He's Not a Man Anymore, 4/?
Title: He's Not a Man Anymore (a.ka. The Lycanthropy Case), chapter four
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 6,238
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: The guys discover Mr. Gordon's client, and the situation only gets stranger.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Four
A search of the park in question proved to be most unfruitful. Anything of value had already been taken by those who had looked before. So, after a brief debate, Rockapella decided to talk to the man who had been injured by the werewolf.
"You know," Scott realized as Sean drove to the address, "we didn't think to find out who that guy's client is." He rested his arms on the two seats in front of him, looking to Sean and Elliott before staring out through the front windshield.
Sean frowned. "You're right," he said. "Some detectives we are! That could be important."
"I guess we'll have to go back," Elliott said. And he was not looking forward to it at all. Mr. Gordon had seemed exasperated with them in general. Who knew what he was thinking now that Elliott had shook hands with him.
"Let's talk to this guy first," Sean said, pulling up in front of a modest brick house. He cut the engine, climbing out of the car.
The others did likewise. Elliott glanced down at the slip of paper to refresh his memory on the name.
"'Mr. Crane,'" he read.
"Ichabod?" Sean returned innocently.
Elliott snickered in spite of himself. "Robert," he said.
They walked up to the porch, with Sean going out ahead to ring the doorbell. As he stepped back, the sounds of someone shuffling to the door could be heard inside.
"Just a minute!" a voice called.
The door opened, revealing a man around their age. He was leaning on a crutch, his expression filled with pain in spite of it. Elliott felt horrible.
"Are you Robert Crane?" he queried.
"Yes." The man blinked at his visitors in confusion. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
"I hope so! We were referred here by Aaron Gordon," Sean greeted. "We need to ask you a few questions about the attack last night."
"If that's okay," Scott hurried to put in.
Robert Crane was still surprised. "Sure, I guess," he said, easing himself aside so they could come in. "Are you guys detectives too?"
"That's right," Elliott said as they entered.
They were met by a modestly-furnished living room. The furniture was a bit faded and torn, but still in good working order. College textbooks were stacked on a desk that was against one wall, while an old stereo quietly played a CD in the background.
"Sit anywhere," Robert said, gesturing with the hand not holding the crutch. "But I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than I told Mr. Gordon. . . ."
"Well, he didn't tell us much of what you said, so it'll be new information to us," Sean smiled. He plopped on the couch, while the rest of Rockapella took other seats.
"What were you doing in the park last night?" Scott asked, glancing at the textbooks. The werewolf had appeared late. Getting clawed by one was not a very good activity for a school night.
"I was up late writing a paper," Robert sighed. "I got stumped on it and it was due today. So I figured I'd take a walk, clear my mind, and hopefully come back with some inspiration for how to fix it. Instead I found that thing running loose in the park. I just wish it hadn't found me."
"How bad were you hurt?" Elliott asked. Robert certainly seemed more calm now than the way Mr. Gordon had described.
"Bad enough to end up in the emergency room and get an extension on my paper." Robert ruefully added, "That wasn't really how I was hoping to do it!"
"No kidding," Sean said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Gordon said you were really upset when he talked to you."
"I guess I was." Robert sank into the chair by the desk. "That thing was horrible! I thought I was going to die for sure."
"And you think it was a real werewolf?" Scott asked, leaning forward.
"Well, it sure didn't feel fake!" Robert exclaimed.
"But people turning into wolves . . . isn't that pretty ridiculous?" Sean frowned.
"It sure is," Robert said with a shudder. "I don't want to think it's real, but I'm pretty much at a loss for any other explanation."
"Couldn't it have been an elaborate costume with realistic claws?" Barry said.
"I don't think so," Robert frowned, "but I was so upset I guess it could have been. But who'd go to such lengths?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," Sean said. "Did you notice anything strange about the wolf? I mean . . . besides the obvious," he added.
Robert sighed. "I don't know," he said. "All I really noticed was the growling and clawing and the teeth snapping and the hot wolf breath . . ."
"'Hot wolf breath'?" Sean exclaimed. "Could a costume have hot breath?"
Elliott leaned forward, staring at the floor. Sean did not mean to, of course, but his words were making Elliott feel worse. If it was not a costume, then there was only one other explanation. And despite how increasingly afraid he was that he might be a werewolf, he had still been clinging to any smidgen of hope that it was not true. Yet everything they were learning seemed to indicate that it was the case.
Scott reached over, drawing his arm around Elliott's shoulders. He would not believe it. Even if there was a werewolf, it could not be El! It would have to be that someone was framing him, maybe even the person who actually was the werewolf.
"I've got it!" Sean cried. "This is unquestionable proof that we know who the werewolf is not!"
Elliott blinked, looking up in confusion. "It is?" he said.
Sean nodded. "Our poor suspect would never have bad breath, even as a wolf," he smirked. "I rest my case."
Elliott straightened up, staring at Sean. It was so ridiculous. And not a clear-cut case at all, as far as he was concerned. But it was making him feel a little better, anyway. He chuckled, then outright laughed.
And it was contagious. Scott started laughing right along with him. Sean just leaned back, crossing his arms and looking pleased. Barry was silently amused.
Robert Crane was simply bewildered. ". . . Did I miss a joke or something?" he asked.
"Private joke," Scott gasped through his laughter.
". . . Okay," Robert said, just as confused.
Then his gaze fell on the infamous bandage around Elliott's hand. Something clicked in his mind. His eyes widened as he turned to stare at the brunet. ". . . You?" he gasped, recoiling from the poor man. "It's you?!"
Elliott stiffened, running a hand over the gauze. "We don't know," he said.
"It isn't him!" Scott exclaimed. "If you could think of anything that would help us prove it isn't, please . . . !"
Robert still looked nervous. "I . . . I can't imagine," he said. "Well, I didn't see him there," he added slowly, "but I guess that doesn't help. . . ."
"It could," Scott said. "Did you see anyone suspicious before the werewolf showed up?"
The college student hesitated, mulling over the idea in his mind. "Well, there was a shadow," he said, "a shuddering shadow that disappeared into the brush. Right after that, the werewolf showed up."
"Was the shadow taller than El?" Sean asked. Elliott stood up for a moment, demonstrating his height.
Robert looked him up and down. "I couldn't tell, I guess," he said. "He was doubling over. Maybe he was a little taller? I don't know."
"Could you tell what he was wearing?" Elliott asked.
"It looked like baggy jeans and a T-shirt," was the answer.
"Not a tank top and shorts?" Sean said.
"No, I definitely know he wasn't wearing that," Robert said.
Elliott sighed. "It could be an unrelated incident," he said.
"It could," Sean said, "but let's say it isn't! Let's say it's our guy."
Elliott sat down again. "But . . . who?" he wondered.
"And that's what we absolutely have to figure out," Sean frowned. "We have the names of several other people Mr. Gordon talked to. Let's make the rounds and question all of them."
Scott nodded. "Meanwhile, El, maybe we should find out what happened to the stuff the con artist stole," he said. "Especially that ring. . . ."
"ACME probably needs it for evidence," Elliott said, reaching to take out his phone. "I'll check. . . ." But he hesitated. Would he even be allowed to learn the information? Maybe no one would trust him after what had happened last night. Still, it would make more sense for him to call instead of one of the others, since he had been the one on the case.
Robert was again regarding them strangely. "'Ring'?" he repeated.
"Oh . . . just detective business," Scott smiled. He definitely did not want to start a panic by letting this guy know that they wondered whether a medieval wolf ring was cursed!
"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Barry asked.
"I don't think so," Robert said. "That's pretty much all that's coming to mind."
Elliott nodded, getting to his feet. "Thanks for your time," he said, wanting to leave before actually dialing.
