Who Dun Dead (1/2)

First Written    Sun Aug  9 02:53:56 2020
File Modified    Wed Feb 14 18:32:26 2024
Latest Upload    Thu Sep 19 03:09:54 2024

"Well, quite an interesting assortment of characters we have here," detective Sue Chan announced at the assortment of people, "people", and objects sitting around her interrogation table.

"I suppose we'll start with the facts," she continued, motioning to her colleague, detective Don Joe, who nodded curtly and took the stand.

"Yes, thank you Sue," he began, his hat held to his chest as if paying respects to the loss of his own lack of involvement to the matter, "The facts, though I am loathe to repeat them, are as succinct as they are damning. As you may know, detectives are equipped with all manners of monitoring devices."

"Well, of course, how else would we detect crimes? It's in our names," interrupted Sue.

"Yes," Don affirmed, "Thievery detectors, grand larceny detectors, mail fraud detectors. And of course, murder detectors. Two days ago at the corner of fifth and eight hundred and fifth street, my murder detector went off during a routine patrol. As I was on duty and a man on duty must keep himself sharp, I had been discharging my weapon in a routine round of spontaneous practice."

"Yes, a man or woman of the law must keep his or herself sharp," Sue added.

"Yes indeed, Sue. And no later than a minute after my detector had rang out, I was soon met by a federal agent. Naturally, I assumed I had committed the crime of insufficient practice, but they had instead come to a different conclusion altogether."

"The agent claims that Mr. Joe killed someone with his weapon! A practiced officer of the law, in the midst of practicing his practice, shot and killed a human victim!" Sue shouted.

"Yes, Sue. Yes, they did. But the facts of the matter beget the need for another undiscovered fact. You see, a murder requires two participants. A murderer and a murder recipient. I am no doubt the murderer, so the law says, without question. But we believe the murder victim is in this very room. Well, legally at least. So, with respect to the brief amount of time we have been allotted for this investigation, let us commence with the interrogation."

Detective Chan brought the first potential victim up to the stand, a stack of video recordings hooked up to what appeared to be a mechanical arm.

"Hello, uh, Mr. Barker," Sue greeted the contraption.

The arm loaded and played the first tape on the stack, "Hello viewers. My name is Jamal Barker, famous filmmaker of many classics. The most famous of all, I presume, must be this one you are viewing right now. That is, because this video would only ever be released in the event that I was murdered - a topic that tends to arouse audience attention much more than any fictional murder. Naturally, I assume you must have questions. Pray that I have recorded enough information in these tapes to answer your queries."

"Did I kill you?" detective Joe asked.

The arm replaced the tape with another, "Was I killed on a Sunday morning?" asked the electric visage of Mr. Barker.

"No, you were not," Don answered, "You died on a Tuesday night. The same Tuesday night I allegedly shot someone to death."

The arm replaced the tape with another recording, this time from the bottom of the stack, "Well, I'm afraid I won't be of any use to you then. I record this video series every Sunday morning in case I am murdered, which presumably, I have been. Unfortunately, unless I was killed in the act of creating these videos, which I can attest to as not currently happening, I cannot give you any information about my death which is to happen in the week after this recording. Would you prefer to ask me about my movies instead?"

"No," replied Don, pushing the machine away, "Next potential victim please."

Sue brought the next individual up to the stand, a worried looking woman by the name of Ms. Aman.

"Ms. Aman, would you give us your testimony?" Don asked.

"Yes, well, my name is Priya Aman. I am a post-mortem legal representative on behalf of my client, who has asked to remain anonymous."

"I'm sorry," Don prodded, "Your client asked to remain anonymous? Does that mean you had contact with your client before their death? I would think your job title would preclude the need for such a thing."

"I'm sorry," she replied, "Revealing that information would jeopardize my client's anonymity."

"That's preposterous. Your client couldn't have asked such a thing if they were alive, could they?"

"Well no, but-"

"Tell me," Don accused, "Is your client even dead?"

