The hip pouch: who did it belong to?

  The umbrella: who did the Detective lent it to?

  The manor: who else visited the place?

  No doubt you've all been dying to find out the answer. Have no fear, Professor Stone and Detective Fraulein were just as eager. In fact, their hands were still shaking when they brought everything back to the forensic lab to get a better look.

  The more they emptied the hip pouch and laid its contents on a display table, the more their foreheads began to sweat.

  "Notepad. Swiss Army Knife. Walkie Talkie. Flashlight. Extra phone batteries. USB--"

  "D-dammit, Stone! C-can you like, hurry up! Skip to the important part!"

  "...Alright, Detective. Since you're so brave, why don't you take over."

  "N-no! I-I can't do it! I-I don't want to be right! You do it, you got better luck!"

  Sigh. There is no point pushing the responsibility back and forth. It's clear neither of them want to open the Schrodinger's Box to check to see if the metaphorical cat is alive or dead.

  ...But they have to know. So, Prof. Stone played the villain today. He kept going, until he recovered: a buss pass, a security card and Employee I.D. all of them with someone's picture...Hey, that person looks familiar...Wait a minute.

  IS THAT KEEKEE!?

  “NO!” Detective Fraulein spat her words out with a choking noise, “I-it can’t be her! Sh-she would never do something like this!”

  “H-hold on, hold on,” Prof. Stone tried to reel things back a bit, “Let’s take this slowly. From the beginning. Let’s avoid jumping to conclusion. What exactly happened, with you and Keekee?”

  “D-don’t make it sound like we conspired against this random dead guy!”

  “Well, Detective? Your umbrella?”

  “Uuuugh. I only met the girl a few days ago. She came by my office at the station. It was the usual spiel: getting some information and references for her police movies and drama, you know? We kept chatting until we notice it raining like cats and dogs. I offered to lend Keekee my police umbrella, as I was planning to stay indoors to work over time and wait out the rain.”

  “So,” Prof. Stone tried to plot out the timeline in his head. “After you lent your umbrella, you never ran into her or had the chance to get your umbrella back. Right?”

  “Not a single moment!” Detective Fraulein’s voice cracked, a rare moment. “I completely forgot about it until today. I just...I just can’t believe it... I don’t get it even!”

  “My guess you’re wondering,” Prof. Stone tried to help his friend sort out her scrambled mind, “Why is YOUR umbrella that you lent to KEEKEE ended up in a MURDER scene, yes?”

  “YEAH! This makes absolutely no sense!”

  As much as Prof. Stone wanted to pursue this avenue of inquiry he had to put a stop to that discussion. He wanted to at least let the tension, shock factor, and high emotions wind down a bit before he continued, a quick breather from the revelation so to speak. It hadn’t been, what, five minutes and he could clearly see how menacing Detective Fraulein’s reaction.

  “Detective. Let’s do this step by step. First, you handed your umbrella to Keekee. Second, Keekee got into an accident and ended up in the hospital... Ah. Right. Come to think of it, I would have known if she had the umbrella or not.”

  “Wh-what do you mean!? Speak English!”

  “Keekee’s case is being investigated by traffic and accident division. Her belongings are locked up at the nursing station, and as per protocol only those in charge of her investigation could see her possessions. Since I was off duty and not part of that investigation, I didn’t have a good chance to see what was with her when she came to the hospital.”

  “Is that all? That’s easy! I’ll contact the head investigator, their chief if I have to. I know who to talk to in order to give us access... My only hope is my umbrella is still with Keekee in the hospital, and the one we found at the crime scene happens to be a double with the exact limb broken as mine! Th-then that will sort everything out!”

  “... Limited edition. Only 30 made? Mostly owned by police officers. You got the last one.”

  “D-don’t you dare start with me, Stone! I know Keekee! I already feel like shit hearing she’s in the hospital! Now that I am figuring out she may be involved in this murder case, how do you expect me to react!?”

  “... Detective. Don’t tell me. This is the first time you’ve had a suspect close to you? Even with your long career? Now I wonder, who is the real lucky one in this situation.”

  “Last thing I want to hear is you spelling it out in front of my face! And listen to what you’re saying, Stone! Keekee is MY friend. She’s also YOUR friend for all I know! Your protege’s GIRLFRIEND! How can you not give a damn about what we just found out!”