"No problem," Robert said, easing himself up as well. "I hope you find out who's responsible for this craziness."
"We do, too," Scott said, looking grim.
The others also thanked Robert as they headed to the door. When they stepped outside, Elliott brought out his phone and began to dial. Scott watched the brunet with unease, walking alongside him on the way to the car.
Having to even consider that a ring could be responsible for what was happening was just beyond ridiculous. What Scott really wondered was whether there was such a legend going around about the ring, and if so, whether the con artist would have heard of it. Maybe he or some friend of his was playing a cruel trick on Elliott as revenge for capturing him.
But . . . what friend? It was not likely that Vic the Slick would have the smarts, let alone the interest, to do such a thing. Yet, when the two had been partners in crime, maybe Vic was someone they would need to question. If he would be getting paid to do it, he might have some involvement.
Elliott hung up the phone, bringing Scott out of his reverie. "The ring's still there," he said. "There's been some delays."
"Delays?" Sean frowned. "What kind of delays?"
Elliott sighed. "Of course there's the fact that ACME needs to keep it a while as evidence," he said, "but they also said they hadn't been able to contact the museum curator so he could come and identify it."
"Huh." Sean unlocked the car. "Did you tell them we wanted to come look at it?"
"Yeah." Elliott put his phone away, climbing into the car. "They said to stop in any time."
"Good," Sean said as he and the others got in too. "We'll check it out when we get back.
"So," he continued, "what's next on the agenda?"
"Basically, we have two options," Scott said. "We could start on interviewing those other people . . . or we could go back and find out who Mr. Gordon's client is."
Sean sighed, starting the engine. "He seemed to want to get us out of there before his elusive client showed up," he said. "He didn't even remember to ask what we knew about the case. . . . Unless he just figured we wouldn't tell him that, either," he added, slightly sheepish.
"And Jeff's pretty loyal to him," Scott mused. "Of course, that's a good thing, but . . ."
"He's pretty interested in ACME, though," Sean said, looking thoughtful.
"We're not going to try to manipulate him, Sean," Elliott scolded. "If Gordon won't tell us, we'll just watch and wait to see the client for ourselves."
"You're right," Sean sighed. "And we only have the one car."
"Are you thinking about splitting up?" Barry asked.
Sean nodded. "Two of us would keep the car and finish the interviews," he said, "and two of us would go spy on the detective agency."
"I think I should go along on the interviews," Elliott said.
"You should," Sean agreed, "in case someone says something that makes you remember what happened. Tell you what, you and I will see about that. Scott and Barry, you guys spy on the place. Is that agreeable to everyone?"
The others consented.
"Then we'll drop you two off at Gordon's," Sean said, turning the car around to go back the way they had come.
But as it turned out, what was happening when they arrived was much too interesting for them to split up. As they caught sight of the small building, three figures stepped through the door and outside.
Sean cut the engine, hoping they would not be noticed. "There's Gordon," he said.
"And the kid, Jeff," Elliott added.
"And . . . who's that?" Scott blinked.
The third person was a woman, tall and red-haired and adorned in a deep blue velvet dress. A parasol rested against her shoulder. As Sean rolled down the window, her smoky laugh floated their way.
"I do thank you both," she purred. "I'm confident that with your help, this dreadful mystery will be solved."
"She's the client!" Elliott hissed in realization. "But who in the world is she?!"
"You've got me," Scott said, watching as she got into a waiting cab and drove away. "Should we follow her or see if Gordon will talk about her?"
"Well," Sean mused, "Gordon will definitely see us if we drive past to follow her. Let's see if they'll talk." He pulled the car over to the curb and turned off the engine before stepping out and waving to the two surprised P.I.s.
"I realized we forgot to ask you about your client!" he greeted.
Mr. Gordon sighed. "That was her now," he replied, watching as the others alighted from the vehicle too.
"I wondered if it was her." Sean gave an appreciative nod towards the direction the taxi had taken. "A real classy-looking woman. What interest does she have in the werewolf case?"
Mr. Gordon gave him a put-out look. "You should know I can't reveal what my client tells me in confidence," he said.
"Of course," Sean said. "I just wondered if it was something not told in confidence."
"Well, it was," Jeff frowned.
"Can you at least tell us her name?" Scott asked.
Jeff shrugged. "Vifa or something like that," he said.
"Vivalene," Mr. Gordon corrected.
"Would she mind if we dropped in?" Sean wanted to know.
"We could just tell the truth, that we were just driving up when she was driving off," Scott said, "and we were hoping to ask her about the case."
A sigh from Mr. Gordon. "She's staying at this hotel," he said, scribbling the name and address on a scrap of paper and holding it out.
Sean gave a low whistle as he took it. "She's got money," he commented, glancing over the directions.
"And she'll give us a lot of it when we crack this case," Jeff said, looking a bit smug.
Scott just looked at him. On the one hand, he was obviously loyal to his uncle. On another, he was bored of the detective work at the agency. On a third, he was fascinated by ACME. And he tended to act obnoxious both with his uncle and with them. Scott was not sure what to make of him.
Mr. Gordon was giving his nephew a stern look. "Marching into a case with that attitude is not going to help anyone," he scolded.
Jeff blew out his breath in frustration. "This is the first big case we've been handed in a while," he protested. "Usually we're just chasing after people cheating on their significant others!"
Sean suddenly felt a twinge of concern. If someone was trying to frame Elliott for being the werewolf, then they might plant clues that would be found by Mr. Gordon and his apprentices. Sean had hoped that they could work on the same side, but it might prove to be impossible. Before this mess was resolved, they could end up as enemies.
"Well," Scott was saying, "we won't waste any more of your time." He moved to get back in the car.
"Oh, and watch out," Jeff grinned. "This Vifa lady, she likes to flirt."
Elliott immediately turned crimson and looked away, scrambling back into the car.
Jeff snickered in a good-natured way. "Girl-shy?" he wondered.
"Of course not!" Elliott retorted. But even though he was indeed girl-shy, that was not the full reason behind his sudden reaction. What bewildered him was that he was not sure why he was so uneasy. The more he heard about this Vivalene, the more his unsettled feeling grew. Could he have seen her last night, if he had been at the park? If he had, would she remember him today? And would she be a help or a hindrance to the case? Why was she so interested that she had hired a P.I., especially if she did not even live here?
Barry noticed Elliott's confusion and anxiety as he got back in the car as well. "Elliott?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Elliott looked over at him, his dark eyes filled with his confusion.
"What is it?" Barry frowned.
Elliott could only shake his head in his helplessness. "I don't know," he said. "Something . . . something about her. . . ."
"Do you think you met her?" Barry wanted to know.
"That's what I don't know," Elliott said. "I know I wouldn't forget someone like that, but if I only saw her last night I guess I could've. I forgot everything else," he added bitterly.
Barry sighed. There was something about that woman that he had not liked, but he was not sure what it was. It could just be his imagination. Or it could be that she had seemed to be the kind of person who would try to take advantage of someone like Elliott. Though . . . how he could really tell that just from seeing her for five seconds?
Now Sean was getting in the car too, waving to Mr. Gordon and Jeff before pulling the door shut and revving the engine. "So our next stop is where she is," he mused, setting the paper aside.
Scott picked it up, silently turning it over in his hands as they drove away.
****
Fifteen minutes later they were standing in front of her door at the hotel and Sean had stepped forward to knock. The desk clerk had told them that she had just barely checked in a few minutes ago, so she should definitely be in there. But Sean frowned as he moved back and crossed his arms. She was not coming yet.
"Maybe she jumped right in the shower," he suggested. "Not that she looked like she needed one. . . ."
"Shh!" Elliott hissed. "I can hear footsteps in there."
