MYSTERY:"The Late Night Horror Show"

Jack Snyder had two great loves in his life: 1) old fashioned horror films (which by today’s standards are not horror films at all) and 2) his family. His priorities were not necessarily in this order.

One of the great joys of Jack’s life was to invite one or more of his grandsons to spend Friday or Saturday night at his home. “Granddad Jack” and his grandsons would select a VHS tape or DVD from his extensive library and watch it in the family room after his wife, Candace, went to bed. The boys loved doing this. They felt like adults staying up later than their grandma. Also, Jack always made sure there was popcorn available. Turning off the family room lights and viewing an old black and white film on the big screen television added to the atmosphere.

Andy, Matt and David genuinely enjoyed their granddad’s old films.Dennis, at age seven, the youngest of the boys, did not enjoy the horror films as much as the others, but did like to stay up late and eat popcorn.

One Friday evening just after school was out for the summer, Candace and Jack agreed to keep all four boys for the weekend so their parents could take a three-day mini vacation – alone. The boys ranged in age from 13-year-old Andy to 7-year-old Dennis. 11-year-old Matthew was especially excited as it was his turn to pick out what they would view on this early June Friday night. After dinner, Jack and the boys went upstairs to his office library, a converted bedroom where he kept his collection in what used to be the bedroom closet. The closet doors had been removed for ease of access and the boys never tired of looking at it. Jack placed great emphasis on keeping the tapes and DVDs chronicled and placed in alphabetical order. Tonight, as always, every film in his library was accounted for and in its proper place.

After much deliberation, Matthew selected Fall of the House of Usher, a 1960 film starring the great Vincent Price as the tormented Roderick Usher. This was one of Jack’s favorites. He was delighted that it was one of Matthew’s as well -- he had selected this film several times when it was his turn to choose. They took the DVD downstairs and placed it by the television in the family room. Jack and the boys were all set for what they referred to as their “Late Night Horror Show.”

But, before grandma’s bedtime the evening lay before them. The Snyder’s backyard was huge and was the place of many family gatherings. Jack played with the boys outside on the swing set and also engaged the boys in pitch and catch. Candace sat in the sandbox with Dennis, who would shortly be too old to enjoy this any longer. Candace lamented that David had tired of it at about the same age Dennis is now.

The six of them stayed outside until dark, a little over two hours.David went inside once to get soft drinks for everyone. At 9:00 p.m., the family came inside to clean up and watch television until grandma’s bedtime. The boys took turns showering and changing clothes in the downstairs bathroom. Jack dozed off in his chair as they prepared for the night. Candace was busy getting the boys clean clothes and watching bits of the news.

After showering, Andy hobbled painfully to the kitchen for an apple.Candace gave him permission to sleep downstairs because he had twisted his ankle playing outside, and it was painful for him to climb the stairs. Matthew went upstairs to find his toothbrush but quickly yelled for Candace to come upstairs and help him find it.Matthew’s overnight bag was in the guest bedroom opposite the top of the stairs, and she observed him searching in vain for the toothbrush.

As Candace’s bedtime approached, Jack went upstairs to turn off his computer, when he noticed his VHS copy of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman was missing from its place on the first row shelf. This was another of his favorites, a 1957 B horror/science fiction film starring the cult scream queen, Allison Hayes. Jack knew immediately what had happened: One of his grandsons had given in to the temptation to borrow one of his films. He wasn’t exactly mad, but was mildly annoyed as he had asked all of them not to do this numerous times. He was pleased that his grandsons shared his passion for these old films, though he wanted them to have more respect for his wishes.

Going back downstairs, he called the family together and explained what he had found. Looking at all four of his grandsons, he said, “Fall of the House of Usher will begin when Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is returned to me.”

Nobody said anything. Finally, Candace said, “I have seen and heard everything tonight. I know who has that silly film.”

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: Jack was not only annoyed that his copy of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman was missing, but that his wife had referred to it as a “silly little film.” The quality of the films in his library was a running family joke. So, he said to his wife, “We’re listening.” Turning to the boys, he added, “But, before she begins, does anybody have anything to say?” Four young faces stared innocently at him. Candace was quick and to the point. She was tired and wished to go to bed. She said, “David, please give your grandfather his DVD.” A look of surprise and horror crossed darkly over the boy’s face. Weakly, he asked, “How did you know?” “Pretty easy, really,” she said. Dennis doesn’t like your grandfather’s films as much as you and the others. Plus he never went upstairs after dinner. Andy sprained his ankle outside so I know he didn’t go upstairs. Matthew was upstairs once, but I know he went only to the bedroom to get his toothbrush. So, it had to be you, David. When you came inside to get soft drinks earlier this evening, I’m guessing you hurried upstairs and placed it in your backpack before coming back outside.” David was fighting desperately to hold back tears. “I just want to see that film so bad.” David had commented on the promo poster of the 50-foot woman many times. Jack put his arm around David and said, “I know you do, David, and we will watch it next time it is your turn to choose. But, you have to realize there are a right ways and wrong ways to do things. This is not the right way.” David said, “I know. I’m sorry.” There was a moment of silence before Jack spoke again, asking, “How come we don’t have the popcorn popping?” ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY:"The Zoo Job"

As Roger headed into the zoo office, he ran into Leonard, a tall man with blond hair. Roger liked Leonard, but sometimes, he went overboard with his practical jokes.

He remembered Leonard’s last prank very well. He had snuck Roger’s cowboy hat into the chimpanzee cage. Then Harriet, one of the two chimpanzees, had put it on her head and wouldn’t take it off.

Everyone in the crowd that day started laughing. Roger was angry at first but eventually laughed too.

“I hope there are no practical jokes today, Leonard,” Roger said.

Leonard’s eyes twinkled and then he shrugged.

Roger didn’t know what to make of that, but he did know that at least his new hat was safe.Leonard never repeated the same practical joke twice.

