Extra Credit Detective Story

disclaimer: i wrote this at 4 am while stuck at the newark airport for three hours so it's terrible do not judge me please this may actually be the stupidest thing i have ever produced

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Miss Griffin! Miss Griffin!”

Carly opened her eyes blearily, squinting through the sunlight at her butler. “What is it, Geoffrey?” she drawled, her words heavy with sleep.

“My apologies for the rude awakening, but your friend Miss Nguyen called saying that there was an emergency­–she requested that you come over as soon as possible.”

Carly furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, rising from her bed and slipping on her shoes. “YK? I just saw her a few days ago, what could have happened?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, but it did sound urgent,” replied Geoffrey, handing her her coat.

“I should leave immediately then,” responded Carly, making her way towards the bathroom, “have the Ford Custom 300 ready in five minutes, please.”

–––––––––––––

Walking up the driveway towards the dark oak doors of YK’s house, Carly continued to wonder what could have happened to her friend. They had met briefly years ago in a small town in upstate New York, and three months ago they had crossed paths again, as members of the same book club in Carly’s beloved hometown of Los Angeles. YK had never mentioned a troubled past or an evil acquaintance in any of their many conversations, so Carly had no clue what trouble her friend could be in. Other than the various assortment of surgical masks YK wore, as she seemed perpetually affected by bronchitis, she seemed completely ordinary.

Wondering if this emergency might be related to the masks, Carly rang the doorbell. She did not have to wait long before the door opened to reveal YK, looking like her usual self. 

“I’m glad you’re here! It’s truly a tragedy,” exclaimed YK, ushering her inside.

“A tragedy? What happened?”

“My sticks,” YK said with a frantic wave of her arms, “they’ve been stolen!”

Carly gasped. “But who could do such a thing?”

YK had been in possession of a pair of bamboo sticks, passed down from her for four generations by a martial arts master from that same small town in upstate New York. She had kept them all this time, not out of sentimentality or a sense of obligation, but because she believed that she would be able to re-sell them for an exorbitant amount of money in the future. But now, it seemed that they had been stolen.

“That’s the problem,” sighed YK, “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Where did you last see them?”

“Well,” started YK, with furrowed brows, “I was at the Strickland library, reading in my usual spot after our book club meeting–we were discussing that awful Middle English book, Peter something? Peter Plowman?–it doesn’t matter. I don’t remember seeing them after that.”

“The Strickland library?” repeated Carly, also putting on her thinking cap, “do you think perhaps that the Strickland man might have taken them?”

“No,” replied YK with a wave of her hand, “he was translating some old manuscripts a few weeks ago and thought he had stumbled upon a map leading to the Holy Grail. Last I saw him, he was wearing a fedora and a bullwhip and had booked a plane ticket to some ancient city in Turkey.”

            “Oh, well may­–”

            Interrupting their discussion, a familiar brown-haired girl entered the room–Ang, another member of their book club. “Pardon the interruption, but I was on my morning walk when I saw Carly walking up your driveway with a very alarmed look on her face, so I thought I’d come over and see if I could help,” she explained, turning towards YK.

            “It’s nothing much, it’s just that my sticks have been stolen,” replied YK, shaking her head.

            “Your sticks? But who could have done such a thing?”

            “That’s what we’ve all been wondering,” responded Carly, solemnly. “Why don’t you stay here and see if you might have left them laying around the house somewhere while I head to the library and check?”

            “Good idea, Carly. I’ll come with you!” exclaimed Ang, nodding her head enthusiastically.  

–––––––––––––

            Carly inspected the big red armchair, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It was YK’s favorite spot; on late nights she could often be found there with the latest book club reading in her hands and a mug of hot chocolate from the library café next to her.

            “Have you found anything?” questioned Ang, coming out of her spot behind the nearby bookshelf.

           

            “No, not yet,” she replied, “nothing seems out of the ordinary.”

            “Wait, exclaimed Ang, moving closer and pointing towards the floor, “what’s that?”

            Following Ang’s finger, Carly took a closer look at the carpet and saw little brown clumps, “it looks like, cookie crumbs?”

            “There’s only one way to find out,” Ang said, picking a clump off the floor and putting it in her mouth. “You were right, they are cookie crumbs.”

            Carly hummed, furrowing her brow for the fifth time that day, “that’s strange, YK only eats peanut butter chocolates, of the Reese’s variety. I’ve never seen her eat cookies before.”

            “You’re right,” replied Ang, “but you know who has? Grant!”

            “Grant?” responded Carly, “now that you mention it, he has eaten cookies during our club meetings before.”

            “Yeah, he must have stolen YK’s sticks. The proof is right here!”

            “Well, I don’t know Ang, lots of people eat cookies at the library and I haven’t seen Grant eat them in a while. Maybe we should check his bag or something and make sure.”