The door opened, revealing the stylish woman from earlier. "Well, my," she smiled, "I wasn't expecting guests, let alone such handsome ones. What a lovely surprise."
"Hello," Sean greeted with an answering smile. She's starting already, he thought to himself. Jeff was right. And as pleasing as her compliments were probably going to continue to be, he could not let any of them go to his head. He had to wonder if she had flirted with Mr. Gordon's sixteen-year-old apprentice or if she had only flirted with Mr. Gordon himself.
"By sheer coincidence, we happened to see you leaving Aaron Gordon's detective agency," he went on. "So of course, we had to find out about you."
"Oh, I do hope you weren't trying to make the poor man divulge our conversation," she returned, seeming amused as well as pleased.
"Not at all," Sean said. "We wanted to find out who you are so we could come ask you ourselves."
"We're working on the werewolf case too," Scott hurried to put in, looking around from behind Sean.
"And here we are standing around without having introduced ourselves," she said. "Though I suppose my identity is not a secret to you boys." She held the door open wider. "Do come in, won't you?"
"Thanks," Sean said as he and the others filed to the door.
As Elliott approached, Vivalene's eyes widened. She reached out, taking hold of his shoulders. "Why, Elliott darling!" she exclaimed. "I never once dreamed I would be seeing you."
Elliott's mouth dropped open in his disbelief. ". . . W-what?" he gasped.
The others turned to look, equally stymied. Barry's eyes narrowed.
"Are these men your friends?" Vivalene continued, ignoring the poor man's astonishment. "I don't know whether to be honored that you brought them to meet me or insulted that you didn't want to come alone!" She brushed his curls behind his ear, even as he stiffened under her touch. Red flamed across his face.
"I . . . I'm sorry," he choked out, reaching to brush her hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about. . . ."
She pouted. "Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten, darling," she said. "Though, you were quite ill . . ."
"Excuse me, but what happened between you two?" Scott frowned, stepping forward to intervene.
"And when did we meet?!" Elliott demanded.
"Last night, of course," Vivalene said, shutting the door behind them. "Darling Elliott spent the evening with me," she smiled, looking to Scott, Sean, and Barry.
Elliott shook his head. "I . . . I was home last evening," he protested.
"Well . . . very late evening," Vivalene smiled. "We had a wonderful dinner and then came back here."
This was not happening. Elliott stared around the suite, his heart gathering speed. "I've never been here before," he exclaimed. "I swear it! I . . ." But he trailed off. What on earth had he gotten into last night?! It was sounding more and more like he had been a different person altogether.
"We were getting all cozy on the couch when I noticed Elliott wasn't feeling well," Vivalene said. "He brushed it off and said he was fine, but I insisted I call him a cab so he could get home and rest. The poor dear, he got up anyway and wanted to rush off before he could get me sick. But he collapsed on the floor."
Scott stared at her in horror. "El collapsed?!" he repeated.
Vivalene nodded. "I ran over to see if he'd fainted, but he struggled up and hurried out the door, saying he would call me when he felt better. He seemed to have meant he would call on me." She winked in his direction, causing him to color all the more.
"What time was this?" Barry frowned, not sure what to make of it at all.
"Oh . . . very late, as I said," Vivalene said. "One in the morning, perhaps? Two?"
The werewolf had run through Riverdale around three A.M. The four men exchanged bewildered looks.
"Can anyone verify this?" Scott wondered, laying a hand on Elliott's shoulder.
"The night clerk saw us come in," Vivalene said. "And when I asked him later, he said that he had seen Elliott leave as well. You know, when we arrived, the clerk thought Elliott would be staying for a lot longer, if you know what I mean." She gave a suggestive smirk.
Elliott was speechless. If this woman was to be believed, he had apparently been making advances on her---or he had not refused her advances on him. But that was not him, not at all! And what about the werewolf problem? If he had left feeling ill, had it been because he had been about to . . . transform?
This case was seriously tampering with his sanity. What he really wanted now was to go crawl in a hole somewhere out of complete and utter horror and mortification.
"Are you absolutely sure it was El with you last night?" Sean frowned. "Because it sounds more like some guy we never met."
"It was definitely Elliott," Vivalene said. "The poor thing must have forgotten everything that happened last night. Oh, I do hope you're feeling better today, Elliott darling," she added, touching his forehead to feel for a fever. "Dear me, you're burning up," she discovered. He caught a slight smirk from her as she took in his furiously blushing countenance.
Barry caught it too. His eyes narrowed in distaste.
"What we actually came to ask you about was why you hired Aaron Gordon to look into the werewolf case," he said.
Vivalene gave a sad sigh. "Well, I suppose I'd best tell you, especially in light of all this," she replied. "You see, I'm hoping he can discover the werewolf's identity and . . . lay my fears to rest."
"What fears?" Elliott asked, finally finding his voice.
She gave him a pitying look. "Darling, you'll think me dreadfully silly," she said, "but I've been terrified that you were the creature rampaging through Riverdale."
Scott's eyes flashed. "What would make you think that?!" he snapped, even as Elliott stared at her again.
"You do have to admit, it fits," Vivalene said. "Elliott coming down ill, hurrying away, the beast showing up shortly afterwards. . . . And it was dressed the same way Elliott was when I saw him. I suppose that was what clinched it in my mind. And I've been hoping so fervently that I'm wrong!"
"Of course you're wrong," Scott retorted in disgust. There was nothing about this woman that indicated she was trustworthy. Insincerity dripped from every word and action. But there remained one extremely worrying fact---she knew Elliott. Whatever she was lying about, that much was true.
"Okay, wait a minute." Elliott was frowning now, having regained his composure. "You said I went to dinner with you. And you say the werewolf wore what I was wearing. Are you telling me that you went to dinner with some stranger who was dressed to go to bed?!"
Vivalene shrugged. "I don't see what's so odd about it," she said. "You said you'd gotten up and couldn't sleep, so you went looking for a little fun and couldn't be bothered to get all dressed again. I found it amusingly endearing, actually."
Elliott crossed his arms. "Did anyone see us having dinner?" he demanded.
"Naturally," she smiled. "The waitress, the busboy, a few other late-night customers. . . ."
"And where was this?" Sean broke in.
"The local Denny's," Vivalene told him. "Do feel free to verify it!"
"Oh, we will," Sean retorted. For her to be so confident, she either knew that they would find out she was telling the truth . . . or else she was just trying to make them think that would happen. And he was starting to be afraid that it was the former.
. . . And if that was true, and other people really had seen them together, would they start making the connection between Elliott's attire and what the werewolf wore? What if before long, word would spread that someone matching Elliott's description was the creature?
". . . I hope you didn't tell Aaron Gordon your suspicions," Barry frowned.
"Most certainly not!" Vivalene exclaimed. "I'm hoping to keep them all to myself until they are either verified or proven false. I just told him that I had a . . . personal interest in knowing the truth."
"Well, that's something, at least," Scott said, his voice dripping with ice. "And one more thing," he continued. "Did you give El anything to drink after you came back here?"
Vivalene stared at him. "Why, whatever are you insinuating?!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, I think you know," Scott said. "I think you know that I'm wondering if you made El get sick. Wait, maybe it wasn't even here. Maybe you slipped something in his drink when you were at dinner!"
Her green eyes flamed. "Well, I never!" she cried. "Why would I ever hurt such a poor, sweet man, especially when I'd only just made his acquaintance?"
"That's what I want to know!" Scott retorted.
Sean laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. Things were definitely not adding up, but he was not sure Vivalene could be fairly accused . . . yet. After all, Elliott would have already had to have been feeling weird to leave ACME in the first place and dine with a strange woman.