He said goodbye to Leonard, then walked into the main zoo building. Seated on the bench in front of his office were three students wearing nametags.

Roger then remembered that the Zoo manager had asked him to show the students around and figure out who would be the best employee for the summer. The zoo could only afford one of them.

Roger was happy to do it as he knew the qualities that the zoo needed. They wanted someone who was knowledgeable, co-operative and loved animals.

“Hello, everyone,” Roger said. “Today we’re going to feed a couple of the animals and the four of us will get to know one another. That way I can tell who is most suited to the job.”

Tom, a husky boy, sighed. “I hope we’re going to finish this fast, I have to go to a baseball game.”

“It’ll take about an hour. “What time’s your game?”

“About four,” Tom said.

“Should be okay, unless we go into extra innings,” Roger smiled.

Roger’s eyes wandered over to the other two students. “You guys care what time we finish?”

Cindy shook her head. “No, I don’t have to give blood till seven and I can do my volunteer work at the Church after that.”

Tom looked at Cindy. “What are you some kind of saint?”

“Just trying to do my part.”

Tom grunted.

“How about you, Henry?” Roger asked.

“I, uh, well...” he said, his right shoulder twitching. “...everything is fine.”

The four of them left the building and headed toward the animal cages. The first cage housed the Cockatoo. “This is Wally,” said Roger. He opened a door beside the cage and led the students into a room with a small fridge. Roger had Henry open the fridge and remove a plate of cut fruit and some birdseed.

Henry’s hands shook and he accidentally dropped a bit of fruit on the ground. He turned all red. “I’m sorry.” He said. “You’re not going to yell at me are you?I can’t stand being yelled at.”

“No, no. Don’t worry, Henry, I drop things too.”

Henry nodded then gave the plate to Roger. The students then followed Roger through the door into the feeding area.

Cindy moved close to the large white bird. “Hi Wally, what’s up?”

Tom stared at Cindy. “I can’t believe you’re talking to that bird. He doesn’t know what you’re saying.”

“For your information, Cockatoos are very intelligent. I read they’re as smart as a three year old.”

Roger grinned. “That’s right, very good Cindy.”

After the Cockatoo had been fed, the three of them ambled over to the elephant cage. “This is Sally,” Roger said. Then he took everyone into the room beside the cage. “Tom can you take that big container of food from the fridge.”

Tom shook his head. “I’m not carrying that, it weighs a ton,”

“I’ll do it,” said Cindy. The container wobbled in her hands for a moment, but then she was able to hold it steady. “This is going to give me strong muscles for sure.”

Henry reached inside the fridge to get the elephant’s desert -- a cantaloupe but it dropped onto the ground. As he picked it up, his body started to quiver. “I’m sorry, please don’t yell.”

“Don’t worry so much Henry. Everything is okay.”

Cindy handed the food container to Roger and Henry gave him the cantaloupe. Roger and the students then entered the elephants feeding area.

“I think elephants are the stupidest animals,” said Tom. “They have that ridiculous trunk and a real dumb expression on their face.”

“Actually, they’re very smart,” said Cindy. “They’re the only animal that mourns when one of the other elephants dies.”

Roger nodded. “Yes, you’re right once again Cindy. You must study a lot.”

“I love animals and like to know everything about them.”

Once the elephants were fed, Roger and the three students walked over to the chimpanzee area. “This is Harriet and Charlie,” Roger said as he led the students into the room beside the cage. Then Roger had Henry remove the plate of food from the fridge. This time, Henry didn’t drop a thing.

“Good Work, Henry.”

“Thanks.”

Roger was about to take the plate into the feeding area when he remembered his hat. He was worried that one of the chimps might take it. He didn’t want to lose another hat so he put it on the top of the fridge. Then he took the plate from Henry and went into the feeding area with the students.

Harriet had been swinging on a small trapeze in the cage. But when she spotted Roger she raced over to him, still wearing his hat.”

Tom shook his head. “I bet she doesn’t have a brain in her head.”

“You’re wrong,” said Cindy. “Chimpanzee’s are the only animals that can make tools.”

Tom started to laugh. “Tools? What’s he do, make a hammer?”

“No, they sharpen sticks so that they can get the ants out of the dirt and eat them.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Cindy turned to look at Charlie. “He looks so sad.I think he’s upset that he doesn’t have a hat like Harriet.”

As soon as they exited the feeding area, Roger felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Leonard. “Hey Len. Everyone this is Leonard. He’s another zoo keeper.”

All the students said hi except Tom, who looked at his watch. “Hey it’s three thirty. Are we going to be finished soon?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it for today.” Roger went to get the hat that he’d left on the fridge. But it wasn’t there. Suddenly, he heard screams of laughter from Leonard and the students.

When he looked back at the monkey cage, he saw the two chimps holding hands and both wearing cowboy hats. He had to giggle, but at the same time he needed to know who had done it -- one of the students or Leonard. If it was Leonard that was one thing, but if it was one of the kids...well Roger didn’t want to hire someone who was another practical joker. One was enough.

“So anyone want to tell me who put my hat in the monkey cage?”

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: Leonard laughed. “It’s funny. But I didn’t do it.” Roger nodded. “I figured it wasn’t you, Leonard. I know you never repeat the same practical joke twice.” Henry spoke up next. “I didn’t do it either.” “I didn’t think so, Henry. You were so worried I was going to yell at you, I know you wouldn’t have wanted to upset me.” Henry nodded. Roger stared at Tom. “I know you weren’t behind this.” “You did? How?” “You had a game to go to and wouldn’t have wanted anything to tie you up.” Roger finally looked at Cindy. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Cindy lowered her head. “I’m sorry.” “But you had a good reason, didn’t you?” Cindy nodded. “Yeah.” Roger smiled. “I bet it’s because you love animals and you thought Charlie was jealous because his mate had a hat. Is that right?” “I could see it in his eyes.” Later that day, Roger gave his recommendation for the summer job. It was Cindy. She was knowledgeable, co-operative, and obviously loved animals. ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY:"Who Let The Frogs Out"

Mr. Womback arrived at his biology classroom at 8:00 am, as usual. Waiting for him in the hallway was Matilda Robbens, one of his eleventh grade students. She was carrying a red and white plastic cooler, the kind you pack picnic lunches in. Only, this cooler seemed to be shaking, all on its own.

