From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Thu Sep 19 18:35:52 1996 From: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk ("Michelle Hiley.") Subject: NEW: 1/2 The Mysterious Affair At Vancouver. Message-ID: <843176152snz@hiley.demon.co.uk> Date: Thu, 19 Sep 96 23:35:52 GMT Reply-To: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk X-Newsreader: Demon Internet Simple News v1.30 Lines: 344 Path: news.ro.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!arclight.uoregon.edu!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!hiley.demon.co.uk!fbi_basement Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative X-NNTP-Posting-User: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk X-Mail2News-Path: hiley.demon.co.uk Due to size this is being posted to atxc in two parts. Part one contains the main body of the story and the first solution, part two contains the second and third solutions. They are being posted simultaneously, but if anyone is missing either part feel free to ask me for it. The characters in this story, except the policeman and the detective, belong to 10.13, no infringement intended. I didn't get permission. The story itself is mine, but a lot of it is of course parody, and is thus taken from various detective novels. Suffice to say the type of solutions given crop up in classic detective fiction, so I'm using standard solutions in my own way. Credit therefore to Agatha Christie, for at least one of the endings. I think people can work out which, but I have no intention of spelling it out any more, in case I spoil her works. Credit also to my husband Paul, who suggested why the victim had been buried in the third solution, and who helped with the strangling motive and burning method. You'll understand if you read it, I hope.:) I rather feel it was somehow fated that this one got written (if in doubt, blame fate). Talking to Juliettt two weeks beforehand, the conversation turned to crime fiction, and we discovered we had a mutual liking for Agatha Christie novels. It stuck in my head. A week later, as I was catching the train for Devon, I remembered a line from Ms Christie's "And then there were None", something about eight little Indians going down to Devon I think. I bought two Agatha Christie books as a result, to re-read on the train (yes, one of them was Murder on the Orient Express, but I'm afraid they didn't have a copy of the 4.50 from Paddington):D. I decided to consider an X-Files story Christie style, as I'd discussed with Juliettt. This evening, the fourth day of my holiday, I was idly reading the biography at the back of one of the books, when I got a shock. Because of all the places in Britain to choose, I'd come away on holiday to a small town in Devon called Torquay. Torquay, I learned to my amazement, was Agatha Christie's birthplace. I have no idea if this story will be good or bad, but I definitely feel I'm being nudged to write it (Modell?). One thing's for sure, if it was a hundred times better it wouldn't reach the standard of Ms Christie's. But here, in her birthplace, I'll dedicate it to her memory. It may be rubbish, but I like to think it might have made her laugh. Yes, I have seen "Murder by Death", and briefly "Clue". This is in the same style, but I'll try and stay as far away from those films as possible, given the limitations of the subject matter.... And, in the very unlikely event the victim in this story should ever read it, I'd like to assure him that I am quite sane (well, I'm not homicidal anyway), and despite his fate in this story, he isn't really in any danger from me. In reality, I'm a big fan...I'm just indulging my imagination, and he's a logical victim, so far as fanfic goes. This is a work of fiction, OK? So please, don't worry about mad English stalkers..... Apologies for the bad French in this, it's been a very long time since I studied it, and I wasn't any good at it to start with. Corrections gratefully received. There is nothing very disturbing in this story. Well, there is a rather brutal murder, but I don't go into gory details. No sex or bad language, but a Mulder/Scully romance warning applies, though it's only briefly mentioned in passing, OK? SPOILER WARNING. All episodes season three, even though I haven't seen them. Though really I only spoil Quagmire in any detail. This story has three endings. Please read as far as the detective's words, inviting you to choose a solution, then just pick one. As you wish.... Still here? I salute your courage! You'll need it.... The Mysterious Affair At Vancouver. or Murder On The X-Files Bandwagon. by