Scott recognized Sean's signal to calm down. He took a deep breath, meeting Elliott's worried gaze. He was not usually like this, but the entire situation, and this woman's nonchalant and falsely sweet demeanor, were getting on his nerves. Elliott did not need this right now. Things were bad enough without her adding to it!
"Are you going to be in town for a few days?" Sean asked.
Vivalene blinked. "Well, I suppose I could . . ." she said, her hesitation obvious.
Sean flipped open his badge to show her. "We're all detectives," he said. "And we're probably going to want to ask you more about last night."
"Oh, by all means," Vivalene said, unfazed by the badge. "I will do whatever I can to clear Elliott's name."
"He hasn't been accused of anything yet," Scott answered, the iciness slipping back into his tone.
Sean nodded in agreement. "When does the night clerk come on duty?" he asked. "We're going to want to talk to him, too."
Vivalene shrugged. "Don't ask me, darling," she said. "Check with the staff. I'm sure if you explain your purpose, they'll help you. Maybe they'll even give you his address or phone number." She smiled in a coquettish way. "But do you really need to leave already?" she purred. "Why not stay and have a drink?"
Elliott gawked at her. Did she have no shame?
"No thanks," he said. "We really have to get going."
But then he frowned, hesitating as he shifted his weight. Not being able to remember what he had actually said and done last night was agonizing. But he did know that if he had behaved the way Vivalene had insinuated, he had not known what he was doing.
"Look," he said then, "I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea about whatever happened last night. I'm . . . really not interested in starting any romantic relationship. I'm sorry."
Vivalene shrugged. "It's really alright," she purred. "I'm more into having little flings. So if you're ever bored some evening, do come and look me up, won't you?" She winked.
Elliott colored. "I'm definitely not into having little flings," he said. "If I walk into a relationship, I plan to do everything I can to make it work for life."
The woman smirked. "And you'll make someone a fine husband someday, I'm sure," she said. "Well, good luck finding out what happened last night. I do wish I could be of more help."
"You've been a big help already," Sean said as he turned to head out the door. The others followed, Scott shooting Vivalene a last, suspicious glare as he stepped into the hall.
"Bye-bye," she smiled, seeming to be directing the comment at him as she shut the door.
"I can hardly believe her!" Scott exclaimed as they walked down the corridor. "The things she was talking about . . . it's just impossible!"
Elliott ran a hand over his face. "Well, we already know I was in a daze when I left ACME," he said. "What I want to know is, Why and how did it happen?! And what did I really say and do with that woman?" He still felt like falling through the floor. Could he really have become some sort of suave Casanova? Logically, it was probably not any more impossible than him acting like a werewolf, but it was one more horror to add to the mix. And Elliott was not sure how much more he could take.
"I bet she's exaggerating the whole thing," Scott said, laying a hand on Elliott's shoulder. "Maybe she put on some act of feeling lonely last night and you were just trying to be kind by having dinner with her and bringing her back here."
Elliott managed a weak smile. "Yeah, maybe," he said, as they started down the stairs.
"Sure," Sean chimed in. "Now that scenario is one I could see."
"But then why would she twist it all around?" Elliott frowned.
"Who knows." Scott shook his head. "You can't trust people like her, El. They always mean trouble."
"And you know this from personal experience?" Barry said with a raised eyebrow.
Scott sighed. "I've had some pretty crazy encounters on my solo missions," he said. The old song Secret Agent Man applied to him and his infamous predicaments too well.
Sean was giving him a look. "You realize you're going to have to tell us all about them when this is over," he said.
But before Scott could reply, they had arrived at the bottom of the stairs . . . and the desk clerk was calling out to them.
Or more precisely, to Elliott.
"You're back again?" the man said in surprise. "I didn't think you would be, after last night."
Stunned, Elliott turned to look at the bleary-eyed clerk. This was not the person they had spoken to when they had first come in.
"Are you the night clerk?" Elliott asked.
"Usually." The man clapped a hand over his mouth as he was unable to stifle a yawn. "Excuse me," he apologized. "My friend couldn't finish his shift today, and like a fool I said I'd do it for him." He sighed, massaging his forehead. "I'm going to have to find someone else to take my night shift tonight," he muttered.
"Well, it's bad for your sleep schedule, but it's good for us," Sean said, coming over and resting his left arm on the counter. "We need to talk to you."
The older man looked at him, now stunned as well. "Me?!" he said, incredulous. "Whatever for?"
"We need to know about last night." Elliott stepped forward. "I . . . I don't remember anything that happened and I'm trying to find out."
The clerk blinked. "You don't remember anything?" he repeated. "How can that be? You weren't drunk or on drugs. . . ."
"Well, that's good to know, but what was I on?" Elliott demanded. "The lady I was with, she said that she---and you---had the feeling I was going to hang around up there for a while. In the middle of the night!"
"Oh, I highly doubt that!" was the reply. "You were so nervous when you came in with her. Yes, nervous and edgy. You acted like you wanted to leave as soon as possible."
Elliott's shoulders slumped in his relief. This was good news. Either Vivalene was lying or the clerk was not telling the truth. And he would be more inclined to believe the clerk. But . . . why had he been nervous? Just because he had felt awkward?
"Could you hear anything that was being said?" Scott asked, also relieved by the information.
"Not really," the other man said, looking apologetic. "But the woman acted like she was trying to comfort you or something. She was being all sugary sweet."
Elliott made a face. "What about when I came down later?" he asked. "What happened then?"
"You came running out like a man possessed," the clerk told him. "I figured you'd gotten in over your head with that woman and wanted to escape. I really expected to see her come running down after you, but she didn't." He shrugged. "I guess she figured there were plenty of other guys who'd drop at her feet?"
Sean frowned. "How much time elapsed between the time they went up and the time El came down?" he wanted to know.
"I'm not sure," the clerk replied, turning away as another yawn attacked. "Maybe an hour?"
Elliott was staring again. An hour?! What could have happened up there during the course of an hour?
"Are you sure of that?" Barry queried.
"Quite sure," was the answer. "I remember the clock over there chiming once when they came in. I'm almost sure it chimed twice when the gentleman ran out. . . ."
"Did anyone else come in during that time?" Scott wondered, not entirely sure where he was going with the question but wanting to ask anyway.
"Just a couple of other guests who had been out late," the clerk said. "Why?"
"I don't know," Scott said. "I guess I was wondering whether Vivalene might've had some other visitors." If she was connected somehow with the werewolf situation, maybe she or someone else had given Elliott whatever had made him forget.
"Who were the other guests?" Sean asked.
A shrug. "Well, one of them was some lady who'd been out partying," the clerk said. "The other . . ." He shook his head. "Terrible fashion sense, I have to say! Green polyester plaid jacket . . . orange shirt . . . greasy hair . . ."
Scott slammed his hand on the counter. "Vic the Slick!" he cried.
The poor clerk jumped a mile. "Vic the who?!" he gasped.
Sean fished out his badge. "He's a criminal. We're detectives," he said. "Is he in right now?"
The older man slowly shook his head, slumping back. "A criminal? In this hotel?" he moaned.
"Just tell us if he's here!" Scott exclaimed. "Please!"
His hands shaking, the clerk hurried to the computer and began to type. "Y-yes, he's in," he said. "Room 213."
"Right down the hall from Vivalene!" Sean said. "And I'm betting it's no coincidence!" With that he turned, his braids flying as he ran up the stairs.
The others hurried after him, Elliott pausing to look back to the bewildered man at the desk. "Thanks," he called.
"Don't mention it," the clerk said weakly, wide awake now.