“I got your frogs, Mr. Womback!” the freckle-faced tomboy yelped, holding up the agitated cooler. “Finally! Thirty frogs, like you wanted.”

“Good,” Mr. Womback responded. He unlocked the door to his classroom, flicked on the lights and walked inside. Then he unlocked the door to the storage room behind his front desk. Matilda trailed after him with her jumpy cooler.

“Here, put it on the counter, Matilda, next to the aquarium,” Mr. Womback instructed.

The girl set the cooler down on the black counter that ran the length of the narrow room, next to a large, empty aquarium. “It took me two whole weeks to catch all of them, Mr. Womback. Like you’ve taught us in class, the frog populations are way down, and I had a really hard time finding all you wanted. Really hard!”

“Five dollars a piece, Matilda,” Mr. Womback intoned, opening up the cooler and looking down at thirty healthy green and brown leopard frogs. “As we agreed.” One of the amphibians leaped up and almost hit the man in the nose, and Mr. Womback began transferring the rambunctious hoppers from the cooler to the aquarium.

“Ten dollars each,” Matilda countered.

Just then Kyle Kravetsky, the science department’s student lab assistant, stuck his head in the doorway.

“Here, Kyle,” Mr. Womback said, “help me get these frogs into the aquarium.”

“Not a chance, Teach,” Kyle grimaced, watching with distaste as a large green spotted specimen wriggled out of Mr. Womback’s hands and hit the counter hopping.“I’m not touching those slimy reptiles. Snakes, either. You don’t pay me enough for that.”

Mr. Womback snorted, grabbing up the rogue frog and squirting it into the aquarium.

“Speaking of pay …” Matilda reminded him.

“I’m sorry, Matilda. Five dollars per frog is all I have in the budget. I’ll get a check made up that you can pick up in class this afternoon.”

It was Matilda’s turn to snort, as she stomped out of the classroom.

“Speaking of checks, Mr. W, you think you can advance me my hundred dollars for this week?” Kyle asked. “See, I’ve got a date with-”

“You know you left the doors unlocked the other night?” Mr. Womback interrupted, turning on the thin, straw-haired teenager. “Sergio Ramos, the night custodian, informed me that when he came to clean the rooms at 6:00 pm Monday night, both doors were unlocked. I’ve warned you about that before, Kyle. With a key, comes responsibility. We have expensive equipment and toxic chemicals”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that, Mr. W. Won’t happen again. Now, about that advance …”

“See you in class this afternoon,” Mr. Womback dismissed the boy, as he bobbled the last of the squirming frogs into the aquarium.

When the biology teacher held up a frog to his eleventh grade class later that afternoon, he announced that they would be dissecting them during Friday’s class. A mixture of cheering and eewing went up, along with Marnie Pepper’s hand.

“I protest putting these innocent frogs to death, Mr. Womback!” the small, redheaded bundle of energy stated. As a self-described ‘animal activist’, the girl was concerned with the welfare and ethical treatment of all creatures, amphibious or otherwise.

“So noted,” Mr. Womback sighed. “Just like with the worms, Marnie, you can leave the classroom and study a dissection on the computer, while the real dissections are taking place.”

Marnie folded her arms over her chest and further declared, “I want it on record that the use of animals for experimental purposes is-”

“So noted!” Mr. Womback declared back, sticking the wriggling frog into the pocket of his lab coat.

A half hour after class concluded at 3:30, as Mr. Womback was locking his classroom door, he caught Sergio Ramos sauntering down the hallway. “I hope you do a better job of cleaning my class and storage rooms than you did last night, Sergio. Half of the wastepaper baskets weren’t even emptied and some of the lab tables weren’t wiped down. Not to mention, you broke another jar of calf brains.”

The lanky janitor glanced angrily around at the students snickering at him getting chewed out by Mr. Womback. “Hey, man,” he said, trying to act cool, “I just came to watch the volleyball game. I’m not on the clock ‘til six, you know.”

Mr. Womback grunted. Then he joined the large body of students and teachers heading towards the gymnasium to watch the girls’ volleyball team take on the school’s cross-town rival.

Marnie Pepper turned out to be the star of the game, her parents and a crowd of cheering admirers sweeping her and the rest of the team out of the school for a victory party at a local pizzeria right after the game ended at 6:00. Sergio Ramos locked the doors to the school shortly thereafter.

Mr. Womback’s first clue that something was wrong the next morning was when he spotted two frogs sitting in a puddle in the teachers’ parking lot. They eyed him suspiciously, and he eyed them. His second clue was when he found both the door to his classroom and his storage room unlocked. His final clue was when he saw the aquarium sitting empty, the window above it slightly ajar.

“Morning, Teach,” Kyle Kravetsky said, strolling into the storage room. “Hey, where are all the croakers?”

Mr. Womback gritted his teeth. “Apparently, they somehow escaped through a closed window sometime after I left the classroom – locked! – at 4:00 pm yesterday afternoon. Kyle!?”

As the teenager blushed redder than a Panamanian poison frog, Matilda Robbens popped her head into the room. “What’s going on? Hey, where’d all the frogs go?”

“They were here when I restocked those test tubes around five o’clock like you asked, Mr. W.” Kyle gulped. “I left a little while after that to refill Mr. Ludwig’s Bunsen burners in the chemistry lab. I, uh, think … I locked the doors.”

