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Fall Ceramic DM - Final Round Judgment Posted!
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<blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 1860061" data-attributes="member: 13681"><p>ALL THAT GLITTERS</p><p>by Sparky</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPIELBERG, PRECINCT #7, Captain Grimm’s Office</p><p></p><p>Blinds chatter against the glass as I shut the door to the Captain’s office, just barely pulling my hair through the door in time. There’s a small, furry man sitting in a chair opposite the Captain’s desk. He’s got a red cap in his lap. A red cap in his lap and a soy latte frap. Oh…a Seuss. I hope this is short, I don’t rhyme for sport. Ugh.</p><p></p><p>I glanced at him as he stands, brushing at a green speck on his fuzzy, yellow chest. Turning my attention to the captain I ask, “You wanted to speak to me?”</p><p></p><p>Speak was a bit of an overstatement. Captain Grimm was a solid gold statue<span style="color: DarkOrange">.(1)</span> It still creeped me out to hear her voice in my head.</p><p></p><p>“Romaine, this is Detective Samuel.” The captain’s voice was tinnier than usual. The fuzzy guy stuck out a hand, “Your new partner. Detective Samuel this is Rapunzel Romaine.”</p><p></p><p>I smile around clenched teeth and hope it reads as friendly. Reaching down I take the new Detective’s hand. The fur warm and coarse. Not what I expected. A knock interrupts us and an officer sticks his head in, brow creased with concern, “Ma’am, Mayor Goose’s aid is on the phone.”</p><p></p><p>Something’s amiss. I’m not ready for this. And definitely not for a Suess. And now, with The Goose. Oh won’t the rhyming please stop? My brain’s going to turn into slop.</p><p></p><p>I grimace down at my new partner and he smiles giving my hand a squeeze before turning it loose. His voice bright and chipper, “Call me Sam, ma’am, if you would. Pleased to meet you, I know we’ll do good.” </p><p></p><p>This was going to be a long assignment.</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPIELBERG DOCKS, The Breakwater</p><p></p><p> We arrive at the scene. An officer is taking the statement of an agitated lady chicken. She paces back and forth, red-gold feathers swirling around her.</p><p></p><p>“The sky is what, ma’am?” The young officer’s voice is patient. He looks dapper with straw colored hair and neatly pressed blues. </p><p></p><p>“Falling! The sky is falling!” The lady squawks.</p><p></p><p>“Please calm down, ma’am,” the officer continues. He spots us and gestures with his head to another officer and a band of yellow crime scene tape. The officer nods us through and I lift the tape for Sam before realizing he doesn’t need it.</p><p></p><p>We walk out onto the breakwater. It’s empty, rare on a clear day. <span style="color: DarkOrange">(2)</span> Even a cold one like this. I’d enjoy it if we weren’t here on business. We make our way carefully down the rocks of the jetty to the strand and rounding a boulder step into a grisly scene. </p><p></p><p>Officers are combing the area for clues. One young forensics officer detaches himself from the searching phalanx and approaches, “Detectives. This is big. The vic is a Dumpty. Humpty Dumpty.”</p><p></p><p>Wow. Big. No kidding. Humpty was heir-apparent to the Royal Dumpty crown. It was purely ceremonial, the Dumptys were rulers in name only, but it made sense now why The Goose was anxious.</p><p></p><p>“So I’m guessing you think this wasn’t an accident?” I asked, expecting the answer that came.</p><p></p><p>The officer nodded gesturing us over to a large curving piece of shell, “Our preliminary study of the more intact shell fragments show some crazing on the left upper hemisphere. I think Humpty was pushed.”</p><p></p><p>Sam’s been quiet, content to let me take the lead. I look over to ask him a question and he’s staring up the twenty-foot high wall of rough-stacked stone. </p><p></p><p>He points to the top of the wall and calls over his shoulder, “There’s no railing, it’s really quite breezy.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” I say lightly, “Humpty went over easy.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPEILBERG, PRECINCT #7, Detective Bull Pen</p><p></p><p>We’re only a few hours into the case and the Mayor is already giving Captain GRIMM a hard time. The Captain’s metallic voice rings in my head, making the hairs in my ears tickle. </p><p></p><p>She’s snappish as she gives us our marching orders, “Humpty’s parents are flying in right now. I want you two waiting at the castle the moment they arrive.”</p><p></p><p>She wheels around, rigid golden form spinning precariously on her small, wheeled dolly. More than one officer has to leap out of her way. I sigh and look up as Sam makes his way across the room with two cups of coffee. He is watching the Captain, eyes wide and sympathetic as she rolls off on her rattling dolly.</p><p></p><p>“So what’s the story of the gold, rumors and whisperings are all I’ve been told,” he asks, small, cat-like face peering at me over his desk as he hands across my cup.</p><p></p><p>“Thanks for the coffee, I do like it black. The Captain? It happened a couple years back,” I answer, distractedly taking the cup while I sift through a pile of paperwork. The involuntary rhyme trickles into my brain. Stop. Rhyming. Damn. I need to tell Sam. </p><p></p><p>Shaking my head, I continued, “Remember Midas? Nasty guy? Turned his victims into gold and then melted them down? The Captain collared him. </p><p></p><p>“She and her partner had been closing in on the guy and his accomplice, but their leads kept vanishing out from under them. When they finally caught up to Midas, the Captain decided to get proof that he was their man the only way she could. She let Midas touch her.” And she looks so smug about it. I wonder how she knew she would survive and for the first time it occurs to me that maybe she didn’t. Damn.</p><p></p><p>The phone on my desk started to ring; I reached for it and looked toward the Captain’s door, “She’s a tough lady. Never did catch the accomplice, though.” </p><p></p><p>I picked up the receiver and reflex answered for me, “Precinct Seven, Detective Romaine.”</p><p></p><p>It was forensics. I gave Sam a look and a gesture to let him know we were getting ready to go. “Great, thanks, Big. We’ll be right over.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPIELBERG, CORONER’S LAB, Workstation of Big Malloup</p><p></p><p>Sam stands up from the microscope and shrugs. He sidesteps out of the way so I can look at the slide, tripping over a long coil of my hair as he does. </p><p></p><p>“Sorry,” I say as I gather up the errant loop and help Sam to his feet. One of these days – snip – it’s all coming off.