"Polygraph!" detective Chan beamed, fetching the device from underneath the table and affixing it to Ms. Aman's wrists.

"Now tell me, Ms. Aman," Don ordered, "Under oath of law, is your client dead?"

"My client is dead and was killed on that night," Priya stated, "If he wasn't, I wouldn't be here. In fact, I'd even prefer my client were immortal - I'd be out enjoying my evening and shacking up with the first man I'd see instead of here, mourning my freedom."

The polygraph did remained quiet, its dials humming at the same rate as they had been before the question was even asked.

"Smooth as a whistle," Sue confirmed, yanking the polygraph off of the legal representative, who was now sheepishly returning to her seat at the table.

"Yes, you may go," Don allowed, "And I do hope our next potential victim is more helpful. Detective Chan, if you'll call him."

"Well, Don," Sue explained, "I'm afraid I can't call him. I'll have to wheel him up to the stand. But he's definitely evidence! After all, he's literally dead!"

Don took one look at the potential victim and resigned his forehead into his palm. The witness was a male human corpse with what appeared to be several stab wounds to the neck and chest.

"For one thing, I can't interrogate a corpse. And for another, this man was clearly stabbed. We're skipping this one."

"But-"

"Next potential victim!"

Detective Chan waved at the next speaker, a tall fellow who appeared to have some sort of skin disease.

"Mr. Carlos?" Don asked?

"Z. Mr. Carlos," the man corrected, "As you may have noticed from my skin, the Z stands for zombie."

"Oh for god's sake," Don muttered, "Let me guess, you had a pre-existing case of the plague and after I shot you, you were legally apply for a death certificate? Must have saved you some taxes, you're welcome, case closed."

"Not quite," the undead gentleman continued, "You didn't kill me, I was already dead for a year. You killed my love life! I was out and about trying to score and even nabbed this teary eyed broad before you scared her off with your shooting. Damn you pigs, stopping an honest zombie from getting his girl. Have you no romance left in your soul?"

"As a matter of fact, I do not," Don answered, "Nor do I have much time left in my schedule, so I must ask that we progress to the next speaker."

Sue wiped the tear of an unrequited office fling from her eye and was about to open her mouth when a large, blubbering man barrelled toward the stand.

"I'm dead! I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead!" he screamed.

"Polygraph!" Sue screamed back, wrapping the polygraph's wires around the man's wrists as he sobbed into his hands.

The machine began to beat in rhythm with his heart.

"What's your name?" Don asked.

"Eric. Just Eric. I'm not a mister."

The polygraph kept its pace - a sign of truth.

"Eric, are you actually dead?"

"Yes!"

The polygraph lit up as Eric's heartbeats boomed.

Eric quickly corrected, "Not in the figurative sense! I'm dead inside! A goner! What is a guilty man but a dead man walking? I did it! I am the criminal. She made me do it! I couldn't take her out, so I killed him! Damn them all, and my own conscience!"

The polygraph dimmed and resumed a quieter beat.

"Well, that's concerning. But thankfully irrelevant," Don waved, recollecting himself to bear whatever the final potential victim could bring.

Sue nodded at the last guest at the table, who appeared to be an imposing woman with steel for skin and wires where her ligaments should be, albeit exposed while their human equivalents typically should not be.

"Ms. Nora Farms, android life support system," the woman spoke, "Or should I say, former cyborg. You see, I have reason to believe to believe my human half to be deceased."

"At this point, I'm not surprised," Don acknowledged, gesturing for Ms. Farms to continue, "Pray tell, what evidence informs you of this?"

"Well, my infallible memory is distributed between my human and machine brains. Oddly, it has become fallible, as I cannot completely recall the events of the night in question. This condition seems to have begun only after I passed out. I must have had too many drinks with my girlfriends."

"Well, you're of no use on the stand then."

"Not quite," Ms. Farms rebutted, "The parts of the story I do recall are impeccable. I'm afraid I don't know which person you killed, detective. But I can tell you this: Everyone was on that block on the night of the shooting. In fact, they were the only people on that block."

