Dick Clever

It's Dick and Doc, Doc and Dick, investigating a murder most grim. And fishy. That sort of word gets thrown around a lot when you have a trail of victims each with a cod piece shoved in some orifice. Truly disgusting. Luckily everyone here is entirely professional and knows exactly how to handle a situation like this. Like every situation before them. Professional etiquette, a clean autopsy, and enough food to feed a small nation. We begin our investigation, wondering where in the world it will lead us. 

Like any good Detective Story, including ones with Cod Pieces, there's a captain who's ready to put a screw in the works. Like an old cliché that couldn't hack retirement, our Captain requires a firm word or two with Dick, who has equally firm words back. It's one thing you can say about Dick: he's firm and ready. Ready to follow the crumbs to these sick and twisted murders. And Kransky? Well...who the hell knows what's happening between those ears.

Fish Fridays have never been the same. Not since the Cod Piece Murderer began ravaging the city. Each victim with a fish finger wedged in one of their orifices. Sickening. With another body hitting the floor, Dick turns to an old friend, Adhere, for some help in these fishy murders. Will the Irishman have some answers, or just more questions to add to the count? Only time could tell, and she was a fickle thing who flaunted her talents over dying grandmothers and high school students taking exams. She could make a minute feel like eternity and eternity feel like nothing at all.

9:13 on a Friday night when Jack Frost blew through the precinct, stirring Dick's papers, rustling his thoughts and cooling his tootsies. It's the sort of night that can bring an incredibly hot, steamy and paper-thin Dame in to lend a hand. Instead, he got Regina. All curves and body, with a mind as sharp as a tack and a lead so hot Dick could melt, weren't it for Jack Frost and his cold, cold breeze. Is Dick one step closer to finding the killer? We can only wait and see.

It was late afternoon, dusk just on the horizon and beyond that were Dick's dreams of a quiet evening with a bowl of Spaghettios and a beer. Shattered, knocked over and left as a stain on the carpet while the more urgent business of murder rose to the occasion. The added complication? Too many cooks in the kitchen and not enough food to go around. With a fresh corpse and a morsel of evidence, Dick is determined to keep this one to himself.                         

7:15 and the moon rose over a cold bay. It was like a ghostly woman watching over lost souls making their way in this cold, harsh world. A poet falls in love with her glow, her soul, her smile, while Dick was stuck with another body, another cold night and another collection of conversations ranging from absurd to mildly threatening. I mean, who would ever think Dick needed a partner? He's totally fine on his own. A lone ranger. A man of his own mind. Adhere on the other hand...maybe he needed a hand to hold.

It's a new day, a new dawn, and a new partner enters Dick's life. A female, woman. Putting aside his frustrations, his anger, and his need for a baloney sandwich, Dick prepares to tackle this case headfirst with some fresh eyes and even fresher baloney. Maybe his hunger needed to be addressed. But beyond his hunger was Petra, and hopefully some first-rate detective skills that would crack this case. Even if she was a rookie. Straight out of university.  

8:20 on a morning where you could cut the fog with a spoon and dish it up to unsuspecting children, Dick found himself in an alleyway. And like most alleyways, there was a body. And Adhere. He seems to hang around Alleyways a lot. And bars. And circus tents. Anyway, with a new body comes a new lead, and a new lead can lead to other leads that can lead to answers or dead ends that bring us back to alleyways. 

A new clue, and it doesn't involve Colonel Mustard, a blue piñata, and ten gallons of olive oil. It does, however, help connect the dots to the murder weapon and the potential owner of the potential weapon. Or a definite weapon. We all know it's a cod piece. A fish finger. A piece of fish with crumbs all over them. We just don't know which sick son of a gun is doing it. 

With Regina about to spill the beans, the ham and several different condiments, the case was finally getting the lead it deserved. Or needed. Or something. She had seen the Urologist to the Stars, Red Tinkles, the day before his brutal murder. And in that very office, there was a packet from a fish finger, from the renowned gourmet chef, Pierre Pousson. Would he spill the beans? Or clam up? Wave the white flag or see red at such accusations? There was only one way to find out. And it did not involve making mad passionate love. Much to the disappointment of pretty much everyone.

5:15 on a wet afternoon. It hadn't rained; it was just wet. Dick Clever enters Pierre Pousson's famous bakery to question Pierre himself. Confronting him over the fish finger packet and the Cod Piece Murders. Will he deny the undeniable? Or will the undeniable need to be denied? It's all rather confusing and befuddling, but at least Petra is having a good time.

Cecil Lardbottom, what was he hiding? What could he hide? Only too much or perhaps nothing at all. Dick and Petra endeavour to wrap up their line of questioning only to get drawn into Doc's world of corpses, food and other delicious morsels of information. Will this latest body hold clues to our fishy murderer? Will Doc master the art of baking up pastries? Will Petra question why she wanted to be a detective under a man known as Dick? Listen on to find out. 

So, Dick's next lead lay dead on the slab in Doc's room. Or at least his head. Who had killed Ernest Nutpucker, and why had he ordered alarge quantity of fish fingers? It was late, and Dick had yet another dead end or end dead....But who should enter the scene, adding another layer of information? Just the resident etcher and her absurdly good sense of hearing.

9:55, and a mist rolled in from the lounge room as Dick and Petra questioned the enormous character of Cecil Lardbottom. Between him and Pierre and the tongs or thongs, Dick was hoping to close the case up tighter than an overloaded burrito at a pop-up burrito stand. But like every aspect of this case, nothing is quite as it seems.

It was 3:15pm, and the forecast didn't look good, and Dick had forgotten his umbrella. Not fatal to the case at hand, but enough of an annoyance while wading through the list of suspects. Slowly or Quickly,  narrowing them down, leading to an arrest. Hopefully. But who would be so brazen as to commit these heinous crimes? Who would dare use fish in such a way that defiles the human body? Who could lead Dick on this wild goose chase and not be able to own an iPhone because villains can't have iPhones in the media? Listen on. Or don't. It's up to you, really.