</p><p></p><p>I straighten, tucking the loop of hair away and lean over the microscope squinting. I adjust some knobs and start to ask what it is I’m supposed to be seeing when the slide snaps into focus. <span style="color: DarkOrange">(3) </span> Pretty. </p><p></p><p>I stand up, puzzled and shake my head. Sam makes a non-committal face and I scratch behind my ear thinking. </p><p></p><p>After letting my mind whirl for a bit, I cave and ask, “I give up, Big. What is it?”</p><p></p><p>Big bares his teeth, long, canines gleaming white like his lab coat. I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. </p><p></p><p>His voice is gravelly as he points a clawed hand at the microscope, “That, Rapunzel, was the next-to-next in line for the Dumpty throne.”</p><p></p><p>I whisper, “Humpty was pregnant?”</p><p></p><p>The wolf nods, golden eyes solemn. This is bad. I glance at my watch and it is time for Sam and me to head over to the castle. </p><p></p><p>“I appreciate you getting to this fast, Big,” I say.</p><p></p><p>“No problem,” he replies, baring his fangs again, this time I can tell it’s a grin. “Care to thank me over dinner sometime?”</p><p></p><p>Sam is already at the door and I’m not far behind as I call back, “After our last date? My, what big cojones you have.”</p><p></p><p>“Har, har, Detective Romaine,” he mutters, busying himself with his lab equipment. With a brighter tone he asks, “So, we on?”</p><p></p><p>“I’ll think about it,” I say, squinting at him as I shut the door behind me.</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPIELBERG, CASTLE DUMPTY, East Parlor</p><p></p><p>The castle is cold and dreary. Not nearly as romantic as I’d imagined. As much as I hated being a prisoner in the witch’s tower, it was cozy at least. Sam studies a bust of Grumpty Dumpty II, hiding well any anxiety he might have.</p><p></p><p>I page idly through a magazine and try to remember the more grievous no-nos when meeting and addressing royalty. Oh forget it. I decide to move on to something I can do something about.</p><p></p><p>Closing the magazine I look at Sam and begin, “Well Sam, they’re going to come and get us eventually. I wanted to talk to you about something.”</p><p></p><p>He turns around, bright eyes curious, “Is it about your partner’s death? Is it true he ODed on crystal meth?”</p><p></p><p>I stand, magazine sliding to the floor, my long braid slithering out of its bindings, uncoiling on the floor like a living thing, “No he didn’t, you take that back. Don’t regurgitate lies, you little hack.” </p><p></p><p>The stricken look on Sam’s face makes me instantly regret what I’d said. Stupid rhyming… that’s not what I meant. I open my mouth to apologize when a liveried man appears, officious and curt; he motions for us to follow him, drawling, “Come with me, Detectives.”</p><p></p><p>Looping my hair hastily over my arm I have to run to catch up with Sam and the manservant. We are ushered into a well-appointed receiving room. The servant retreats into a corner, I can feel him behind us coiled like a spring, ready to leap into action for his liege lords. It’s a strange sort of devotion.</p><p></p><p>Their Majesties are great white domes ensconced in cascades of velvet and lace. They’d be hard-boiled if the castle weren’t so chilly. We sidle awkwardly in, unsure of what to do. Their wide, red-cheeked faces look jolly, but over-bright eyes and fidgeting hands give the lie to their courtly demeanors.</p><p></p><p>I kneel, eyes downcast and peek over at Sam from the corner of my eye. He’s kneeling too. Good.</p><p></p><p>“Rise Detectives. It is Our wish that you speak with Our attorney,” says the King. His voice is round and bouncy. “He has Our complete trust and will be dealing with any questions you may have for Us. Please resolve this with all possible speed.”</p><p></p><p>I simply nod and can’t help but glance up as a stern looking raven in a dark suit hops in from the balcony, a briefcase clasped under his wing.</p><p></p><p>“This way,” The raven croaks, hopping sideways and inclining his head. We stand to leave and Sam stops. Oh boy. </p><p></p><p>The furry little man gathers himself and speaks suddenly, “Your Majesties, there is more news. I regret to say the abuse accrues. This death you see, it’s come in twos. It’s not just one, but two you lose.”</p><p></p><p>The King’s eyes widen dangerously, but they seem more puzzled by Sam’s outburst than offended that he’d spoken out of turn. With a gesture, the King forestalls the manservant who had come off the wall to strike Sam down. </p><p></p><p>“Humpty was our only daughter, We do not underst--“ the King breaks off as his wife gasps, hands to her mouth.</p><p></p><p>Tears spill from the corner of Queen’s eyes and before we have a chance to witness much more the manservant and the lawyer bustle us out of the room into an office. A little disoriented we are offered tea and refreshments before the manservant disappears beyond the heavy wooden door. The raven hops across the wide table, tidy in his charcoal suit, claws clicking along the inlaid surface.</p><p></p><p>He clears his throat and cocks his head at Sam, “That was profoundly stupid, Detective.” </p><p></p><p>He hops closer, head cocking this way and that as he studies both of us from different angles, “But I appreciate the gesture. Let’s get down to business. Are you two looking into this case as a formality because it is high-profile or because you suspect foul play?”</p><p></p><p>I shift in my seat. Right to business indeed. </p><p></p><p>I open my mouth, “Both Mr…?”</p><p></p><p>“Heavens! More! Neville More. Royal Attorney. Detectives Romaine and Samuel, let me welcome you to Castle Dumpty. I wish it were under better circumstances.” He cocks his head, “Don’t look so shocked. I checked the guest book before I arrived.”</p><p></p><p>I put down my coffee cup and lean across the table. I had lots of questions.</p><p></p><p></p><p>HANS HOLLOW, Residence of Margery B. Whistle</p><p></p><p>The lawyer gave us the address to a single family home in a lower-middle class neighborhood in the suburbs. We pull up to the curb by the mailbox and get out, surveying the house as we approach. Toys litter the side yard and a rambling, ramshackle playground in the corner of the lot is covered on one side with a sign that reads ‘Puppies, Free to Good Home.’ Scrawled beneath the original text is ‘Free cinnamon pie with each puppy.’ </p><p></p><p>Free pie? I couldn’t help but remark, “This is where the late crown-princess’ boyfriend lives? In a giant shoe?” </p><p></p><p>Sam was unfazed. Man, the little guy puzzles me. I prodded him, grinning, “You must come from a strange place, Sam.”</p><p></p><p>He looks up at me quizzically, saying, “This from a woman who grew up in a tower. With just singing for company, hour by hour.”</p><p></p><p>How did he know about that?</p><p></p><p>We’re at the door and Sam reaches up to clang the knocker twice. A stampede of feet sound inside. Voices. Then quiet. I look up, waiting. The house has been redone. Recently by the looks of it. And by a designer with more dollars than sense. Tacky only began to describe the place. <span style="color: DarkOrange">(4)</span> I hear a squeak as the peephole slides aside.</p><p></p><p>A muffled voice comes from behind the door, “Who is it?”</p><p></p><p>“Detectives Samuel and Romaine,” I say. “We’d like a few words with Jack.”</p><p></p><p>“Detectives? What do you want?” says the muffled voice. It sounds like a kid - a young man.</p><p></p><p>“Are you Jack? We’d like to talk about Miss Dumpty,” I continue, “It’ll only take a second.”</p><p></p><p>The bolts on the door slide back and a young man slips through quickly, but not before we see a multitude of unwashed young faces peering at us with wide, hollow eyes and slack jaws. Why aren’t they in school?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Jack,” the kid says. His clothes are ragged; shirt full of holes and pants tattered. I catch a glimpse of healing burns on the insides of his calves. This is a bad scene.</p><p></p><p>“Where are your parents?” I ask.</p><p></p><p>“My mother. She’s at work,” he mumbles and glares at us sullenly. I look at Sam. He looks at me and back at the young man.</p><p></p><p>“Jack, we need you to come down town, on a matter of import to the crown,” Sam’s voice is kind and concerned. </p><p></p><p>“What’s with this guy?” the kid cracks, snorting at my partner. I’m not in the mood.</p><p></p><p>“You’re coming with us, Jack. We have questions for you. About last night,” my tone comes out harsher than I’d intended.</p><p></p><p> “You what? No way. I can’t leave. I have to take care of my brothers and sisters,” Jack backs away, voice growing wary, as he takes a couple of steps toward the door.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll call someone to take care of them.” Child Protective Services. I reach for his arm and he shrugs me off, shouting, “Get off! What is this about?”</p><p></p><p>“Easy. Your girlfriend died last night. We think she someone might have tried to kill her. And we think you might be able to help us find out who did it,” I say, trying so make my tone soothing. Sam is better at this.</p><p></p><p>The young man’s bravado evaporates and he looks away, brow creasing. He looks at me, voice catching, “Humpty? She’s dead. I don’t believe you,” his voice grows louder, “She can’t be dead. I just saw her last night. She snuck in the second story window.” </p><p></p><p>Aha! “That’s what we want to hear about. Just come downtown and answer some questions. It won’t take long,” I reach for his arm again and, this time, he doesn’t resist.</p><p></p><p></p><p>SPIELBERG, PRECINCT #7, Interrogation Room 4</p><p></p><p>The interrogation room is close and stuffy. The gray-green walls are dreary and the light dim. The combined effect puts most people off. Jack keeps chafing his hands and I begin suspect that the shoe didn’t have central heating. An officer is on his way over to check on the other children right now. We’ve convinced Jack that Humpty is dead and he’s withdrawn into himself.</p><p></p><p>“We know about the paperwork that Humpty had drawn up, Jack. Mr. More told us,” I say. He doesn’t make any move or gesture other than the occasional shiver. </p><p></p><p>I stay at him, trying to provoke a response, adding, “We know you were to be married, and that Humpty was transferring her fortune to your name.”</p><p></p><p>He takes the bait and snaps back, “Yeah, so? There was nothing her parents could do about it.”</p><p></p><p>Bingo. I jump, words coming quickly, “But there was something they could do, Jack. And they did it. When Mr. More found out about your plans and told Humpty’s parents they were furious. I’m sure you know how they feel about you.”</p><p></p><p>He grits his teeth, but says nothing. </p><p></p><p>I have him now and keep pressing, goading him, “Yeah, you do know. And you know they would never let you touch their daughter or their fortune.”</p><p></p><p>“So what?” he shouts, looking around wild eyed. He asks the two-way mirror, “When is my mother going to get here?”</p><p></p><p>He’s angry now. And scared. Good.</p><p></p><p>“So what? So when you found out they’d nullified the paperwork you were mad,” I lean down, knuckles on the table, and put my face right up to Jack’s, “Really mad,” I breathe.</p><p></p><p>He squints at me and looks at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, “Are you … Are you saying you think I killed her?”</p><p></p><p>I <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> my head, hair shifting dangerously as I reply, “The thought crossed my mind. I see your clothes, I see your place, your brothers and sisters with just your mother working to support all of you. And I think that you might be mad when you find out she let her parents get between you and all that money.” Any time now, Sam…</p><p></p><p>“You’re crazy,” he mumbles. Come on, Sam…</p><p></p><p>“Am I? Would I be crazy to want out of a bad situation, to want my family to have what they need,” I stand up, and move across the room to pace, starting in on him again, “It isn’t hard to imagine how angry I’d be if a chance like yours disappeared before my eyes. All that money!” </p><p></p><p>“I didn’t want her money! I loved her! My mother has all the money we n--“ Jack breaks off as the door to the interrogation room bursts open.</p><p></p><p>An old woman, bent and crooked, walks in, shoving past the Captain and grabs Jack. Her clothes are worn and tattered, like her son’s. She rounds on me and Sam, a gold brooch at her throat throwing sparks as her adam’s apple moves it up and down, “I’m Margery Whistle. Jack’s mother. What is the meaning of this?”</p><p></p><p>“Your son may know something about a murder. We need to ask him some questions,” I reply.</p><p></p><p>“My son doesn’t know anything about any murder!” she shouts. “Come with me, boy!” she says, grabbing Jack’s arm and hauling him out of the room, chastising him loudly as they move through the station.