  Prof. Stone wanted to pinch his nose bridge, but he felt it would be insulting right now, “Fraulein. Please Fraulein. What would your supervisor say if he caught you all riled up like this? Knowing you have familiar connections with the potential suspect or victim will complicate things for both of you. One wrong decision and it would cost you both. Last thing I want is your superiors taking you off the case. You know how the others won’t care for Keekee as much as you do.”

  Detective Fraulein’s scowl was enough to give PTSD within mad dogs, “Stone. I can’t believe you, being all logic and science at a time like this! Do you have a heart? Aren’t you angry? Upset? Do you even cry!?”

  “I’m not a robot. Neither can I be a pure human being right now. I am Forensics. And you, are a police investigator.”

  “.................... Damn it!”

  If tables had feelings and a mouth, it would have screamed from Detective Fraulein’s drop kick. A devastating sound that made even the hardiest of forensic technicians jump as if a bomb went off behind them. Prof. Stone was not perturbed, rather he chose not to show any reaction to the drop kick. He had to play the tough parent, to not react to a naughty child as a means to teach them – this sort of behaviour was not acceptable.

  But at least, he didn’t judge his friend. It was good, for her to get it out of her system now than never.

  “Stone. It has to be someone else. Whoever killed the guy, m-might have known Keekee, stalked her, or even picked up the umbrella she left laying around and just...I don’t know dropped it next to the body!”

  “Fraulein. What if the suspect we’re looking for, is exactly Keekee?”

  "COME ON STONE! Work with me! S-stop playing Devil's Advocate! For one minute!"

  “Keekee’s accident was around Deer Bridge. If I am not mistaken, it’s about a block away from where the scene of the crime is. Judging by the direction of the footsteps, assuming if that was Keekee who made them, they—“

  “No, no, no, NO! Stone! Stop! No more! I don’t want to hear it! Keekee wouldn’t just kill anyone! Never! She...she just...FFFFFFFFFFFFF...... Are you SURE she was hurt in Deer Bridge?”

  “That is what the motor police told me. Granted, I didn’t have a chance to drive over to that scene and take a look at it myself. So I can’t give anything conclusive. But even then, if this was brought to light before a jury – they would make the same logical conclusion.”

  “...Because we found Keekee’s belongings at the crime scene...Damn it! Even an idiot can connect those dots!”

  Suddenly, Detective Fraulein had a thought. “Hold on, Stone. Think about it: why? Why would Keekee be there? Visiting a complete stranger?”

  Prof. Stone tried to recall some information off hand, but drew a blank. “I doubt she could afford living in such a rich environment, right? What, strata fee and maintenance to keep the front lawn clean and trim would cost more than two months worth of my salary.”

  “You bet your ass. When I first met her during the Belt Rapist, I did a full background check. With her wages, she could barely afford rent of her own apartment in a 30 unit complex in the middle of town. The only other place she stays over is her grandmother’s cabin in the mountains. You know, with Kung Fu Boy Kim.”

  “That still begs the question, Fraulein. How did her hip pouch and the umbrella ended up in the crime scene?

  “...Oh...Oh hell no...No no no! Absolutely not!”

  Prof. Stone couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “What are you thinking?”

  Detective Fraulein looked had the look and poise of a lion, ready to pounce and land a kill in a single swoop. “What are YOU thinking? Keekee isn’t that kind of girl! She wouldn’t go house calling and sell her body to rich ass holes for a quick buck! How could you think of such things!”

  There was no need to explain himself. Prof. Stone just raised his hands in surrender. He didn’t think of that, SHE did. It took Detective Fraulein a moment to register what she just said and face palmed...make it double faced palm.

  High emotions can do weird things to people.

  Dead air was hurting both parties, so Prof. Stone tried to smooth it out with an important question, “Any idea, who the victim is?”

  Detective Fraulein snapped out of her stupor, as if it never happened, “I got Officer Roland to check it out. Won’t be long until we have the answer!”

  “................”

  “...What Stone? Why the long face?—SON OF A BITCH!...We can NOT tell Kung Fu Boy! Absolutely nothing about this!”

  “My thoughts exactly, Fraulein.”