Michelle Hiley. fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk The X-Files set, Vancouver, Canada. Sometime in 1996. "Now then sir. Let's take a deep breath shall we? I understand you're upset, not a nice thing finding a dead body and all. Just calm yourself, and we'll go over it again in your own time." Darin Morgan drew a deep breath. "Thank you officer. I'm fine now." "Good. Now you are Mr Darin Morgan, is that correct? You're a writer?" Morgan nodded. "And this morning you were out behind the set, when you noticed the ground had been recently disturbed. Is that so?" Morgan nodded again. "Howard and I were curious, so we poked around...and, oh God... we didn't know. I mean we hadn't seen him this morning, but we just thought he hadn't come in yet...." He stopped, unable to go on. The policeman patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "It's alright Mr Morgan, take your time. So, you dug and you found the body. I understand you've been able to positively ID it?" "Yes. It's Chris...Chris Carter. The show's creator." "And when did you see Mr Carter last?" "Last night. He stayed behind with the main characters. He wanted to discuss plot developments with them." "I see." The policeman snapped his notebook shut. "Thank you Mr Morgan. I think that will be all for now." Turning away from the distraught writer, he walked over to the shadows and proffered his notes to the man standing there. The man waved them away. "Merci mon ami, but I heard. You have the autopsy report, yes?" The policeman passed it to him. "Yes, sir. According to it Mr Carter was shot, stabbed, drowned and possibly buried alive. In addition he had been pushed from a great height, smothered and had burns on him. Unusual burns. Also he had been strangled, and there were traces of poison in his body. Any of these may well have been the cause of death." The Great Detective drew in his breath. "Mon Dieu! I think it safe to assume Monsieur Carter, he was not well liked?" "On the contrary sir, a most affable fellow according to the crew. Mr Morgan and Mr Gordon seem genuinely upset by events." "It is so?" The detective tapped a pencil against his face, seeming to come to a conclusion. "Bien. Be so good as to have all the characters present last night assemble inside the main building. Also the corpse in its coffin, I would like it to be there. Then go, and take everyone else with you. From now on I, the Master Sleuth, will handle this." "Very good sir." ***** "How long are they going to keep us here?" "However long it takes." The man's voice was hushed, solemn. "They must suspect one of us did it. It's a serious crime, killing your own creator. It's...it's...", he sought for the word, "Godicide." A few of the others turned pale. "What...what do you suppose they'll ask?" The man shook his head. Abruptly one of the three women jumped to her feet. "Well, I'm not just sitting here with that." She indicated the coffin placed respectfully to one side of the room, away from the living occupants. "I need fresh air. If I'm wanted for *questioning*", she almost spat out the word, "I'll be outside." The others watched her go. "You've got to admire her." Langly mused. "Yeah." said Mulder, Pendrell and Frohike in chorus. ***** The morning air seemed cool and fresh on her face as Dana Scully leaned against the fence outside. For all she was a forensic scientist she hadn't wanted to spend any more time than was necessary with Chris's body. Abruptly her thoughts were disturbed as a small dapper man emerged from the shadows. Until then she hadn't noticed that the set was deserted. "Who are you?" The mysterious little man raised his hat. "Mamselle Scully, it is necessary I should be here. You understand, I am the detective. It is..how do you say it..obligatory that I am here? Now, if you will permit, the suspects they are all inside?" Scully nodded, dumbfounded. The man bowed to her. "Formidable. Then Mamselle, you will join us? Merci." He followed her into the building closing the door behind them. ***** Inside he looked around at them all. "Good morning. You will understand if I waste no time in introductions. I know who you all are, each week I watch the show. Fascinating, truly fascinating! I thank you all for assembling here for me. Madame, I am delighted to see you in better health." This last to Mrs Mulder. "As for myself, I am the Great Belgian Detective. I am here to explain to you who it was killed Monsieur Carter. For you see", he paused for dramatic effect, "already I know who did this thing!" He was suitably rewarded by a gasp of surprise. "First, I must assure