</p><p></p><p>“Dammit! Where were you? Why didn’t you get in there and help?” I snap at Sam, pacing off my anger and energy.</p><p></p><p>Sam retorts, “Two reasons I didn’t offer assistance. Reason one, you were going the distance. Reason two, I believe his insistence.”</p><p></p><p>The Captain interjected, “So what’s the situation, people?”</p><p></p><p>Both of us are glaring at each other, when Sam defers to me and I sit heavily in the chair, sighing as I begin to speak, “We talked to the Dumpty’s. Humpty and this boy, Jack, were seeing each other. You saw him. I’m sure you know they wouldn’t approve. They certainly wouldn’t approve of her pregnancy.”</p><p></p><p>“She was pregnant?” the Captain asks. I can hear the raised eyebrows in her ringing voice, even if her golden face is perfectly still. </p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” I continue, “And not only that, the two kids planned to elope. Humpty had just turned eighteen and was in the process of getting her fortune written into Jack’s name so that when they were married they could run off together. The Dumpty’s found out and put a stop to it.”</p><p></p><p>The Captain pauses, difficult to discern unless you know her well.</p><p></p><p>She asks me, “And you think he did it because he was desperate and angry?”</p><p></p><p>I shrug and think a moment before replying, “On our way to the kid’s place I didn’t. But after I saw how he lived, and his burns,” I look at Sam, “You saw the burns didn’t you?”</p><p></p><p>He nods, eyes dropping. I finish the thought, “After I saw all that I adjusted what I thought he might be capable of.”</p><p></p><p>The captain turns to Sam, “And you?”</p><p></p><p>He shakes his head. What? No rhymes for the Captain?</p><p></p><p>The Captain wheels into the corner and sits quietly. She spins around suddenly, her outstretched frozen arm sweeping a gesture. I think she’s been cultivating that effect. Poor thing, it must be hard being a solid gold statue.</p><p></p><p>Her voice vibrates in my ears, “Did either of you notice that brooch? Odd thing for a poor old woman to have.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know,” I say, “An heirloom. A remnant of better times. But, yeah, it is a bit showy.”</p><p></p><p>“Something’s bugging me about her. She’s familiar. I know her face. Her name,” the Captain’s voice grows thin as she searches her memory.</p><p></p><p>Sam adds, “I noticed something strange too. At the house, the outside was new. And the boy, Humpty’s money eschewed, saying his mother had cash out the wazoo.”</p><p></p><p>I nod and admit, “Yeah, I noticed the house too. That was strange. All those toys everywhere.”</p><p></p><p>“I know where I’ve seen her!” the Captain cries suddenly. It makes my head hurt. </p><p></p><p>She continues, excited, “It’s been so long. Her place, it’s the ratty shoe, right? She has a lot of kids?”</p><p></p><p>She waits for our nods and continues, “She was a victim of Midas. Rather, her daughter was. But Midas didn’t succeed in kidnapping her daughter. That was how I first suspected that I could survive an encounter with Midas. We questioned her daughter. The girl described Midas, but there was always something weird to me about how the girl got away.”</p><p></p><p>The Captain’s voice trails off. Her silence is eerie as she stops speaking and I wish I could read her face. Sam and I look at one another uncomfortable as the silence draws out. </p><p></p><p>We both jump when the Captain makes a strangled sound, “Oh god. She didn’t. She couldn’t.” </p><p></p><p>The Captain rolls quickly out of the room, dolly rattling, and shouts, “Come with me, we’ve got an arrest to make.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>HANS HOLLOW, Residence of Margery B. Whistle</p><p></p><p>The ride to the Whistle residence is tense; the Captain is radiating a nearly palpable aura of anger and sadness. Sam’s hat is in his lap again. He twists it anxiously. I stare out the windshield willing traffic to move faster.</p><p></p><p>We roll up to the house and cut the lights and the engine as we approach. There are lights on in the shoe house and we can see movement inside. The children will be gone, removed into custody of the state. Only Jack and his mother remain in the house.</p><p></p><p>We creep toward the house. Sam circles around the behind the heel to the door. Captain Grimm and I stay by the toe so we can watch the windows. There’s a mural here at the tip of the shoe - people wandering down a boardwalk. Coney Island? This lady is bonkers.</p><p></p><p>I hear Sam knock loudly on the door. “Open up! Police! You’ve breached the peace!” he shouts. I hear a shout inside and see shadows move through the house upward. She’s going to run.</p><p></p><p>Unwrapping my hair, loop after loop, I scramble up the toe of the shoe. Swinging the end around and around I throw the trailing end of my braid hard as I can over the house. It snakes over the house and vanishes. Sam yelps and I know the end made it over.</p><p></p><p>“Sam,” I shout, “Bring the end of that braid to the Captain.” He trots into view dragging my braid and puts the end into the Captain’s hand. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad as I pull down on the length of hair disappearing over the house. The long rope of hair goes taut in the Captain’s hand <span style="color: DarkOrange">(5)</span> and with her on belay I begin to scale the shoe stopping when I reach a second story window. It’s open and I slip inside. I lean out the window and signal Sam and the Captain to release my hair.</p><p></p><p>I turn around and what I see makes my stomach churn. I understand why the Captain brought us here. She’s a smart one, that Captain. Humpty must have seen this too. A golden statue, a bust, really, sits on a table against the wall. It is a little girl. A little girl who was turned to gold by the touch of a killer.</p><p></p><p>The door to the room opens and I pull my gun. It’s Jack. I feel a tugging on my braid and turn to see Sam climbing through the window, snub-nosed pistol drawn from god-knows-where.</p><p></p><p>I lower my gun and ask,“Jack, did your mother do this?” I nod at the carved up bust.</p><p></p><p>Tears well in his eyes and he nods. I press, “That why you didn’t care about Humpty’s money? And where all the toys came from?” </p><p></p><p>Another nod. </p><p></p><p>“And I bet Humpty saw it last night when she snuck in,” I add. </p><p></p><p>The young man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, shrinking into the corner and whispering to himself. “No. Oh god, no.”