Wayneright (who was still rich, but not for much
longer).

"Who, then?" asked Cindy breathlessly.

"It was ... it was ... Marrrrrrrrrgh."

"Never heard of him," said Cindy.

The inspector scratched his head.  "Now, was that  'arrrgh' part of the name or
just an ordinary 'argh'?"  He mused mightily.  "Maybe it was his Ma.  Or may-
be a fellow named Marty.  Or Martin.  Or maybe Marvel, the wonder dog."

Inspector Farthing Hmmm'd a while longer.  Cindy hmmmm'd right along.
Dead Men Tell No Tales

The man on the floor looked pretty dead.  "My, but he looks dead," remarked
the inspector, and Cindy marveled for the thousandth time at his powers of
observation.  "Yes," he concluded, "I'd say he's about as dead as you can
get.  So much for getting any clues from HIM!"

"Did you check his pockets?" asked Cindy.

"Just about to do that," assured the inspector.  "Let's see ..."  He sorted
through the pockets.  "What have we here, then?  A credit card.  Amex Gold,
no less.  Hmmm.  Another one.  And here!  Amex Platinum!  Nice.  What else?
Ah!  Amex Uranium!  Amex Radium!  And here's an Amex Hydrogen -- hey,
where'd it go?"

"One thing's for certain," said Cindy, "they didn't kill him to steal his
credit cards".

"Perhaps.  Maybe he had an Amex Americium, and they took that.  You can buy
a small planet with one of those.  'Course, you have to pay it all back at
the end of the month -- hmph!"

Cindy mulled this over as the inspector continued searching Wayne Wayne-
right's many pockets.  Even the icky blood-stained pockets.
A Map Appears to Provide a Lead

"Ah, Cindy!  Look at this!" crowed the inspector.  "A crumpled-up letter!"

"How do you know it's a letter if it's crumpled up?" she asked, sagely.

The inspector flattened the sheet.  "Good thinking, Cindy.  In fact, it's
not a letter, after all!  It's just a plain, ordinary peace of blank paper."

"Oh, good!  Let's scribble all over it!" suggested Cindy, who was familiar
with the inspector's methods.

Producing a soft pencil, the inspector shaded over the sheet, bringing forth
the faint impressions created when somebody had written on a sheet above it.
"Worked again!" enthused Cindy.  "What's it say?"

"It seems to be some kind of ... map!  I think it's a map of part of Nolan
City ... ah, yes!  Here we have it:  Benny's Burger Bop and Power-Tool
Emporium!  And there's a big X on top of it!  Let's go check it out!"

With the swiftness of greyhounds, they left Wayne Wayneright to fend for
himself, hopped into a passing bus, and sat quickly waiting for the bus to
arrive at their destination.
The inspector gives up on the case

"Married?  MARRIED?" bellowed the inspector!  "Why wasn't I informed of
this!"

With a shrug and a gesture of dismissal, he turned his back on the
prostrate form lying in a pool of (his own?) blood.  "Never mind this case,
Cindy!  I want to know WHEN we got married, and how often!"

Cindy wrinkled her nose.  "Oh, there you go, again.  Such a short memory,
dear Ishmael!  Don't you remember our torrid honeymoon in Montreal?"

"No..."

"Oh, come ON!  Don't you remember trying to push me under the wheels of a
taxi?"

Ishmael pondered.  "Hmmm, that sounds like something I'd do.  Montreal
taxis are on the list of 'Top 1000 Deadly Weapons' list.  Just after
'Slabs from Stonehenge'... Say, did I ever tell you about the time --"

"Ishmael!  Ishmael Farthing!  Stop changing the subject!  Uh ... what time
was that, anyway?"

And thus we get a glimpse of how Cindy manages to put up with the
inspector's peculiarities...
The Stonehenge Story Revealed

"Well," continued the inspector, "I was crawling around the Stonehenge
ruins, trying to find out who ruined them, when all of a sudden somebody
grabbed me!"

"No!" shrieked Cindy.  "What did you do then?"

"Well, first of all, I said, 'Hey, don't do that!'  But he wouldn't listen.
He just kept on holding me by the throat."

"That wasn't very nice."

