Clueless

[Content Warnings: Contains mentions of blood, gore, suicide and murder.]

Marida Martinez flinched as Detective Blinds snapped his fingers.

              “So, you all are wondering why I gathered you here. Does that sound about right?” He chuckled as he loosened the bowtie from his pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt.

              “Sir, did you figure it out? You deduced the culprit?” the large, hunched deputy asked, a dented metal flashlight rattled in his shaking hands.

              “No, I merely ‘opened my eyes wide,’” Blinds jingled with a wink, “and the truth was right here, all along.”

              “Then get it over with,” Marida mumbled, “I can’t take this uncertainty anymore. I just want to go home.” She clenched her hands and felt her nails digging into her palms. She had tried her best to act steamed, but deep down she was bubbling with anticipation. There was no detective like Blair Blinds. Between his closure of the ‘Disco-Death-Dance-Fever Case’, the ‘Red-House, Red-Moon Serial Murder’, and especially the ‘Funeral-Flower Flamethrower-Homicide’  he had become the public face of the indie-detective scene. He wasn’t like those other ‘armchair amateurs’, he was regularly out in the field, not afraid to dive from frying pan into flames. Marida felt the acid in her stomach groan and lurch; she prayed it wasn’t loud enough for Blinds to hear.

              “I agree with Miss Martinez…” Mrs. Freed sighed, crossing her arms and leaning against the table, just subtly enough to not wrinkle her purple suede suit, “I know you needed to lock down the resort until you solved this murder, but three days is just too long. You have any idea how much the water bill alone costs here? I know you have a legal right during the investigation, but as the manager of this establishment… and as your friend, I’ll be honest… I don’t care for the spectacle Blair; if you know the truth, wrap it up. Was this a suicide or murder?”

              Blinds let out a dry chuckle as he lowered his AquaFinale branded sunglasses, “Sorry Carla, you know me. I tend to get lost in the moment.”

              A low laughter spread among the resort night crew, all isolated here during the initial storm and following chaos. It rebounded off the large domed glass ceiling of the empty indoor waterpark. Blinds looked upwards in response and strained his eyes as if he was searching for something among the spotted clouds above.

              “Excuse my brief theatrics, but over the last seventy-four hours I have had the pleasure to get to know the twelve of you well. We shared laughter; we shared food; we shared company. But at the heart of this is the death we all share in burdening. It pains me to admit it, but my theory, that Mister Dabby Shawl did not in fact slice his own jugular with a straight razor… ended up being correct.”

              Marida flicked her eyes around at her co-workers but couldn’t get a good read of the room. She felt the three-day old sushi continue to wreak havoc within her bowels.

              “Dabby Shawl was murdered. And the culprit is here, standing among you. I read through Dabby’s journal, and I found no traces of depression or suicidal tendencies. The only thing he was inflicted by was a strange desire to ‘ride his skateboard down one of the waterslides’ before he quit or was let go from his temporary job here. And while such an attempt would have surely killed him, his fire was snuffed out prematurely by the villain pretending to be his friendly coworker. Pretending to be your ally.” Blinds fully removed the sunglasses from his head, gently placing them on the damp concrete floor, before stomping them beneath his sandals in a fit of rage. Marida felt her skin cringe as Blinds let out an animalistic shout.

              “Murder is wrong! I can’t stand that some animal would devolve into such base violence!”

              “Blair! Cool it!” Mrs. Freed barked.

              “You’re right,” Blinds sighed, massaging his temples with both hands, “this always brings out the worst in me.”

              He took a deep breath and swung his pointer finger directly towards Marida.

              “Deputy Samuel Graves, would you kindly place Miss Martinez under arrest?” Blinds glared at her as if she were the scum of the earth.

              “Yes sir.” Graves slowly took one step towards her.

              “Hold on!” Marida blurted out, “You’re saying I killed Dabby?! Me?!”

              “Exactly.”

              “I would never!”

              “Yet you did.” Blinds sighed.

              “With what proof?!” Marida croaked out. She felt her face turn beat red, and tears sting in her eyes. She struggled against the nausea overtaking her, fighting back the grin attempting to seep its way onto her visage. She grasped at the stainless-steel Lily wreath necklace, the one she had never taken off since that day. The day that brought her here.

              Blair snapped his fingers.

“I’ll show you. Everyone, follow me to the evidence I’ve located of this violent plot. But… cuff her first. Let’s try to avoid any more bloodshed if possible.” He winked.

              “Mrs. Freed?!” Marida turned to plead with her boss.

              “Sweetie, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but this… this,” Carla vaguely gestured to all of Marida, “…really doesn’t help your case.” 