</p><p></p><p>I look at the poor boy, and softly tell him, “Jack, climb down my braid, the Captain is down there. Stay with her. We’re going to arrest your mother.”</p><p></p><p>He moves sluggishly toward the window and clambers out. </p><p></p><p>“I just saw movement upstairs,” says Sam. We move up the stairs in tandem and toward the attic and kick down the door, guns drawn. Sam advances on the old woman.</p><p></p><p>“Where were you just last night?</p><p>Tell us, don’t put up a fight.</p><p>Did you push her off the wall?</p><p>Did you, did you make her fall?”</p><p></p><p>She recoils from us, from Sam’s anger and the power in his voice. I’m impressed.</p><p></p><p>“Alright I did it!</p><p>I’ll tell all.</p><p>I did it! I pushed her!</p><p>I made her fall.</p><p></p><p>She knew, she knew!</p><p>My son spilled it!</p><p>Three years ago,</p><p>My daughter was gilded.</p><p></p><p>By Midas, the killer,</p><p>He turned her to gold</p><p>I told him to do it,</p><p>My children were cold!”</p><p></p><p>I can only stare as the words tumble from my lips.</p><p></p><p>“You have the right to silence, do not speak of your violence…”</p><p></p><p>The verse came easily to my lips and I looked over at Sam and smiled. My partner in rhyme.</p><p></p><p></p><p>1. content - Golden Captain Grimm</p><p>2. jetty - Humpty's Wall</p><p>3. egg - Humpty's got a boyfriend</p><p>4. shoe - There was an old woman...</p><p>5. pullover - The Captain on belay</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sparky, post: 1860061, member: 13681"] ALL THAT GLITTERS by Sparky SPIELBERG, PRECINCT #7, Captain Grimm’s Office Blinds chatter against the glass as I shut the door to the Captain’s office, just barely pulling my hair through the door in time. There’s a small, furry man sitting in a chair opposite the Captain’s desk. He’s got a red cap in his lap. A red cap in his lap and a soy latte frap. Oh…a Seuss. I hope this is short, I don’t rhyme for sport. Ugh. I glanced at him as he stands, brushing at a green speck on his fuzzy, yellow chest. Turning my attention to the captain I ask, “You wanted to speak to me?” Speak was a bit of an overstatement. Captain Grimm was a solid gold statue[COLOR=DarkOrange].(1)[/COLOR] It still creeped me out to hear her voice in my head. “Romaine, this is Detective Samuel.” The captain’s voice was tinnier than usual. The fuzzy guy stuck out a hand, “Your new partner. Detective Samuel this is Rapunzel Romaine.” I smile around clenched teeth and hope it reads as friendly. Reaching down I take the new Detective’s hand. The fur warm and coarse. Not what I expected. A knock interrupts us and an officer sticks his head in, brow creased with concern, “Ma’am, Mayor Goose’s aid is on the phone.” Something’s amiss. I’m not ready for this. And definitely not for a Suess. And now, with The Goose. Oh won’t the rhyming please stop? My brain’s going to turn into slop. I grimace down at my new partner and he smiles giving my hand a squeeze before turning it loose. His voice bright and chipper, “Call me Sam, ma’am, if you would. Pleased to meet you, I know we’ll do good.” This was going to be a long assignment. SPIELBERG DOCKS, The Breakwater We arrive at the scene. An officer is taking the statement of an agitated lady chicken. She paces back and forth, red-gold feathers swirling around her. “The sky is what, ma’am?” The young officer’s voice is patient. He looks dapper with straw colored hair and neatly pressed blues. “Falling! The sky is falling!” The lady squawks. “Please calm down, ma’am,” the officer continues. He spots us and gestures with his head to another officer and a band of yellow crime scene tape. The officer nods us through and I lift the tape for Sam before realizing he doesn’t need it. We walk out onto the breakwater. It’s empty, rare on a clear day. [COLOR=DarkOrange](2)[/COLOR] Even a cold one like this. I’d enjoy it if we weren’t here on business. We make our way carefully down the rocks of the jetty to the strand and rounding a boulder step into a grisly scene. Officers are combing the area for clues. One young forensics officer detaches himself from the searching phalanx and approaches, “Detectives. This is big. The vic is a Dumpty. Humpty Dumpty.” Wow. Big. No kidding. Humpty was heir-apparent to the Royal Dumpty crown. It was purely ceremonial, the Dumptys were rulers in name only, but it made sense now why The Goose was anxious. “So I’m guessing you think this wasn’t an accident?” I asked, expecting the answer that came. The officer nodded gesturing us over to a large curving piece of shell, “Our preliminary study of the more intact shell fragments show some crazing on the left upper hemisphere. I think Humpty was pushed.” Sam’s been quiet, content to let me take the lead. I look over to ask him a question and he’s staring up the twenty-foot high wall of rough-stacked stone. He points to the top of the wall and calls over his shoulder, “There’s no railing, it’s really quite breezy.” “Yeah,” I say lightly, “Humpty went over easy.” SPEILBERG, PRECINCT #7, Detective Bull Pen We’re only a few hours into the case and the Mayor is already giving Captain GRIMM a hard time. The Captain’s metallic voice rings in my head, making the hairs in my ears tickle. She’s snappish as she gives us our marching orders, “Humpty’s parents are flying in right now. I want you two waiting at the castle the moment they arrive.” She wheels around, rigid golden form spinning precariously on her small, wheeled dolly. More than one officer has to leap out of her way. I sigh and look up as Sam makes his way across the room with two cups of coffee. He is watching the Captain, eyes wide and sympathetic as she rolls off on her rattling dolly. “So what’s the story of the gold, rumors and whisperings are all I’ve been told,” he asks, small, cat-like face peering at me over his desk as he hands across my cup. “Thanks for the coffee, I do like it black. The Captain? It happened a couple years back,” I answer, distractedly taking the cup while I sift through a pile of paperwork. The involuntary rhyme trickles into my brain. Stop. Rhyming. Damn. I need to tell Sam. Shaking my head, I continued, “Remember Midas? Nasty guy? Turned his victims into gold and then melted them down? The Captain collared him. “She and her partner had been closing in on the guy and his accomplice, but their leads kept vanishing out from under them. When they finally caught up to Midas, the Captain decided to get proof that he was their man the only way she could. She let Midas touch her.” And she looks so smug about it. I wonder how she knew she would survive and for