Happy Monday, people! Holy Cow in a basket, we're almost to Christmas, which means lil Miss Gina here needs to get cranking on some stories. I really did try to think of a Turkey day theme, which become a part of a theme, but when I thought about it, I think you all would prefer a wedding in December, am I right?
But enough of that - it's Monday and you know what to do!
IV.
“So busy picking up papers, pens, and other debris that had fallen to the floor, I hadn’t even noticed her walking in. My secretary, if you can call her that, never seemed to be around when I needed her, like to call and tell me that someone had walked into the office.
It was the way she cleared her throat that got our attention and of course the first thing we saw were two polished black heels, that covered feet attached to dainty ankles, that were attached to legs that went up to the hem of a black dress.
“Enjoy the show?” she asked, a slim eyebrow raised in question.
“The preview was alright,” I huffed, giving her another once over.
“Perhaps you’d enjoy the full show if you were standing up.”
Fozzie and I stood quickly, both of us embarrassed at being caught so unexpectedly, however I made a better show than the bear, showcasing that I greeted my clients from the floor all the time. “I can only surmise that one of you is Mr. Hollywood?” she asked, baby blue eyes turned from the officer to myself.
“That would be me,” I said. “Uh, maybe I’ll see you a little later, Fozzie.”
The bear nodded quickly to my request, placing his cap back on his head before tipping it and leaving with a goodbye “Ma’am,” towards my guest.
“Have a seat, doll,” I replied, nodding towards the lone chair that was placed in front of my desk. She was all poise and class walking over and it caught my eye; I’d be lying if I said she hadn’t caught my eye, but it’s rare for me to get the type of girl that she clearly was coming into my 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 me 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 me, those blue eyes of her seemingly pinning me 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.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Not at her belief, but well, plenty of my clients have come in and told me the story of who they think is involved in the case they’ve come to seek me out about and in ninety-nine percent of those cases, they’re wrong.
“Okay sweetheart,” I 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?”
I answered her with a smile. “You weren’t wrong,” I 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, can I? 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.”
I couldn’t say I blamed the guy, even without ever meeting him. 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, after all, I prided myself on being to help people that the police couldn’t. It could be like any other case that I’ve done before, but I had to admit, this one seemed special. Giving her a reassuring smile, I nodded. “Ms. Vane,” I said. “I’ll take the case.”
Two weeks to the day of Kermit’s announcement of the possibility of making another movie, nearly all of the Muppets met in their famed theater for a Monday meeting. It wasn’t unheard of for the entire clan to meet, however through the years, the morning meeting had been reduced to that of the seven principals who usually met.
The Monday meetings had always been opened and it was very rare in which Kermit would call the entire group together unless it was for a major announcement.
Both Scooter and Piggy were reasonably nervous, as they weren’t sure what Kermit was going to actually tell everyone. He had told them he planned on telling the whole group not only about his idea, but would also pass out the script and tell them who wrote it; he wasn’t sure yet if he wanted everyone to know the director until they had all read the script and would hopefully, feel the same way he and Piggy did.
That point he thought would go over easy – it was a solid story and he knew that several of them enjoyed a good mystery. The fact that it had been written by one of their own would certainly boost the possibility of everyone being onboard; telling them that Piggy would be their director would be a bit more troublesome, however Kermit couldn’t really think anyone would have major problems with it.
The theater was a bustle of people, with everyone clamoring for seats within the auditorium - Floyd Pepper was trying to calm and quiet a sugar high Animal, who had somehow gotten a hold of some extra sweet cookies; Lew Zealand was trying to get one of his flying fish back from Sam the Eagle, who had been hit by said fish; Link Hogthrob was complaining about the fact that he had to move in order to let the penguins through because he had wanted an entire row to himself.
Scooter took his seat next to Piggy within the second row, a placement that had long since decided was theirs due to their proximity to the frog; Gonzo, Fozzie, and Rowlf must have had the same idea, as they were also usually found within the first three rows whenever Kermit made such an announcement.
