A Monday's Production - Murder Over My Muppets

[WebMistressGina]

Okay kids, you asked for it and as an earlier Christmas present, here it is - the movie version of Murder Over My Muppets.

Now for you kids just tuning in, the good WebMistress started the next fic in the Monday Series that featured the production of a Muppet film noir. As bits and pieces were thrown to the hungry masses, the masses screamed for more - of the film, that is. So from the preproduction and now the actual production of Scooter Grosse's script...

Murder Over My Muppets​

​

Prologue

“Los Angeles, the city of angels; some might even go so far as saying it’s California’s ‘sin city’. There are some definite angels in the city, but it’s also tapered with that of devils too; home of the celebrity elite and the mean streets of success. This is where I live, this is where I play, and most importantly, this is where I work.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s easy being a private eye; they would just as soon as shoot you than admit you have a purpose in this crazy town. But I’ll tell you; sometimes being a PI is the best thing that you’ll find in a fast and loose city like this. Oh, I may not have much or even know much, but what I know has saved me a thousand times and I’ve even managed to save a couple of people along with me.

“You never know where your smarts and reputation will take you; I certainly didn’t know where my life was headed when she walked through that door. Cases came and went where I was concerned, until that day I met the one dame who managed to show me the world in a whole new way. That case never left me, nor will the experience that came with it.

“The name’s Hollywood; Kermit Hollywood and I work the cold, hard streets of LA. I still remember that day, like it had just happened hours ago despite it being years ago. Of all the P.I. offices, in all the city, that day she just had to walk into mine…”

The springs in Los Angeles could be muggy, especially around the seafront district, however in many cases, residents could expect a nice, warm, and sunny day. That was exactly the type of day that started the mess Kermit Hollywood found himself in; by the time he left his office that afternoon, he was up to his neck in it. Hollywood was a private investigator, a former beat cop who decided he wanted to settle the game himself; in fact, his reputation was based on the fact that he always tried to help the little guy.

No matter the case and no matter the person, Kermit was all about helping them out.

No bad for a frog from the mean streets of San Mateo; Kermit knew what it was like to be on the bottom of the rung and just being able to reach up to touch it. Being a frog, he had a huge family, one that was close knit, but also had to fight to get resources that were too scarce to go all around; perhaps that was where he got his sense of fairness. He was the oldest and in many cases, he would end up taking his share of the resources and passing them down to the other little ones.

That sense of fairness transformed to that of justice and he felt he would do better if he headed down to Los Angeles, help spread a little justice to a town that was headed for lawlessness. The emergence of Hollywood made the town the city of stars, but with the influx of wannabe stars and starlets, so came an underbelly of crime that the LAPD couldn’t handle by themselves.

Kermit had been a beat cop for a few years, making friends with many of the officers on the force, however it with the politics and easy greasing that took place at the top of the food chain that made the frog decide that he wanted to do what some of the police departments couldn’t or wouldn’t.

It took a few of his savings, but he was able to rent the office he was currently in. It wasn’t anything fancy – a square box basically, but big enough to hold both an inner and outer office. The outer office held just one chair, but also a desk for his secretary Wanda, the girlfriend of a source that needed the work in order to help the couple out. The inner office was his, also holding a desk, but with a small couch against the wall, hopefully for the clients he would be getting.

So far, he’d actually been lucky. He’d been in the private dick business for about two years and in that time, he’d actually gotten some pretty good clients, even some big name clients; he managed to solve the cases, while still keeping on friendly terms with that of the local police force and even other detectives. However, if he had to pick the best cop he could think of, he couldn’t think of anyone better than that of Officer Fozzie Bear.

A regular bear about the street, a bear on patrol if you will, the bear officer joined the LAPD around the same time Kermit did and they had even run together on the same cases. The friendly atmosphere between them kept on even after the frog had left the force and decided to try his hand at detective work; Fozzie was actually what some would call the go-between – the cop on the inside who could help with information on a particular case, but also got some info in return.

While this relationship worked wonders, the police chief Link Keulen, didn’t think it was so great. In fact, he thought it little too cozy and several times he had accused the frog on gumming the game of the police. It was something that but the frog at odds with the chief of the LAPD.

That morning, a March morning that should have singled the start of any day, Fozzie had stopped by on his beat for a chat. And by chat, a general warning that his boss wasn’t too happy with Hollywood, though that was nothing new.

