So, I had to write this episode of Icebox Murder Mystery early because I’m not at work today and wasn’t for half of yesterday. My husband, brother-in-law and I are taking a road trip to Tallahassee for a funeral. I’m looking forward to the trip, but I’m sad it is under such sad circumstances. I also feel bad because I was supposed to send Joie my story in advance, so she could illustrate. I’m sure the gal understands that I just had a smidge too much on my plate. Nick and I also got drunk the other night, and we decided to edit episode two together, like a nerdy, writers’ date. Without further ado, here is episode two!
Back at the scene of the crime, Detective Danny Danish looked over Beatrix Banana and the murder weapon, a plastic spork. The storm outside continued to rumble with a violent vengeance as the sugary sleuth mulled over the clues he had acquired. Feeling stale and fatigued, he recollected the earlier interrogations with his suspects.
Sammy Sandwich and Tuna Casserole Pete tottered-into the crisper drawer. The two laughed and stumbled as the detective tried to stifle an amused expression with an eye roll. “Are you two drunk?” They guffawed, and Pete said, “Naw, Danny. We ain’t drunk, just a little toasted, right, Sammie Sammich?” They giggled like two school girls sharing a secret.
“Enough with the puns, boys,” the detective interrupted. “What were you two up to tonight? Shenanigans I assume?”
Sammie busted a gut. “Shenanigans! I guess you could say that. We drank some of that funny colored ice in the freezer.”
“And had a wrestling match on the bottom shelf,” Tuna Casserole Pete chimed-in.
“That was you?” The detective was starting to sound annoyed. “You two probably woke-up the whole neighborhood with all that tomfoolery!”
“Sorry, Danny,” Sammie and Pete replied.
“You two boys get out of my sight,” Danny scolded. “And I better not hear another peep out of ya, understand?”
Tuna Casserole Pete and Sammie Sandwich left the crisper, as loud and rambunctious as ever. “Those boys may be troublemakers,” Detective Danny said to himself. “But they’re not killers, just drunken idiots.” He heard the boys whistle and holler, as Yolanda Yogurt entered the room. A delectable, dairy queen, she was the heartthrob of the fridge, quite a cultured specimen. “Hi, Detective,” she greeted in a sultry tone. “You wanted to see me?” Danny wiped sugar-glazed sweat from his brow. “Is it hot in here?” He asked, feeling flushed in the face. She smiled for a moment but quickly put on a flirty pout.
“You don’t really suspect me, do you?”
Danny choked, “Of course not, Yolanda, but I must question everybody.”
“Well,” she sniffed with disdain. “I was sleeping in the crisper drawer next door. A gal needs her beauty rest, ya know?”
“Okay, Yolanda.” That’s all I need to know. “Sorry to of upset you so.”
She sighed, “Besides, I don’t like getting my hands dirty. Goodnight, Detective.”
Detective Danny Danish felt lightheaded as she left the room. Frustrated at letting a woman affect him that way, he decided to get some fresh air and find Soda Pop Perez. He was leaning against the wall of one of the refrigerator door shelves and propping a foot on the railing, lost in thought with a dreamy look in his eyes. Danny stood beside him in silence for a moment before asking him where he had been.
“Oh, Detective,” he flinched with a start. “I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry. I got a lot on my mind.”
Danny patted him on the back. “I know, Perez. Sorry about Beatrix. I know you were her beaux.”
“I just feel guilty. I wasn’t with her, but if I had been, she may not have…”
“Don’t bubble over on me, Man. Now, I hate to do this to you, but like milk, when love expires things can get nasty. I need to know where you were.”
Soda Pop Perez gasped in horror, obviously offended by the very idea of killing his beloved banana. “I was watching Pete and Sammie wrestle,” he fizzled. “It’s quite a scene to watch those two.” The soda stormed off without saying so much as a goodbye. The detective didn’t hear anything about Perez being with Sammie and Pete beforehand, but those clowns were so drunk that they may not remember.
Finally, the detective took Tiki Take-out into the crisper drawer for questioning.
“Where were you tonight, Miss Take-out.”
“I…I first practiced my karate.”
“You’re a black belt in Moo Goo Gai Pan, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Tiki blushed. “Then I went to bed on the middle shelf, until I heard Beatrix scream.”
Detective Danish raised his eyebrows, for he had been sleeping on that very shelf, or at least trying to. Those boys’ rowdy ruckus had been going on below, and just before he went down to make a disturbance call, the murder took place. He didn’t recall seeing Tiki, and she didn’t seem to remember all the racket. “Thank you for your time, Miss Take-out.” She smiled and shot a glance towards Soda pop Perez. “No problem at all, Detective.”
Back by Beatrix Banana, Detective Danny Danish had put the memories together like puzzle pieces, but a couple didn’t quite fit to his liking. “One thing is certain,” the detective exclaimed to the empty shelf. “We have some liars amongst us, and it’s time to get some real answers.”