The cops referred to as me to advise on a case in a McMansion on the nook of Kirk Street and Spock Avenue. Normally I do not work with the 5-0 (or the Colombo, for that matter) however they have been insistent and my funds have been low after I misplaced a bit on the gachas.

I entered the mansion and was greeted by the officer on responsibility. He took me over to a pair of individuals speaking to different uniforms–one was a person so spindly Sleeping Beauty coulda pricked her finger on her, and a younger lady who was mousier than Stuart Little.

My escort bought everybody’s consideration. “This is Alex Playne, P.I.,” mentioned the cop to the bizarre suspects, “We referred to as him in as a consequence of his…experience within the obscure fandom group.”

“What I did with Lost Kingdoms in 2003 is between me and Kami,” I barked, “What’s the scenario.”

“The homicide sufferer,” mentioned the officer, “is Kiki Blorbo, award-winning fanfiction creator, in case you can imagine that.”

The spindly man spoke up. “Actually, she’s greatest recognized for her trilogy of slowburn Teen Wolf romantic tales. Works of genius, all.”

“I’m extra keen on her fix-it Bones works…” breathed the woman.

The officer rolled his eyes. “These are Burt Comfort and Mary Sue. Comfort was downstairs for a go to when the physique was found. Sue did not know the sufferer personally, however was seen skulking round the home over the past week.”

“I used to be simply looking for out about her subsequent work!” Sue blurted.

“Bouba was going to make an announcement tomorrow about her subsequent fan-novel,” mentioned the officer.

“I assume that she referred to as me to inform me about it,” interrupted Comfort.

“You know,” I mentioned, staring on the two suspects, “I feel I do know you two. I’ve learn you two. Comfort, you’ve got executed a number of the greatest Battleborn work on the market, and Sue, your tales are slightly bland, however I inexplicably such as you.”

I paused for impact. “Of course neither of you’re very common, are you? If you had Bouba’s subsequent story…even simply her notes…you may get recognition, acclaim…past your wildest desires. Sounds ok of a motive to me.”

Sue turned shiny pink and tried to cover behind her palms. Comfort grew to become incensed, “That’s probably the most insulting factor anybody has ever mentioned to me!” he yelled. So I instructed him that his prose was pretentious, too.

-/-

A half an hour later I got here down from Bouba’s writing room, the scene of the crime. Bouba had been killed by blunt power, from a “Best Smutfic 2020” trophy on the scene. The place had been ransacked.

“There was a number of outdated works, outlines, all that stuff,” I mentioned to the cops, Comfort and Sue close by, “But nothing from her subsequent work besides a torn-apart pocket book with the header ‘Derek Stiles fanfiction.'”

Comfort scoffed. “Trauma Center fanfic within the yr of our lord 2022? I knew Kiki was dropping her contact.”

“But…” gasped Sue, “She wasn’t going to proceed her Dead by Daylight fic? I’ve to know if Evan and Kenneth find yourself collectively!!”

I turned to the cop who, like a nasty author, I had by no means bothered to be taught the title of. “Get {the handcuffs} ready–I do know who did it.”

Who killed Kiki Bouba?