              Marida silently hung her head as Graves tightened his zip-tie plastic hand cuffs around her. She bit her lip, before making a panicked glance up to make sure Blinds didn’t catch the unconscious reaction underneath her long black bangs.

              “Sorry,” Graves whispered, “is that too tight?”

              “It’s fine.” Marida huffed.

              First, Blinds led everyone towards the hotel room Dabby was found in. He ushered everyone in front of the entryway to the bathroom.

              “As you know, Mrs. Freed and I first found Dabby here at 2:32pm, Monday Afternoon. This was approximately thirteen hours after the power went out the night prior. His jugular was lacerated… and based on the amount of dried blood present in the then 72-degree room, he had died roughly five-hours prior.”

              Blinds slowly lifted the beach towel laid over Dabby’s corpse, face down in the stained remnants of a crimson-brown puddle. Multiple people present overtly shielded their eyes.

              Blinds pulled a disposable pair of rubber gloves from his back pocket, and mimicking a surgeon, donned them by stretching the material before releasing them with an audible snap.

              “In his bag, I found this.” Blinds whispered as he squatted down and pulled out a single shred of paper, with a surface area less than one centimeter, from Dabby’s backpack.

              “What is that, Boss?” Graves asked, while holding out an evidence bag for Blinds to place the spec into.

              “A blood-stained crumb of paper. The contents of Dabby’s bag are all slightly bloody. But the entire outside of the bag is completely dry. So how then, did traces of blood end up in the bag?”

              “Jesus Blair, get to the point.” Mrs. Freed sighed.

              Without saying another word, Blinds led everyone out of the room and into the employee storage area.

              “Carla, would you please open Miss Martinez’s locker? I’m afraid I’m unable to open it, as only you, with your master key; or her, with her personal key; could get in here.”

              “There’s nothing in there!” Marida spat. Her arms and legs tingled, the walls of the room began to spiral and dance around her. She wanted to flail her restrained arms but fought back the urge.

              “You’re right, there is nothing in here.” Blinds playfully chanted, as Mrs. Freed opened the door to reveal the empty container, “But nothing will ultimately hide nothing.” He donned a new set of gloves, and with his finger, outlined a rectangular growth of orange rust on the floor of the locker.

              Graves pulled a roll of measuring tape from his pouch, “It’s 4.25 by 6.87 inches.”

              “Interesting~” Blinds whistled, “Can anyone now guess the location of our third and final stop of the evening?”

              Everyone stood silently, eyeing Marida.

              “Congratulations, you all get bonus points. Yes, it shall be the suite currently occupied by our Miss Martinez,” Blinds clapped along to a rhythm only he, and he alone, seemed to know, “But I’m sorry to say, since the power is still out, we won’t be able to take the elevator; we’ll have to walk up all those stairs to the fifth-floor suites.”

              As they arrived in front of her door, room number 532, Marida could no longer hide the smile on her face. She was visibly drenched in sweat and couldn’t resist licking the droplets from the creases of her lips.

              “Nervous?” Mrs. Freed asked.

“Why would I be?”

Mrs. Freed raised an eyebrow, before gently shaking her head.

Detective Blinds interrupted with a cough, “Miss Martinez, would you please invite us in?”

“I can’t…” a cackle erupted from Marida’s throat that surprised everyone, herself included, “You wouldn’t believe it, but I lost the key earlier today.”

“How unfortunate…” Blinds clicked his tongue, “And it seems that the spare key to this door was missing as well. Thankfully I just so happened to have found both keys to this very door caught in the pipes of a toilet in the second-floor woman’s restroom.” He produced a plastic bag containing two single keys.

“How weird.” Marida giggled.

“Yes, it is weird.” Blinds returned a light chuckle, before donning a third set of rubber gloves, removing one key from the baggy, and unlocking the door.

Before them was a pristine hotel room, practically untouched.

“My, this room looks so nice and clean, there’s no way there could be anything suspicious here.” Blinds spun around while entering the room, before crossing his legs as he plopped down onto the bed, “Oh! My goodness, it appears as though a ‘pea’ is present within the bed and is disrupting the posture of my spinal column. How ever will a great princess detective, such as myself, ever be able to get a good night’s rest on this?”

Before Mrs. Freed was able to even open her mouth, Blinds jumped up from the bed and flung the mattress off to the side.

“What’s this~? A water damaged paperback novella~?”

Everyone stared in silence at the book he now held above his head. Only Marida laughed at his antics.

“Deputy Graves,” Blind’s voice lowered to a growl, “could you please measure the width and length of this novella?”