myself everything is ready for the denouement, the explanation of this case! I must announce to the readers my suspect list. I must ensure my leaps of logic are as unbelievable as they are convoluted. And I must mention the little red herrings, the red hair clutched in the dead man's hand, the cigarette ash in his clothing." There were gasps from three of the suspects. The Belgian waved his hand. "Merely trivialities. It is clear to me Monsieur Carter had recently purchased a red setter. While exercising this dog, he took advantage of the time to sneakily take up smoking." "What?" spluttered Mr X. "That's ridiculous!" "Be quiet!" Cancer Man hissed as Pendrell nudged X in the ribs. Scully nodded. "Sounds fine to me." She glared at X then returned her gaze to the detective. "Please, continue." "So" The detective nodded approval fiddling with his moustaches. "Messieurs Mulder, Skinner, X, Pendrell, Byers, Langly, and Frohike. Madame Mulder. Madame and Mamselle Scully. And this gentleman." He waved a hand politely in the direction of Cancer Man. "Together with myself and the victim, it makes thirteen, which is as it should be. Everything is thus in order, we may proceed." "Proceed how?" This from Byers. "We will examine the pertinent facts. Monsieur Carter, he stayed late last evening, did he not? To discuss a new plotline?" "Yes. A follow up to the Colony/End Game storyline. The aliens' colonisation plans would take a step nearer completion. He had plans for all the major characters, so we were kept behind, so he could discuss it with us. He went to the bathroom, leaving us reading the script on the set. He never came back." "Indeed. And it was after this he disappeared, is that not so?" Byers nodded. "We'd assumed he'd gone home. We waited, then turned in for the night. Next thing we knew, Darin and Howard had found the body." "And then he is found, murdered. Murdered by an insane killer, who in a frenzy of hatred killed Monsieur Carter again and again. Now I ask myself, who could do such a thing? And why?" The detective waited for an answer, but was greeted by silence. "Very well." The Great Belgian Detective sighed. "I will tell you, to show my cleverness." He beamed amiably at them. "It is not needed, that we establish characters. Anyone reading this will know who you are, know your relationships with each other. It is necessary only to reveal the three solutions." "Three?" chipped in Mulder. "Assuredly" said the detective, with an insufferably superior air. "And the readers may choose which they wish to be the Truth. After all, the real truth it depends who you ask, does it not Monsieur Mulder?" He turned to the reader of the story. "Bien, now it is up to you. Choose, which of the three solutions that follow you most like....." ***** Solution Number One. The detective peered at the reader. "So, you like the first solution? Then on to the denouement! To me it is clear, the murder was the work of one person, and one person only. This person was able to sneak up unseen, allay the victim's suspicions and then murder him. This he did while you were all out on the set. No doubt you were all too absorbed in the script to pay proper attention." Mulder looked at him, puzzled. "But if we were all on the set, then how could one of us have done it? It couldn't have been suicide!" "This is true Monsieur Mulder." The Belgian nodded sagely. "Because you see *I committed the crime*....." Everyone in the room gasped again. "You?" spluttered Skinner. "But you were not even here! And what possible motive could you have?" The detective bowed to him. Then his form shimmered, changed...and they found themselves looking at the alien bounty hunter. Mulder jumped to his feet. "Oh my God!" "Arnold?" said Cancer Man. The bounty hunter nodded. "Me. I was on the set all along, Chris had ordered me to be there. But, as you perhaps know," he said, turning to Cancer Man, "his storylines were getting dangerously near the truth. He had to be stopped, had to be replaced by other writers, before he stumbled onto something." "Indeed." This from Mulder, through clenched teeth as Scully pulled him down to sit beside her. "Tell me more." Arnold shook his head. "No, no Mr Mulder. Not until the end of season five. You'll just have to be patient until then. In the meantime, you'll all be keeping quiet about this, now won't you? The case will be marked as "unsolved". Another writer, less interested in the alien plot line will take over. Admittedly Chris wasn't the only one working on it, but I think the others will take the hint. I'll stay around to keep an eye on things. I'm in