“You gotta watch out, Kermit,” said the bear, dressed in a blue police uniform, complete with hat that he now was worrying in his hands. “The big boss isn’t too happy with how you busted Slim Lemmings last week. He’s really been getting on our cases about it!”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Kermit replied, patting the bear’s shoulder. “You know I don’t mean to get you in trouble, but that police chief of yours wouldn’t know the right side of a pen if you didn’t show it to him.”

“Tell me about it,” Fozzie said, rolling his eyes in understanding. He looked around suddenly, as though expecting his police chief to have heard him and would show up as though out of thin air, literally bearing down on him for being friends with the budding detective. “Kermit, please don’t tell him I said that!”

“No worries, pal,” Kermit said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “I know you boys do everything you can to keep our streets safe for people, but you gotta know that not everyone comes to the police when they need help. You said it yourself; the force is stretched thin and you can’t get to every Tom, Dick, and Harry. That’s where I come in.”

“And I appreciate it, Kermit, I really do.”

“I’m nothing special, Fozzie.”

“But you are!” the bear exclaimed. “You really are! It’s like you said – we can’t get to everybody and you provide a valuable service in which people come to you for help in desperate situations.”

The private eye looked at the bear in a bit of awe; while the bear was a great guy and had certainly been a friend in times of need, but he wasn’t usually so profound. “That’s really profound, Fozzie.”

“I read it off this candy bar wrapper,” he said, showing Kermit the remains of a candy bar he must’ve eaten earlier. “Actually Kermit, you got a trash can? I hate carrying around trash in my pockets, so unprofessional, you know.”

Kermit couldn’t help but smirk, gesturing towards the wastebasket that sat next to the desk. Fozzie had some peculiar habits, such as making sure he washed his hands in a timely manner and trying to be as neat as he possibly could; it was something his mother had instilled him from the get go and obviously something he strived for as an adult. Like clockwork, as the bear went near, he ended up knocking over a stack of papers and pens that were on the corner of the desk, sending papers and pens to the floor in a rainbowed mess.

“Oh geez,” Fozzie groaned, bending quickly to pick up the debris. “I’m sorry, Kermit!”

Kermit copied his friend, getting down on his knees to help straighten up things the best he could. “Don’t worry about it, Fozzie,” he said. He picked up one piece and looked at it in confusion. “I don’t even remember what this was.”

The typical way Kermit’s office worked was not the typical way a detective office probably should’ve worked; in other offices, the secretary would notify the boss and let them know that someone was there to see them. In Kermit’s office, Wanda usually just waved people through, that is when Wanda was actually at her desk. In some ways, it worked as it meant that a person walking through the inner door might find the frog on the phone with a client or the police looking into a certain matter.

However, in most cases, a client who had not been buzzed in or announced, usually walked in to some calamity that went on in the office of one Kermit Hollywood. As was the instance in which a well-dressed pig made her way through the inner office doorway, only to find a frog and bear scrambling around on the floor, picking up things and placing them haphazardly on the desk.

Dressed in a nice black suit that matched the hat that was placed over blonde curls, the pig raised a slim eyebrow at the scene. Not sure if she had entered the right place, she turned slightly, noting the bold script on the outer office door that clearly said KERMIT HOLLYWOOD, PRIVATE EYE before turning back to the duo on the floor.

“Hey Kermit,” the bear replied, holding up a piece of paper in his hands. “You got a letter from the Chief. Ooh, that…I didn’t even know he knew that word.”

“If that’s what I think it is,” Kermit began. “There’re a lot of words in there I didn’t think he knew. I’m actually surprised he can write.”

It was the way she cleared her throat that got their attentions, causing the two to stop in their commentary and to turn towards the newcomer. While Fozzie had immediately looked up, Kermit took his time, starting with the black heels, following up the legs covered by dark stockings, to the hem of the black dress before he managed to draw his eyes to the baby blues that were staring right at him.

“Enjoy the show?” she asked, a slim eyebrow raised in question.

“The preview was alright,” he huffed, giving the pig another once over.

“Perhaps you’d enjoy the full show if you were standing up.”

The two stood quickly, both embarrassed at being caught so unexpectedly. Kermit made a better show than the bear, taking the stance that he always greeted clients from the floor of his office all the time. “I can only surmise that one of you is Mr. Hollywood?” she asked, baby blue eyes turned from the officer to the frog.