Seeking clarity, Sue asked, "Do you mean every potential murder victim? Or everyone in this room? Or everyone mentioned so far?"

"Yes," Ms. Farms admitted, "All of those groups are one and the same."

"Even the federal agent?" Don asked in perplexity.

"Yes," Sue announced, revealing a second badge behind her first, "I am the federal agent. And after hearing Ms. Farms' testimony, I know who you killed."

To be continued.

---

Who Dun Dead (2/2)

"Do tell," Don Joe pleaded, "I am as curious as I am ready to be convicted."

"Oh, I can't do that," Sue apologized, "I need to meticulously detail my line of reasoning before giving that away."

"But of course. Please continue."

"Well," Sue began, "The entire affair relies on semantics, of which the use of oaths, polygraphs, and mechanical memories has rendered admissible under the court of law. You see, everyone at the block is in this room and everyone in this room is a potential murder victim."

"You don't mean to say the murder victim could be you, or even me," Don suggested, "That would be horribly trite."

"I agree," Sue agreed, "It would be. Thankfully, that is not the case. The real heart of the matter is figuring out who is who. After all, everyone is in this room. Including Ms. Aman's client, Ms. Farms' girlfriends, Jamal Barker himself, Mr. Carlos' broad, and all of those pronouns Eric rambled about."

"That's an awfully stupid solution to this puzzle."

"I don't disagree," Sue agreed, again, "Ms. Aman's client is a male. She slipped up and called him a he. Eric isn't physically dead and neither are you. And Mr. Carlos wasn't killed at the block. So that leaves Mr. Barker as her client, who must also be the corpse."

"Who Eric must have killed. But who asked him to kill and who was he having trouble taking out?" detective Chan asked rhetorically.

She continued, "Well, note that Eric said 'all', and not 'both'. The implication being he was referring to at least three people. That leaves one man, his victim: Mr. Barker, and two separate women. I wasn't involved, or else I'd have known the answer long before listening to Mr. Farms. Which leaves Ms. Farms and Ms. Aman as the two. From Ms. Aman's own statements under oath, Eric wouldn't have had any trouble taking her out - for a nice night on the town that is. In fact, the only trouble would have been Ms. Aman's busy schedule, one especially burdened by an annoying client so obsessed with his own death. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Detective Joe shook his head, "In all honesty, I don't."

"Well," Sue continued, unfazed, "Ms. Aman wanted to shut her client up by making him immortal, or as close to it as possible. So she paid Eric to take Nora Farms' body out of her life support and replace her with Jamal Baker. She knew all about Ms. Farms' mechanisms because the three of us had been drinking that evening. But he couldn't do it. He must have just disconnected Nora's body and then went nuts with guilt instead."

"I don't understand. Why ask Eric of all people to do a complex biomechanical surgery?"

"Eric said he wasn't a mister. The polygraph agreed with him. That's because he's not one - he's a doctor!"

"Well that makes a decent amount of sense, relatively at least," detective Joe conceded, "But it still doesn't the most important question. Who did I kill?"

Sue Chan pointed at Mr. Carlos, "You killed Mr. Carlos' teary eyed broad."

"And who would that be?" Don asked.

"Ms. Aman, who had been grieving the loss of her free evenings the moment her plan failed. Didn't you notice the polygraph? It read Dr. Eric's heartbeat fine, but didn't register a thing when I used it on Ms. Aman. Beset by sorrow, she hooked up with a certain someone and caught the zombie plague. Moments after, during her walk of shame, you shot and killed her. She's been walking around undead ever since."

Satisfied, the room filled with applause as everyone left their seats to go home, save for Mr. Barker who remained deceased. Detective Don Joe turned in his badge and put on a set of handcuffs.

"I have but one final thought," Don mused.

"And what's that?" Sue asked.

"Murder detectors really need to store more metadata."