more episodes than you think. A table here, a chair there. Half a dozen bit players, even on occasion a dog." Abruptly his form changed again, becoming small, golden and fluffy. "Queequag?" Scully said in amazement. The dog became Arnold again. "Yes. I'm surprised it never dawned on you Agent Scully. Didn't you realise that you never saw the dog and the bounty hunter in the same place at the same time? I faked my dog persona's death in "Quagmire" in time to return as the bounty hunter in "Talitha Cumi". I'll be around all next season, as something or someone." He grinned horribly. "See if you can spot me.... And remember, silence or else...." They all nodded. Only a fool would risk being stalked by a shapeshifter. Langly spoke. "Can I ask one thing?" The bounty hunter nodded. "Why so many methods of death? Why not just a simple slash with that ice pick thing?" The bounty hunter looked mournful. "I've mislaid it again. And I can never remember how best to kill humans. I figured better safe than sorry. Got the job done anyway." "That's true." Cancer Man coughed. "Very well then. I hereby declare this case officially covered up, as set out in chapter one line six of the secret governmental guidelines on coverups. This case remains unsolved. People, let's go talk the new writer into improving our dialogue. I haven't had a good line in this whole damn story." Nodding, the others followed him outside. The end. Solutions two and three follow in the second part: From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Thu Sep 19 18:36:44 1996 From: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk ("Michelle Hiley.") Subject: NEW: 2/2 The Mysterious Affair At Vancouver. Message-ID: <843176204snz@hiley.demon.co.uk> Date: Thu, 19 Sep 96 23:36:44 GMT Reply-To: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk X-Newsreader: Demon Internet Simple News v1.30 Lines: 369 Path: news.ro.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!arclight.uoregon.edu!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!hiley.demon.co.uk!fbi_basement Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative X-NNTP-Posting-User: fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk X-Mail2News-Path: hiley.demon.co.uk ***** Solution Number Two. "Number Two please" said the reader. The detective nodded. "Very well. This solution is the simplest, and easiest by far. For in this one, *none* of the characters in the story committed the crime! X looked at him dubiously. "Well *somebody* had to have done it." "But you see," the detective said wisely, "there is one whom we have not considered. One who knew everyone's movements, who knew when Monsieur Carter was alone. She was embittered, yes. You see, due to the series being postponed where she lived, she was forced to miss an episode tonight, an episode she will not see for a week because she was on holiday! An episode she could not tape herself, but must rely on the kindness of others and pray. Ladies, gentlemen, when due to network politics a relationshipper is forced to miss the premiere of "Pusher", there is no accounting for her actions. In a murderous rage she struck out blindly at the man who had made her wait so long for even the slightest easing of the UST." "No!" gasped Pendrell in horror. The Belgian patted him on the arm. "It is so Monsieur. J'accuse Madame Hiley, the author of this sorry tale. She, and she alone killed Monsieur Carter, on behalf of the relationshippers." Shaking his head sadly the little man sat back down as everyone stared with horror out of the monitor at the woman behind it all... OK, I'm turning myself in. I did it. I'd like Ra Enright as defence counsel, and Vickie Moseley as judge please. And I want to hand-pick the jury...Kelli Rocherolle, MaryKate Robinson, Amy Schatz, Sheryl Martin, Juliettt, Rosie Passanisi....and the rest at random from either the Calpoly romance archive or Extreme Possibilities the romance mailing list....I'm sorry, I just couldn't take the UST anymore...I plead provocation....I didn't mean for it to happen...please, just take me away from all this... The end. ***** Solution Number Three. "You wish for the third solution?" said the Belgian. "Formidable! This one, it is long, and entirely preposterous. I hope you enjoy it..." He smiled grimly. "We will begin with the motives. We will begin....with *you* Monsieur X." X swallowed hard and sat up straighter in his chair. "Me? I had no reason to kill Chris." "Non? I think you did. You had no choice. You knew what had happened to Monsieur Deep Throat. Carter had put you in an impossible, dangerous position. Eventually