August 24th, 2001


Dave Five: Who Killed Johnny Voodoo?

Man, I've been stressed out this week, solving Johnny Voodoo's murder. I've been busying around and having no free time and it sucks.

To relax, last night I did one of my favorite things: I went sorrow-riding.

Like joy-riding, only I steal a cheap and unimpressive vehicle and drive it doggedly, drudging through bittersweet memories of lost hope.

While I was ruminating, I realized the answer. It doesn't matter who pulled the trigger (well, drove in the spear and kicked the stool aside, actually, but work with me here) - the important thing was the mastermind behind it.

I tracked down his ex-wife. She smelled faintly of dusty old books, and was sipping plum wine.

"I didn't do it, but I wish I had. And believe me, I'll find that pirate treasure one of these days, and get my rightful half."


Dr. Limulus had a fetish for historical figures with eidetic memories. Who could blame her?

Her old (and also presently dead) lover no doubt helped her off her ex-husband, in a way no jury could convict. Operating from the past, with a keen attention to superdeterministic detail, he set about a course of events which would create an incredible number of possible murder suspects, all too wild to investigate. Suspects of the Highest Weirdness: aliens, sentient poetry, Dorie, time travelers...

It turns out the butler and the snail were just having an affair. No need to get snippy about it, kids.

A pencil picked up here, and the right words mumbled there. Down the line of history, Johnny Voodoo is murdered.


How did I solve this, you ask? Easy. I traveled forward a day into the future, and read my LiveJournal. The very LiveJournal I'm typing right now.

Of course, this could just mean I'm making the same mistake twice, but that's the risk you take in this kind of business.


Special Agent g31g3r came back from the past, looking dapper as ever in his bowler. He's the only member of the FBI that doesn't carry a gun - thanks to his Aikido and his master h@X0r skills, he doesn't need one. I wonder what he does when he travels to time periods when a bowler isn't in style?

He came back with Teddy Roosevelt and Matteo Ricci in cuffs, and that's when I remembered the key detail.

Dr. Limulus was drinking plum wine. Plum wine is Chinese. It was Matteo Ricci.

We apologized to the Rough Rider, and sent him back to Rough Riding. We couldn't get Matteo for murder, because technically he hadn't committed it, so instead the D.A. pressed charges for tax evasion. Turns out Matteo hadn't paid the IRS a single thing dime, and, with interest and cost of living adjustment, Ricci's estate was worth trillions.

We couldn't put him in prison for his debts for very long today, so we took him back to early Victorian England. He'll be spending the rest of his life in debtor's prison.

Case closed. We sacrificed a rooster for Johnny Voodoo's safe passage, and sometime next week, I'm taking Special Agent g31g3r out for coffee.

And now I'm taking a vacation.