Enter … The Ghoul Squad–Part II

Another letter!

Johanna Prashad of Tasmania asks “Where did the name ‘Ghoul Squad’ originate?”

Well Johanna, you’re in luck. Today’s episode of the T.A.Z. Mahal not only continues our narrative, but answers that question. Enjoy!

Ghoul Squad Roll Call:

Nigel Cuttlefish (chairman)
P.
Ritchie Sauces
Amy Greathouse (treasurer)
Pepper Weckelsby (secretary)
Sol Weckelsby
Persephone Smallweed

Not sure what to do next, we all congregated at the Artful Mug, the coffee house run by Persephone’s father. We sat in silence for a few minutes, followed by rampant speculation. What had each one of us seen? Did Serious shoot Harriet? If not, who did and why?

Before long, we were approached by a meaty looking police detectice with a walrus mustache. He identified himself as Bulldog Drummond and asked if we were the students who had been speaking with Serious during the intermission. We confirmed this.

“I’ll need you to come down to the station to make a statement. Nigel Cuttlefish, eh? You’re Cordelia’s younger brother, aren’t you?”

Nigel gave him a grim steely gaze and said firmly “I have no sister.”

The detective appeared confused and taken aback.

“But … I met you at her house. Just on Tuesday night. Don’t you recall?”

“Oh, yes!” Nigel brightened. “What a jolly get together. It was a pleasure. Cordelia always puts out a nice spread. Drummond’s the name, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes,” Pepper said. “He introduced himself about 90 seconds ago. We all know his name.”

Bulldog regained his stride. “I hear you’re a bit of an amateur sleuth yourself, Nigel. How would you and your little friends like to learn how a real police investigation is conducted?”

“But wouldn’t that be a severe breach of ethics?” asked Pepper. “And besides, we were talking to one of your suspects, minutes before the crime occured.”

“Oh, ho, ho!” Bulldog laughed heartily. “Breach of ethics! Oh, hang on to this one, Nigel. She’s a keeper!” Pepper was about to tell him off when Nigel jumped up.

“My friends and I would be honored to accompany you, sir!” cried Nigel and he clicked his heels together.

“None of you are well…, weirdos, are you?” asked Detective Drummond. “There have been rumours about the university theatre. Rumours of … the occult“.

At that moment, Amy did something that I have never seen her do before or since. She squeaked. Luckily the detective did not notice.

Minutes later, we were racing through the city streets in Bulldog Drummond’s modified roadster, Ritchie in the sidecar. At the station, a block and a half from the coffeeshop, we observed Bulldog interrogate Serious from behind the one-way mirror.

BD: Now, we have a statement from one of your classmates. He tape recorded a class you take together and has quoted you asking this question to your professor. “Professor Thornborrow, wouldn’t you agree that the highest form of artistic expression would be the act of murder. Argueably, a purely random and meaningless act of violence has more artistic value than the entire creative output of Christopher Marlowe and Madonna combined. Wouldn’t you agree?” Now that was recorded on Oct. the 13th in your … Introduction to Organic Chemistry class. Do you deny making this statement?

SD: I don’t recall that exact statement, but it sounds like something I would say.

BD: Hurm. Now, what were you doing backstage?

SD: I was delivering a note to Harriet. P., a poet of no small talent* had taken a fancy to her.

BD: And you know her in what capacity?

SD: I am her buddy. I had volunteered to show international students around campus, introduce them to people, make them feel comfortable, etc. I was assigned to Harriet.

BD: And at precisely what time did you shoot Harriet?

SD: I did not shoot her.

BD: Well, can’t blame a fellow for trying. Go on. Who else was back stage?

SD: When I entered the room, Harriet was having a hushed conversation with Jan Betel. Her son Dickie was sitting on the couch on the other end of the room with Iliana Chaikovskaya, an accomplished dancer and confidante of Harriet’s. She was reading a lurid-looking novel with a rather garish cover. I averted my eyes quickly so as not to look at it for too long.

BD: And that’s all?

SD: Oh yes, there were also security guards present. One of them was named H.Q.

BD: And how did you come to know his name?

SD: Well, he kept repeating it. He was speaking quite loudly to the other guard whom he called ‘Radish’, but I’m not sure if this was a nickname or an insult or what? I mean, he couldn’t possibly be named Radish, could he?** He kept saying “Just listen to your pal, H.Q.” or “H.Q. will show you how it’s done” and so on. He also pulled out his gun quite a bit, showing it to ‘Radish’.

BD: Hmm. The theatre says there was only one guard backstage. One … Humberto Quackenbush. We’ll have to track down this ‘Radish’. And then what happened?

SD: I waited until Harriet was finished speaking with Ms. Betel. The Bete;s left the backstage area with Iliana and the guards seemed to have disappeared as well. I was giving her the note when I saw a glowing gloved hand holding a pistol emerge from behind a curtain. Before I could do or say anything, the hidden figure fired. I am rather ashamed to tell you this, but I have to admit that I soiled my trousers.

BD: Well, … er … don’t feel too bad, lad. You were in a life and death situation.

SD: No, I mean just now, as I was telling you my story.

BD: Er, I think we can take a bit of a break right now.

SD: Certainly. Thank you for interrogating me today. Would you like to answer a brief customer satisfaction survey? Please press or say ‘one’ to continue. To complete this interrogation, please press or say ‘two’.

BD: Er, two.

SD: Thank you for participating in our survey. Did Serious answer your questions in a courteous fashion this evening?

BD: No, I said ‘two’.

SD: My apologies. Have a nice day. By the way, can I say hello to my friends in the next room?

Bulldog looked in our direction.

“Drat,” he said. “Forgot to turn on the one-way mirror again.” He ushered us into the interrogation room and left.

Amy was the first to speak. “This glowing hand you saw. Did it leave an ectoplasmic trail? Did you hear any unusual sounds? Was there a lingering scent of pine?”

Nigel jumped in. ” Did you happen to notice any distinctive mud on the ground?”

“Ectoplasm?” Serious laughed. “Distinctive mud? I do believe you and your little Ghoul Squad intend to solve this mystery! Ghoul Squad...” he mused, savoring the sound of the words. “Yes… yes. I do believe you should call yourselves the Ghoul Squad.”

“Well, I was thinking…” Nigel started.

“GHOUL SQUAD!” Serious shouted. “Ghoul Squad! Ghoul Squad! I’ll pay you each $100 dollars to call yourselves the Ghoul Squad!”

We all looked at each other. One hundred dollars for doing nothing. Why not?

“Fifty dollars!” cried Serious. “Will you call yourselves the Ghoul Squad for fifty dollars each?” Nigel haggled him up to $75.

“Marcel!” Serious bellowed. “My changepurse!” Marcel appeared out of nowhere (Weren’t there policemen guarding the room?) and presented us with $75 each and a receipt.

The Ghoul Squad had it’s first case.

Well, that was a rather exhilarating episode, wasn’t it? Hope your questions were answered, Johanna. Join us next time.

CAN YOU GUESS WHO SHOT HARRIET?

PIT YOUR WITS AGAINST YOUR FELLOW T.A.Z.MAHAL READERS AND VOTE FOR WHO YOU THINK THE CULPRIT MUST BE!

WAS IT ….

THE ECCENTRIC ARTIST?

THE JILTED LOVER?

THE ROGUE SECURITY GUARD?

THE MISCHEVIOUS GHOST?

OR SOMEONE ENTIRELY UNEXPECTED?

Poll: Who do YOU think shot Harriet?

* I blushed. I keep this statement in strictly for posterity’s sake.
** This coming from a man named Serious Dogstar.