"No, I didn't think it was.  So, drawing on my years of Karate training, I
grabbed a loose chunk of Stonehenge rock and bonked him on the head!"

"That was quick thinking!"

"Maybe.  It took 10,000 years for that rock to be put to good use."

"No, I mean YOU thought quick!"

"Oh!  Well, anyway, it turned out that the guy was simply a local
constable.  He was investigating a rumour that somebody was going to be
stealing the Stonehenge.  So, naturally, I joined in on the case!"

"Oh, DO tell me more!" urged Cindy.  Not surprisingly, he did.
Marvin, the red herring (or is he?)

Suddenly, the inspector stiffened.  "Wait a sec!  I just realized something!
Isn't there a BUTLER in this house?"

"Uh, yes," concurred Cindy.

"And his name is --"

"MAR-vin!" bubbled Cindy, quite beside herself with the ecstasy of detective
work.

"Precisely!"  Farthing paced across the room, then did a snappy about-face
before running into the wall.  He continued this nose-defying act for a few
minutes, then stopped in the middle of the room (incidentally standing
astride the very dead corpse).  "No, no.  It's just too pat.  It says here,
in my manual 'Be a Detective for Fun and Profit'," (he flipped the pages),
"that it can NEVER be the butler.  Even if it IS the butler, it can't be
the butler.  It's just not acceptable."

Cindy sniffed haughtily.  "You mean you'd let a killer get away, just be-
cause your stupid book says you should?"  She sniffed, again.

"Stop snivelling," criticised Farthing.  "Rules are rules.  As a world-
famous detective, I can't have a butler under suspicion!  I'd be laughed
out of the business!  Unless ..."

"Yes?" queried Cindy.
Farthing gets to the meat of the case

The inspector grimaced as he searched the corpse.  "At times like this," he
said, "I wish I was a burger chef."

"It's all meat!" said Cindy, hopefully.

"That's very true, Cindy dear.  I'll try to keep that in mind."  With that,
he delved deep into the pockets of the slain man.  "Goodness gracious!" he
exclaimed.  "I think this might be a clue!"

"Oh!  What is it?" tittered Cindy gleefully.

"Look!"  He withdrew a piece of bacon from Wayne Wayneright's breast
pocket.  "This is very strange!  Certainly not a police matter!"

"That makes sense," agreed Cindy, who knew how sensitive the Nolan City
police were about references to pigs.  "Does he have any eggs in there?"
she joked.

"A good question.  Let's check."  The inspector continued his perusal of
Wayne Wayneright's pockets.
The Road to Stonehenge After a Fire

"When we arrived at the police station, the first thing I noticed is that
it was on fire.  I also noticed it was long over-due for a painting.  The
curtains were tacky, too.  But, still, I couldn't withhold my help just for
that.  So, we grabbed a passing fire-truck and asked him to put out the
fire.  Trouble was, the water mains were out."

"Oh, dear!  The water mains were out!"

"Yes, the water mains were out.  It was, after all, a Tuesday.  Anyway,
there was the fire, threatening to consume the police station -- and no
water in sight!"

"Good heavens!  Whatever did you do?" thrilled Cindy.

"I happened to notice that, in the empty lot next door, there was a huge
stack of bags of concrete.  We formed a bucket brigade -- bag brigade, I
mean -- and smothered everything with concrete.  That put out the fire."

"Oh, Ishmael!  You're SO clever!"

"Clever.  Hmmm.  Unfortunately, as soon as we'd done that, it started
raining.  Since there were holes in the roof, the whole place got soaked.
All over the quick-setting concrete.  Hmm."

"How did you solve THAT problem?"

"I didn't.  The constable and I went looking for the Stonehenge looters.
We were looking for some -- ahem -- concrete evidence."

Cindy winced.  And well she might have done so, because suddenly...
Concrete Evidence Arrives

Suddenly, a man ran into the room, waving a piece of paper in his hand.
"Is there an Ishmael Farthing, here?" he inquired.

"That's me," said the inspector carefully.  "What do you want?"

"I have a bill for 30 bags of concrete, that's what I want!"

"Well," said the inspector in his most reasonable tone of voice, "it
appears that you've got such a bill in your hand.  So you've got what you
want, then.  Off with you."

The confused man wandered off, muttering.
Unless something happens!