I have nothing against Jeff, but his fictional counterpart seems to come off as kind of "punkish" sometimes. At least that's what I've noticed from the few season 5 episodes I've seen. Hence, I write his fictional self the way I see him.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 6,238
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: The guys discover Mr. Gordon's client, and the situation only gets stranger.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Four
A search of the park in question proved to be most unfruitful. Anything of value had already been taken by those who had looked before. So, after a brief debate, Rockapella decided to talk to the man who had been injured by the werewolf.
"You know," Scott realized as Sean drove to the address, "we didn't think to find out who that guy's client is." He rested his arms on the two seats in front of him, looking to Sean and Elliott before staring out through the front windshield.
Sean frowned. "You're right," he said. "Some detectives we are! That could be important."
"I guess we'll have to go back," Elliott said. And he was not looking forward to it at all. Mr. Gordon had seemed exasperated with them in general. Who knew what he was thinking now that Elliott had shook hands with him.
"Let's talk to this guy first," Sean said, pulling up in front of a modest brick house. He cut the engine, climbing out of the car.
The others did likewise. Elliott glanced down at the slip of paper to refresh his memory on the name.
"'Mr. Crane,'" he read.
"Ichabod?" Sean returned innocently.
Elliott snickered in spite of himself. "Robert," he said.
They walked up to the porch, with Sean going out ahead to ring the doorbell. As he stepped back, the sounds of someone shuffling to the door could be heard inside.
"Just a minute!" a voice called.
The door opened, revealing a man around their age. He was leaning on a crutch, his expression filled with pain in spite of it. Elliott felt horrible.
"Are you Robert Crane?" he queried.
"Yes." The man blinked at his visitors in confusion. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
"I hope so! We were referred here by Aaron Gordon," Sean greeted. "We need to ask you a few questions about the attack last night."
"If that's okay," Scott hurried to put in.
Robert Crane was still surprised. "Sure, I guess," he said, easing himself aside so they could come in. "Are you guys detectives too?"
"That's right," Elliott said as they entered.
They were met by a modestly-furnished living room. The furniture was a bit faded and torn, but still in good working order. College textbooks were stacked on a desk that was against one wall, while an old stereo quietly played a CD in the background.
"Sit anywhere," Robert said, gesturing with the hand not holding the crutch. "But I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than I told Mr. Gordon. . . ."
"Well, he didn't tell us much of what you said, so it'll be new information to us," Sean smiled. He plopped on the couch, while the rest of Rockapella took other seats.
"What were you doing in the park last night?" Scott asked, glancing at the textbooks. The werewolf had appeared late. Getting clawed by one was not a very good activity for a school night.
"I was up late writing a paper," Robert sighed. "I got stumped on it and it was due today. So I figured I'd take a walk, clear my mind, and hopefully come back with some inspiration for how to fix it. Instead I found that thing running loose in the park. I just wish it hadn't found me."
"How bad were you hurt?" Elliott asked. Robert certainly seemed more calm now than the way Mr. Gordon had described.
"Bad enough to end up in the emergency room and get an extension on my paper." Robert ruefully added, "That wasn't really how I was hoping to do it!"
"No kidding," Sean said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Gordon said you were really upset when he talked to you."
"I guess I was." Robert sank into the chair by the desk. "That thing was horrible! I thought I was going to die for sure."
"And you think it was a real werewolf?" Scott asked, leaning forward.
"Well, it sure didn't feel fake!" Robert exclaimed.
"But people turning into wolves . . . isn't that pretty ridiculous?" Sean frowned.
"It sure is," Robert said with a shudder. "I don't want to think it's real, but I'm pretty much at a loss for any other explanation."
"Couldn't it have been an elaborate costume with realistic claws?" Barry said.
"I don't think so," Robert frowned, "but I was so upset I guess it could have been. But who'd go to such lengths?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," Sean said. "Did you notice anything strange about the wolf? I mean . . . besides the obvious," he added.
Robert sighed. "I don't know," he said. "All I really noticed was the growling and clawing and the teeth snapping and the hot wolf breath . . ."
"'Hot wolf breath'?" Sean exclaimed. "Could a costume have hot breath?"
Elliott leaned forward, staring at the floor. Sean did not mean to, of course, but his words were making Elliott feel worse. If it was not a costume, then there was only one other explanation. And despite how increasingly afraid he was that he might be a werewolf, he had still been clinging to any smidgen of hope that it was not true. Yet everything they were learning seemed to indicate that it was the case.
Scott reached over, drawing his arm around Elliott's shoulders. He would not believe it. Even if there was a werewolf, it could not be El! It would have to be that someone was framing him, maybe even the person who actually was the werewolf.
"I've got it!" Sean cried. "This is unquestionable proof that we know who the werewolf is not!"
Elliott blinked, looking up in confusion. "It is?" he said.
Sean nodded. "Our poor suspect would never have bad breath, even as a wolf," he smirked. "I rest my case."
Elliott straightened up, staring at Sean. It was so ridiculous. And not a clear-cut case at all, as far as he was concerned. But it was making him feel a little better, anyway. He chuckled, then outright laughed.
And it was contagious. Scott started laughing right along with him. Sean just leaned back, crossing his arms and looking pleased. Barry was silently amused.
Robert Crane was simply bewildered. ". . . Did I miss a joke or something?" he asked.
"Private joke," Scott gasped through his laughter.
". . . Okay," Robert said, just as confused.
Then his gaze fell on the infamous bandage around Elliott's hand. Something clicked in his mind. His eyes widened as he turned to stare at the brunet. ". . . You?" he gasped, recoiling from the poor man. "It's you?!"
Elliott stiffened, running a hand over the gauze. "We don't know," he said.
"It isn't him!" Scott exclaimed. "If you could think of anything that would help us prove it isn't, please . . . !"
Robert still looked nervous. "I . . . I can't imagine," he said. "Well, I didn't see him there," he added slowly, "but I guess that doesn't help. . . ."
"It could," Scott said. "Did you see anyone suspicious before the werewolf showed up?"
The college student hesitated, mulling over the idea in his mind. "Well, there was a shadow," he said, "a shuddering shadow that disappeared into the brush. Right after that, the werewolf showed up."
"Was the shadow taller than El?" Sean asked. Elliott stood up for a moment, demonstrating his height.
Robert looked him up and down. "I couldn't tell, I guess," he said. "He was doubling over. Maybe he was a little taller? I don't know."
"Could you tell what he was wearing?" Elliott asked.
"It looked like baggy jeans and a T-shirt," was the answer.
"Not a tank top and shorts?" Sean said.
"No, I definitely know he wasn't wearing that," Robert said.
Elliott sighed. "It could be an unrelated incident," he said.
"It could," Sean said, "but let's say it isn't! Let's say it's our guy."
Elliott sat down again. "But . . . who?" he wondered.
"And that's what we absolutely have to figure out," Sean frowned. "We have the names of several other people Mr. Gordon talked to. Let's make the rounds and question all of them."
Scott nodded. "Meanwhile, El, maybe we should find out what happened to the stuff the con artist stole," he said. "Especially that ring. . . ."
"ACME probably needs it for evidence," Elliott said, reaching to take out his phone. "I'll check. . . ." But he hesitated. Would he even be allowed to learn the information? Maybe no one would trust him after what had happened last night. Still, it would make more sense for him to call instead of one of the others, since he had been the one on the case.
Robert was again regarding them strangely. "'Ring'?" he repeated.
"Oh . . . just detective business," Scott smiled. He definitely did not want to start a panic by letting this guy know that they wondered whether a medieval wolf ring was cursed!
"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Barry asked.
"I don't think so," Robert said. "That's pretty much all that's coming to mind."
Elliott nodded, getting to his feet. "Thanks for your time," he said, wanting to leave before actually dialing.