Mr. Womback simmered like pan-fried frogs’ legs, staring at the boy.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Womback,” Matilda piped up, “I can get some frogs pretty quick – for a price.”

Mr. Womback barged past his two students and out into the classroom proper. His glaring eyes took in the overflowing wastepaper baskets and the puddles of formaldehyde on the lab tables.“Looks like Ramos didn’t even bother cleaning my classroom at all last night!” he growled.

Then the irate biology teacher’s blood pressure dropped like a frog’s in winter mud hibernation, as he suddenly realized what happened. “I think I know who let the frogs out,” he hypothesized.

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: Matilda Robbens let the frogs out. She gave herself away when she said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Womback … I can get some frogs pretty quick …” Before, she’d told Mr. Womback it had taken her “two whole weeks” to collect thirty frogs, due to the declining frog population. And that should still be the case, unless she knew there were frogs to be found right in the immediate vicinity – where she’d released them the day before. Kyle Kravetsky’s was not the frog-freer. He’d expressed his aversion to handling “slimy reptiles” earlier (along with his ignorance). Marnie Pepper couldn’t have released the frogs, because she never had the opportunity. She played in the volleyball game and then left the school immediately afterwards. And judging from the dirty evidence, Sergio Ramos didn’t even go into Mr. Womback’s classroom or storage room the night before – either to clean them, or play hop-frog out the window. ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY: "Who Scratched the Porsche?"

Rochester was glad it was his turn to walk the dog. He generally didn't like to do this chore when company was over, but since Malcolm, the school bully, was one of those visitors he welcomed the chance to get away.

Malcolm and his mother, Dr. Von Beddinglam, were over that night to meet Colonel Greenerbaum. Colonel Greenerbaum was a client of Rochester's father. Rochester's mother thought the single Dr. Von Beddinglam and the single Colonel Greenerbaum would want to meet. It turned out to be a bad idea as Colonel Greenerbaum was not nearly as nice as Rochester's parents thought.

Rochester's mother reminded Rochester to be very careful while walking the dog, after all Rochester was still in the 6th grade. Rochester assured his mother he would and then zipped up his jacket and grabbed Fido's leash.

"It was nice meeting you Colonel Greenerbaum," said Rochester.

"Is it still raining outside?" grumbled the colonel. "It was raining cats and dogs early today, made my Cayman S Porsche all muddy."

"I shall see," responded Rochester.

There wasn't any rain outside but there was the neighbor's cat on the front porch. After a couple of barks and a loud hiss, the dog began to chase the cat and both pets quickly disappeared into the night.

"Oh dear," said Rochester.

Rochester's parents moaned. This has happened several times before and every time they would tell Rochester to put the leash on Fido before opening the door. Fortunately, Fido always grew tired of chasing the cat after a few blocks and returned home on his own.

"Well, it looks like it hasn't rained in quite a while, colonel," said Rochester.

The colonel muttered something inaudibly and then left the house without even thanking Rochester's parents for their hospitality.

"How about some lights?" growled Colonel Greenerbaum as he walked in the dark towards his Porsche.

Before anyone could reply, Colonel Greenerbaum took another step and turned on the motion-sensor light above the garage just as he reached his car.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," said Dr. Von Beddinglam. She was always polite and always very gracious. "Let's go Malcolm!"

Malcolm stumbled into the foyer carrying his electric guitar in his right hand. He didn't have a case for his guitar because the police were holding it as evidence. Rochester hated that guitar. For one, Malcolm used Rochester's face as a pick for a 45-minute rendition of "Smoke on the Water" and two: it was a left-handed guitar.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," said Malcolm pretending to be sincere.

Before Rochester's mother could praise Malcolm for his manners, the colonel yelled: "someone scratched my car!"

Everyone ran outside and saw that there was a foot long scratch on the driver's side door of Colonel Greenerbaum's brand new Porsche. The scratch ran parallel to the car and was as straight as a ruler.

The colonel had backed his car up the driveway, meaning the driver's side was directly next to the driver side of Dr. Von Beddinglams car. The front of her car faced up at the house, while Colonel Greenerbaum's Porsche faced down the steeply sloped driveway towards the street.

"This is your fault," shouted Colonel Greenerbaum to Rochester's father. "I'm going to make you pay! This scratch will cost $759.89 to fix!"

Rochester's father asked Colonel Greenerbaum if maybe the scratch had occurred somewhere else but the colonel insisted the damaged had been done while parked in his driveway.

"I love my Cayman S Porsche and its 295 horsepower. I know what every inch of my car looks like at all times!"

Colonel Greenerbaum grabbed a flashlight from his glove box and used it to give Rochester's father a better look at the scratch.

"Look how long it is," exclaimed Colonel Greenerbaum.

The colonel licked his thumb and rubbed some mud away from the scratch to reveal that it was two inches longer than previously estimated.

"What do you think?" asked Rochester's mother.

"It looks like a new scratch but I don't know. How can we be sure it happened here?" wondered Rochester's father.

Just then, Fido returned home with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Rochester quickly attached the leashed to his collar and gave him a little scratch behind the ears.

"Your dog is suspect number one. Look at his collar. It's the same height as the scratch. He could have done it when he chased the cat. I told you it's your fault."

Rochester's father agreed that Fido could have scratched the Porsche but he still wasn't convinced.

"You're daughter Roxie rode her bike home. Her bike could have done it and that makes her suspect number two."

Roxie had returned from the library shortly after Colonel Greenerbaum arrived. Dinner was delayed while everyone waited for her to change her clothes. During Roxie's ride home, her bicycle's back tire splashed mud all over her.

"She coasted her bike between the two cars and scratched the car with her pedal."

Colonel Greenerbaum grabbed Roxie's bike; it was leaning up against the garage door. The colonel positioned the bike so it faced in the same direction Roxie would have been travelling when she came up the driveway. He then positioned the pedal on Roxie's bike at the same height as the scratch on his Porsche. Next the colonel moved the bike forward, but didn't move the pedal, to show how Roxie's bike could have scratched his Porsche while coasting home.

