“Fruitloop! Help me!” Parsley wailed, choked with fear. He could even imagine the spiders embedding themselves in his fur, freezing up his limbs with webbing. Even now, each and every one of them began bristling their poison-soaked fangs, each one itching for a bite…
Suddenly, the world seemed to shrink away from him. The jewels became smaller and smaller, save the one he had clamped his paws unto out of desperation, and the darkness faded into the distance. Light enveloped him, and Parsley wondered if each and every spider had bitten him at the same time, and if this was death…
And he was in Fruitloop’s arms.
“Oh, thank you so much Detective Churchill! I don’t know how he got stuck in there but thank you so much!”
Detective Churchill released the poor, paralyzed and shivering munchkin cat from the fireplace tongs as Fruitloop gently lifted the cat into her own arms. “It’s all in a day’s duty, I guess. I’ve just never pulled a cat out of a vent before…”
“I’m just glad your okay!” Fruitloop cooed, pressing her face into Parsley’s fur. “My poor kitty’s ‘fraid of tha little spiders!”
“Mrrrowrrr…!”
“He does not sound happy, Ms Ann.”
“He’s just grumpy. Thanks again so much!”
The detective just nodded. “I’m just curious how you knew the jewels would be in there.”
Fruitloop feigned innocence. “Jewels…? PARSLEY! What in the world have you got there?!”
Detective Churchill snickered at the loose grammar of the supposedly high-class female. “It seems your cat may have been smarter than you…”
Fruitloop barely touched the jewel in Parsley’s paws, but he was so sensitive he dropped it immediately. Fruitloop could not help but stare in awe at the fire and sparkle of the pale-blue gem.
“It’s…beautiful…”
“No, sir! You can’t—”
“Miss Ann!”
Fruitloop turned to see Sir Markus pushing his way into the room past the maid, who was looking thoroughly peeved at the man’s entrance. “Miss Ann!”
Again, Fruitloop feigned surprise as Parsley moved to her shoulder. “Sir Markus! What are you doing here?”
“Well, m’lady, I found a very interesting item outside the window!” and he held up a beautiful, gemmed brooch a little smaller than his hand.
“All that damage by that litt’l thing?!” the detective huffed, barely able to catch his breath over the object.
“Yes, and I can tell you why!” the appraiser beamed. “It’s—”
“Fake.”
Every set of eyes within the room turned to Fruitloop and Parsley, comfortably on display in the middle of the room. “It’s a bit of a pattern, and I’d like—”
“Miss Ann?”
“Is anyone going to finish anything around here?” Fruitloop sighed as she turned to the door. “What?”
The older butler held open the door and motioned toward the hallway. “The master wishes to speak with you.”
Fruitloop grabbed Parsley and sighed. “Actually, that’s what I had in mind, but anyway…”
The detective and appraiser only stared.
The butler refused to say anything along the way, but he did mention one last thing; do not, under any circumstance, be rude to the Lord Bartholomew.
Fruitloop took a deep breath and gulped as the butler announced her. “Okay, Parsley. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, kiddo.”
The door creaked open. The butler mumbled, “You have been announced.” The air was dusty and thick, hanging upon the beams of light penetrating through the curtains. Fruitloop could hear the echoing hush of each footstep strike against the floor.
“Um, Mi-Lord, Bartholomew?”
The bed almost seemed like a decorated coffin.
“Lord, Barth—”
“Open the bloody windows, will you?! It’s pitch black in here!”
To see the old man sit up so suddenly made even Parsley jump.
“Of-of course, sir!” Fruitloop yipped, shuffling over to the windows on her high-heels. The heavy curtains did block a lot of the light, and Fruitloop thought she would go blind as she opened them.
“‘Some dark will do you good, sir!’ Ta bloody hell with that!”
Fruitloop only looked over her shoulder in curiosity.
Lord Bartholomew was not only sitting up in bed, he was holding a cold compress to his head and grumbling curses under his breath.
“Are you—”
“Fine?! You know bloody well I am not bloody fine! I’m as happy as the day on Wimbledon!”
“Um…What happened then?”
“It rained.”
Fruitloop winced and rolled her eyes. Of course: It always rains on Wimbledon.
“Um…Lord Bartholomew?”
“Yes, Miss Ann?”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
Lord Bartholomew grunted in pain before answering. “Yes, Miss Ann. I heard you were looking into my attack?”
“Yes.”
“And you were coming close to a conclusion?”
“Yes…”
“Well?!”
