Letter on a placemat from Fabrizio dell’Osso

Reread Chapter 8

Dear Beego,

We have received your kind letter from months ago regarding the state of our collection. The weather, the landscape, the food, the wine, the art, the architecture, the music and the people of our beautiful country are so captivating that I completely forgot about your letter until recently, when I rediscovered it in a pile of unpaid bills. You know how it is here. Ha ha!

I am both sorry and happy to inform you that we have all our bones, which is extraordinary considering the deplorable conditions of our archives and our security system! Also, we have no information about the bones you recently found in your area in a “crock-pot” of minced beef and cream cheese.

If, in the future, we can help you in your efforts to find the so-called “killer” of the “crock-pot” and to bring this culprit to justice, feel free to call or write to us.

Ciao beautiful!

FABO

Fabrizio dell’Osso, chancellor
The catacombs of Rome

N.B.: A dish of minced meat and cream cheese sounds offensive. Ha ha!

“Insta-pot!”

THE END

What were you expecting? Literature?!

Thanks, Pork Chop!

“Snap out of it, sir!”

“Huh? What? Who am I? Where am I? What am I? Sir, yes sir! Chief Birdygo Chip reporting for duty, SIR!”

“Sir, you’ve drifted out of character! You’re not Mister Miyagi, I’m not your superior, and this isn’t The Karate Kid, sir! You are Chief Birdygo Chip, this is Dead on a Rival: The Case of the Crock-Pot Killer, a Mister Funny Bones Mystery, and you are about to reveal the killer’s identity!”

“Oh, right. Never go to work after a visit to the eye doctor, kid. The stuff they use to dilate your pupils messes with your head. Either that, or I fell off the candle, hit my head on the table, and the writer, even though he doesn’t know where to go with this side story, is having me mention it anyway because he thinks it’s funny. Now, where was I?”

“You were talking about illusory motion, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Struggling with the facts and the non-facts of this case, I retreated into staring at the words ‘Rival Crock-Pot’ for so long without blinking that in my mind’s eye the words changed order and I read ‘Crock-Pot Rival’ instead, just like in the accompanying video. At first I thought it was an urgent medical issue, which is why I went to see the eye doctor, you see. But then I realized that no, it wasn’t a medical issue. It was a clue!”

“Are you saying, sir, that illusory motion called out our killer?”

“Dead on, kid. That’s exactly what I’m saying. And that the killer of our crock-pot is none other than our crock-pot’s rival.”

“Do you mean?”

“Yes!”

“Reveal our killer, sir?! A killer in this town?! But that’s impossible! Skeletons can never die because we’re already dead.”

“Ah, yes, young grasshopper. That is true. And it is quite natural for us to dismiss the idea of there being killers and victims among us because they are not part of our own experience. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Do you remember that letter from Paris?”

“You mean the one from Madame de Boneville at the catacombs, sir?”

“Yes, that one. Madame de Boneville referred to a ‘tueur du ‘crock-pot”–a killer of the crock-pot–because the rigid rules of French grammar do not allow her to construct compound nouns otherwise.”

Reread Madame de Boneville’s letter

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I did not either, grasshopper, until with a clear gaze I reflected serenely on reality as Buddhism for Sheep advises, and like a divine revelation it became apparent to me that the crock-pot, not John Doe One or Two, was our victim. Though set on High, it was not hot. It could not be, for it was dead!”

“Jeepers, sir! If that’s the case, who’s the crock-pot killer?”

“Ah, after much reflection and a fixed gaze upon our victim for a prolonged period of time, the answer to that important question became apparent to me as well.”

“How is that, sir?”

“Illusory motion, grasshopper.”

“Gosh! Do you really think those teeth marks on the femur are Dale’s, sir?”

“I’m positive, kid. What do rats do? They get into your garbage. And Dale had the perfect opportunity to grab that leg while all the Chips were down for the filming of The Clipopalypse. He’s not a Chip, and no one was around to see him.

“But, sir, why would Dale have dumped the leg in the crock-pot of creamy chipped beef and cheese?”

“Ah. That stumped me, too, until I looked again at our recipe. You’re supposed to reserve half the shredded cheese until the end, sprinkle it on top of the creamy chipped beef, and then serve it once the cheese has melted. Because the crock-pot wasn’t hot, the sprinkled cheese never melted. Yet, most of it was gone by the time we had arrived, except for some along the edges of the pot.”

“I remember that, sir. But what does the cheese have to do with Jay Dee One?”

“It has everything to do with him, kid, because Dale swapped one for the other.”

“You mean?”

“Yes, Dale took the cheese because that’s what rats do. Rats take the cheese. But he had to put down the leg first, and that, kid, is how Jay Dee One ended up in the creamy chipped beef!”

“Hi-ho, the derry-o, Dale took the cheese! It all makes perfect sense to me now, sir!”

“Glad to hear it, kid.”

“But why would Dale have held onto that leg for almost a year and then abandon it for some shredded cheese?”

“Although we can predict a rat’s behavior, we can’t always understand its motives. Nor do we have to, necessarily. All we need to keep in mind is that a rat’s a rat, and that’s that. [Cf. William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene iv.] Now that that’s all settled, it’s time to reveal our killer!”