"It's possible," admitted Rochester's father. "I'll go and ask my daughter if she scratched your car."

Rochester's mother buried her head in her hand. Her daughter would never purposely damage someone's property, but she is so easily distracted that she could have very well scratched the Porsche without even realizing it.

"Why? She'll just lie or you'll lie to protect her. Besides, if it wasn't her then it was the boy and his guitar."

The colonel claimed to have seen the guitar when he got out of his Porsche and Malcolm's mother admitted it was kept in the back seat on the driver's side. All agreed that the scratch on the Porsche could have been caused by some of the metal parts on Malcolm's guitar.

"Dr. Von Beddinglam told us before dinner that Malcolm was caught once vandalizing a car. He's a juvenile delinquent. I know he scratched my Porsche with his guitar and since it happened on your property you'll have to pay," said the colonel.

"But when did Malcolm scratch your car?" asked Rochester's father.

"When you were in the kitchen doing the dishes. His mother gave him the keys to her vehicle so he could go and fetch his guitar. Here's how he did it." The colonel ripped the guitar out of Malcolm's right hand and then demonstrated how he scratched the car while walking back to the house. According to the colonel, Malcolm would have walked back to the house with the Porsche on his left side while holding the neck of the guitar in his left hand.

Rochester's father admitted it was very plausible especially the way the cars were parked. Dr. Von Beddinglam asked her son if he had scratched the car and of course he said he didn't.

"It doesn't matter what he says. The kid is a hoodlum," proclaimed Colonel Greenerbaum. I gave you three suspects."

"You forgot to include yourself," remarked Rochester.

The colonel glared at Rochester.

"Colonel, one of the suspects can't speak. The other probably doesn't even remember and the third is a known lair. How are we supposed to know what really happened?" asked Rochester's father.

"I told you there are only three possible ways it could have happened."

"You forgot to include the possibility that the car was already scratched," remarked Rochester.

Again the colonel glared at Rochester.

"Regardless of what your son thinks, or which of the three ways it happened, you are responsible. I demand you pay to have the scratch fixed or I'll take my business elsewhere."

Colonel Greenerbaum was Rochester's father’s top client. If he lost the colonel's business he could possibly lose his entire business.

"I'm sorry about your car, Colonel. I will pay to have it fixed."

Rochester's father was dejected but he saw no other around the mystery of the scratched Porsche and no other way to keep the colonel's business.

Suddenly, the motion sensor light turned itself off after its long programmable delay period had expired. In another coincidence, the neighbor's cat returned. Fido saw the feline and tried to chase it but all he did was jerked the leash taunt and turn the motion sensor light back on.

"Father," said Rochester, "I know who is responsible for the scratch on the colonel's Porsche."

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: “The car was already scratched when Colonel Greenerbaum got here. First, it could not have been Roxie with her bicycle. Because of how steep the driveway is, you have to pedal to get up it. That means it would not have created a level scratch. It could not have been Malcolm. Malcolm was left handed and carried the guitar in his right hand, but when he walked from his mother's car to the house the Porsche would have been on his left side. The Colonel was wrong in his demonstration. Since Fido did not trigger the motion sensor light when he chased the cat, he must not have been near the car. Since he was not near the car, he could not have scratched the car. That is why the other three could not have done it.” “The Colonel knew it was scratched because he knew the exact cost to repair it. Not only that, but there was mud on the scratch. If the scratch had been made after the mud, the mud would not have been covering the scratch.” ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY: "Death In Theatre"

I muttered to myself as my beeper went off. My double shift was almost over and I was drinking my sixth cup of coffee at the all night coffee shop down the street from the station to try and to stay awake. My beeper going off meant one thing and one thing only; someone had been killed and I was needed. Normally, one of the other detectives would have gotten the call, but with a name like Maria Honduras, I was the only non-Irish detective on the small force here in Gallaway, MA. All of the other detectives were off duty, happily celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. I picked up my cell phone and called the station to get the details. Nancy Zinkham had been found murdered in her dressing room at the theatre that evening. I was off at once.

Nancy was a huge celebrity comic who came from Gallaway before making it big on TV. However, in keeping with her small town roots, she loved to come back to perform one week a year here in Gallaway, doing a great one person stand up routine for charity. Solving the murder was going to a big deal. It was not just a make or break case, but Nancy had also been my best friend growing up. This was now personal and staying awake was no longer going to be a problem.

Quickly, I got to the small theatre and talked to the uniformed policeman standing outside the door to the dressing rooms. “Hi Tom, what have we got?” I asked the patrolman I had known for many years. “Hello gorgeous.” Tom has had a crush on me since grade school. “As usual, Nancy spent the entire day in her dressing room alone. She arrived about 7 am this morning with her yoga mat, her organic salad and 2 bottles of water. Her instructions are pretty simple. No one bothers her for any reason prior to the show. She just spends the entire day in her dressing room doing yoga and meditating to get ready for the show. However, when she did not appear for the opening act, one of the stage hands went to check on her and found her dead in her dressing room.” “Who was back there in the dressing rooms today?” I asked. “No one is really sure” was the unfortunate reply.

Prior to inspecting the dressing rooms, I talked to the theatre manager, Dan Gallagher. Dan told me that there were three dressing rooms in the back. All were about the same size, though usually the star got one and the other two were used for the remaining actors and actresses. Each dressing room had a bathroom, a small refrigerator and a sink. That explained how Nancy was able to spend all day in her dressing room. I asked Dan who might have been in the dressing rooms that day. He told me there was no real way to know as lots of people were back there throughout the day. That was when I noticed the video camera above the doorway to the dressing rooms. I asked Dan about it and he told me that yes, there was video of the hallway that we could check. I sent Dan and Tom to get the video. I told Tom to watch the video on fast-forward from early this morning till now to see who went through that door. Meanwhile, I was going to inspect the scene of the crime. By this point, I was really regretting that sixth cup of coffee. I certainly did not need the caffeine to stay away and my bladder was well past full.