  “Oh god. H-he’ll kill us. No, he’ll freaking use his karate to fold us like accordions, shove us in a box, into a smaller box, and ship us to Bermuda! Then fly over and smash us under his heel! I don’t want that!”

  “Neither do I. Which is exactly why he had to keep this between ourselves. For our mental, if not physical health... As well as for Kim’s sake.”

  Detective Fraulein upgraded her double face palm to a full on burial with her fingers. She tried to rub the terrible reality off her skin and nose as if it was a dream. Alas, even if she turned as red as a tomato, nothing will change.

  At this point she believed they didn’t need any more clues, not like this. What they needed was a sign, from above? God or not, she wanted to hear something that could answer all of their problems.

  The answer came stumbling into the lab, hitting his hip against a table.

  “OW! Ma’am! Sir! Thank goodness, I finally found you to. We got a name! The owner of the manor, the victim! The person is... Wh-what? Is there something on my face, wh-why are you staring? N-now why are we whispering? Are we trying to keep a secret from someone?”

  Thanks to that sign, this gave birth to: the Fellowship of ‘Let’s Not Tell Kim’.

  “...Officer Roland. Are you serious!? That’s the name!?”

  “I swear Ma’am! I tripled check AND had a second pair of eyes to make sure I didn’t spell the name wrong! I kid you not!”

  “Get out. Get out of the car! Right now!”

  “M-ma’am. W-with all due respect, you’re clocking at 100 miles per hour. I’m not an action hero, I jump out I’ll die!”

  “That’s what you get for telling me the victim – IS KEEKEE’S BOSS!”

  WHAT!? K-Keekee’s boss! No! It couldn’t be!

  You remember him! He was the very first man Martial Kim ever met since her arrived in this strange new world. You know: ABSOLUTE CINEMA MAN! Yeah, that guy!

  “Seriously, Keekee’s Director!?” Detective Fraulein punched at her car horn, making the entire car flinch while racing on the road. “Of all people!”

  “Oh...” Realization settled into Officer Roland’s gut, “Oh this is bad.”

  “No sh—Damn it! GET OFF THE ROAD GRANDPA!”

  Prof. Stone has been riding shotgun the entire time, and he kept his thoughts to himself. It’s rare for him to be silent in a car drive, but given how livid the detective was – added on with some classic road rage – shutting up and ‘enjoying’ the ride was the safest option. Why, he was concerned a simple sigh from his lips could cause the entire car to do a flip and die upside down.

  So he let the two police investigators squabble—er, debate.

  “W-we’ll Ma’am,” Officer Roland gripped onto...well pretty much anything in the car to keep himself from being thrown out of his seat, even with seat belt on. “Th-that m-might explain wh-why Keekee’s stuff were found in the house. E-especially in the filming business, surely boss and right hand man – or woman in this case – do a lot of work at home than the office right?”

  “Please, Officer Roland!” Detective Fraulein drove like a hissing snake at this point, “Don’t make it sound like they have something going on behind the scenes! Keekee isn’t the type of girl who would be caught dead loitering around in her boss’s place. Neither would she shank him and ditch the place!”

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  “M-Ma’am. I-if I may. W-we could give Keekee a call and ask her why she was there? Probably help us in figuring out when was the last time she saw the victim alive?”

  “She’s in a coma in the hospital. Get with the program.”

  “...... Oh.” Officer Roland connected the dots, sort of wished he hadn’t. “Still, Ma’am, even if we found her stuff at the crime scene, we don’t know the victim’s exact time of death. The coroner still hasn’t gotten back to us. So, we can’t tell if Keekee last saw the man before or after he died. I-it would change our perspectives entirely...right?”

  "You say that, Officer, but the timing is just too impeccable! Man’s dead, Keekee is in a coma. Just too uncanny. And where do you think I can get the answers to that mystery?”

  “...Uuuh...The film company? S-straight from the horses mouth...or stables of horses, for that matter.”

  “Officer. One more pun, and I will personally eject you into traffic.”

  “Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am.”

  Fortunately, the car ride didn't take long. The moment everyone got whiplashes in their seat belts, they knew they arrived. The smell of screeching tires confirmed the ride was indeed over.

  "Stone," Detective Fraulein hissed, hands white knuckled on the dead wheel, "Stay in the car... Is, what I usually say but..."