And speaking of announcements, Kermit took his obligatory place at the front of the chaos, a position he had since settled into as the years had gone by. Taking a seat on the stage barrier that separated the orchestra pit from that of the audience, the frog cleared his throat several times, trying to get everyone to settle down.
He of course wasn’t having much success.
In most of these cases, he’d usually turn to that of Electric Mayhem’s drummer to get everyone to be quiet, but he could see the trouble that his handler and handler’s girlfriend were having, so he resorted to his number two person.
Gesturing to his own girlfriend, he watched as Piggy stood before he heard a loud whistle, which did the trick of getting everyone to stop and find out where it had come from.
“Alright, losers, listen up!”
Turning back around and taking her seat once more, the diva gestured to the front of the stage. “Mon Capitan.”
“Thank you, darlin’,” the frog began. “Morning everybody! Thank you all for being here, for those of you that came. A couple of reminders before we get started – firstly, do not leave out sweets; as you can clearly see, Animal gets a little hyper when he’s had too much sugar.”
“SUGAR! SUGAR!” the drummer exclaimed, excitedly.
“Down, Animal!” Floyd cried, yanking on the drummer’s leash. “Heel, man! Heel!”
“Secondly,” the frog continued. “Please make sure you return all explosive materials. The last thing we need is for a certain someone to come into contact with said materials.”
“I’ll take care of it, Kermit,” Gonzo shouted, grimacing as he did. It was his fault that he left that stuff out; he really should have known better, but in the excitement, he had completely forgot. “My bad!”
“Now on to business…”
Everyone applauded.
“Very funny,” he said, sarcastically. “Laugh riot, all of you. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I thought it might be a good time to start thinking about doing another movie.”
Everyone made their approval with the idea, turning to their neighbors for additional discussion.
“Okay, okay,” Kermit said. “Quiet down. I take it we all like that idea?”
“What’s the story, Uncle Kermit?” asked Robin the Frog, Kermit’s nephew.
“Good question, Robin,” the adult frog replied. “So, as I mentioned in a previous meeting, I didn’t have an idea.”
“How’re we gonna make a movie without an idea?” Floyd questioned.
“Well, shut up, Floyd, and maybe Kermit will tell us,” Piggy retorted, turning in her seat to correct the bassist. Turning back around, Piggy said, “Kermie.”
“As I said,” the frog continued. “I didn’t have an idea, at the time. But, as luck would have it, an idea presented itself to me.” Nodding to Beauregard the Janitor and Walter, the two quickly got up and began to pass out scripts. “Ladies and gentlemen, the script to our new movie.”
“Wow, that was quick,” Gonzo replied, immediately flipping through his copy. “You wrote up a script in two weeks? I’m impressed, Frog.”
“Me too, Kermit,” Fozzie said. “You didn’t even mention it during breakfast.”
“That’s because I didn’t write it,” Kermit said, smiling when he saw the looks of confusion on everyone’s faces. “Meet the writer of your script.”
If everyone was confused from discovering that Kermit hadn’t written the script, they were equally surprised when it was Scooter who stood. “Scooter, why don’t you give everyone a little background about your story?”
The red head was equally surprised; he had just thought Kermit was going to mention that he had written the script, he certainly didn’t think he’d be called upon to actually discuss the script. But Scooter hadn’t been to all of those meetings to not learn about how to present oneself to people, be it investors, producers, or even his friends.
“It was an idea I had when I took scriptwriting,” he started. “Hope you all enjoy a mystery. For now, just read through the script and get a feel for the overall story; you’ve got three days to read it and let us know what you think.” Turning to Kermit, the red head was relieved to see his timeline was approved.
“Why three days?” asked Dr. Teeth.
“Because Thursday,” Kermit replied, making a sly glance towards Piggy. “You’ll be meeting with the director.”
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