“That would be me,” he said. Casting a look at the bear that said they were now on company time, he added, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you a little later, Fozzie.”

The bear nodded quickly to the request, placing his cap back on his head before tipping it and leaving with a goodbye “Ma’am,” towards the guest.

“Have a seat, doll,” Kermit replied, nodding towards the lone chair that was placed in front of the desk. She was complete poise and class walking to the chair, catching the eye of the frog who took a corner of the desk as his seat. While the detective had gotten his share of big name folks, it was incredibly rare for him to see such a high classed dame walk into his office. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I need your help, Mr. Hollywood,” she began. “I need you to find out who murdered my father.”

“What makes you think he was murdered, Miss…?”

“Vane, Mr. Hollywood,” she said, giving the PI a smile. “Pigvian Vane. I’m sure you’ve heard of my father, Horace; he’s one of the leading businessmen in all of Los Angeles.” Her face dropped, however, and she turned away. “He was, anyway,” she whispered.

Turning back to look at the frog, those blue eyes of her seemingly pinning him to the desk with sheer determination, she said, “I even have a suspect for you – Count Herbert Gonzolo, my father’s business partner. I’m convinced he was involved somehow.”

Kermit couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Not at her belief, but well, plenty of the clients walked through his door had the same story - the story of who they think were involved in the case they came to see him about and in ninety-nine percent of those cases, they were wrong.

“Okay sweetheart,” he said. “If you’re so convinced about your father’s killer, then why come to me? Usually people see a private investigator when they need to find out who did it.”

“Silly me,” she giggled. “And here I thought you also investigated crimes. Was I wrong?”

Kermit answered her with a smile. “You weren’t wrong,” he whispered. “But if you know the identity of the killer, again, why come to me? Why not go to the police and have this Count checked out and arrested?”

“That’s exactly why I’ve come to you,” Vane replied. “My father was a very important figure, Mr. Hollywood and by that extension, so is the Count. I certainly can’t go around accusing him of murder and not come out from a scandal myself, can I? I can see the headlines now – ‘socialite accuses father’s business partner of murder’; that’s all I need. Besides, it’s only a hunch, a theory; I can’t say that I have any evidence to prove it.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“The Count and my father started business together about ten years ago,” she started. “I won’t lie, Mr. Hollywood, there has always been something about the Count that I’ve never liked. Unfortunately, my father’s businesses and his money weren’t the only things the Count liked.”

Kermit got the meaning, loud and clear; the Count obviously had a thing for not only her father’s money, but her too; he certainly couldn’t blame the guy. For a pig, she was definitely easy on the eyes, very easy, and she would probably make a guy a very happy man one day.

“Anyway,” continued Vane. “There have been a host of mysterious and suspicious things going on with the Count ever since my father’s death and some of the statements he’s made to me has me thinking that he knows more than he’s telling. And that’s why I’ve come to you.

“Maybe I’m being emotional or overwrought, but I know something than meets the eye is going on. I just need someone to believe that that’s true.”

It was hard to turn her down; Kermit prided himself on being able to help people that the police couldn’t. It really was probably like any other case that he’d done before, but for some reason, this one seemed special. Giving her a reassuring smile, he nodded. “Ms. Vane,” I said. “I’ll take the case.”

 

[WebMistressGina]

I.


Kermit liked to start his cases with knowing who was involved.

So far, he knew that the daughter of business pig Horace Vane had come to him with a charge of murder against her father’s business partner, the Count Herbert Gonzolo. That was pretty much the long and short of it and if he wanted to, he could easily make a case for the reason of murder – Vane had literally told him the count had been after her father’s businesses, money, and ultimately, her.

But the frog didn’t like to just shut a case like without knowing any more. Luckily, Ms. Vane seemed to sense the problem in getting close to the Count –

Handing over a plain envelope, she had said, “The Count is meeting with some of the advisors today; you know the sort, the lawyers who know where the money is and whose controlling it. Obviously as the heiress to Vane Fortunes, I will need to be there, but there doesn’t say anything about me inviting someone along for the ride. Be at that address, at that time.”