  "Say no more.” Prof. Stone nodded in understanding. “I am ready and willing to help."

  The detective's hiss turned into a ssss of relief between her clenched teeth. She would have hit herself if she said something sappy like 'help me please, I beg of you'.

  Alas, this wasn't enough to calm her nerves.

  Even with a full crew of police officers and assisting detectives, the film company in question...well.

  Never did anyone dreamed they could travel around the world in only a few steps. First thing they knew, they walked through a medieval fantasy realm with flying dragons; a blooming jungle full of warring giant monkeys and mega lizards; the clouds of sands sweeping the dunes of the Sahara; to even walking through the glass tubes of an underwater colony at the bottom of the sea!

  Movie sets, here and there.

  Almost everything was made with realistic foam, paint, fiberglass, and whatever resources made available in the filming community. Not to mention the abundant blue and green walls that cut up a piece of those different world like a slice of cake.

  Even when it was well into the night, many bodies and hands were still wide awake and rushing about to work. Yawns and droopy eyes, but nothing a shot of coffee or energy drink can't fix. Not to mention, their many lightings and camera flashes just made it impossible to fall asleep standing.

  "Good lord," Prof. Stone mumbled under his breath, "Keekee worked under these conditions? This is like, overtime heaven. Or hell for that matter."

  "Eesh," Officer Roland clicked his tongue at the chaos, "I’m glad I made the right career choice. Otherwise if I worked their hours, I think I would knock myself out just by sitting in a chair...Do they even get chairs!?”

  Detective Fraulein stared at the mayhem in and out of the filming company and just sighed, "Crime never sleeps. Guess movie making is the same. Come on you three, we're going to divide and conquer."

  Divide and conquer wasn't enough.

  Even when Detective Fraulein brought in a considerable amount of helping hands to take statements, this was – after all – a filming company.

  Stage production; lighting and sound; make up artists; costumes; prop makers; stunt coordinators; camera operations – and we have yet to touch upon actors, stage hands, and extras! Not to mention with all the fancy on set technology and pre-CG rendering equipment, how could we forget special effects crew and blue screen technicians... Oi, this is going to take a while.

  So the best approach right now, was for us to eagle vision and listen onto the interviews of the more important figures in the organization.

  For example, the Producer in his office in the top floor. Why him? Well he DOES own the company, after all.

  "Sorrow, such sorrow to hear the Director's passing. A real shame it is. Don’t you agree Officer Malone?"

  "........ Roland. Officer Roland. Now, ahem, could you tell me more about him? When he was alive and working here?"

  "Oh, he's well loved. Everyone looked up to him. A great role model of our time! Yep."

  "........ Sure."

  "N-now good Officer. Th-there is no need to give me such inquisitive eyes... Oh who am I kidding, I pay actors to do their job, not act WITH them... Please, do know I was only thinking in the best interest of the company. We have a reputation to hold, you know.”

  "........ Then I take it, the Director is the opposite of liked. Loathed perhaps?"

  "Oh. Loathed. Such a strong word... But yes, more or less. You see, he's the type of person who wants everyone to agree with him, never the other way around. It didn't matter what background or calibre they were, or how many awards they've won – if he sees no 'common ground' then you're out."

  "........ No doubt a lot of enemies?"

  "Well, Officer. Enemies is such a strong word...but I cannot deny that. Not when it's about his death. H-how did he died by the way?"

  "........ Sorry. That's classified information. Anything else you can tell us?"

  "Hnn. Well. When it comes to his job, he can be a bit...headstrong, to put it kindly."

  Seems this producer isn't giving us much help. Why don't we take our attention to a member of the staff? Say the Camera Crew loitering around the pirate ship set? They do work closely with the director, second to the film assistant right?

  "Cheap ass bastard got what he deserves: a cheap ass funeral! You know what I mean Detective...what's your name again?"

  "........ Detective Fraulein. So, the man short changes you I take it?"

  "Shortchange? Lady, that's tip of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic! Cheapskate, that's more like it! Got the balls to be late with our honest pay, or weasel his way to getting more from our jobs with very little investment! You have no idea how many overtime money we lost to a dick like the Director!"

  "........ So I've heard, here and there. Other than money, how does he normally treat his staff?"

