Friday, June 3, 2016

Hell's shells.

This program contains graphic images and mature subject matter. Viewer discretion is advised.

(EXT: Street. Beat cops have roped off the area. CSI folk in lab coats and gloves kneel, looking at things. Detective Bacon, bearing a frown behind his whiskers, approaches the lead investigator, Peter "PB" Barilotto. Bacon is tired of the bloodshed. PB is tired of the bloodshed. The audience, though, digs the bloodshed.)

Detective Bacon: Another day, another cadaver, eh, PB?

PB: Lots of job security in police work, Bacon. Brace yourself.

Bacon: (rearing back) Ew!

PB: Looks accidental, but...

Bacon: But what? This is roadkill, PB.

PB: Look closely.

Bacon: Do I have to?

PB: Are you a man or a mouse?

Bacon: Mouse. All right, all right. Hmm...



PB: Look closely. You see it?

Bacon: Yeah, I see it. The dried trail of urine behind the vic. Pretty long for a turtle.

PB: Exactly.

Bacon: This turtle was no victim of a sudden accident. He urinated all the way into the middle of the road. He was pushed!

PB: Ew!

Bacon: Why Ew?

PB: Pee is gross.

(INT: Bacon at the table in the interrogation room; Shelly Fleet sits on the other side.)

Bacon: Mrs. Fleet, I know you must be broken up about your husband's death.

Shelly: Not as... much as... he is! WAAAAH!

Bacon: There, there. (hands her a tissue) Thank you for identifying the remains.

Shelly: Ew.

Bacon: Did your husband have any enemies?

Shelly: No, no. Sheldon was very kind, very gentle. Usually kept to himself when he wasn't seeing patients.

Bacon: Yes, you said he was a doctor.

Shelly: It was easy for him to make house calls. He took his office with him.

Bacon: Was that where he was last night?

Shelly: That's what he told me. Was going to see a patient. I forget the name. Vespa? Something like that.

Bacon: Let me assure you, we'll catch the culprit who pushed him in front of that vehicle.

Shelly: And you don't think it was me?

Bacon: No, he was moving much too fast for a turtle... and way too fast for a turtle being pushed by another turtle.

Shelly: WAAAAH!

(INT: Chief 's office. Bacon and Chief Corleggy look at the picture of the deceased on the whiteboard, some notes written next to it.)

Chief: Ew.

Bacon: Yeah.

Chief: Any leads yet?

Bacon: Hoping to get access to the doctor's appointment list. Waiting to hear back from the judge. We find out where he was going, we get closer to finding out how he wound up...

Chief: ...like this.

Bacon: Ew.

(INT: A tasteful den. Bacon with Timmy Volpes.)

Bacon: The doctor's appointment book said he was coming to see you last night, Mr. Fox.

Tim: Volpes. The name is Volpes.

Bacon: Yeah, Latin for fox, which was your name back in Cleveland. I checked you out before I came over.

Tim: So I changed my name. So what?

Bacon: But a leopard can't change his spots. Why'd you do it, Fox? Why'd you do this? (whips out photo of crushed victim)

Tim: Yum!

Bacon: So that was it, eh? Dinner? Wanted a Buick to do the heavy work for you, eh?

Tim: Nonsense, detective. If that were the case you'd have found nothing but some bits of shell. I've no interest in turtles. I like mammals. Say, you're a mammal, aren't you?

Bacon: I'm an officer of the law first, Fox. So why did you call Dr. Sheldon Fleet here to his death? Did you push him yourself?

Tim: You got me all wrong, detective. Sure, I called him. I really did need a doctor. I've had a terrible cold for weeks.

Bacon: You sound fine to me.

Tim: He was a truly excellent physician.

Bacon: You'd better be telling me the truth, Fox, or I'll have your tail.

Tim: They've been trying to get this tail for a long time, Bacon. Better mice than you have regretted trying.

Bacon: Suppose we start looking through each item on your rap sheet. I'm sure there's one or two warrants still active....

Tim: Look, you got the wrong bushy tail here, detective. Hey, I ain't no snitch, right? But if you were to hear tell of a little gray mook running around after dark.... Someone who lives in that tree....

Bacon: Who're you kidding? Squirrels are supposed to be diurnal.

Tim: (shrugging) Yeah. Supposed to be.

(INT: The interrogation room at the station. Bacon paces while Joey "Nuts" Chitter scowls at the table.)

Bacon: Look at the picture.

Joey: Ew.

Bacon: Someone shoved that turtle into traffic, Chitter. Our witness says it was you.

Joey: No way, copper! I tol' ya, we squirls is dioinal.

Bacon: Not flying squirrels.

Joey: I ain't never even been to da airport, smart guy.

(Door opens; Officer Rice whispers to Bacon, who nods.)

Bacon: So... Diurnal, schmiurnal. You stayed up late one night. I guess you had work to do. Turtle work.

Joey: I ain't never touched no toitle.

Bacon: Then maybe you can tell me something, Chitter. When we took your prints just now we also gave your paws a test for salmonella. You been picking up some infected acorns, I guess, eh? Or maybe just shoving reptiles around?

Joey: I wanna lawyer.

(INT: Police station. Bacon and the Chief in the Chief's office. A pile of papers are on the Chief's desk.)

Chief: No way. The wife?

Bacon: Thanks to Joey, the judge gave us a warrant. We got all these financial records. She'd taken out three different life insurance policies on him. Seems like I was wrong. Shelly did kill Sheldon, only she didn't do it herself. She got Joey to do her dirty work. She knew Sheldon was going to see the fox, so she alerted Joey to get ready. He was supposed to get ten grand.

Chief: So Timmy's story was legit? The fox really was sick?

Bacon: Nope. Looks like Sheldon was selling prescriptions for painkillers through Timmy. DA said she'd go easy on the fox in exchange for his testimony against Shelly.

Chief: So why'd she do it? The insurance money?

Bacon: I think that was just a bonus she paid herself. Turned out that Sheldon wasn't just making house calls for patients all those evenings. Shelly found out he had eggs all over town. That's why he had started working with Timmy months ago. He needed the cash for his girlfriends.

Chief: Sad.

Bacon: Yeah.

Chief: But good work, Bacon.

Bacon: Thanks, Chief. It was a tough one to crack. It's a shell of a business, when you a reptile dysfunction,

Chief: Puns. Ew.

(Fade.)
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