Not only was it a legitimate way of getting in to the Count, who apparently spent most his days being surrounded by lawyers ever since Horace Vane’s death, but according to Ms. Vane, at night he usually surrounded himself with a few bodyguards that were kept on a very loose leash. Kermit didn’t want to leave at that – he prided himself on getting the facts before anyone else knew them and that meant doing a little checking on both the Count and Horace Vane.


[hr]


At a quarter to three, Kermit made his way to a swanky two-storied mansion at the top of a hill in one of the classy neighborhoods in LA. This was where the movers and shakers lived, those that worked in Hollywood or knew people in Hollywood or even bought people in Hollywood; this was the crème de la crème.

Two stories of brick and mortar lay on the land, covered in decorative white with a little bit of golden trim to give it some color. Two ceramic lions were situated on the porch, so lifelike the detective was sure they were glaring at him, just waiting to strike when he wasn’t looking; two wide layered columns that held the overhang were the only things that Kermit felt would hold the two cats back.

Brass handles in the shape of, what he thought were cannon balls, greeted him at the door and he tentatively selected the one on the right in order to knock. He only needed to wait a moment before a rather stuffy blue eagle opened the door and sniffed at him.

“May I…help you?” it asked, glaring down at the frog over his bulbous beak. Insulted as he may have been, Kermit was used to some of this richy rich folk not taking kindly to his status as one of the ‘commoners’.

Handing the envelope to the eagle, he said, “I’m expected. I’m a guest of Ms. Vane, if she’s in.”

Harrumphing at the very notion that such riffraff would be invited, the butler stood aside to let the frog in, gingerly taking his hat and coat as dictated by his very role as butler. He did however open the envelope to see for himself, reading the invitation as it was sent, but Kermit could see the lingering suspicion that shone through the beady black eyes.

“Follow me,” the butler boomed, leading the frog through the foyer and around the corner to the first door on the left. Opening it quickly, the private eye could tell his arrival had interrupted something and it looked to be big.

There were already five occupants in the room, something akin to a makeshift study and office in one go. Large windows faced outwards to what Kermit assumed to be the rest of the mansion’s groundwork, while a medium sized ornate desk sat in front of it. Kermit immediately recognized Pigvian, sans hat, who stood in front of the desk; whatever he had walked in to must have been argumentative because those baby blues, which had been turned on him earlier, were now narrowed at a new target.

She was sandwiched in between two people – the man to her right looked to be a kid, large glasses that sat on a face topped with red hair. He was probably dressed in a dark business suit, though he must have opted to remove the jacket so that he now stood about the room in only a vest, tie, and slacks.

To Pigvian’s left was a strange creature, at least a head shorter than she was. The nose would definitely give him away in any crowded room, though his relaxed dress would have as well. Attired as one who had the run of the house – dark red smoking jacket with swirling black lines covering a bright yellow ascot – Kermit assumed that must have been the count.

Two more occupants were seated in the chairs that had been placed in front of the desk – one a bald headed man whose glasses rivaled that of the kid’s for being the biggest that could fit on one’s face, while the second had a huge crop top of red hair that also managed to give the kid a run for his money in the ginger department.

At the sudden disturbance that his arrival caused, all heads turned to the door.

“We were not to be disturbed, Sam,” the nose growled, annoyed at the interruption.

“Forgive me, your grace,” the butler meekly replied, bowing slightly. “But this person of questionable intent insisted that he allowed to be here for your meeting.”

“Mr. Hollywood, you came!” Ms. Vane exclaimed, rushing over as the frog entered the room. The butler Sam quickly excused himself, backing out of the room and closing the door as he did.

“I thought this was an ‘invitation only’ party,” the nose replied, sidling up to the pig to also greet the detective.

“It is,” was her reply, turning a cool eye on her admirer. “And I had the foresight to invite Mr. Hollywood. Kermit Hollywood, Count Herbert Gonzolo. Mr. Hollywood’s a detective.”

“A private eye?” Gonzolo chuckled. “What on earth would we need a private eye for?”

“He’s here to discover who murdered my father.”

“Murder!?” Again, the count chuckled, though it soon erupted into a laugh. “What murder? Your father fell out of a window.”

“Was pushed out of a window,” Vane corrected.

“Piggy, my sweet,” Gonzolo cooed. “You know it hurts me when you make outrageous claims like that. Cuts right to the core, it does.”

“Not as much as I’d like to.”