The first two dressing rooms yielded nothing unusual, which did not surprise me. After all, there was no one using them all day. There were however, bagels in the refrigerator of the second dressing room. Given the late hour, I was tempted to taste test them for freshness, but decided against it in deference to my figure. Now it was time to check out Nancy’s dressing room. Walking into her dressing room, I saw her lying on the floor with a knife in her back. Someone was going to pay for this. I spent about 15 minutes carefully inspecting her dressing room. Everything was as I expected to find it. There was a yoga mat on the floor, numerous empty water bottles and empty salad containers in the trash and another bottle half empty on the table. The coroner would determine the time of death, but based upon her arrival at 7 am, I was guessing a late afternoon demise. By now, the coffee got the best of me. I quickly went into the bathroom, put down the seat and felt relief. It was time to go see who had been back here.

By now, Tom and Dan were done looking at the video. Tom told me that there were four people who were in the dressing area the entire day: Kevin Doyle, the owner of the theatre, two actresses appearing in the next show and a cleaning lady. Each of them went in separately and came out less than ten minutes later. Unfortunately for me, all of them had been carrying something large enough to hide a knife, so they were all suspects. None of them seemed like obvious choices, so I told Tom to round them all up and have them meet me in the station the next morning. At that point, the Coroner had arrived and I gave him the lay of the land. He promised me he would have some initial results to me in time to interview the suspects in the morning.

Before facing the four suspects, one of whom had killed an old friend of mine, I called the Coroner to see if he had anything for me. He confirmed that Nancy was killed with a knife and that the time of death was late in the afternoon. Other than that, he had nothing as of now. There were no fingerprints on the scene and no other clues of a note.

It was time to face the suspects in the order they appeared on the video. First, I talked to the two actresses, Joanne Driscoll and Helen Smith. The two of them were co-staring in the next performance, a comedy, which was starting in two days. “What were you doing in the dressing area yesterday?” I asked them. They suddenly looked nervous. “We were rehearsing with the rest of the cast all morning. The director had brought the best bagels along with a great selection of spreads,” stammered Joanne. “Yes,” Helen added. “I did not want them to go to waste.So, when rehearsal broke for lunch around noon, I took the leftovers to the refrigerator in the actress’s dressing room.” “Did you happen to talk with Nancy” I asked her pointedly. “No way.” “Joanne, what were you doing in the dressing room?” “I got tied up going over some new lines with the director. Since the lunch break was only half an hour, I did not have time to go out for lunch, so I ran to grab one of the leftover bagels. And no, I did not talk to Nancy.”

Next it was Kevin’s turn. Any particular reason you would be in the dressing area yesterday, I asked calmly. “Of course there is. As the theatre owner, I make rounds several times a day of the entire theatre. Among other things, I check to make sure that Tina the cleaning lady is doing her job. Before you ask, no, I did not happen to talk with Nancy at all yesterday. On top of that, no, I did not have any reason to wish her ill will. Every year she came back and packed the theatre every night for a week with her charity routine. Every penny from the sale of the tickets goes to charity and her shows are the only ones all year that fill the house.”

Muttering under my breath that I was running out of possible suspects, it was time to talk to the cleaning lady, Sarah Jones. She was the last one in the dressing area. I asked her about why there were no fingerprints anywhere. “My job is to make sure that everything is clean throughout the theatre. I dust, vacuum and empty the trash. I do my job well, though I never clean Nancy’s dressing room while she is there. She is always in it and does not want to be disturbed. I just clean it well before she arrives and I clean it again when she leaves at the end of the week. No one goes in the dressing room but her.” Something told me I needed to keep questioning the cleaning lady, so I kept after her for another half an hour. Finally, one of the other detectives stuck his head in the room and asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. I snapped at him and told him no, I did not want a cup of coffee; I was solving a murder investigation. Then it hit me. I knew who did it.

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: I realized that the timing for the two actresses, Joanne and Helen was wrong. They would have been back in rehearsals prior to the time of death, so they were innocent. The cleaning lady had no real reason that I could think of. If she had been going into Nancy’s dressing room throughout the week, she would have emptied the trash at some point. Besides, the killer was a man. Nancy was supposed to have been the only one in her dressing room all week, staying in there all day every day. She would have put the toilet seat down. Yet, when I used her bathroom, I had to put the toilet seat down. Only a man would have left it up. Kevin confessed and when asked why, he said that the charity shows were killing him. Yes, they brought in huge crowds and big bucks, but none of that money went to him. Worse is that after going to those shows, no one had money left to go to the shows that he put on. Now I just have to explain to the boss how I solved this case since using a crime scene toilet is not standard procedure. ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY: "The Date"

Boulder, Colorado has some of the most scenic vistas to be found anywhere in America. Mountaintops are everywhere and each one is a sight. Sit at one of the outside tables at Zolos and the view is one of the best in Boulder, which makes it one of the best in the world. It was Saturday February 2, the night before the Super Bowl and I was enjoying one of the best views in Boulder. With my back to the mountains, I was seated across the table from the CFO of Wonder Cream, Cynthia Hogarth. She easily trumped any mountain view in Boulder. Even better, she had a brain and a personality to go with her looks. Best of all, we seemed to be having a good time on our first date. I was going to have to thank my friend for setting us up on this blind date on my visit to Boulder.

The night had been going well since we met, when suddenly she reached across the table and grabbed my hand. I thought she was being forward and I loved it. Then she pointed out that it looked as if my hands were awfully dry and rough. I told her that living in Cleveland will do that and that nothing I had tried seemed to make a difference. That was when she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, unmarked jar of something. She proceeded to rub some of it into my hands. I was enjoying the attention, so I just let her do it. It took me a while to realize that it was not just because she was rubbing my hands that made them feel so wonderful. Whatever she had put on my hands instantly made them feel better.