the first time it occurs to me that maybe she didn’t. Damn. The phone on my desk started to ring; I reached for it and looked toward the Captain’s door, “She’s a tough lady. Never did catch the accomplice, though.” I picked up the receiver and reflex answered for me, “Precinct Seven, Detective Romaine.” It was forensics. I gave Sam a look and a gesture to let him know we were getting ready to go. “Great, thanks, Big. We’ll be right over.” SPIELBERG, CORONER’S LAB, Workstation of Big Malloup Sam stands up from the microscope and shrugs. He sidesteps out of the way so I can look at the slide, tripping over a long coil of my hair as he does. “Sorry,” I say as I gather up the errant loop and help Sam to his feet. One of these days – snip – it’s all coming off. I straighten, tucking the loop of hair away and lean over the microscope squinting. I adjust some knobs and start to ask what it is I’m supposed to be seeing when the slide snaps into focus. [COLOR=DarkOrange](3) [/COLOR] Pretty. I stand up, puzzled and shake my head. Sam makes a non-committal face and I scratch behind my ear thinking. After letting my mind whirl for a bit, I cave and ask, “I give up, Big. What is it?” Big bares his teeth, long, canines gleaming white like his lab coat. I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. His voice is gravelly as he points a clawed hand at the microscope, “That, Rapunzel, was the next-to-next in line for the Dumpty throne.” I whisper, “Humpty was pregnant?” The wolf nods, golden eyes solemn. This is bad. I glance at my watch and it is time for Sam and me to head over to the castle. “I appreciate you getting to this fast, Big,” I say. “No problem,” he replies, baring his fangs again, this time I can tell it’s a grin. “Care to thank me over dinner sometime?” Sam is already at the door and I’m not far behind as I call back, “After our last date? My, what big cojones you have.” “Har, har, Detective Romaine,” he mutters, busying himself with his lab equipment. With a brighter tone he asks, “So, we on?” “I’ll think about it,” I say, squinting at him as I shut the door behind me. SPIELBERG, CASTLE DUMPTY, East Parlor The castle is cold and dreary. Not nearly as romantic as I’d imagined. As much as I hated being a prisoner in the witch’s tower, it was cozy at least. Sam studies a bust of Grumpty Dumpty II, hiding well any anxiety he might have. I page idly through a magazine and try to remember the more grievous no-nos when meeting and addressing royalty. Oh forget it. I decide to move on to something I can do something about. Closing the magazine I look at Sam and begin, “Well Sam, they’re going to come and get us eventually. I wanted to talk to you about something.” He turns around, bright eyes curious, “Is it about your partner’s death? Is it true he ODed on crystal meth?” I stand, magazine sliding to the floor, my long braid slithering out of its bindings, uncoiling on the floor like a living thing, “No he didn’t, you take that back. Don’t regurgitate lies, you little hack.” The stricken look on Sam’s face makes me instantly regret what I’d said. Stupid rhyming… that’s not what I meant. I open my mouth to apologize when a liveried man appears, officious and curt; he motions for us to follow him, drawling, “Come with me, Detectives.” Looping my hair hastily over my arm I have to run to catch up with Sam and the manservant. We are ushered into a well-appointed receiving room. The servant retreats into a corner, I can feel him behind us coiled like a spring, ready to leap into action for his liege lords. It’s a strange sort of devotion. Their Majesties are great white domes ensconced in cascades of velvet and lace. They’d be hard-boiled if the castle weren’t so chilly. We sidle awkwardly in, unsure of what to do. Their wide, red-cheeked faces look jolly, but over-bright eyes and fidgeting hands give the lie to their courtly demeanors. I kneel, eyes downcast and peek over at Sam from the corner of my eye. He’s kneeling too. Good. “Rise Detectives. It is Our wish that you speak with Our attorney,” says the King. His voice is round and bouncy. “He has Our complete trust and will be dealing with any questions you may have for Us. Please resolve this with all possible speed.” I simply nod and can’t help but glance up as a stern looking raven in a dark suit hops in from the balcony, a briefcase clasped under his wing. “This way,” The raven croaks, hopping sideways and inclining his head. We stand to leave and Sam stops. Oh boy. The furry little man gathers himself and speaks suddenly, “Your Majesties, there is more news. I regret to say the abuse accrues. This death you see, it’s come in twos. It’s not just one, but two you lose.” The King’s eyes widen dangerously, but they seem more puzzled by Sam’s outburst than offended that he’d spoken out of turn. With a gesture, the King forestalls the manservant who had come off the wall to strike Sam down. “Humpty was our only daughter, We do not underst--“ the King breaks off as his wife gasps, hands to her mouth. Tears spill from the corner of Queen’s eyes and before we have a chance to witness much more the manservant and the lawyer bustle us out of the room into an office. A little disoriented we are offered tea and refreshments before the manservant disappears beyond the heavy wooden door. The raven hops across the wide table, tidy in his charcoal suit, claws clicking along the inlaid surface. He clears his throat and cocks his head at Sam, “That was profoundly stupid, Detective.” He hops closer, head cocking this way and that as he studies both of us from different angles, “But I appreciate the gesture. Let’s get down to business. Are you two looking into this case as a formality because it is high-profile or because you suspect foul play?” I shift in my seat. Right to business indeed. I open my mouth, “Both Mr…?” “Heavens! More! Neville More. Royal Attorney. Detectives Romaine and Samuel, let me welcome you to Castle Dumpty. I wish it were under better circumstances.” He cocks his head, “Don’t look so shocked. I checked the guest book before I arrived.” I put down my coffee cup and lean across the table. I had lots of questions. HANS HOLLOW, Residence of Margery B. Whistle The lawyer gave us the address to a single family home in a lower-middle class neighborhood in the suburbs. We pull up to the curb by the mailbox and get out, surveying the house as we approach. Toys litter the side yard and a rambling, ramshackle playground in the corner of the lot is covered on one side with a sign that reads ‘Puppies, Free to Good Home.’ Scrawled beneath the original text is ‘Free cinnamon pie with each puppy.’ Free pie? I couldn’t help but remark, “This is where the late crown-princess’ boyfriend lives? In a giant shoe?” Sam was unfazed. Man, the little guy puzzles me. I prodded him, grinning, “You must come from a strange place, Sam.” He looks up at me quizzically, saying, “This from a woman who grew up in a tower. With just singing for company, hour by hour.” How did he know about that? We’re at the door and Sam reaches up to clang the knocker twice. A stampede of feet sound inside. Voices. Then quiet. I look up, waiting. The house has been redone. Recently by the looks of it. And by a designer with more dollars than sense. Tacky only began to describe the place. [COLOR=DarkOrange](4)[/COLOR] I hear a squeak as the peephole slides aside. A muffled voice comes from behind the door, “Who is it?” “Detectives Samuel and Romaine,” I say. “We’d like a few words with Jack.” “Detectives? What do you want?” says the muffled voice. It sounds like a kid - a young man. “Are you Jack? We’d like to talk about Miss Dumpty,” I continue, “It’ll only take a second.” The bolts on the door slide back and a young man slips through quickly, but not before we see a multitude of unwashed young faces peering at us with wide, hollow eyes and slack jaws. Why aren’t they in school? “I’m Jack,” the kid says. His clothes are ragged; shirt full of holes and pants tattered. I catch a glimpse of healing burns on the insides of his calves. This is a bad scene. “Where are your parents?” I ask. “My mother. She’s at work,” he mumbles and glares at us sullenly. I look at Sam. He looks at me and back at the young man. “Jack, we need you to come down town, on a matter of import to the crown,” Sam’s voice is kind and concerned. “What’s with this guy?” the kid cracks, snorting at my partner. I’m not in the mood. “You’re coming with us, Jack. We have questions for you. About last night,” my tone comes out harsher than I’d intended. “You what? No way. I can’t leave. I have to take care of my brothers and sisters,” Jack backs away, voice growing wary, as he takes a couple of steps toward the door. “We’ll call someone to take care of them.” Child Protective Services. I reach for his arm and he shrugs me off, shouting, “Get off! What is this about?” “Easy. Your girlfriend died last night. We think she someone might have tried to kill her. And we think you might be able to help us find out who did it,” I say, trying so make my tone soothing. Sam is better at this. The young man’s bravado evaporates and he looks away, brow creasing. He looks at me, voice catching, “Humpty? She’s dead. I don’t believe you,” his voice grows louder, “She can’t be dead. I just saw her last night. She snuck in the second story window.” Aha! “That’s what we want to hear about. Just come downtown and answer some questions. It won’t take long,” I reach for his arm again and, this time, he doesn’t resist. SPIELBERG, PRECINCT #7, Interrogation Room 4 The interrogation room is close and stuffy. The gray-green walls are dreary and the light dim. The combined effect puts most people off. Jack keeps chafing his hands and I begin suspect that the shoe didn’t have central heating. An officer is on his way over to check on the other children right now. We’ve convinced Jack that Humpty is dead and he’s withdrawn into himself. “We know about the paperwork that Humpty had drawn up, Jack. Mr. More told us,” I say. He doesn’t make any move or gesture other than the occasional shiver. I stay at him, trying to provoke a response, adding, “We know you were to be married, and that Humpty was transferring her fortune to your name.” He takes the bait and snaps back, “Yeah, so? There was nothing her parents could do about it.” Bingo. I jump, words coming quickly, “But there was something they could do, Jack. And they did it. When Mr. More found out about your plans and told Humpty’s parents they were furious. I’m sure you know how they feel about you.” He grits his teeth, but says nothing. I have him now and keep pressing, goading him, “Yeah, you do know. And you know they would never let you touch their daughter or their fortune.” “So what?” he shouts, looking around wild eyed. He asks the two-way mirror, “When is my mother going to get here?” He’s angry now. And scared. Good. “So what? So when you found out they’d nullified the paperwork you were mad,” I lean down, knuckles on the table, and put my face right up to Jack’s, “Really mad,” I breathe. He squints at me and looks at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, “Are you … Are you saying you think I killed her?” I :):):):) my head, hair shifting dangerously as I reply, “The thought crossed my mind. I see your clothes, I see your place, your brothers and sisters with just your mother working to support all of you. And I think that you might be mad when you find out she let her parents get between you and all that money.” Any time now, Sam… “You’re crazy,” he mumbles. Come on, Sam… “Am I? Would I be crazy to want out of a bad situation, to want my family to have what they need,” I stand up, and move across the room to pace, starting in on him again, “It isn’t hard to imagine how angry I’d be if a chance like yours disappeared before my eyes. All that money!” “I didn’t want her money! I loved her! My mother has all the money we n--“ Jack breaks off as the door to the interrogation room bursts open. An old woman, bent and crooked, walks in, shoving past the Captain and grabs Jack. Her clothes are worn and tattered, like her son’s. She rounds on me and Sam, a gold brooch at her throat throwing sparks as her adam’s apple moves it up and down, “I’m Margery Whistle. Jack’s mother. What is the meaning of this?” “Your son may know something about a murder. We need to ask him some questions,” I reply. “My son doesn’t know anything about any murder!” she shouts. “Come with me, boy!” she says, grabbing Jack’s arm and hauling him out of the room, chastising him loudly as they move through the station. “Dammit! Where were you? Why didn’t you get in there and help?” I snap at Sam, pacing off my anger and energy. Sam retorts, “Two reasons I didn’t offer assistance. Reason one, you were going the distance. Reason two, I believe his insistence.” The Captain interjected, “So what’s the situation, people?” Both of us are glaring at each other, when Sam defers to me and I sit heavily in the chair, sighing as I begin to speak, “We talked to the Dumpty’s. Humpty and this boy, Jack, were seeing each other. You saw him. I’m sure you know they wouldn’t approve. They certainly wouldn’t approve of her pregnancy.” “She was