you would be killed off. You did not want it, to share your predecessor's fate." He stared hard at X, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "So, before he could push you, you pushed him. From a very great height. In what order you did this, before he was stabbed shot and all the rest of it, I do not know, nor do I care. But I, the detective know this, to save yourself, you took a part in Monsieur Carter's death." "How... how did you know how I felt?" X said quietly. "Mon brave, it was obvious. You are perhaps more to be pitied than condemned. It was..how do you say..." "Self preservation?" Quiet Mrs Mulder spoke up. The detective beamed at her. "Indeed Madame." "So that's it?" asked Pendrell. "He did it?" "Perhaps so." The Belgian turned to face him. "But he is assuredly not the only one with a motive, is that not so Agent Pendrell? For you *also* had motive and malice." Pendrell flushed under the gazes being turned on him. "That's untrue! I had no motive! I wasn't going to be written out...I don't think..." His voice trailed off. "No" the detective agreed. "But there was another reason. Monsieur Carter, he publicly humiliated you, did he not? He forced you to condemn yourself from your own mouth! He called you...what is it that word?" "Doof." said Pendrell miserably. "Exactement! A deuf. You are a proud man Monsieur Pendrell, an expert scientist. This man, this *writer* he took away that pride. He smothered it, just as you smothered him with a pillow. And regarde!", he pulled something off Pendrell's sleeve, "a feather. You also are responsible." Pendrell looked at him, silent. The detective regarded him for a long moment. "But, there is more to this case. Far, far more. We must now consider the case of the dog in the night time." They looked at him puzzled. "Come, come." The man tapped his head. "Use the little grey cells. It is a classic riddle. Why did the dog do nothing in the night time? Why did it not bark?" Mulder finally spoke up. "I don't know. Why?" The detective clapped his hands together. "Because, my friends, *it had been eaten by a crocodile*!" "Alligator." "Sea monster." "Whatever!" The little detective raised his voice. "And assuredly the fate of the dog is part of the next solution. Is it not Mamselle Dana?" "I don't understand you." Scully's voice was cold and hard, but she was obviously fighting tears. "Then let me explain." The detective's voice was gentle. "Admit it. You hated him. He had you abducted. He murdered your father, and your sister. He had your little dog eaten. There is no shame Mamselle Dana. You *hated* heem! And so, you took the gun that had killed your sister, and you shot Monsieur Carter, the man who had made you endure all this." Scully said nothing, simply burying her head in her hands as if finally it was all too much. As they watched great sobs racked her body. "Leave her alone!" Mulder sprang across the room, putting a soothing arm around his partner. "You have no idea of the suffering he caused her... no idea..." His voice trailed off as he held Scully close, letting her cry down his front. The detective patted Scully's hand. "Eh bien, Mamselle Scully, I am not without feeling for all you have suffered. Just as I appreciate *your* anguish M'sieur." This last was directed at Mulder. Mulder flushed. "And just what do you mean by that?" The man regarded him gravely. "You wish me to spell it out? Very well then. You fell in love with Mamselle Scully. You pleaded with Monsieur Carter. But he would not let you be together. He kept you apart, taunted you by seeing her daily but never being allowed to express your feelings. Mon Dieu, the man was monstrous, monstrous! It is not to be wondered at if you wished to kill him. He stabbed you to the heart. And just so you stabbed *him* to the heart. Is it not so?" Mulder just looked shyly at Scully, who had stopped crying and was regarding him with a look of wonder. It was Scully who spoke first. "Mulder? Do you...do you feel that way?" At his shy nod, she smiled. "Me too." She pulled his head down for a first gentle kiss. The detective watched them with satisfaction. "Ah, l'amour! It is always sweet to see. Perhaps whoever takes over the series may be more kind. Meanwhile, my solution to the case, it is not yet over. If I might have your attention again, Agents?" Sheepishly Mulder and Scully broke apart. "My thanks. Now, to the very mysterious burns. I wondered at first if they were the result of a cigarette." He looked sideways at Cancer Man who remained impassive. "But no. I discovered from the forensic team that they were caused" he