In the background I heard the song “some guys have all the luck” and thought to myself “Well Uncle Buck, seems like you finally are having some luck”. That of course was when her cell phone rang. Since it was her corporate cell phone, Cynthia apologized and answered it. I heard her tell someone that she could be there in five minutes. I thought, so much for my having all the luck. I asked her what happened. She said that her CEO had just called and told her that someone had stolen the secret formula for the company’s recently launched product. Her CEO wanted all the key people in the office immediately to try to figure out who could have stolen it.

Given that I am a pretty well known private detective in Maryland, I felt honor bound to offer up my services. At least, that was what I told her. Truthfully, I did not want the date to end. Besides, I figured if I solved the crime, I could certainly wrangle a second date. She took me up on my offer and off we went to the headquarters. On the way, I asked her what was so special about this new product. “In a nutshell, it is a 100% natural skin care product. We have developed the first ever natural skin care product out of emu oil.” Emu oil, I ask incredulously. Isn’t that the big bird like an ostrich? “Yes it is. Much as fish oil is rendered from various fish, we render oil from emus. It has virtually magical properties in terms of getting rid of dry skin. If the competition gets this formula, we are ruined because they are much bigger than we are. Since we have the only product, they would pay a fortune to get it.” I asked her if the product actually worked. She asked how my hands felt because it was what she had put on my hands. Since my hands felt amazing, I knew the product formula was worth a fortune.

We arrived at the corporate headquarters and found three others there. These were the other top executives of Wonder Cream. Diane is the CEO. Kristin handles the operations and Bob handles the sales. Diane immediately filled us in on what had happened. A little while earlier, at 9:35 pm, she had come into the office and found the company safe open. Given that only a handful of employees had the combination and there were no signs of it having been cracked open, she immediately knew an employee had stolen the formula. Her first thought was to go check the security video to find out who had opened the safe last. To her surprise, someone had erased the video for the time period of 5:00 pm till 7:00 pm Saturday evening and then turned it off. Obviously, the theft occurred during that time. At that point, I stepped forward and introduced myself and offered to take over, since I was the only one who could not have taken the formula.

I decided to start with Bob. After all, it seemed logical whoever had stolen the formula would be taking the money and running. I asked him why he had a suitcase with him. “I am just getting back from a weeklong trip to Japan. I was setting up distribution of the new skin care product in Japan. They love natural products over there. I took the redeye back.” Having flown cross country many times, I knew that the redeye was the late night flight that got in to the destination early the next morning. I asked him if he had his flight information with him by any chance. At that point he pulled out his passport. Sure enough, it was stamped as departing Tokyo on Friday Feb 1. He also showed me his flight information. His flight departed Friday night at 7:35 pm, landed in San Francisco about 11:50 am, departed at 3:25 pm and arrived in Denver at 7:25 pm. Having flown in a few days before, I knew that Boulder is about an hour from the Denver airport. Bob said that he was in the cab on the way home when he got the call to stop at the office and came right here. Thus, he had his suitcase with him. That seemed logical to me.

Moving on, I asked Diane why she was in the office on Saturday night at 9:30. She told me that it was a ritual with her. Her husband is a doctor who works a 24-hour shift in the ER starting on Saturday night. Thus, every Saturday they go to dinner and a movie before she drops him off at work at 9. Then she swings by the office to pick up the weekly reports to work on during the day on Sunday while he is at the hospital.

I moved on to the next suspect. Since I was hoping it was someone other than Cynthia, I had to quiz Kristin. Where was she from 5 to 7 that night?With a huge sigh of relief, Kristin said that she taught a yoga class every Saturday night from 5 to 7.

While, Cynthia had been with me from 6:30 pm on, that did not give her an alibi prior to that. I asked her what she was doing from 5:00 till we met. She said she was home alone. Sadly, no one had seen her during that time.

With no other clues, I asked if we could watch the video from 4:00 on just in case someone came in earlier. We watched as at 4:45, Cynthia pulled up in her car and entered the building. She did not leave prior to 5:00. Suddenly afraid it was Cynthia, I asked her what she was doing there. She replied that she liked to carry some of their skin cream with her at all times in case she ran into someone who needed to try it. She had run out and stopped to pick some up. Finally, Cynthia said, “There must be another employee who had access to the security tapes because I did not do it.” Diane was livid at the thought that her good friend was the thief and said that we had to call the police immediately. I thought of how much fun we had on our date but obviously the date was not what I thought it was. With no other option, I told Diane that yes, we had to call the police since I had found the thief.

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: When the police arrived, Diane immediately pointed them to Cynthia. I told them that they were arresting the wrong person. First of all, the thief had to be available after 7 pm to erase the tape. While Cynthia had no alibi prior to 6:30, I knew she could not have erased the tape at 7 pm. Thus, she had to be innocent. Assuming their stories checked out, Diane and Kristen had pretty secure alibis, so they were off the hook as well. That was when I turned to the police and asked them to arrest Bob. Everyone said that he had a solid alibi as he was on a plane. That was when I reminded everyone about the date. Because of the International Date Line, when he flew back on Friday night, he arrived in Denver not on Saturday night, but on Friday night. He had been back all day. He knew that he could steal the formula, have Diane come in and find the open safe and then pretend he had just arrived in Denver. Now it was time to finish my date. ..................................................................................................................

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MYSTERY: "Death At Andersonville"

Andersonville Military Prison, deep in the heart of Dixieland Georgia, was the most dreaded of Confederate prisoner-of-war camps. It was such a grim place that the rebel soldiers guarding it were fed and clothed little better than their 33,000 Yankee prisoners. From its inception in February 1864, until the Civil War’s end 14 months later, 13,000 prisoners would die; an astonishing 29% mortality rate. Many of the Union soldiers succumbed to starvation and exposure to the elements, but some were also murdered, as was the case with Private Glendenning Bryan.

