…the horse was named Cyril
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The Doclopedia #1,981
Unusual Murder Weapons: Bag Of Dice
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“Damn, Sarge, what do you think made a head wound like that? Some sort of club?”
“I’ll be damned if I know, Yeung. I guess we’ll have to wait for the M.E. And then…”
“It was a bag of metal dice. A good sized one, too. Probably made of leather.”
“Who the hell are you? How did you get past the tape and the officers back there?”
“Me? Oh, I’m the Doctor. I just walked in while they weren’t looking. Anyway, as you can see there and there, the wounds correspond roughly to a four sided die and a 20 sided die. The wounds here and here are regular 6 siders.”
“Get the hell out of here before I…”
“Wait, Sarge, he might be onto something. My nephew is over at GenCon right now and they play D&D with dice like this. Maybe some gamer did kill this guy.”
“Hmm, okay, suppose I buy this all, Doctor…?”
“Just Doctor. Well then, you’d want to know that whoever killed this man did it with a bag full of metal dice about the size of a large grapefruit. They were shorter than him and left handed. No doubt the dice bag took a bit of damage and now has blood stains on it. Hmm, look there. Those tennis shoe prints show somebody running south out of the alley. And there is some long hair. Blonde, I’d say. You’re looking for a man or woman about 5′ 6” tall, new sneakers, long blonde hair and a messed up dice bag. And the victim was killed in the last 2 hours.”
“You sound like Sherlock Holmes.”
“He would be amused to hear you say that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my bus and tend to personal business.”
“The hell you will! You’re a person of interest. Yeung, keep him here while I go see what’s keeping the M.E.”
“You look like you have a question, officer.”
“Yeah…um, aren’t you supposed to be British?”
“Ah, a secret geek! No, not me. Born and raised in California. Now, you really do need to excuse me.”
“I can’t let you go.”
“I know, so if you’ll just look at this.”
“Is that a neuralizer?”
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The Doclopedia #1,982
Unusual Murder Weapons: Melted Butter
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“Expense account item twelve: Five dollars to the grocery delivery boy I say leaving Philippe Arrigas’ house. I asked the kid if he’d seen anything strange up there and he gave me an earful. Seems he’d just made his third trip to the house with 20 pounds of butter. Seems Arrigas had taken a commission to do a butter sculpture of something for a big dairy show somewhere. Quite a change from marble and clay, but I guess alimony to three ex-wives and hush money to somebody I hadn’t identified yet will change a man’s priorities.
Anyway, the kid said the whole house smelled like they were getting ready to pop popcorn and Arrigas was in a hurry to get more butter. I asked if anyone was else was up there and he said he’d heard a woman’s voice, but didn’t see her.
I was just thanking him when the black sports car I’d seen outside the museum the night before came flying out of the driveway and roared off up Bay Street. I handed the kid the fiver, told him to go call the cops and started running up to the house.
When I got there, I called for Arrigas, but got no answer. With a bad feeling starting in my gut I ran to the studio in back. I almost slipped and fell when I got there because of the greasy floor. What I saw was both chilling and maybe the strangest thing I’ll ever see.
There was Philippe Arrigas, submerged upside down in a large cauldron of melted butter, dead as a lobster.”
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