            “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious, but if you insist I suppose,” responded Ang, scanning the library for the man in question. “There he is!”

            Grant Friedman sat at the desk, his face buried in a leather-bound book. He too was a member of their book club. Carly enjoyed his presence and had given him rides home on many occasions.

            “I have an idea,” exclaimed Ang, gesturing towards the leather briefcase sat at Grant’s feet, “I’ll distract him, and you search his bag.”

            “Good plan,” replied Carly as they both walked towards him, “but, I have a better plan.”

As soon as they reached him, Carly tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up. “Hey Grant, do you have anything to eat? I skipped breakfast.”

Sure enough, Grant reached into his briefcase. “I suppose that would be alright,” she responded, revealing the dozen chocolate chip cookies he had stashed inside, “but I thought you were deathly allergic to chocolate?”

“Yes, I am,” responded Carly, trying to come up with an explanation, “but life is short and we’re all going to die anyway.”

Grant paused, internally debating whether or not he should say anything, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he decided, closing his briefcase. “If you were to die, I would be charged for assisted suicide. I’ve already been arrested twice, I don’t need for it to happen a third time.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t steal!” exclaimed Ang, pointing her finger at him.  

Carly grimaced. Grant just looked confused, “steal? I haven’t stolen anything.”

“Yes you did! You stole YK’s sticks!”

“Her sticks? I didn’t steal those! Carly, you don’t believe her do you?”

Carly bit her lip, not wanting to jump to conclusions, “well, you have asked about them several times. And we found chocolate chip cookie crumbs near her armchair, and we all know she doesn’t eat those.” 

“Oh, the crumbs? I can explain!”

“Oh really?” said Ang accusatorily, crossing her arms, “then explain it, thief!”

Grant leaned forward. “It was late last night, at around 2 AM, and I didn’t want to go home just yet because it was raining so I decided to stay here until it stopped. Then I got hungry, so I took some cookies out of my briefcase, but they had been there so long that they were cold and kind of stale–and you know I don’t like my cookies cold or stale.”

“That’s true, she really doesn’t like her cookies cold or stale,” agreed Ang, turning towards Carly.

“Anyway, so I got up to heat them up by the fireplace, and so here I am, three cookies in each hand, minding my own business and making my merry way towards the fireplace, when suddenly I hear footsteps. Next thing I know, someone knocks into me and all of a sudden I’m on the ground, and my cookies have fallen all over the place. A true tragedy. But I’ve survived worse, so I got up and cleaned up the carpet. I guess I just missed the crumbs by the armchair.”

“Liar!” exclaimed Ang, again pointing her finger at Grant.

“I don’t know Ang, that does make sense.” Carly looked at Grant for a moment, trying to see if he was lying or not, “I believe him.”

“But if he didn’t do it, then who did?” questioned Ang, lowering her finger.

“Maybe the guy who knocked him over?” postulated Carly, tapping her own finger on her chin, “anyone who runs in a library at 2 AM must be up to something suspicious.”

“That is true,” said Grant. “I’ve got an idea! We can check the sign-in roster to see who was here at 2 AM.” she got up and started walking towards the librarian’s desk. “There shouldn’t be that many names, usually there’s no one here at 2 AM but me.”  

The friends moved towards the circulation desk, and Grant reached over the counter to grab a piece of paper laying amongst the piles of books. He skimmed it for a moment before speaking, “I was right, there are only two names on this list after midnight: mine and one other.”

“Who?” said Ang and Carly in unison, leaning in.

“Varun Rohatgi.”

Carly and Ang gasped, before Carly grabbed the roster from him. Varun was also a member of their book club, and had been nothing but nice to Carly since she met him, and was also a good friend of YK’s. “Varun? But he’s so nice! That doesn’t make sense!”

“It does to me,” interjected Ang, “I always knew there was something suspicious about him. Of course he did it!”

Grant reached for the roster, staring at the neat signature on the page. “This can’t be, he and I are roommates, I would have known. Plus, he’s not like that!” 

“Well, let’s ask him then,” said Carly, “look, the roster says he’s here right now. Let’s find him.”

Grant yelled Varun’s name three times. As if summoning him, Varun appeared from behind a bookshelf.

“What do you want, Grant? I’m busy,” Varun said, looking slightly annoyed but walking towards the group anyway.

“You stole YK’s sticks didn’t you?” said Ang with her arms crossed, “You were the one running out of the library at 2 AM! Where were you running, hm? To stash the sticks, I bet!”

“What? YK’s sticks? They’re literally just bamboo sticks, why would I steal them?” said Varun, equally as confused as Grant was when they originally accused him of committing the crime, “you don’t believe her do you, Grant?”

“I don’t know, dude, but according to this roster, you were the only other person in this library at the time,” replied Grant cautiously, handing Varun the roster.