Unless that someone goofed in the script.  Any well-written script should
avoid situation where its hero is place in a ridiculous situation.  Do you
agree, Cindy?

Maybe it's a test, said Cindy...

We'll know it quite soon, because...
Marvin Arrives and Throws in the Towel

The door flew open.  A large beefy man with a shiny bald head stood before
them.  He was dressed in a tasteful three-piece suit, and was carrying a
towel in one hand, a silver tray in the other.

"How'd he open the door with his hands full?" whispered Cindy.

"I have excellent hearing, m'lady," rumbled the man.  "I have skills that
enable me to do just such a thing.  These things you learn when you have
spent 23 years in that most noble of pursuits:  that of a butler."

Cindy gasped.  Farthing stepped forward (without gasping).  He said, "I
take it you're Marvin?"

"Marvin.  Yes.  That is correct, sir.  Might I ask you if you've noticed
that there is a dead body in this room?"

Farthing jumped on this clue.  "Ah!  How'd you know he's dead?"

Marvin sighed deeply.  "Very well, sir.  Did you notice that there is a
person sprawled on the carpet with blood oozing from his body?"

Cindy leaped forward.  "Ah!  How'd you know it's blood?"  But the two men
ignored her.

Farthing continued.  "How is that you, the butler, did not know that your
own master (Wayne Wayneright, richest man in Nolan City) had been
murdered?"

Marvin replied, "It is quite simple, sir.  I have been the butler of Wayne
Wayneright (richest man in Nolan City) for 22 years, and he finally decided
to give me a vacation.  I have just returned from a stay in Monte Carlo."

"You just returned this very moment?"

"Yes, sir.  That is correct."

"So why are you carrying a towel and a silver tray?"

"Sir, I fear I am not a skilled gambler.  Having lost most of my savings at
Monte Carlo, I decided to enter a church raffle on the way home.  I won
these as prizes."

Farthing pondered.  Cindy pondered.  Marvin stood around, looking
obseqious.  Finally, Farthing said, "Okay, then, tell me this:  why did you
murder Wayne Wayneright (richest man in Nolan City)?"

"Sir, I did not."

"Oh, well," said Farthing, "that trick never works, anyway..."
The Sword's Owner Revealed!

Cindy piped up, "Okay, then, Marvin.  If you didn't murder Wayne Wayneright
(richest man in Nolan City), then who did?"

Marvin transfixed her with a withering glare.  "Madam, I am but a humble
butler.  You and your associate are the detectives, I presume.  You two may
detect, but I butle.  I do not solve crimes."

Farthing cut in, "This is getting us nowhere.  Marvin, what Cindy meant was,
do you have any idea who might have wanted Wayne Wayneright (richest man and
so on) to die?  Or more to the point, do you know of anybody who might have
wanted him dead?  Or even more to the point, do you know who would kill
him?"

"Or yet even more to the point," muttered Marvin, "do I know who owns that
sword imbedded in my former master?"

"Do you?" chimed Farthing and Cindy.

"Yes, I do.  It belongs to Dan Danielson, SECOND richest man in Nolan City.

"Forsooth!" exclaimed Farthing.

"What does that mean," queried Cindy.

"I don't know, but it seemed like the right time to say it."
A chinese saying.

"Oh, I see that Inspector Farthing speaks chinese!"

"And, my dear Watson, oops, Marvin, what does it mean?"

"It means something like: I am a genius."

"Well, it best describes my intellectual talent, because *I* am a genius!"

"Hahahahaha!!!!"

"Cindy, this is *NOT* the time to laugh!  Ok, I think that we should pay a
visit to the SECOND richest man in Nolan City, what do you think, Cindy?"

"Hahahaha, sorry, but I just can't stop laughing!  YOU a genius!  Hahaha".

"Hep, Marvin, where's the Sword?  If that girl doesn't stop laughing, you'll
witness a second murder! GRRRRRRRR!"

"May I remind to Inspector Farthing and Cindy that you are here to investi-
gate the murder of what has been my master for many years, and I do not like
the way you handle that case."

"I agree.  We'll go immediately to that Second richest man of this bled,
oops, Nolan City.  May I remind you to not go out of the city, so we can
contact you if we ever need to.