  "Hah! If there was ever a Geneva Convention for the workforce, this bastard would be war criminal numero uno! Never a happy day working for him! Makes us film in dangerous locations, wants to get the perfect shot with little to no safety, and he freaking calls us in 3 AM in the morning for a re-shot for absolutely no reason other than ‘I got a feeling it could be better’!"

  "........ You say all that, yet you're still working for him. Are you sure you're not biting your own hand."

  "Tch. Agh. Look, lady detective. My head is where it should be and I can vouch for everyone else slavin under that bastard... We ain’t crazy. We all just want the credits."

  "........ Credits? That's all?"

  "Not exactly like the line of names you see at the end of the movie. I don't know if the Director sucked god or he's god's love child, but almost every movie or TV show he touches seem to get some recognition. It's not big, but it ain't small. Why, a lot of those before us were just nobodies – but after working for the guy a couple of years, they get chances to meet big wigs in the higher filming circles and jump ship with greener pasture. Made themselves big names and brands, if you get what I mean."

  "........ So, you're all doing that."

  "Hate to say it, but the Director has low entry standards. Practically doesn't bother with an interview. If you can hold a camera with one hand, paint faces with one hand, or even jump on one foot, you're in... As they say, we beggars can't be choosers. Better than waiting on our hands for month for a reply to say ‘sorry the position has been closed’. Jerks, all of them."

  "........ What about Keekee?"

  "Huh? You mean Chick-a-dee? What about her?"

  Although camera men work closely with the Director of a production, it doesn't always mean they are buddy buddy with his right hand man. Or in this case woman. Most often times, camera crew don't bother taking orders from the assistant at all.

  So what better way to understand Keekee, her position, and her relationship with the Director, than some close friends in the company's social circle.

  For instance, the head of the Make Up department who was busy applying alien colours and silicon to actor's skin.

  "Not going to lie, good Professor, the Director treated everyone like trash. And I wished he did the same to Keekee, because she was essentially the dog he kicks whenever he felt like it... Also, mind telling your officer buddy to spell my name right?"

  "........ Oh yes, of course. Officer Tanner, if you will... Better. Now, I would like to ask: what is your relationship with Keekee?”

  "Co workers. We chat a lot but, that's all really."

  "........ Not besties? Come on, you know we can't write down 'you gave a shrug' as a proper response. Why don't you tell us in detail?"

  "Not much to say really. We talk, we have room-temperature coffee at the water cooler. That's it. I'm probably the only person who ever talks to her more than 20 words at a time... Girl may be the opposite to our boss when it comes to personality buuuut... you know.”

  “........ Keekee works directly under the Director, right?”

  "Duh, yeah. Even I had to be careful what what I say or do. Last thing I wanna know is my words coming around to bite me in the ass. I mean, sure Keekee is all silly smiles – but who knows if her hobby involves sharpening her social daggers against people like us?... Still, we sort of pity her. We just don’t say it.”

  "........ Why does she work for someone like the Director? Given her I.Q. and E.Q. being better than your boss?"

  "For us: fame and glory. For that silly goose: it’s a dream. Keekee wants to be a director, of her own movies. That’s all she ever wanted. Sadly the film industry don’t bat their eyelash to someone fresh from film school and has no name ringing in their ears. In fact, out of the 10 application letters she sent out – only the Director responded... No doubt you would hear from the others, how this man has no screening requirement. Anyone can come in, even a beggar who can hold a camera rig. He’s been slaving her ever since because she ‘lacks experience’.”

  "........ Regarding Keekee’s job and workload, was there anything in particular about her in the recent week? Any major incident?”

  “Pffffhahaha. I don’t mean to sound off putting to you, Professor, but you’re too naive. You probably have it all nice and cozy in your fancy forensic office, working nine to five and clocking out on time. A proper 30 minute lunch break and freedom to use the bathroom without someone breathing down your neck every second. What you’re asking, it’s just every day in the film business. Nothing strange about going deaf from a scolding.”

  “........ What about heated arguments, with the Director? Has she ever expressed her feelings against certain ideas or plans?”

  “If there was Guinness World Record of no Back Talk, I vote Keekee hand’s down. It’s always ‘yes sir, yes sir, yes sir’. And she ain’t like us, who love to make faces or flip the bird when the man isn’t looking. You call it professional, I see ‘repressed’ as hell.”