“Please,” the bald, bespectacled man interrupted, clearly used to this kind of spats between the two. “Mr. Gonzolo, Lady Vane, all this talk of murder is deeply upsetting to Beakie here.”

The aptly named ‘Beakie’ piped up in a series of excited chirps, causing his friend to turn a stern eye on him.

“You are too upset, now hush!”

“Dr. Melon is right,” the younger man stated. “All this talk of murder is a bit…well, don’t you think it’s a bit bleak? I mean, certainly Mr. Vane’s death is quite troubling and I should want to know the truth, but…being so close to his demise…”

Ms. Vane quickly went to the lad, laying a comforting hand on his arm. “Forgive me, Andrew,” she soothed. “I lost myself.”

“Well gumshoe,” Gonzolo said, turning and making his way towards his desk. “Looks like you’ve joined the party. Oh, my solicitors – Andrew Hess, Bunsen Melon, and Beaker Von Tropp; you of course know Piggy here, so let’s get to it.” Sitting in a rather comfortable leather chair, the Count leaned back and observed Kermit.

“Gotta warn you, Hollywood,” he said. “This is gonna get real boring, real fast, unless of course you take an interest in financials and business.”

“I take an interest in murder, Count,” Hollywood responded, smoothly. “Ms. Vane hired me to find out the truth about her father’s recent death and if that means I get to sit through a financial meeting, so be it.”

“Oh ho,” the Count chuckled. “That’s cute. Don’t let the baby blues fool you, Hollywood; the pig’s all devil and deeds inside.”

“I have you to thank,” the heiress said, sarcastically.

“When ya gonna let me be your private tutor?”

“That’s enough, Count,” hissed Hess.

“Call off the boy scout, Piggy,” Gonzolo said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m only having some fun, coupla laughs, no harm.”

In that moment, Kermit knew this case was going to be more than meets the eye.

That meeting, while solely about what was to be done about the Vane ventures, who got what, and how much, wasn’t nearly as important as the interactions between everyone in that room. The key to being a successful private eye was the ability to read people; you had to know who was on the up and up and who was playing you for a sap. It was clear to him in that room, heck probably in a five mile radius, that Pigvian Vane and Herbert Gonzolo had a rocky business and personal relationship.

Kermit wasn’t sure if the guy was just being a louse as a front or was being a louse for louse sake, but a moment didn’t go by without him turning a letcherous eye on the grieving daughter. For her part, the pig was tough as nails; he threw her a line and she sat about trying to loop it around his neck; she was definitely a woman who gave as good as she got.

Andrew Hess, the red headed kid with the glasses, acted as a mediator between the two and for good reason. Despite his age, he seemed to be the lead lawyer in this family and he not only knew how to calm the combatants, but knew all about the Vane-Gonzolo ventures, businesses, buildings, everything. From where he sat, Kermit could tell Piggy was sweet on the boy; perhaps not in a lover sense, but as a caregiver would treat a child or youngster. And the feeling was obviously shared; several times, the boy gave the pig a reassuring smile when the unpleasantness of her father’s death came up.

Dr. Bunsen Melon and his associate Beaker Von Tropp were a part of the research and development portion of the business, with many of their scientist projects up in the air in regards to where Vane Fortunes would go next. Apparently as head of the entire department, both had always been included in meetings in which vital information would be forthcoming in regards to the finances.

The entire afternoon almost seemed wasted to the frog until something vital popped up in the conversation. He had literally tuned out whatever conversation or argument was occurring until, “The will is missing.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well there’s your case right there, gumshoe,” Gonzolo replied. “Find Horace Vane’s will!”

“I suggest you start with this house,” Piggy stated, glaring hard at the Count.

“Maybe he should be starting with yours,” was the businessman’s comeback. “You are the daughter, after all. Maybe Horace had something in there you didn’t like.”

“How dare you!”

“Alright, cool it!” Hollywood exclaimed, putting a hand on Piggy’s arm to prevent her from going after the Count, who seemed ready to go should she. “Now just calm down.” Looking at Hess, he asked, “You say the will’s missing?”

“It’s supposed to be in a safe at the office,” the younger man replied. “Obviously, I had plans to bring it over and discovered it wasn’t there.”

“Any ideas on where it could be?”

“Some.”

Nodding, Kermit turned towards the Count. “There you go.”