Varun looked betrayed for a moment, before looking down at the roster. Almost immediately, he handed it back. “That’s not my handwriting,” he said with confidence, “2I don’t dot my I’s, but the “I” in my last name here is dotted.”

The three took a second look at the roster, and sure enough, the “I” in “Rohatgi” was dotted. “But if it wasn’t you, then who?” asked Carly, becoming more and more confused as her quest went on.

“I don’t know, but I have an idea,” said Varun after a moment of thinking. “Grant, why don’t you and Ang go back to YK’s house and see if you can get any more information out of her. Carly and I will stay here and see if there are any other clues.”

“You got it, boss,” replied Grant, saluting Carly and Varun before leaving the library with a protesting Ang in tow.

Once they were gone, Varun turned to Carly. “Come with me,” he said, moving behind the circulation desk.

“What?” questioned Carly, as she moved to follow him. “Why? Did you see something?”

“I have a suspicion,” responded Varun as he approached a locked door leading to the back offices. “I just need to get into this office, then I’ll know for sure.”

Carly scoffed, pushing past him and kneeling in front of the door. “Leave that to me,” she said, pulling a hairpin from her pocket and inserting it into the keyhole. She jiggled it around for a moment, before they heard a click. “Got it,” she said, pushing the door open.

“You’re a god,” said Varun, walking into the office. He stopped in front of a cabinet, before opening it and rummaging inside. “Aha!” he said, after a short moment, pulling a piece of paper out of the files.

Carly moved towards him, looking over his shoulder at the sheet. “What is it?”

“Remember when we had to fill out membership forms to join the book club? The thief has to be someone in the book club, and this cabinet has all of our membership forms, so we can cross-check the handwriting,” said Varun, holding the roster up next to the form. “I have a feeling I know who did it, and if I’m correct, the handwriting on this form should match the handwriting on the sign-in roster.”

Varun and Carly squinted at the papers, their eyes flicking back and forth between the two sheets. “Oh my God,” whispered Carly, exchanging a look with Varun, “they match.” Varun nodded, narrowing his eyes.

“We have to tell YK.”

–––––––––––––

Grant and Ang sat in YK’s living room, listening to YK recount the last time she had seen her sticks for the third time. They had been there for thirty minutes, and could not get any new information.

“I think I know who stole your sticks,” said Ang, tired of listening to the same story over and over again.

“What? Who was it?” asked YK, leaning in.

Grant, who had previously been dozing off, suddenly sat up. “Now hold on, Ang, let’s not point fingers just yet.”

“Point fingers? I’m only telling the truth! She deserves to know,” responded Ang, getting up from her seat.

“We don’t know if he did it!” exclaimed Grant, holding his hands in front of him as if to mollify her.

“How do we know for sure that you didn’t do it? Hm? Caught!” said Ang, again pointing an accusatory finger at him.

            The door swung open, revealing Carly and Varun. “Because you did it, Ang!” exclaimed Carly, stepping forward.

            Grant and YK gasped, shocked that their friend Ang could do such a thing. Ang looked like a deer in headlights, stepping away from the group before regaining her composure and leaning forward, “you can’t prove it was me!”

           

            “Yes we can,” said Varun, a smug look adorning his face. He crossed his arms. “You see, after you and Grant left, Carly and I broke into the librarian’s office to check our book club membership applications and cross-check the handwriting on the application forms to the one on the sign-in roster. And guess whose handwriting it matched?”

            Not wanting to be left out, Carly too crossed her arms and she and Varun stood back to back, like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu in Star Wars Episode II. “Yours, Ang.”

            “You’re lying! You can’t point fingers at me, that’s my thing!” protested Ang, standing her ground.

            “Don’t lie! I knew it was from you from the beginning, Ang. You’ve always been the one pointing the fingers this whole time. I knew you were just trying to pin the blame on someone else!” exclaimed Varun, not moving from his Power Ranger stance.

Eager to get the whole ordeal over with, Carly moved across the room towards YK, handing her the evidence they found. YK looked through the two papers, her expression unreadable.

           

            “YK, you have to believe me,” said Ang, moving towards YK as well. “I didn’t do it.”

            YK looked up slowly, letting the papers fall from her hands. She placed both hands on either side of Ang’s face, before planting a kiss on her cheek. “I know it was you, Ang,” she said somberly, “you broke my heart.”

            Ang stepped back, but YK’s hands tightened around her face. “You broke my heart!” YK repeated, maintaining her grasp on Ang’s face and leaning in to stare directly into her eyes.

           

Ang struggled to get out of YK’s grasp, realizing that she had been caught. Once she finally broke free, Ang made a break for the door. “Damn it! I did it because I had to! I’ve got bills to pay and pets to provide for!” yelled Ang, “and I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids and Varun’s refusal to dot his I’s!”