"Hahahaha"
"Stop laughing Cindy, this is *NOT* funny!" said Farthing.  Let's go now.
Visit to the 2nd richest man

After leaving the estate of Wayne Wayneright (richest ex-man in Nolan City),
Farthing turned to Cindy, who was still quaking with laughter.

"What was THAT all about," he inquired coldly.

"S-sorry," she gasped, wiping a tear from her cheek.  "I was just doing what
I thought I was supposed to be doing.  You wanted to lull Marvin into a
false sense of security, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but you didn't have to be so ... emphatic!  I wanted him to
think I was a pompous ass and a little stupid, but I didn't want him to
think I'm a complete idiot!  I do have a reputation to preserve, you know."

Cindy took a moment to compose herself.  During this moment (which took
about 10 minutes), the bus arrived.  They took the bus to a transfer point,
transferred, took that bus to another transfer point, transferred, and so
on.  Daniel Danielson didn't exactly live next door to Wayne Wayneright.

By this time, Cindy has recovered from her laughter.  In fact, she was look-
ing positively glum.  "Why do we have to take the bus everywhere?" she
pouted.

"You know perfectly well that my Ferrari got shot to pieces during 'The Case
of the Shot-Up Ferrari'!  Give me a break!"

"Yeah, but still.  Can't you buy another car?"

The argument was cut short as the bus stopped in front of the estate of Dan
Danielson, second richest man in Nolan City.  Although, since HE was alive,
he was now the richest man.

As it turns out, though, he was dead, too.
The second richest man is dead.

"quite bizarre, the front door is wide open.  Let's go inside, and don't
forget to close the door, Cindy, I don't want any curious disturbing the
scene of the crime.

"Gasp!  This is getting serious!"

"Look, Cindy, I don't know how to tell you this, but it *IS* serious!"

"Enough.  We have to find the murderer."

Ding Dong!

"Hey, Cindy, would you open the door?  I thing there's someone"

"But what about the dead man?  We haven't had time to examine yet?"

"Never mind, Cindy, trust me!"

"Oh boy..."

Cindy slowly walks to the magnificient front door, nicely carved, altough
it's hard to figure out what it should mean, but at this moment, Cindy's
focus is on the visitor who rang the bell.

Ding Dong!
An unexpected visitor at the front door

"Here is your all-dressed pepperoni jumbo size pizza, with 2 colas, a bag of
potato chips".

"WHAT?????" shouts Cindy.

"Hey, listen, didn't someone ordered a jumbo size pizza and some junkfoods?

"Ahem, ahem... no.... yes..."

"Hey, what's going on here, who's the guy behind you it doesn't look much
alive...  Are you nuts?"

"Well, ahem...  you see, it's a statue, and we accidently top it off, and
the red thing you see, it's the ketchup, because we broke the bottle of
ketchup.  Anyway...."

Farthing tippytoe and whispers to Cindy's ear: "Ask him how where when who
ordered the pizza, and get rid of the bugger FAST!"

"Hey, listen, Mister, would you like to earn some money?  Here is 100 pounds
but I'm just the maid here, and I spy my master. So tell me *WHO*, *HOW* and
*WHEN* about that pizza order".

"Gee, you are really nuts, anyway, I'll accept your offer.  I don't know WHO
ordered the pizza, but it was 15 minutes ago, by phone."

The pizza man grabs the 100 pound bill and quickly runs out of sight.

"PHHHEEEWWWW!!!! I think I would have died" scream Cindy.

"Mind you, we have already 2 dead bodies, it's enough for me!"

"What do you think about all this, Farthing?"

1) THE richest and the SECOND richest man of Nolan City are now dead.

2) 15 minutes ago, someone ordered a pizza.  That means that there was
someone *HERE*.  But we haven't seen any person here, except the body.  So
either himself, or the murderer ordered the pizza, or...

"or what, Farthing?"

"Never mind, Cindy.  Ok, I think we must examine NOW the body.  Maybe we
might find some clues...."

"Farthing, I wonder who's the THIRD richest man..."

"Cindy,  I need your help!"
imself, or the murderer ordered the pizza, or...

"or what, Farthing?"

"Never mind, Cindy.  Ok, I think we must examine NOW the b