“I’m not paying you for that.”

“Well lucky for you, you aren’t paying me,” the frog retorted. “Anything else?”

The group was silent.

“Well then,” he said, nodding again to his host. “I’ll leave you folks to discuss business. Good day.”

Kermit headed out the way he came, ultimately running into Sam, who was happy to help him with his coat and hand him his hat. He didn’t get far however, as both Piggy and Hess caught him before he headed out the door. “Mr. Hollywood,” the younger man replied. “I was going to give Piggy a ride and thought maybe I could offer you one as well.”

“That’s swell of you,” the frog nodded, opening the door. “Actually Hess, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Perfect,” Piggy replied. “Because there’s something he wants to tell you.”

 

[charlietheowl]

Love it! Thanks for sharing!

 

[Muppetfan44]

Definitely an interesting story! Please post more soon so we can read how the plot thickens!

 

[Twisted Tails]

I rully like love this story. You are doing well, Gina.
Egad! Gonzolo, the prime suspect. Sounds likes a mystery and now it's up to Gina to update more story.

 

[WebMistressGina]

Geez man, how did I miss three new alerts?? I MUST be busy!

Glad everyone's liking it. Don't forget that I gots another mystery that's probably gonna wrap up this weekend!

 

[Misskermie]

OH! YES! SCRIPT!


So the will is missing.... Hmmmm...
I SUSPECT THINGS...

More please!

 

[WebMistressGina]

OH! YES! SCRIPT!
So the will is missing.... Hmmmm...
I SUSPECT THINGS...

As you should.

There's evil afoot!

 

[WebMistressGina]

Merry Christmas, everyone! And Happy Hannakuh and happy holidays to everyone too! Here's your Monday Murder Mystery just in time to give you all presents and hopefully, I'll be able to get Motocross up for you tonight too!


II.


Kermit wouldn’t be lying if he thought getting some extra information from the lawyer of the deceased wasn’t advisable, especially when it seemed as though that information could potentially lead to other avenues.

And getting a free ride was never a bad idea.

Andrew Hess played every bit the part of a young up and coming lawyer for his day. Just as the detective had suspected, the younger man was back to being in a dark three piece suit that was accompanied by a black fedora that he had placed on top of his head as the trip walked out the door.

Waiting for them was the lawyer’s 1929 Franklin automobile, done up in a nice darkened gray, with a side door on the passenger side should the boy ever want to ride out in style with a chauffeur and firm white wall tires. Once inside and seated in the passenger side, Kermit was impressed by the leather seating and the comfort at which he sat.

Hess slid behind the wheel, while Kermit had been a gentleman and opened the side door for Piggy to slide into the back seat and he took the front with Hess. The car was started and began to move forward towards the driveway and out the gate and out towards the city. The silence between the three was starting to get to the frog and he wondered what all the secrecy could be and what exactly it would lead to.

Hess managed to make his way through the streets before he turned down an alleyway and parked in front of a large trash dump.

“I apologize for all the secrecy, Mr. Hollywood,” Hess replied, turning in his seat to face the frog. “But I wanted to make sure that we were far enough away, in order to speak in private.”

“What’s this all about, Hess?” Kermit asked. “Lay it out for me, from the beginning.”

“As you know, Mr. Hollywood,” the lawyer began. “I am…was the lawyer for Horace Vane.”

“He’s being modest,” Piggy spoke up from the back. “He oversees all of Daddy’s businesses.”

“Pretty nice,” the detective murmured. “How’d you get a gig like that?”

“I started out as a junior partner with Colorado, Marx, and Davies, esquire,” Hess said. “I paid my dues, did my job, you know, rose in the ranks. Peter Colorado, that’s the senior most partner, took me under his wing, started to show me the ropes when the firm was hired by Mr. Vane to oversee the partnership that he had undertaken with the Count. After some time, and the fact that Mr. Vane seemed to like me, I was given access to the business accounts.”

“How long have you been working for Vane and Gonzolo?”

“Oh,” the younger man said, tossing a long to their companion in the back. “About four years or so. But that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak with you. As you can imagine, as head executor of the business side of Vane Ventures, I’m usually in the know about what goes on with the accounts and what goes out.”

“Are you saying we’re losing money?” asked Piggy.