Fruitloop scrambled over to the bed before she answered. “Um, yeah, Lord Bartholomew, I do have a couple of suspects, but the final score depends on what you say.”
“Well, I can’t tell you who attacked me, because I do not remember for the life of me.”
“Make it easy, why don’t you?” Fruitloop grumbled under her breath.
“I can tell you he was pretty upset when I told him the piece he was holding was a fake!”
“Really?!”
“Yes. He…had just told me the item was an exquisite masterpiece, but then I revealed the true value after he handed me the check!”
Like a little girl and an interesting story, Fruitloop begged him to continue. Apparently, just a few seconds earlier, the man threatened the lord not to sell him any fakes because he could tell the difference. Lord Bartholomew could not help but rub the truth in his face so early on in the game.
“But why were you so eager, my lord?”
“Why, because I hated the man’s guts, that’s why! He was the same age as my grandson and they were always fighting in school!”
“So you do know who it is!”
“Not for the life of me, no, but I would recognize that smug look anywhere!”
Fruitloop sighed and slumped back into the chair she had pulled up for herself. What a day!
“Sir, first you say you know who it is, and then you say you don’t. Do you or don’t you?”
“I say I know his face, but his name escapes me.”
“Thank you for clearing that up, sir. But it wasn’t Edmond?”
“No. It wasn’t Edmond at all. A little earlier, I caught him in the hall outside the loo, and he asked me about the gems. I just told him about my sweet revenge and moved on.”
Fruitloop nodded. That checked out Edmond’s story. Now, the only one left was…
“Thank you so much, Lord Bartholomew! I can tell you who the culprit is, but it will have to be in the common room in front of all the guests. We can’t risk ‘im runnin’ if he knows we’re onto him!”
“Such impudence! Have you no manners before a lord?!”
Fruitloop slapped a hand over her mouth. She could probably guess what made him upset.
“Did your great aunt not teach you how to speak?!”
“I-I’m sorry, sir! It’s a habit! It’s called talking ‘a mile a minute.’ Chicagoans do it all the time.”
“Well, you will not! Out! I’ll see you in the common room in twenty minutes!”
Fruitloop did her best to resist the urge to salute and rap out, “Yes, sir!” in her thickest voice possible. She did, however, curtsy politely and leave the room as quickly, but as mannerly, as possible.
“Well, Fruitloop, twenty minutes isn’t a lot of time.”
“But it is enough time for a few things. I have to talk to Sir Markus and Detective Churchill about the collection before we go any further. I need to make sure everything is fake.”
“And, if they’re fake, were they switched out or have they been that way?”
“Parsley, they’ve been that way, believe me. When he said, ‘but then I revealed the true value,’ he said it with a confidence loaded with security.”
“Please explain to the little lost kitty.”
“We’re in the hallway, and the kitchen is over there…”
“Ha ha! Very funny! I meant about your analysis.”
“Well, the intruder had wanted to buy most of the items, right?”
“Right…”
“As far as we can tell, anyway. Lord Bartholomew would not have been so eager to rub it in his buyer’s face if he had anything of real value that could have been broken in an outrage.”
“So the buyer’s unstable?”
“Well, at least has a temper. And he was obviously young, as is Edmond, so we just need to round up the remaining young males, interrogate them, and pick out the burglar!”
“Okay, back it up a sec. It was Edmond in the garden that slugged Richard!”
“And every man’s attracted to a fight, so that’s why I need to talk to them.”
Parsley only gave Fruitloop a confused look as the young woman smiled and winked.
“Thanks for coming!” Fruitloop beamed, greeting Sir Markus at the common room door. “We just have a few more questions about the items.”
Sir Markus returned the smile. “Anything for you, young miss. Now, what do you need me to look at?”
Detective Churchill, hands clad in latex gloves, held over some of the more expensive jewelry. “We need you to appraise these, and—”
“Fakes.”
Detective Churchill almost jumped back. “What?! All of them?”
“Young sir, when you’ve been in the appraising business as long as I have, you tend to pick out the flaws a little faster, despite some of these being masterpieces of their own kind. Some of them, however, are only cheap knockoffs, like that one, which is sparkling with the consistency of glass…that one isn’t bending right, so it has to be plastic, and that one is—”
“Thank you, Sir Markus! Can you look at the other items now?”
Both men looked at Fruitloop while Parsley only piteously mewed.
“Please?”
Sir Markus sighed. “As you wish, m’lady. Please wait a moment.”
And a moment later, he was finished.
Detective Churchill whistled. “I had no idea the whole display was fake! What happened to them?”