"No problem," Robert said, easing himself up as well. "I hope you find out who's responsible for this craziness."
"We do, too," Scott said, looking grim.
The others also thanked Robert as they headed to the door. When they stepped outside, Elliott brought out his phone and began to dial. Scott watched the brunet with unease, walking alongside him on the way to the car.
Having to even consider that a ring could be responsible for what was happening was just beyond ridiculous. What Scott really wondered was whether there was such a legend going around about the ring, and if so, whether the con artist would have heard of it. Maybe he or some friend of his was playing a cruel trick on Elliott as revenge for capturing him.
But . . . what friend? It was not likely that Vic the Slick would have the smarts, let alone the interest, to do such a thing. Yet, when the two had been partners in crime, maybe Vic was someone they would need to question. If he would be getting paid to do it, he might have some involvement.
Elliott hung up the phone, bringing Scott out of his reverie. "The ring's still there," he said. "There's been some delays."
"Delays?" Sean frowned. "What kind of delays?"
Elliott sighed. "Of course there's the fact that ACME needs to keep it a while as evidence," he said, "but they also said they hadn't been able to contact the museum curator so he could come and identify it."
"Huh." Sean unlocked the car. "Did you tell them we wanted to come look at it?"
"Yeah." Elliott put his phone away, climbing into the car. "They said to stop in any time."
"Good," Sean said as he and the others got in too. "We'll check it out when we get back.
"So," he continued, "what's next on the agenda?"
"Basically, we have two options," Scott said. "We could start on interviewing those other people . . . or we could go back and find out who Mr. Gordon's client is."
Sean sighed, starting the engine. "He seemed to want to get us out of there before his elusive client showed up," he said. "He didn't even remember to ask what we knew about the case. . . . Unless he just figured we wouldn't tell him that, either," he added, slightly sheepish.
"And Jeff's pretty loyal to him," Scott mused. "Of course, that's a good thing, but . . ."
"He's pretty interested in ACME, though," Sean said, looking thoughtful.
"We're not going to try to manipulate him, Sean," Elliott scolded. "If Gordon won't tell us, we'll just watch and wait to see the client for ourselves."
"You're right," Sean sighed. "And we only have the one car."
"Are you thinking about splitting up?" Barry asked.
Sean nodded. "Two of us would keep the car and finish the interviews," he said, "and two of us would go spy on the detective agency."
"I think I should go along on the interviews," Elliott said.
"You should," Sean agreed, "in case someone says something that makes you remember what happened. Tell you what, you and I will see about that. Scott and Barry, you guys spy on the place. Is that agreeable to everyone?"
The others consented.
"Then we'll drop you two off at Gordon's," Sean said, turning the car around to go back the way they had come.
But as it turned out, what was happening when they arrived was much too interesting for them to split up. As they caught sight of the small building, three figures stepped through the door and outside.
Sean cut the engine, hoping they would not be noticed. "There's Gordon," he said.
"And the kid, Jeff," Elliott added.
"And . . . who's that?" Scott blinked.
The third person was a woman, tall and red-haired and adorned in a deep blue velvet dress. A parasol rested against her shoulder. As Sean rolled down the window, her smoky laugh floated their way.
"I do thank you both," she purred. "I'm confident that with your help, this dreadful mystery will be solved."
"She's the client!" Elliott hissed in realization. "But who in the world is she?!"
"You've got me," Scott said, watching as she got into a waiting cab and drove away. "Should we follow her or see if Gordon will talk about her?"
"Well," Sean mused, "Gordon will definitely see us if we drive past to follow her. Let's see if they'll talk." He pulled the car over to the curb and turned off the engine before stepping out and waving to the two surprised P.I.s.
"I realized we forgot to ask you about your client!" he greeted.
Mr. Gordon sighed. "That was her now," he replied, watching as the others alighted from the vehicle too.
"I wondered if it was her." Sean gave an appreciative nod towards the direction the taxi had taken. "A real classy-looking woman. What interest does she have in the werewolf case?"
Mr. Gordon gave him a put-out look. "You should know I can't reveal what my client tells me in confidence," he said.
"Of course," Sean said. "I just wondered if it was something not told in confidence."
"Well, it was," Jeff frowned.
"Can you at least tell us her name?" Scott asked.
Jeff shrugged. "Vifa or something like that," he said.
"Vivalene," Mr. Gordon corrected.
"Would she mind if we dropped in?" Sean wanted to know.
"We could just tell the truth, that we were just driving up when she was driving off," Scott said, "and we were hoping to ask her about the case."
A sigh from Mr. Gordon. "She's staying at this hotel," he said, scribbling the name and address on a scrap of paper and holding it out.
Sean gave a low whistle as he took it. "She's got money," he commented, glancing over the directions.
"And she'll give us a lot of it when we crack this case," Jeff said, looking a bit smug.
Scott just looked at him. On the one hand, he was obviously loyal to his uncle. On another, he was bored of the detective work at the agency. On a third, he was fascinated by ACME. And he tended to act obnoxious both with his uncle and with them. Scott was not sure what to make of him.
Mr. Gordon was giving his nephew a stern look. "Marching into a case with that attitude is not going to help anyone," he scolded.
Jeff blew out his breath in frustration. "This is the first big case we've been handed in a while," he protested. "Usually we're just chasing after people cheating on their significant others!"
Sean suddenly felt a twinge of concern. If someone was trying to frame Elliott for being the werewolf, then they might plant clues that would be found by Mr. Gordon and his apprentices. Sean had hoped that they could work on the same side, but it might prove to be impossible. Before this mess was resolved, they could end up as enemies.
"Well," Scott was saying, "we won't waste any more of your time." He moved to get back in the car.
"Oh, and watch out," Jeff grinned. "This Vifa lady, she likes to flirt."
Elliott immediately turned crimson and looked away, scrambling back into the car.
Jeff snickered in a good-natured way. "Girl-shy?" he wondered.
"Of course not!" Elliott retorted. But even though he was indeed girl-shy, that was not the full reason behind his sudden reaction. What bewildered him was that he was not sure why he was so uneasy. The more he heard about this Vivalene, the more his unsettled feeling grew. Could he have seen her last night, if he had been at the park? If he had, would she remember him today? And would she be a help or a hindrance to the case? Why was she so interested that she had hired a P.I., especially if she did not even live here?
Barry noticed Elliott's confusion and anxiety as he got back in the car as well. "Elliott?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Elliott looked over at him, his dark eyes filled with his confusion.
"What is it?" Barry frowned.
Elliott could only shake his head in his helplessness. "I don't know," he said. "Something . . . something about her. . . ."
"Do you think you met her?" Barry wanted to know.
"That's what I don't know," Elliott said. "I know I wouldn't forget someone like that, but if I only saw her last night I guess I could've. I forgot everything else," he added bitterly.
Barry sighed. There was something about that woman that he had not liked, but he was not sure what it was. It could just be his imagination. Or it could be that she had seemed to be the kind of person who would try to take advantage of someone like Elliott. Though . . . how he could really tell that just from seeing her for five seconds?
Now Sean was getting in the car too, waving to Mr. Gordon and Jeff before pulling the door shut and revving the engine. "So our next stop is where she is," he mused, setting the paper aside.
Scott picked it up, silently turning it over in his hands as they drove away.
****
Fifteen minutes later they were standing in front of her door at the hotel and Sean had stepped forward to knock. The desk clerk had told them that she had just barely checked in a few minutes ago, so she should definitely be in there. But Sean frowned as he moved back and crossed his arms. She was not coming yet.
"Maybe she jumped right in the shower," he suggested. "Not that she looked like she needed one. . . ."
"Shh!" Elliott hissed. "I can hear footsteps in there."