“Not losing it,” Hess replied. “More like it’s being stolen right from under us.”

“How is that possible?” Kermit asked.

“I don’t know,” Hess said. “Yet. And that leads me to the fact that Horace’s will has disappeared.”

“Why would anyone want to steal his will?” Piggy asked. “What could he possibly have in that someone would want?”

“I didn’t want to say it while inside,” Hess said. “But I have reason to believe that the will hasn’t been stolen or even misplaced; I think Horace purposefully moved it.”

“For what reason?” the heiress asked.

“Wouldn’t you want the will close to you if you planned on changing it?”

Both Piggy and Kermit looked at each other before looking at Hess. “You think he changed his will?” the detective asked.

“Before his death,” said Hess. “I found Horace in his office, looking rather upset and irritated. When I asked, that’s when he told me that he had noticed some of the company’s funds weren’t where they were supposed to be.”

“He knew!” Piggy exclaimed.

“So Vane discovers that someone’s been taking a little off the top,” the detective murmured. “You said his will was in a safe?”

“He had a hidden safe within the wall of his office,” Hess explained. “Only myself and he were aware of it, I believe. But I have to guess that upon learning about someone stealing money, he moved the will for safe keeping.”

“I think it’s a bit more than that,” Kermit said. “Judging by the reaction you encountered, I think Vane may have known who was stealing from him, which means he could have also known his killer. Have either one of you a key to his home?”

Piggy obliged by unhooking a key from her own ring and handing it to the detective.

“Mind if I borrow this?”

The heiress shrugged, nodding to him. “Whatever do you plan to do with it?” she asked.

“Well, with your permission of course,” he said. “I’d like to go over your father’s house. Maybe find something the police missed.”

“Mind if I go with you?” Hess asked. “I have a fairly good idea where that will might be and I do know that Horace had at least one safe within his home.”

“Sure, why not?” Kermit said, giving the driver a bit of a smile. “Might give me an in in case the cops are still hanging around.”

“What do you hope to find?” Piggy asked.

Kermit looked at the pig, giving her a sweet smile before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he said. “Just a hunch.”


[hr]


“I don’t like it.”

Several hours after meeting with his former business partner’s lawyer and research personnel, Count Herbert Gonzolo just wanted to forget everything and get back to what he enjoyed – anything that didn’t deal with business. Gonzolo was the very image of the rich playboy, the businessman who enjoyed spending the rewards of the business, but didn’t exactly enjoy doing the business that made him the money.

He and Vane worked with experimental technology, which actually held an interest to the strange blue creature. While he found both Melon and Von Tropp to be highly annoying, the work they did was rather intriguing, if not dangerous to what he considered to be important work.

When he wasn’t working, the Count could be found at a few choice bars and gambling joints that were right up his alley and it was in this types of places that he had managed to meet and befriend a number of bouncers, rough housers, and other unscrupulous individuals.

One of those individuals was that of Morris Rizzoli, though most of his friends called him Rizzo. He was a rat of small stature, as most rats are, but he made up for it with his big attitude and tough demeanor. He was basically Gonzolo’s right hand man, the guy that snooped about when and where he could; he was the ears when the Count couldn’t or wouldn’t dare be seen in a place.

It was he who had uttered his dislike at the previous meeting; as was his custom, Rizzo tended to hang around behind the scenes – or in this case, the curtains – whenever the boss needed him.

“Don’t like what?” the Count asked, pouring himself a drink and taking a seat behind the desk.

“I don’t like that pig trying to nose into our business,” Rizzo elaborated.

“Si, si,” replied a red shrimp who stood next to the rat. “Especially when she brings in the fuzzies, h’okay?”

This was Pepe LaRue, a Spanish born king prawn who like Rizzo made up for his shortcomings by having the biggest ego he could in the room. Against Rizzo’s toughness, Pepe was more of the party person, the prawn you went to when you needed to know the hottest parties and clubs there were.

It was usually Pepe’s recommendations that would send Gonzolo and his entourage to a certain place.

“Oh gentlemen,” Gonzolo chuckled. “So suspicious. I am, however, inclined to agree that the presence of that flatfoot is a bit…disconcerting.”

“Want us to take care of him, boss?” asked the rat.