pregnant?” the Captain asks. I can hear the raised eyebrows in her ringing voice, even if her golden face is perfectly still. “Yeah,” I continue, “And not only that, the two kids planned to elope. Humpty had just turned eighteen and was in the process of getting her fortune written into Jack’s name so that when they were married they could run off together. The Dumpty’s found out and put a stop to it.” The Captain pauses, difficult to discern unless you know her well. She asks me, “And you think he did it because he was desperate and angry?” I shrug and think a moment before replying, “On our way to the kid’s place I didn’t. But after I saw how he lived, and his burns,” I look at Sam, “You saw the burns didn’t you?” He nods, eyes dropping. I finish the thought, “After I saw all that I adjusted what I thought he might be capable of.” The captain turns to Sam, “And you?” He shakes his head. What? No rhymes for the Captain? The Captain wheels into the corner and sits quietly. She spins around suddenly, her outstretched frozen arm sweeping a gesture. I think she’s been cultivating that effect. Poor thing, it must be hard being a solid gold statue. Her voice vibrates in my ears, “Did either of you notice that brooch? Odd thing for a poor old woman to have.” “I don’t know,” I say, “An heirloom. A remnant of better times. But, yeah, it is a bit showy.” “Something’s bugging me about her. She’s familiar. I know her face. Her name,” the Captain’s voice grows thin as she searches her memory. Sam adds, “I noticed something strange too. At the house, the outside was new. And the boy, Humpty’s money eschewed, saying his mother had cash out the wazoo.” I nod and admit, “Yeah, I noticed the house too. That was strange. All those toys everywhere.” “I know where I’ve seen her!” the Captain cries suddenly. It makes my head hurt. She continues, excited, “It’s been so long. Her place, it’s the ratty shoe, right? She has a lot of kids?” She waits for our nods and continues, “She was a victim of Midas. Rather, her daughter was. But Midas didn’t succeed in kidnapping her daughter. That was how I first suspected that I could survive an encounter with Midas. We questioned her daughter. The girl described Midas, but there was always something weird to me about how the girl got away.” The Captain’s voice trails off. Her silence is eerie as she stops speaking and I wish I could read her face. Sam and I look at one another uncomfortable as the silence draws out. We both jump when the Captain makes a strangled sound, “Oh god. She didn’t. She couldn’t.” The Captain rolls quickly out of the room, dolly rattling, and shouts, “Come with me, we’ve got an arrest to make.” HANS HOLLOW, Residence of Margery B. Whistle The ride to the Whistle residence is tense; the Captain is radiating a nearly palpable aura of anger and sadness. Sam’s hat is in his lap again. He twists it anxiously. I stare out the windshield willing traffic to move faster. We roll up to the house and cut the lights and the engine as we approach. There are lights on in the shoe house and we can see movement inside. The children will be gone, removed into custody of the state. Only Jack and his mother remain in the house. We creep toward the house. Sam circles around the behind the heel to the door. Captain Grimm and I stay by the toe so we can watch the windows. There’s a mural here at the tip of the shoe - people wandering down a boardwalk. Coney Island? This lady is bonkers. I hear Sam knock loudly on the door. “Open up! Police! You’ve breached the peace!” he shouts. I hear a shout inside and see shadows move through the house upward. She’s going to run. Unwrapping my hair, loop after loop, I scramble up the toe of the shoe. Swinging the end around and around I throw the trailing end of my braid hard as I can over the house. It snakes over the house and vanishes. Sam yelps and I know the end made it over. “Sam,” I shout, “Bring the end of that braid to the Captain.” He trots into view dragging my braid and puts the end into the Captain’s hand. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad as I pull down on the length of hair disappearing over the house. The long rope of hair goes taut in the Captain’s hand [COLOR=DarkOrange](5)[/COLOR] and with her on belay I begin to scale the shoe stopping when I reach a second story window. It’s open and I slip inside. I lean out the window and signal Sam and the Captain to release my hair. I turn around and what I see makes my stomach churn. I understand why the Captain brought us here. She’s a smart one, that Captain. Humpty must have seen this too. A golden statue, a bust, really, sits on a table against the wall. It is a little girl. A little girl who was turned to gold by the touch of a killer. The door to the room opens and I pull my gun. It’s Jack. I feel a tugging on my braid and turn to see Sam climbing through the window, snub-nosed pistol drawn from god-knows-where. I lower my gun and ask,“Jack, did your mother do this?” I nod at the carved up bust. Tears well in his eyes and he nods. I press, “That why you didn’t care about Humpty’s money? And where all the toys came from?” Another nod. “And I bet Humpty saw it last night when she snuck in,” I add. The young man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, shrinking into the corner and whispering to himself. “No. Oh god, no.” I look at the poor boy, and softly tell him, “Jack, climb down my braid, the Captain is down there. Stay with her. We’re going to arrest your mother.” He moves sluggishly toward the window and clambers out. “I just saw movement upstairs,” says Sam. We move up the stairs in tandem and toward the attic and kick down the door, guns drawn. Sam advances on the old woman. “Where were you just last night? Tell us, don’t put up a fight. Did you push her off the wall? Did you, did you make her fall?” She recoils from us, from Sam’s anger and the power in his voice. I’m impressed. “Alright I did it! I’ll tell all. I did it! I pushed her! I made her fall. She knew, she knew! My son spilled it! Three years ago, My daughter was gilded. By Midas, the killer, He turned her to gold I told him to do it, My children were cold!” I can only stare as the words tumble from my lips. “You have the right to silence, do not speak of your violence…” The verse came easily to my lips and I looked over at Sam and smiled. My partner in rhyme. 1. content - Golden Captain Grimm 2. jetty - Humpty's Wall 3. egg - Humpty's got a boyfriend 4. shoe - There was an old woman... 5. pullover - The Captain on belay [/QUOTE]
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