paused "by a microwave!" Mr X snorted. "You saying the caterers did it?" "Non Monsieur. I am saying the deceased was bombarded with microwaves! It is an extraordinary idea, I know, but one that has found favour recently among the more extreme groups. Those that favour conspiracies. They would choose such a bizarre and uncertain means of death, just for the hell of it, and to get their message across. You see, when Monsieur Carter killed the Thinker, there were those that swore revenge against the man who had murdered their friend, merely for ratings." His eyes turned to the Lone Gunmen. Byers, Langly and Frohike exchanged looks. Then Byers cleared his throat. "Very well. It's true. The Thinker, he was the best of us, and they killed him, like you'd kill a dog!" Dana stirred in her chair. Byers gave her an apologetic glance. "Sorry." She smiled and nodded, accepting his apology. "It is as I thought." continued the detective. "You were angry about your friend's death. And there was more, n'est pas?" "He never took us seriously!" burst out Langly. "We were just comic relief to him. He never gave us serious work to do. We could have been great, we could have been heroes. Instead, people laughed at us." His voice trailed off bitterly. "And we never got any women." This from Frohike. "Ah les femmes! Always the frustration!" The Belgian paused. "And sometimes, les femmes, they take the law into their own hands. Do they not Madame Mulder?" Mrs Mulder's hand shook, but her voice remained calm. "Indeed? And now I suppose you are going to accuse *me* of some involvement in this ghastly crime?" "Of course you were involved. You drowned him, did you not? Held his head under in the men's room washbasin. He had had your husband killed in a bathroom, had taken your daughter away from you. But that was not the main reason you killed him, was it Madame?" "No" said Mrs Mulder quietly. "So then." the detective coaxed. "Tell us. What was it?" She didn't speak. "Then I will tell you. He took away your good name. He took away your name *completely*. You had no name. You felt less than a person, not an individual. To everyone you were simply Mrs Mulder. Scully's mother, she was allowed a name. But you? You he denied this simplest of human rights, recognition as a person. A *name*." She was crying openly now. "It's true" she sobbed. "I begged him. Any name, however awful! Do you have any idea the hell my married life has been? How difficult it's been to raise children, when you can't even fill in a simple form easily? My signature has to be illegible. I just wanted a name, that's all. It wasn't much to ask...." She broke down as Margaret Scully put a comforting arm around her. "There, there. Don't cry. We'll all help you pick a name, now that man is dead. We'll get one of those name books, have a naming party." "Really?" Mrs Mulder looked at her gratefully. "Thank you, Margaret." "I think there will be others for that party." The detective looked speculatively at Cancer Man and Mr X. "But I think they did not mind quite as much as Madame Mulder. Monsieur X, we have established why *he* did it. But what of you Monsieur, with the cigarette?" Cancer Man stubbed out his cigarette. "Me? I didn't care. I have no motive." "But you do...we know you must. It is inevitable *you* are involved somewhere along the line. You had not one, but two motives. For Monsieur Carter was killing you." The shocked reaction he got clearly pleased the detective. "You see, this gentleman was being forced to smoke by the demands of Carter's scripts. This he did not mind so much, but Monsieur Carter decreed that he should contract cancer. He was *poisoning* you against your will, was he not? So you poisoned him. It was fair. It was just, in your eyes. And there was more. You did not like the part you were being forced to play, did you M'sieur?" "No." came the gravelly voice. "No, I didn't like it at all. I wanted...." "Go on" prompted the little man. Cancer Man's face cracked and to everyone's astonishment he began to cry. "I wanted to be *loved*. The things he made me do, horrific things! I had no friends, no family. Just some power. All I ever wanted was to be a nice guy, maybe now Bill was gone to marry...marry..umm..." He looked at Mrs Mulder. "Mrs Mulder." said Mrs Mulder. "Marry Mrs Mulder! I would have been a good husband, if he'd let me, kind, considerate. If they marry " he indicated Mulder and Scully "I might even have been a grandfather. I just wanted to be a kind, avuncular figure, not the monster he insisted on painting me. It's..it's so lonely a role...." He stopped. Mrs Mulder, in