“Eventually,” the Count murmured. “For now of course, we need to await further instructions. I did not come this far and this close to have it all fall apart on me now.” Truth be told, Gonzolo was more than a little surprised when he saw the frog walk in and worse was knowing that the guy was a detective. The Count had constructed a very nice and tight house of cards that he couldn’t afford to have fall on him.

The sudden ringing of the telephone brought the blue furry creature from his musings and he reluctantly answered, imaging Dr. Melon going into some scientific mumbo jumbo that he wouldn’t understand, much less care about.

“Gonzolo,” he answered. Hearing the voice on the other end, he immediately straightened in his chair. “Oh, it’s you. I’m glad you called; we might have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” the voice asked.

“Little Miss Moneybags managed to bring in…um…outside interference. My associates and I were actually just discussing…”

“Discussing what?”

“What…um…” Gonzolo stammered. “What should be done, of course! The last thing we want is for this guy to gum up our game.”

“Whatever it is,” the voice replied. “Take care of it.”

“Of course,” the Count said, gulping slightly. “Is uh…is everything still on?”

“Of course it is; unless you’ve made other plans.”

“No!” the businessman insisted. “No, no, I’m…still in, no worries.” Hanging up quickly, the Count sat back in his chair. While he had been a bit annoyed with the arrival of Hollywood, he hadn’t really considered him than the new squeeze for Piggy, one that she would get tired of soon. But now…

“I take it de big boss wants to take things easy, no?” asked Pepe.

“Business is a complicated venue,” Gonzolo replied, casting a side-glance to his henchmen. “It’s best you don’t hurt yourselves thinking too much about it; let me handle this. You two…keep an eye on our new frog friend.”


[hr]


It was just starting to be early evening when Kermit returned to his office. Not surprisingly, Wanda was nowhere to be found, preferring to leave around the end of the workday regardless if the boss was in or not. The frog made his way into his office, making a beeline to his desk and his chair, and then sitting down in the plush leather.

Hours after taking the case of one Pigvian Vane, Hollywood already had a suspect and even a possible motive; in hindsight, the case could easily be tied up by the end of the week if he wished it. However, Kermit had been a detective and a cop at one point and in all of his investigative years, he knew things were seldom open and shut. While it seemed simple enough to assume that Count Gonzolo was behind the murder because he was embezzling money from the company and Horace Vane was aware of it, things just seemed a little too easy.

Picking up the phone, Kermit dialed the operator and waited. “Fourth precinct, please,” he said, waiting for the line to connect. By coincidence, he didn’t get the normal desk jockey, but that of Sam Marlowe, a fellow detective that worked with LA’s homicide division. The frog had met the man a few times while investigating other cases and the two had formed a respectful relationship.

“Well then,” the frog chuckled, hearing the familiar voice on the other end. “It finally happened, huh? Got on Linkie’s nerves to the point he demoted you?”

A deep chuckle was felt through the wires as though the detective was actually there. “Funny timing, Frog,” he said. “The bear was just talking about you and I was sitting here just waiting for you to call.”

“That so?”

“And I haven’t been demoted,” Marlowe replied. “I’m filling in for Kravitz who went out on the beat for Slone. What’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

“You always do.”

“Cute,” Kermit said. “Real cute. Can you do a little digging for me? I got a case going and I wanna know a little more about the cast of characters.”

“Isn’t that why you’re the detective?” Marlowe chuckled.

The gumshoe matched the friendly chuckle with one of his own. “This is how I get paid you know.”

“By making us do the dirty work?”

“Dirty work?” Kermit asked, with a smile. “You’re just doing the research, I’m the one doing the dirty work over here.”

“Whatcha need, Kermit?”

“Mind looking up some people for me?” he asked. “I’m working on a murder case, Horace Vane; heard of it?”

“The business pig?” asked the detective. “Heard about it the other week. Figured you’d get caught up in that, so I actually started looking stuff up before you even called.”

“Watch it there, Marlowe,” Kermit replied. “You start working my angle, I’ll have to actually hire you.”

“No way,” Marlowe said. “I like getting paid. What say I meet you for dinner? Hungry?”

“Starved actually.”

“Okay,” replied the detective. “I’ll provide you the food and the information you’re looking for. And you’re paying.”

 

[Misskermie]

*Hits applause button*


You deserved that.

Gonzolo...
Suspicious...
Who was he talking to?

Where is the will?

Why am I asking you these questions?

More please!