“We can figure that out later, but right now I have to go talk to some of the other guests. I’ll be back later!”
Again, Fruitloop received stares she could only be blind too as she fled the room, her cat nestled snuggly in her arms.
Most of the guests continued to stay in the garden, despite the fading glow of the sun. Still more of them were in conversations, but Richard, grumbling and alone, was holding an icepack to his face in a lonely corner.
Fruitloop caught her breath and calmed herself down.
“Alright, just ask the men and get out of here…” Parsley whispered.
Fruitloop nodded with determination and, reminding herself of her great-aunt’s lessons, daintily walked into the garden.
Seeing her alone and with no obvious target for conversation, the men flocked to her side, save Richard, who was still sulking.
After all the introductions had made her dizzy, Fruitloop pressed her point. She couldn’t help but smile at the answers, and finally excused herself. She invited them all to the common room in five minutes, as she was going there herself, but each one asked to escort her, to an interesting reaction.
“Pardon me, but has she talked to any of you this evening?”
As the crowd stopped to think, Richard pushed his way through, scabby nose and all, to Fruitloop’s side.
“As that apparent answer happens to be no, I will escort the young lady myself. Understand?!”
The crowd stood aside, and Fruitloop smiled to herself. This day was going to end well indeed.
“I suppose you wonder why I’ve called you all here this evening—”
“Miss Ann, we’ve all read Sherlock Holmes. Just continue!”
“Well pardon me, but I haven’t!”
“Shush, Bartholomew, and let my niece talk!”
“As I was saying!” Fruitloop shouted, not just hoping to interrupt the argument but to also shock the lords and lady into a short silence she could use. After counting a second, she continued: “Thank you. Anyway, this is about the burglary this afternoon.”
“We could have guessed…”
“Shush Bartholomew! Behave!”
Fruitloop again paused, now knowing exactly how her English Lit. teacher felt back home.
“Please continue.”
“Thank you. At first, the crime seemed like a common burglary, but that wasn’t right…”
Her footsteps made no noise as she paced to the window.
“As you can see at my feet, there is no glass, but if you look up…”
They collectively followed her gesturing hand.
“…there is a lack of said glass. Something broke the window, and what if the butler did it?”
There was a collection of gasps at sighs at the old cliché, and the young butler, at the door, yelped in surprise.
“You were reportedly the first on the scene. You could have done it!”
“But I couldn’t even move!” the butler squeaked, desperately trying to save himself. “I was the one who screamed and was frozen in fear!”
“But you have a lot to gain. Stolen items from your employer could get you a pretty penny on the street—”
“I would never do that, and I’m a coward anyway!”
Fruitloop nodded, snickering. “That’s right. As a coward, you wouldn’t even think to smash the window, and at the very sight of your battered lord, you were scared stiff. Of course it wasn’t you.”
The butler fainted in relief. The poor, half-deaf maid behind him had the honor of catching his pitiful, unconscious self.
“Then there’s the lord himself, who could have done it…”
“I dare say—!”
“But it’s hard to imagine how he can knock himself out with a blow to the back of his head, so I guess he’s not it…”
The lord rolled his eyes to the scattered snickers. “Miss Ann, if you’re quite finished, we’d like the conclusion!”
“Alright, alright,” Fruitloop smiled. “What about Edmond? You didn’t want your grandfather to sell, so you could have set this up to prevent the transaction…”
“I did not! I was at a loss at the time!”
“Do you have proof?”
“My grandfather saw me right before I went in. He can testify for me!”
“Sir Bartholomew?”
“I did see him there, and I do believe I mentioned it to you.”
Fruitloop’s smiled only broadened. “You did, but the detective wasn’t there, so you may have to repeat a few things.”
“Is that what this is all about?!”
All eyes turned to Richard, who was still a little peeved about his bloody nose. “You’re playing this twisted game just so the detective can get all the facts?!”
“Pretty much. I have noticed when I mentioned the butler, the lord of this estate, and Edmond in particular, you did seem a little smug…”
“Wait a minute! By Jove! That’s him!”
The officers by the door caught Richard as he tried to bolt for the door and Detective Churchill handcuffed him right then and there. They were about to take him away, but Fruitloop asked for him to stay.
“I would like for him to hear how I figured it out,” she explained.
With nothing to lose, they complied.
“To tell you the truth, Richard, the whole game was to catch your reaction. It’s a bit obvious what would beget what, so I won’t get into detail there, but you did leave behind some interesting evidence.”
Richard huffed. “Like what?”