  “........ Surely someone as young as Keekee, she would have a limit. See that lady detective over there with the iconic frown. She blows her top off every 10 steps she make. Surely someone like Keekee would rip someone a new one, take it out on someone, or ask for a vacation leave to de-stress?”

  “Vacation? In our line of work. Hah! That’s like winning the lottery around here. Even Keekee knew the unspoken rules... Then again, Keekee did kinda challenged that rule.”

  “........ Care to explain?”

  “I don’t know if this is anything important but... Keekee’s been asking for some time off. We’re closing up one film project and she thought it was a good time to bring it up. Seen her visit the Director’s office, and of course she would come storming out after hearing the classic ‘How about no’... Now, unlike her previous attempts – she was very persistent about this vacation leave.”

  “........ Any reason why? Do you know where she was going?”

  “Funny thing. She’s been trying to buy air tickets. I caught her browsing for prices on her phone whenever we sneak off for coffee or bathroom... Now as for where, she hasn’t even decided on. And reason?... Hah. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. ”

  “........ Hahaha. You underestimate me. I am a very open-minded individual. I promise, I won’t laugh.”

  “Oh no. Please DO laugh. Because she told me why she wanted to go on a plane because... She said: ‘I want to prove to him, it was possible to fly.’”

  “........ I beg your pardon. Him? You say?”

  “Yep. Wouldn’t shut up about this guy for months. From her mouth, she mentioned ‘he doesn’t believe people can fly between countries’ or ‘he’s forgot what an airplane looks like’. I couldn’t believe the bullshit I was hearing from a silly goose like her. Who hasn’t been on an airplane, or seen one?”

  “........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........”

  “Hmm? Professor? What’s up. You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “........ Nothing, nothing. I’m fine. Just...do you know this person, Keekee keeps referring to.”

  “No. Not by name. But, I DO know him. Why, he’s that guy who showed up during our filming for our medieval flick. Wiped the floor with 200 of our extras and stuntmen. in a big fight scene. With a stick and no wires, if you can imagine! Stunt so hot, even the Director tried to hire him on the spot. Even went as far as changing the entire plot to insert his fight scene... Won some awards in some festivals, but the plot was shot straight to hell.”

  “........ I need to ask. Has Keekee ever mentioned her dislike for her employer, the Director? Or, perhaps, had more than a negative comment?”

  “Oh ho. Professor, I know where this is going. I’ve been in enough crime drama productions to know you’re thinking if Keekee killed the Director. I mean, it would be obvious right? Her being a top suspect. She is her right hand man, always taking the fall for his slip ups and bullshit, and slaves for him around the clock. I don’t know how she smiles through all that like some punching bozo, but surely she’s human enough to crack eventually... Wait. You’re not suggesting, SHE is the one who killed the Director. I mean, haven’t seen her in a couple of days but this—”

  “........ As of this point, we are unable to divulge any information regarding about the death of the victim, your employer.”

  “Straight out of a script, good Professor. And they say movies imitates life, word per word... Look. I ain’t the type to point fingers, buuuuut... There was a time where Keekee reaaaally wanted to get back at him. For being the ‘fake director’ he was, perhaps ruining him the moment she becomes rich and famous. She even went on singing about it. Saying how she’ll corner him in a shower murder scene straight from ‘Psycho’, or rip through a door and go ‘Heeeere’s Keekee! Kaw-kaw, bitch!’, even dancing on his grave and yelling ‘You can’t handle the truth, brother pucker!’...”

  “........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........ ........”

  “Yep. All beer talk, of course. As if the silly goose has the balls – or ovaries in this case – to even fantasize about murdering her boss. Otherwise, that would be a new world’s record on its own! Right?”

  Sigh. Even after hearing so many thoughts, it was just only 1/4 of the full story. Still a long ways to go before the investigators can find every piece of the puzzle.

  That leaves us with more questions:

  Who would benefit from the death of the Director?

  Who had enough spite and vendetta to murder him in such a vicious way possible?

  What was the connection to Keekee’s appearance in the crime scene? Was her car accident purely coincidence, or was there another motive behind that?

  Who? What? Where? Why? When? How?