“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.”

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“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.”

“People stopped reading his material. His jokes got worse and worse, his wine blog stalled, and he started repeating the same stuff over and over again and re-sharing old posts from years ago. And then, one after another, his followers unsubscribed. He tried to make a comeback with mystery writing, but you can see how that’s going. Would you believe somebody actually told him to pour himself a glass of dry white wine and give up writing? Somebody else said that they had had either one too many or one too few drinks to help him with his plot line.  He literally fell apart. It was painful to watch.”

“I can only imagine. When was this?”

“October of last year. He was an afterlifetime donor, you know.”

“Didn’t know that. We’re grateful for his service. So, what did you do?”

“What else could we do? We picked up his bones, put them in a blue bag, put the bag out on the corner of Read and Ploy, and called Bin 206 to schedule a pickup.”

“And that was the end of it?”

“Well, not exactly. Bin 206 had just moved over to a weekly schedule, so the bag sat out for a few days. After the second night we put the bag in a box because something had gotten into it. But the weather was nice at the time, and they eventually took him and the others.”

Weather Summary for Baltimore, Maryland, October 2017

“Were you home every night, from the time you put him down to the time they picked him up?”

“For the most part. Except for that one night when they were filming the big crowd scene for The Clipocalypse in the alley behind the church on Mount Vernon Place.”

“Ah, what a great night that was! All the Chips were down for it. Well, thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Bin 206 sent us the pickup detail for last October, sir.”

“Very good, kid. Now, let’s see. Hmm. Westminster House makes sense. Senior skeleton housing. Seven hundred Washington Place. No surprises there. Tons of skeletons in those closets.  Everything falls apart at the Drinkery on the weekends, including the bar stools. Let’s start with Eager and Morton on the 3rd. No, wait a minute. Strike that. Start with Read and Ploy on the 25th.”

Bin 206 October 2017 Pickups

 

“Dammit, Janet! Why’d you tell Birdy where Chip is? It’s none of his business. You know how fragile he is right now, poor kitten.”

“But Brad, we’re all Chips! We’re all part of the same Chip clan. We’ve got to let ourselves fall where we may.” [Cf. Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, 1996]

 

 

“The shock of the transplant was bad enough, Birdy. And the humiliation of having his first name revealed almost did him in. Can you imagine trying to maintain a bad-boy image with a name like Butterscotch? Once the word got out, everyone laughed and called him names and, from that point on, they never let poor Chip join in any of their games. He nearly fell apart. It was painful to watch. He’s been in seclusion ever since.” [Cf. Gene Autry, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (1949), written by Johnny Marks (1949), based on the story of the same name by Robert L. May (1939)]

“Why the transplant, Nurse Janet?”

“He’d overeaten at the screening of that movie the KGB had hacked last season. I think it was called Mr. Funny Bones Back to Skull or something ludicrous like that. Popcorn, pizza, a hot fudge sundae, and a turkey with all the trimmings. It was too much. We gave him a transplant to help him feel better.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Yes, Birdy, I do. I’ll tell you, but please, please, please call him Chip. Don’t call him Butterscotch. He’ll fall to pieces if you do. He’s still fragile, poor kitten.”

“Understood. Lovely tulips, by the way.”

“Why, thank you. I brought them back from Amsterdam. Brad says they’re garish, but I like them just the way they are. Thank you, too, for that crock-pot creamy chipped beef and cheese recipe. I think Brad will love it.”

“Well, I guess there’s no accounting for taste in either flowers or food now, is there? Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You, too, Birdy. Ta-ta.”

“We ran John Doe Number One’s DNA through 206andMe’s database, Chief, and got a match.”

“Holy Moley!”

“Another minced oath, I presume?”

“‘Another minced oath, I presume?!’ You know it is, Mr. Smarty Pants. Now, stop messing with me and get back to the case.”

“We also ran the DNA through Bonecestry’s database and got the same match.”

“What about Number Two?”

“If by Number Two you mean the other left foot, no match in either system. If you mean something else, I can’t help you. I’m a forensic scientist, not a proctologist. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Hmm. Agreed. Best not to probe that one too deeply.”

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Letter from Madame de Boneville, les Catacombes de Paris

October 5, 2018

Sir,

We have received your kind letter from the other day regarding the status of our collection.

I am both sorry and happy to inform you that we have all our bones. In addition, we have no information on the bones recently found in your area in a “crock-pot” of chopped 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, do not hesitate to call or write us.

Faithfully yours,

Françoise de Boneville, Registrar

P.S.: A dish of chopped beef and cream cheese sounds offensive.

“Well, kid, now that we know the feet belong to two different skeletons, we can lay the bad dancer theory to rest, which is probably a good thing considering how many we have in this town. Any luck at the boneyard?”

“I got a monthly bone count from Bin 206, sir. Here it is.”

“Hmm. That October number’s really high.”

“Halloween, sir. It can be hard keeping it together the whole month. The anxiety of finding the right costume and all.”

“True.”

“I made you a copy of that chip beef recipe, sir.”

“Thanks, kid. I appreciate… Wait a minute. What’d you just say?”

“That I have a hard time keeping it together in October because of the stress of finding the perfect costume?”

“No, not that. The other thing you said.”

“Chip beef, sir?”

“Yes. Why’d you call it that?”

“Oh, that. I meant chipped beef, sir. I noticed that some of the cookbooks call it ‘chip’ beef instead of chipped beef. Sounds a bit folksy, if you ask me.”

“Agreed. Go back to Bin 206. See if you can get the daily counts and locations for all of October. I’m going to check in again with Nurse Janet.”

“Do you have a medical question, sir?”

“Sort of, plus she’s asked for a copy of the recipe.”

“We have the DNA results on those bones, Chief. The feet don’t match. They belong to two different skeletons.”

“Great Caesar’s ghost! Two John Does! Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m a CSI. But if it’s a ghost you’re after now, there’s not much more my lab team and I can do for you. We’re forensic scientists, not parapsychologists. We don’t use EVP recorders in our work. That would be against AAFS standards.”

“It’s just a minced oath. Forget I even said it.”

“Is ‘good gravy’ a minced oath as well?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact it is.”

“I know that, Chief. I’m just messing with you.”

“Can we get back to the case, please? Any positive IDs on the feet?”

“Not yet, but we should have something soon.”

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