“When you bought the brooch, Lord Bartholomew told you it was fake, and, being angry, you threw it at him, but missed, terribly, and broke the window. As the lord was lamenting the window, you grabbed the clock, slammed it over his head, and, dropping that, grabbed whatever you could and stashed it in the vent. After that, the butler ran in and you, hiding behind the door by said vent, heard him scream. His vision was completely taken by the battered lord, so you had plenty of time to hide in the room before the maid ran in. Shortly after that, I came in a little before Edmond, and…Sir Benjamin, can you tell me who entered the room after that?”
A young lord stood up. “I did with my brother and two friends, closely followed by five others.”
“And how did you know there were five of them?”
“Because Lady Dueblo cried out, ‘Move aside you four! The lady goes first!’”
After glancing toward her blushing great-aunt, Fruitloop said, “That’s nine, plus Edmond, who entered shortly before and me, just a few seconds before that, means you, Richard, never left the room at all. You were just ‘there’ when everything started.”
Richard only scowled as the room began to murmur.
“To top that off, you have a temper, and, knowing that, you knew you had to get the blame off you. You provoked Edmond into an attack to make him seem the dangerous and temperamental one, despite the glaring evidence of Edmond speaking to you earlier in the garden about the items themselves. That, and all these wonderful young men told me so much about your days in school…and the time you spent in the detention hall for starting fights.”
The murmur grew only slightly.
“Also, I knew about your bad aim from asking about the fight. Apparently, you swung first, and missed, and Edmond only hit you in self defense. That’s what you get for spreading lies about me. And you told me about your appraising hobby, which only seemed to stick out like a sore thumb when Lord Bartholomew mentioned you threatened to know the difference between a fake and the real thing. Sorry, Richard, but you blew it.”
The whispers in the room were filled with doubt. Richard did it? But he hadn’t been in trouble for years!
“You’ll regret this, Miss Dueblo! I have influence in this city, and I’ll be after you long before you even realize it!”
“Then try getting me in America. That’s a bit far, even for you, don’t you think?”
It was Fruitloop who was smug as Richard was led from the room.
It had been a week since the whole fiasco had settled down and, Lady Fiona, proud of her great-niece, officially signed her as the sole beneficiary to the estate and all her belongings once her time came.
Fruitloop looked up at the airport sign. She had just gotten her bags a day ago and, in the meanwhile, had been borrowing clothes her great-aunt had bought her just for the occasion. Lady Fiona probably wouldn’t have been too appreciative of jeans and sneakers anyway, but it was felt good to finally be in her own clothes.
Even so, she was going to miss this place…and Edmond. After the incident, she had time to spend with him, and he ended up being one of those young lords who dress up in “commoner’s” clothes just to sneak out and head to the local arcade.
That, and he had three cats.
She sighed. There wasn’t a more perfect guy in the universe, and he lived behind an ocean compared to where she lived. She was really going to miss this place.
“Fruitloop!”
She almost jumped (although Parsley did) at the voice. It was only Edmond, who had gotten into the habit of calling her by her nickname in less formal circumstances.
“Fruitloop! You haven’t left yet!”
Fruitloop sighed in relief and smiled. “Of course I haven’t, Edmond. My plane leaves in an hour!”
“Well, I was only stopping by on my way to the arcade, because I just had to say goodbye to you one last time.”
Fruitloop almost melted. “That’s so sweet of you, but you don’t have to say goodbye!”
He looked confused. “Why is that?”
“Because, if you give me your email address, we can send instant letters whenever we wanted! Digital pen pals!”
Edmond rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course. I completely forgot! Well…do you have a pen?”
After they exchanged emails, Fruitloop had to say one last thing before she left.
“And by the way, my cat talks.”
“That’s n— WHAT?!”
With her bag in one hand and Parsley on her shoulder, Fruitloop ran into the airport, calling, “Talk to you later, Edmond!”
And of course, Parsley had to add something:
“And don’t forget to stay out of trouble!”
June 2, 1997
Monday. Annalise Dueblo, my “owner,” has just recently saved an English Lord from loss of respect after clearing the near burglary of his collection. According to sources, the Lord Bartholomew found his collection to be “empty” and, after selling the items and buying copies of ranging values, he donated the money to various charities and buildings, including, but not limited to, five individual orphanages, six hospitals, and three well-known missionaries. In addition to this, he promised to sell the so-called “priceless items” to his grandson’s rival as a “spot of revenge,” to quote the man from the English “telly.”
Note: Case specifics are filed under “E” for “Edmond”
Note: Cats do need passports, just like humans, so there.
End of entry.