The door opened, revealing the stylish woman from earlier. "Well, my," she smiled, "I wasn't expecting guests, let alone such handsome ones. What a lovely surprise."
"Hello," Sean greeted with an answering smile. She's starting already, he thought to himself. Jeff was right. And as pleasing as her compliments were probably going to continue to be, he could not let any of them go to his head. He had to wonder if she had flirted with Mr. Gordon's sixteen-year-old apprentice or if she had only flirted with Mr. Gordon himself.
"By sheer coincidence, we happened to see you leaving Aaron Gordon's detective agency," he went on. "So of course, we had to find out about you."
"Oh, I do hope you weren't trying to make the poor man divulge our conversation," she returned, seeming amused as well as pleased.
"Not at all," Sean said. "We wanted to find out who you are so we could come ask you ourselves."
"We're working on the werewolf case too," Scott hurried to put in, looking around from behind Sean.
"And here we are standing around without having introduced ourselves," she said. "Though I suppose my identity is not a secret to you boys." She held the door open wider. "Do come in, won't you?"
"Thanks," Sean said as he and the others filed to the door.
As Elliott approached, Vivalene's eyes widened. She reached out, taking hold of his shoulders. "Why, Elliott darling!" she exclaimed. "I never once dreamed I would be seeing you."
Elliott's mouth dropped open in his disbelief. ". . . W-what?" he gasped.
The others turned to look, equally stymied. Barry's eyes narrowed.
"Are these men your friends?" Vivalene continued, ignoring the poor man's astonishment. "I don't know whether to be honored that you brought them to meet me or insulted that you didn't want to come alone!" She brushed his curls behind his ear, even as he stiffened under her touch. Red flamed across his face.
"I . . . I'm sorry," he choked out, reaching to brush her hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about. . . ."
She pouted. "Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten, darling," she said. "Though, you were quite ill . . ."
"Excuse me, but what happened between you two?" Scott frowned, stepping forward to intervene.
"And when did we meet?!" Elliott demanded.
"Last night, of course," Vivalene said, shutting the door behind them. "Darling Elliott spent the evening with me," she smiled, looking to Scott, Sean, and Barry.
Elliott shook his head. "I . . . I was home last evening," he protested.
"Well . . . very late evening," Vivalene smiled. "We had a wonderful dinner and then came back here."
This was not happening. Elliott stared around the suite, his heart gathering speed. "I've never been here before," he exclaimed. "I swear it! I . . ." But he trailed off. What on earth had he gotten into last night?! It was sounding more and more like he had been a different person altogether.
"We were getting all cozy on the couch when I noticed Elliott wasn't feeling well," Vivalene said. "He brushed it off and said he was fine, but I insisted I call him a cab so he could get home and rest. The poor dear, he got up anyway and wanted to rush off before he could get me sick. But he collapsed on the floor."
Scott stared at her in horror. "El collapsed?!" he repeated.
Vivalene nodded. "I ran over to see if he'd fainted, but he struggled up and hurried out the door, saying he would call me when he felt better. He seemed to have meant he would call on me." She winked in his direction, causing him to color all the more.
"What time was this?" Barry frowned, not sure what to make of it at all.
"Oh . . . very late, as I said," Vivalene said. "One in the morning, perhaps? Two?"
The werewolf had run through Riverdale around three A.M. The four men exchanged bewildered looks.
"Can anyone verify this?" Scott wondered, laying a hand on Elliott's shoulder.
"The night clerk saw us come in," Vivalene said. "And when I asked him later, he said that he had seen Elliott leave as well. You know, when we arrived, the clerk thought Elliott would be staying for a lot longer, if you know what I mean." She gave a suggestive smirk.
Elliott was speechless. If this woman was to be believed, he had apparently been making advances on her---or he had not refused her advances on him. But that was not him, not at all! And what about the werewolf problem? If he had left feeling ill, had it been because he had been about to . . . transform?
This case was seriously tampering with his sanity. What he really wanted now was to go crawl in a hole somewhere out of complete and utter horror and mortification.
"Are you absolutely sure it was El with you last night?" Sean frowned. "Because it sounds more like some guy we never met."
"It was definitely Elliott," Vivalene said. "The poor thing must have forgotten everything that happened last night. Oh, I do hope you're feeling better today, Elliott darling," she added, touching his forehead to feel for a fever. "Dear me, you're burning up," she discovered. He caught a slight smirk from her as she took in his furiously blushing countenance.
Barry caught it too. His eyes narrowed in distaste.
"What we actually came to ask you about was why you hired Aaron Gordon to look into the werewolf case," he said.
Vivalene gave a sad sigh. "Well, I suppose I'd best tell you, especially in light of all this," she replied. "You see, I'm hoping he can discover the werewolf's identity and . . . lay my fears to rest."
"What fears?" Elliott asked, finally finding his voice.
She gave him a pitying look. "Darling, you'll think me dreadfully silly," she said, "but I've been terrified that you were the creature rampaging through Riverdale."
Scott's eyes flashed. "What would make you think that?!" he snapped, even as Elliott stared at her again.
"You do have to admit, it fits," Vivalene said. "Elliott coming down ill, hurrying away, the beast showing up shortly afterwards. . . . And it was dressed the same way Elliott was when I saw him. I suppose that was what clinched it in my mind. And I've been hoping so fervently that I'm wrong!"
"Of course you're wrong," Scott retorted in disgust. There was nothing about this woman that indicated she was trustworthy. Insincerity dripped from every word and action. But there remained one extremely worrying fact---she knew Elliott. Whatever she was lying about, that much was true.
"Okay, wait a minute." Elliott was frowning now, having regained his composure. "You said I went to dinner with you. And you say the werewolf wore what I was wearing. Are you telling me that you went to dinner with some stranger who was dressed to go to bed?!"
Vivalene shrugged. "I don't see what's so odd about it," she said. "You said you'd gotten up and couldn't sleep, so you went looking for a little fun and couldn't be bothered to get all dressed again. I found it amusingly endearing, actually."
Elliott crossed his arms. "Did anyone see us having dinner?" he demanded.
"Naturally," she smiled. "The waitress, the busboy, a few other late-night customers. . . ."
"And where was this?" Sean broke in.
"The local Denny's," Vivalene told him. "Do feel free to verify it!"
"Oh, we will," Sean retorted. For her to be so confident, she either knew that they would find out she was telling the truth . . . or else she was just trying to make them think that would happen. And he was starting to be afraid that it was the former.
. . . And if that was true, and other people really had seen them together, would they start making the connection between Elliott's attire and what the werewolf wore? What if before long, word would spread that someone matching Elliott's description was the creature?
". . . I hope you didn't tell Aaron Gordon your suspicions," Barry frowned.
"Most certainly not!" Vivalene exclaimed. "I'm hoping to keep them all to myself until they are either verified or proven false. I just told him that I had a . . . personal interest in knowing the truth."
"Well, that's something, at least," Scott said, his voice dripping with ice. "And one more thing," he continued. "Did you give El anything to drink after you came back here?"
Vivalene stared at him. "Why, whatever are you insinuating?!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, I think you know," Scott said. "I think you know that I'm wondering if you made El get sick. Wait, maybe it wasn't even here. Maybe you slipped something in his drink when you were at dinner!"
Her green eyes flamed. "Well, I never!" she cried. "Why would I ever hurt such a poor, sweet man, especially when I'd only just made his acquaintance?"
"That's what I want to know!" Scott retorted.
Sean laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. Things were definitely not adding up, but he was not sure Vivalene could be fairly accused . . . yet. After all, Elliott would have already had to have been feeling weird to leave ACME in the first place and dine with a strange woman.
