Two friends and I decided to leave the comforts of the city – rush hour traffic, houses so close we hear noises from our neighbors we would rather not hear, demanding jobs and the incessant buzz of sirens, traffic ‘copters, dogs, and my six children – for the peace of Whidbey Island for a cozy girls getaway.
The FBI Agent Professor Plum Peacock, or was that Peacock Plum, was called in to investigate the murders. After studying the evidence, the bodies were identified by the town coroner as Xavier Rhalston, Fashion Designer missing since 1985, Xerxes “Quaker” Oats, Rock Star missing since 1997 , and General Victor Mills, still fresh on the slab. With these horrific facts, she grimly determined she was chasing a “Cereal Killer.” However, her lack of time spent investigating and her time spent speculating and hyperventilating on the streets concerning a certain reoccuring Dead Squirrel and the transient Red Spoon, led us to wonder how it came to be that SHE was in town for each of the murders, committed in 1985, 1997 and now 2009? Everybody is a suspect in February in Langely. All are guilty until proven innocent.
Illustrious and devious members of the 49’ers, these men reveled in money the same way the miners in California did, although they didn’t have a Sutter’s Mill, they had a still. They also had the industry of producing Chocolate Banana Slugs, an industry General Mills was going to commandeer to feed the poor in the third world countries. They had recently come into a large sum of money, enough to build a new office building and an apartment complex. The two bodies, by the way, were discovered buried deeply on their property. Plenty of motive, plenty of money, and plenty of alibis.
Dave joins us on the final afternoon, just in time to grill Mobey White, another highly-ranked Pisceologist. He wears his symbols well, but didn‘t show enough passion about the illegal still, the bourbonaid-heating youth of his town, the many women devestated by the betrayals and unfailfulnesses of the three deceased victims to ever have an opinion about anything other than those silly silver salmon.
After casting our final votes, we anxiously awaited in a crowded school auditorium, with painful high school flashbacks reverbrating in all of our brains, while the town marshall, I.B. Fuzze declared each suspect, one by one, innocent. In a dramatic finale, worthy of a Hallmark movie, (oh, that’s right, they did that last year) her dear neice, Bunny, was declared the murderer of them all. After all, she had the oldest gun in town. Yvonne and Dave guessed correctly! I voted for Misty, banking on the rejection theory.