“But I don’t understand, sir. The guy with the crown at Bin 206 said they’d know if a bone went missing. They gave us their pickup info for Read and Ploy and everything.”

Review Bin 206’s records from October 2017

“Kid, the only way Bin 206 could have known if they were missing any bones in this case was if they’d gotten them in the first place. How many pickups did they have from the Read and Ploy location?”

“I can’t remember, sir. Three?”

“Four. How many bones does each of us have?”

“Two hundred and six, sir. Everybody knows that. It’s drilled into our skulls from the time we’re reborn.”

“Right. So, how many bones should they have logged that night from Read and Ploy, assuming they got four bags from there?”

“Let’s see. Four times two hundred and six is eight hundred and twenty-four.”

“Precisely. But the company only logged seven hundred and ninety-four, which meant they were thirty bones shy of a full skeleton. How many bones do we have in each of our legs?”

“Including the foot, sir?”

“Including the foot.”

“Well, let’s see. Femur, patella, tibia, fibula, plus the twenty-six in the foot makes thirty. Why, that’s our John Doe Number One! So, the left leg and foot from Read and Ploy never made it to the boneyard, and the yard didn’t notice because they’re only on the lookout for odd numbers. But what about Jay Dee Two? Where did he come from?”

“Ah, our red herring. He came from the prison factory where they make the dried beef. When I was shopping for the ingredients for the creamy chipped beef and cheese, I saw a recall notice posted on the shelf. Turns out, one of the workers got his foot caught in the beef chipper. Guess who got the lucky jar?”

“Gross! But what about the DNA match that led us to Butterscotch Chip, sir?”

“Lucky coincidence. You remember that the skeleton put out on the corner of Read and Ploy had been an afterlifelong donor, right? Well, the hospital used his marrow for Chip’s transplant last October, so Chip now carries his donor’s DNA. Hard to believe that we can carry someone else’s DNA from a bone marrow transplant, but it happens.”

“Huh. Why a lucky coincidence?”

“Because the DNA ultimately led us to Chip’s rat sidekick, Dale. Did you notice the pencil in Dale’s mouth?”

“Yes, sir. I believe he was helping Chip with his poster for the bobbing for apples booth at the Halloween party.”

“No, he wasn’t, kid. Chip was using finger paints. He didn’t need a pencil. Besides, that pencil was full of teeth marks.”

“Do you think Dale has temporomandibular joint disorder, sir?”

“Possibly. Or his mother waited too long to wean him when he was a pup. Regardless, he chews on things.”

“Are you suggesting, sir, that…?”

“That those abrasions and indentations on Jay Dee One’s lateral femur are teeth marks? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. And I’m also suggesting that they’re Dale’s!”

“Let’s start with that recipe, kid. I couldn’t figure out why everything checked out except for the beef. The recipe calls for ground, yet ours was chipped. So, I went to the original version on the web, which said you could opt for traditional beef. I knew at that moment we had our recipe!”

“Gosh, sir. I didn’t even think to look.”

“Always go back to the source, kid. Clearly, they’ve got coding issues since the printable version doesn’t say anything about substitutions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“Do you remember I had asked you about the setting on the crock-pot? I was hoping that we could construct a timeline of events based on the recipe settings.”

“I remember, sir. I’d said that I thought it was set on High but that it didn’t seem hot to me at all.”

“Right, which meant we couldn’t rely on the recommended cooking times.”

“Just like Martha Stewart’s lemon curd recipe, sir!”

“Exactly! She grossly underestimates the time required for the curd to set. I know of at least three people who’ve had to serve runny curd at parties because of her. Anyway, when we’d heard that the forensic archaeologist hadn’t found any more bones, I knew right then and there that at least some of the bones had been placed in the pot after Step 3 and that the crock-pot of creamy chipped beef and cheese wasn’t a crime scene but, instead, a dumping ground for bones.”

“Golly, sir. I never even thought of that. So, where did they come from?”

“From two very different places, kid.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“You remember how the DNA results blew up our bad dancer theory, right?”

“Yes, which meant we had two John Does instead of one.”

“Well, Jay Dee One came from the corner of Read and Ploy.”

We’d like to thank the following non-paying advertiser for not sponsoring this chapter:

“Now what do we do, sir? John Doe Number One’s DNA led us to Butterscotch Chip, who still has his left leg and foot.”

“We wrap up this case, kid.”

“But, sir, what about John Doe Number Two?”

“Jay Dee Two’s a red herring.”

“You mean he’s not a left foot after all?”

“No. I mean he’s a distraction. That left foot has nothing to do with this case. Just like so many other things. Come join me in a bowl of crock-pot creamy chipped beef and cheese, and I’ll tell you all about it.

“You made it, sir?”

“Yes, I most certainly did! You’re soaking in it.”

We’d like to thank the following non-paying advertiser for not sponsoring this chapter:

“Madge, the hand fell off this clock!”

“Uh! You should be so lucky.”

“Sorry to disturb you, er, Chip, but we’re working a case involving a left leg and foot, and the DNA matches yours. I can see, though, that you have your left leg and foot. Again, sorry to disturb you. Thanks for your time.”

“Squeak.”

“Good one, Dale. You almost had me fooled.”

“Squeak.”