PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…
Part 1
AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…
“Hold me, Jacob! I’m scared!”
“Don’t worry, baby,” I said as Muffy threw herself at me. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh the humanity!” cried Lord Blackburn.
Our hosts, the Count and Countess, were utterly confused, trading glances across the table at one another, trying to figure out how their fancy party devolved into a down and out stink fest.
Charbonneau stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Sir Rupert.
“You!!! HOW DARE YOU, SIR?!”
Rupert was on his feet now.
“How dare I what?”
“You know what you did!” Charbonneau said. “I came to you, in the name of peace, and delivered a fine proposal that would benefit our nations and you dared to reply with such an insulting smell!”
Rupert choked.
“Oh God! I can taste it in my mouth!”
The Brit fell backward into his chair, guzzled his wine, then gargled with it.
“It burns!”
“Serves you right! I shall report your chicanery to my government at once, sir!”
Muffy buried her face in my chest, trying in vain to escape the odiferous air.
Lord Blackburn weezed and gasped for breathe.
Across the table, some of the guests began standing up.
“Patrice, you silly git,” Rupert said. “You really think I’d break wind as a means of turning down a diplomatic proposal?”
“Indeed I do,” Charbonneau replied. “The UK has thumbed its nose at my people for the last time! This means war!”
“War? Oh Patrice, the gas is attacking your brain now.
I was stroking Muffy’s hair and whispering some reassuring, “there theres” into her ear when I realized the Count was suddenly whispering into mine.
“Is Mrs. Hatcher all right?”
“She’s a tad upset,” I said. “The smell reminds her of youth on the bayou, especially the swamp where a ferocious alligator devoured her beloved grandpappy right before her eyes.”
Muffy burst into tears.
“Oh, grand papa! How I miss you so!”
“I’m so terribly sorry,” the Count said. “But Hatcher, you must do something!”
“I cannot take this any longer!” said Yakubovich. “I’m leaving!”
The Countess made an attempt at calming everyone down.
“Everyone, please, I’m sure…”
She made the mistake of sniffing the air in too deeply and her face turned white.
“Oh dear…”
The monocle she’d been wearing popped right off and landed in her full tea cup.
“I’m sure…oh, my Heavens…I’m sure if we wait a bit longer the fumes will dissipate…”
“If we wait any longer we’ll all surely die!” Signora Bellavenuti responded.
Meanwhile, diplomatic efforts were crumbling.
“I demand you apologize immediately and accept my proposal.”
“Patrice, you drama queen,” Rupert said as he poured himself another. “You can stick your proposal up your ass. For all I know, you’re the culprit and this is a pathetic effort on your part to bully me into a one sided solution.”
“One sided? My plan was very reasonable!”
“You absurd wanker,” Rupert said.
He really was more level headed off the sauce.
“Do you realize that the United Kingdom is recovering from a war fought on a massive scale? That for quite some time, our nation stood ALONE against the atrocities of the Third Reich? And after all the help we provided your countrymen you’d balk at a few measly extra sense on your blasted croissant shipments?”
“WAR!” Charbonneau said. “France will demand satisfaction for this and I guarantee our navy will land on your shores by Saturday!”
“And I guarantee they’ll toss their hands up and surrender by Sunday!”
“Hatcher,” the Count said. “You must fix this.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re a detective. Detect…
“What?” I asked.
“Who did it,” the Count replied.
“Oh come on,” I said. “I don’t think it’s even possible to narrow down who…”
Rupert’s face was as red as bowl full of cherries.
“If you want a war, Frenchy, you’ve got it!”
Yakubovich and Bellavenuti were still bickering with the Countess, demanding passage out of the room.
Professor Fremont had passed out, his head smushed into a half-eaten souffle.
Lord Blackburn sat motionless, his eyes wide open. He was trapped in a catatonic state.
“Oh mon cheri,” Muffy said. “I feel so lightheaded.”
“Come on, baby,” I said. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
I stood up and offered Muffy my hand.
“Hatcher,” the Count said. “Please. Europe has been embroiled with war for the first half of this century. I cannot allow the history books to say that the seeds of a third global conflict were sewn in MY dining room.”
“Tough luck, Fabes,” I said. “I don’t think there’s anything that I…”
I patted my inner jacket pocket to make sure the check was still there.
“…that I…”
It was gone. Twenty-five grand. Missing.
I checked my pants pockets. Pulled them both inside out.
I looked around on the table. On the floor. Nowhere.
“Enough of your insolence, woman!” Yakubovich shouted. “Get out of the way at once!”
“WAIT!” I shouted.
All eyes looked at me.
“NOBODY MOVE!!!”
I’d been so forceful and commanding that everyone was now hanging what I had to say next.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a terrible crime has occurred.”
Bookshelf Battle 