Sgt. Crosby, Sgt. Thornton, Pvt. Whisenant and Cpl. Horner shared a tent with Pvt. Bryan – if you could call a few small tree limbs that served as poles, plus a few tattered blankets and threadbare shirts, shelter at all. Because the tent was so small, privacy was virtually non-existent, and this only added to the shock and dismay when the friendly Bryan, a young 19-year-old from Boston, was found dead with a knife wound in his stomach when the sun came up early one steamy Monday morning in August 1864.

Crosby, the 38-year-old no-nonsense senior non-commissioned officer and Chicago, Illinois, policeman, took charge. Speaking within the confines of the small tent, he said, “He’s murdered, murdered right here. I don’t know why, he would’ve been dead in a few days anyway.” Bryan had been in Andersonville the longest and was the most malnourished and sickest of the five.

However, they soon discovered why Bryan had been killed. He had been hoarding food in his clothing, planning to eat it when he felt better. Inside his trousers they found a crudely sewn, hidden pocket that contained breadcrumbs and a few tiny pieces of salt pork. The likable Bryan had been killed for food.

“Well, it wasn’t me that did it,” said the short-tempered Horner, another native of Massachusetts, as he viewed his friend who lay dead just inches from his bare feet."My hands are useless with arthritis and I can’t hardly hold a knife.” Horner was 40-years-old and had spent too many years shoeing horses in the cold weather of his home in Worcester.

“It couldn’t have been me,’ chimed in Thornton. “I was outside walking most of the night.”

“Most of the night is not all of the night,” Crosby pointedly replied. Thornton, a 26-year-old librarian from Philadelphia and quietest of the residents of the tent, winced at this suggestion.

“Did anyone see you?” asked Crosby.

Thornton looked at each man in turn before answering, “Nobody saw me, but I was out walking last night. I was.”

 “I was sick, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, so I was down by the sinks all night,” offered Whisenant, the normally amiable 30-year-old New York school teacher. “I got back here just a few minutes ago.”

Crosby hadn’t slept in the tent the previous night, either, and told them so. “I was at the other end of the camp, trying to get what fresh night air was available.” That was an ironic statement, as it was known that the stench from Andersonville was so severe it was noticed in the city of Americus, several miles away.

“I didn’t notice any of you fellers last night. Just me and Bryan,” said Horner, thinking out loud. Slowly, he asked, “Who owns the knife?”

“Answer that and we have our killer,” Thornton added, dryly.

For a few minutes they all sat in silence. Finally, Crosby said, “I got back here first. I found Horner asleep and Bryan dead.”

Horner shot Crosby a mean look, pointed a gnarled finger at him and said, “I told you I didn’t kill him!” He winced in pain as he did so.

“Easy, corporal, easy, I’m just thinking.”

“Well, for whatever it’s worth to you, I didn’t sleep well,” Horner said. “Who does in this place? I was asleep for only an hour or two and did not see or hear anything, except the usual camp noises.”

“OK, let’s continue,” said Crosby.“I was on the other side of the camp with various friends; not with any one person the entire night, but I was never alone.”

Turning to Thornton, he asked, “What about you? Horner didn’t sleep well, says he didn’t see you.”

“He probably didn’t. I only came back to the tent a couple of times. When I heard him snoring, I did not go in. I didn’t want to bother him. The last time was about an hour ago. It was too dark to notice anything unusual about Bryan.”

Crosby digested this for a moment and then asked Whisenant, “You were sick last night?”

“Right,” he replied. The sight and shock of the dead Bryan did nothing to quiet his queasiness, although he was a butcher by trade in his hometown of Zeeland, Michigan. With great effort, he managed to control a wave of nausea. He needed to go outside and Crosby excused him.

Whisenant returned a few minutes later, weak but feeling better. He dreaded resuming the conversation, but he re-seated himself in the cramped tent and looked at Crosby.

Finally, Crosby stated bluntly, “I know who killed Bryan.”

.................................................................................................................. SOLUTION: “It wasn’t me,” he said. “I told you I was on the other side of the camp all night. I was not with any one person the entire night, but what I didn’t say is that I was always with someone. Never was I by myself and there are those over there who will verify this.” Pausing for a moment, he continued, “Horton was in the tent all night. He was awake for much of the time, but slept off and on for short intervals. I believe him because I know he wasn’t the killer. He could not so much as point his finger at me without wincing in pain. It is highly improbable that a man with severe arthritis would be able to handle a knife and commit a violent act.” Once more, Crosby paused before continuing. His friends were weak and in emotional shock but he wanted to be certain that everyone understood what he was saying. Looking at Whisenant, Crosby said, “You aren’t the killer, either. It’s also highly improbable you would have the strength or inclination to kill for food on a night when you were so physically ill.” He added, dryly, “especially with the aroma around here.” Crosby paused once more before addressing Thornton. “It had to be you. Not only are the rest of us eliminated, but you told a lie. It is not possible to wander around camp all night without being seen by someone. There are over 30,000 men here.” “I didn’t mean that literally.” “I believe you did. You had to hide outside the tent and watch for a time that Horner was asleep.” Thornton replied, so quietly they could barely hear, “I knew he had food, knew he wouldn’t need it much longer.” The four soldiers, bonded by the brutal experience of Andersonville, said nothing to the rebel guards. Thornton had already given the Confederate ally his share of the food, so his silence was assured. The body was handed over for burial in the mass grave just outside the prison grounds. No questions were asked, no explanations offered. Thornton survived Andersonville but was never charged with murder. That does not mean he wasn’t convicted, however, for he was found guilty by the harshest court of all: his own conscience. ..................................................................................................................

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