“Oh! Uh…” Graves, startled by the complete reversal in tone, fumbled for his measuring tape, “It’s 4.25 by 6.87 inches…”

“And Deputy Graves,” Blinds coldly spoke while staring deep into Marida’s eyes, “could you please hand me the bag containing the bloodied piece of paper?”

Graves handed the bag over without a single word.

“Everyone, please examine how this scrap of paper jigsaws perfectly into a piece missing from the cracked spine of the book.” Blinds overlapped the two, and Marida could hear her heartbeat drumming away in her ears.

‘So this is how he does it,’ she thought, ‘this is how the Great Detective Blair Blinds solves his impossible cases.’

“And so, the mystery of poor Dabby Shawl’s demise is resolved!” Blinds bowed.

“Is it?” A voice snarled from the back of the group.

“Who said that?” Blinds demanded.

“Oh, just a talking corpse. One with a lot to say.” A bloody figure pushed through the crowd.

“I… I-” Blinds stammered, squinting his eyes and dropping the book from his hands.

“-can’t believe your ‘wide eyes?’” Dabby emerged, mocking the detective’s intellectual tone.

“How?” Blinds mumbled.

“What kind of primal-dumbass investigates a corpse without checking it for a pulse? And I can’t believe you fell for fake blood. I had a feeling your brain wasn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, but man, this is so pathetic it’s almost disappointing.”

Blinds scowled and rubbed his temples, “So this was a joke? An attempt for humor at my expense?” He turned towards Mrs. Freed, “Was this all your idea?”

Mrs. Freed shook her head, “This was their plan. They just asked me for some help with the setup.”

“So, what, is your night crew actually a fan-club of mine?” Blinds laughed.

The dark room was suddenly illuminated by a bright rectangle of light that sprung to life on the far wall. Blinds pivoted to stare at the television, displaying a live camera-feed of the room, and everyone currently in it.

“But how? The power-”

“Blair, I turned the breaker off during the storm. We never lost power.” Mrs. Freed sighed and walked away to exit the room, before addressing everyone else, “Whatever happens next, just please don’t leave any mess for the real night crew. They’re coming back to work tonight.”

Blinds watched in horror as a montage unfolded on the screen.

Static. Dabby’s room. Blinds rummaging through Dabby’s bag; removing the novella; intentionally planting the crumb of paper back in the bag.

Static. Mrs. Freed’s room. Her and Blinds chatting; he swipes her master key while she’s looking away.

Static. The locker room. Blinds soaks the novella in a nearby sink before pressing it into the floor of Marida’s locker.

Static. The cafeteria. Blinds pickpockets Marida’s key; Mrs. Freed approaches, and Blinds slips her master key back into her blazer pocket.

Static. The central office. Blinds steals the spare key to Marida’s suite.

Static. Marida’s suite. Blinds plants the book under the mattress.

Static. Marida’s suite. It’s the live camera-feed again. Everyone’s here; advancing towards him.

“This is entrapment! Entrapment!” Blinds screamed, “I’m the Great Detective Blair Blinds! You think this charade will accomplish anything in the court of law?! What is it you want from me?! Money!? Well, I don’t negotiate with scam artists like you!”

Dabby reached into his pocket and pulled out the straight razor found at the location of his ‘murder.’

“Deputy Graves! Arrest him!” Blinds bellowed.

Dabby handed the razor to Graves, who promptly used it to release Marida from her handcuffs.

“Graves! You’re in on it too?!” Blinds flung himself back against the far wall.

              “My name isn’t Graves. It’s actually █████ ████.”

           Blinds gasped, “So you’re related to ███ ████?!”

           “Yep, you remember him from your ‘Disco-Dance Fever?’ He still has another thirty-seven years in prison thanks to your fabricated evidence.”

           Before Blinds could get a word in, Dabby cut him off.

           “‘Dabby Shawl’ is not my name either; a name that dumb sure-as-shit couldn’t ever be real! My name is ██ ███! Ring a bell? ███! ███! That stunt you pulled at ‘Red-House?’” the boy covered in fake blood shouted, “One-hundred and three years till my mother can walk free again!”

           ‘Graves’ handed the razor to ‘Marida.’

           “You… you’re-”

           “██████████. Remember that name? From your ‘Funeral-Flower’ case?” Marida whispered, raising her necklace up for Blinds to get a good view, “██████ ██████████ was my sister. She got the chair because of you.”

           “I’m sorry!” Blair cried out.

           “All of us here? We all have family that ended up falsely cast as the ‘villains’ in your lies of self-grandeur. The only real villain was you.” Her voice, almost silent, cut through his sobs.

           “What are you going to do to me?!” He wailed.

           Marida giggled, “For a Great Detective, you really are just clueless.”