control again, gently took his hand. Margaret put her hand on his shoulder and spoke. "It's alright. We're all in this together. We're your friends, you aren't alone. We care about you. *Don't* we Fox?" This last was accompanied by a glare at her daughter's partner, a glare that said, don't start trouble. Mulder swallowed. How bad could it be? If the price of getting Dana was accepting a new improved Cancer Man as his stepfather and a friend, it was worth paying. Reluctantly he nodded. "Mulder and Scully together. *Him* as a cuddly friendly figure. What the hell is this going to do for the ratings?", Skinner observed. The detective spun to face him. "Ah! I almost forgot you! Yes, indeed, the ratings. I hope if they drop, it will not harm your career?" Skinner shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows, they might rise. It doesn't matter." "Non?" The detective waved a finger at him. "I thought you had more concern for your career. After all, you just committed murder for it." Skinner scowled. "You guessed. I shouldn't be surprised. Yeah. I'm *popular*. The fans like me. But what did I get to do? Nothing! I just sit in that office, week after week, only getting out to be beaten up by Krycek, or shot at by villains, or attacked by irate women that have been convinced I stole their bags! I'm *good*. I would have been *great*. But he wouldn't give me a bigger slice of the action. He wanted me there, as the stooge. He was strangling my career, my freedom of expression! So...." "So, you strangled him. With your big powerful hands." The detective looked at them. "What a bunch of sad lonely people, all caught up in their hate. As a group, I pity you. All of you, all guilty. Because, of course, it is the classic solution. You all did it. And then you covered up for one another." "But you haven't accused us all." pointed out Mr X. "You haven't laid any charges against Mrs Scully. She has to go free." The detective sighed. "Ah, yes. Poor Madame Scully. Her motive, it is not dissimilar to her daughter's. Is that not so, Madame?" Margaret Scully took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "It is so." "Ah, what you have suffered Madame! But he thought it amusing did he not, that you should suffer?" "He said...he said I added heart to the show. The suffering placid woman. But I am not placid! He...that man planned to murder both my sons! Then all my neighbours one by one. Then I was to be stricken with a deadly disease. I could take no more. My family, *her* family", she pointed at Mrs Mulder, "were at risk. He had to go." "Indeed. And so, you buried him. Buried him as you have buried so many others. Only this one, he wasn't quite dead yet...." "No." "Ah well." The Great Detective regarded them all. "Solution three, it is now done. In the absence of a butler, I reach the only conclusion I can come to. You *all* did it. When Monsieur Carter stayed behind to discuss the plot developments, developments you did not like, you exploded with rage. Without fully knowing what you were doing, you attacked him en masse. Finally the worm, as you say, had turned." Dana spoke up. "What do you plan to do with us?" The Belgian smiled. "Nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing. As I said, you are a sad group, driven by desperation against a man who subjected you to things no human should have to endure. And besides, without you, there is no show. And that would be the greatest of tragedies. You will give me your word, all of you, that you will not kill whoever takes over? That I will not be called someday to solve Monsieur Morgan's demise? Or that of M'sieur Gordon? That you will come to me if you feel so driven?" They nodded. "Then" the man finally bowed to them all "it is over. Case closed, unsolved. I shall forget what it is I know. I think you will have an easier time with another in charge perhaps. Now...could someone please explain to me all this terribly confusing business with the aliens? Merci....." Beaming happily, he sat back amidst a group of happy, hopeful people.... The end. Le finis...... That's all, thanks for ploughing through it. I know, it's long. Comments and constructive criticism welcome at fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Recently there has been some discussion as to different authors wanting different levels of criticism. So what level of criticism do I want? Well if you liked it, please tell me. If you liked it but want to point out where I can improve it, please tell me. If you really hated it, and can't find anything good to say about it, please don't bother flaming me. Thanks.