Scott recognized Sean's signal to calm down. He took a deep breath, meeting Elliott's worried gaze. He was not usually like this, but the entire situation, and this woman's nonchalant and falsely sweet demeanor, were getting on his nerves. Elliott did not need this right now. Things were bad enough without her adding to it!
"Are you going to be in town for a few days?" Sean asked.
Vivalene blinked. "Well, I suppose I could . . ." she said, her hesitation obvious.
Sean flipped open his badge to show her. "We're all detectives," he said. "And we're probably going to want to ask you more about last night."
"Oh, by all means," Vivalene said, unfazed by the badge. "I will do whatever I can to clear Elliott's name."
"He hasn't been accused of anything yet," Scott answered, the iciness slipping back into his tone.
Sean nodded in agreement. "When does the night clerk come on duty?" he asked. "We're going to want to talk to him, too."
Vivalene shrugged. "Don't ask me, darling," she said. "Check with the staff. I'm sure if you explain your purpose, they'll help you. Maybe they'll even give you his address or phone number." She smiled in a coquettish way. "But do you really need to leave already?" she purred. "Why not stay and have a drink?"
Elliott gawked at her. Did she have no shame?
"No thanks," he said. "We really have to get going."
But then he frowned, hesitating as he shifted his weight. Not being able to remember what he had actually said and done last night was agonizing. But he did know that if he had behaved the way Vivalene had insinuated, he had not known what he was doing.
"Look," he said then, "I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea about whatever happened last night. I'm . . . really not interested in starting any romantic relationship. I'm sorry."
Vivalene shrugged. "It's really alright," she purred. "I'm more into having little flings. So if you're ever bored some evening, do come and look me up, won't you?" She winked.
Elliott colored. "I'm definitely not into having little flings," he said. "If I walk into a relationship, I plan to do everything I can to make it work for life."
The woman smirked. "And you'll make someone a fine husband someday, I'm sure," she said. "Well, good luck finding out what happened last night. I do wish I could be of more help."
"You've been a big help already," Sean said as he turned to head out the door. The others followed, Scott shooting Vivalene a last, suspicious glare as he stepped into the hall.
"Bye-bye," she smiled, seeming to be directing the comment at him as she shut the door.
"I can hardly believe her!" Scott exclaimed as they walked down the corridor. "The things she was talking about . . . it's just impossible!"
Elliott ran a hand over his face. "Well, we already know I was in a daze when I left ACME," he said. "What I want to know is, Why and how did it happen?! And what did I really say and do with that woman?" He still felt like falling through the floor. Could he really have become some sort of suave Casanova? Logically, it was probably not any more impossible than him acting like a werewolf, but it was one more horror to add to the mix. And Elliott was not sure how much more he could take.
"I bet she's exaggerating the whole thing," Scott said, laying a hand on Elliott's shoulder. "Maybe she put on some act of feeling lonely last night and you were just trying to be kind by having dinner with her and bringing her back here."
Elliott managed a weak smile. "Yeah, maybe," he said, as they started down the stairs.
"Sure," Sean chimed in. "Now that scenario is one I could see."
"But then why would she twist it all around?" Elliott frowned.
"Who knows." Scott shook his head. "You can't trust people like her, El. They always mean trouble."
"And you know this from personal experience?" Barry said with a raised eyebrow.
Scott sighed. "I've had some pretty crazy encounters on my solo missions," he said. The old song Secret Agent Man applied to him and his infamous predicaments too well.
Sean was giving him a look. "You realize you're going to have to tell us all about them when this is over," he said.
But before Scott could reply, they had arrived at the bottom of the stairs . . . and the desk clerk was calling out to them.
Or more precisely, to Elliott.
"You're back again?" the man said in surprise. "I didn't think you would be, after last night."
Stunned, Elliott turned to look at the bleary-eyed clerk. This was not the person they had spoken to when they had first come in.
"Are you the night clerk?" Elliott asked.
"Usually." The man clapped a hand over his mouth as he was unable to stifle a yawn. "Excuse me," he apologized. "My friend couldn't finish his shift today, and like a fool I said I'd do it for him." He sighed, massaging his forehead. "I'm going to have to find someone else to take my night shift tonight," he muttered.
"Well, it's bad for your sleep schedule, but it's good for us," Sean said, coming over and resting his left arm on the counter. "We need to talk to you."
The older man looked at him, now stunned as well. "Me?!" he said, incredulous. "Whatever for?"
"We need to know about last night." Elliott stepped forward. "I . . . I don't remember anything that happened and I'm trying to find out."
The clerk blinked. "You don't remember anything?" he repeated. "How can that be? You weren't drunk or on drugs. . . ."
"Well, that's good to know, but what was I on?" Elliott demanded. "The lady I was with, she said that she---and you---had the feeling I was going to hang around up there for a while. In the middle of the night!"
"Oh, I highly doubt that!" was the reply. "You were so nervous when you came in with her. Yes, nervous and edgy. You acted like you wanted to leave as soon as possible."
Elliott's shoulders slumped in his relief. This was good news. Either Vivalene was lying or the clerk was not telling the truth. And he would be more inclined to believe the clerk. But . . . why had he been nervous? Just because he had felt awkward?
"Could you hear anything that was being said?" Scott asked, also relieved by the information.
"Not really," the other man said, looking apologetic. "But the woman acted like she was trying to comfort you or something. She was being all sugary sweet."
Elliott made a face. "What about when I came down later?" he asked. "What happened then?"
"You came running out like a man possessed," the clerk told him. "I figured you'd gotten in over your head with that woman and wanted to escape. I really expected to see her come running down after you, but she didn't." He shrugged. "I guess she figured there were plenty of other guys who'd drop at her feet?"
Sean frowned. "How much time elapsed between the time they went up and the time El came down?" he wanted to know.
"I'm not sure," the clerk replied, turning away as another yawn attacked. "Maybe an hour?"
Elliott was staring again. An hour?! What could have happened up there during the course of an hour?
"Are you sure of that?" Barry queried.
"Quite sure," was the answer. "I remember the clock over there chiming once when they came in. I'm almost sure it chimed twice when the gentleman ran out. . . ."
"Did anyone else come in during that time?" Scott wondered, not entirely sure where he was going with the question but wanting to ask anyway.
"Just a couple of other guests who had been out late," the clerk said. "Why?"
"I don't know," Scott said. "I guess I was wondering whether Vivalene might've had some other visitors." If she was connected somehow with the werewolf situation, maybe she or someone else had given Elliott whatever had made him forget.
"Who were the other guests?" Sean asked.
A shrug. "Well, one of them was some lady who'd been out partying," the clerk said. "The other . . ." He shook his head. "Terrible fashion sense, I have to say! Green polyester plaid jacket . . . orange shirt . . . greasy hair . . ."
Scott slammed his hand on the counter. "Vic the Slick!" he cried.
The poor clerk jumped a mile. "Vic the who?!" he gasped.
Sean fished out his badge. "He's a criminal. We're detectives," he said. "Is he in right now?"
The older man slowly shook his head, slumping back. "A criminal? In this hotel?" he moaned.
"Just tell us if he's here!" Scott exclaimed. "Please!"
His hands shaking, the clerk hurried to the computer and began to type. "Y-yes, he's in," he said. "Room 213."
"Right down the hall from Vivalene!" Sean said. "And I'm betting it's no coincidence!" With that he turned, his braids flying as he ran up the stairs.
The others hurried after him, Elliott pausing to look back to the bewildered man at the desk. "Thanks," he called.
"Don't mention it," the clerk said weakly, wide awake now.
I have nothing against Jeff, but his fictional counterpart seems to come off as kind of "punkish" sometimes. At least that's what I've noticed from the few season 5 episodes I've seen. Hence, I write his fictional self the way I see him.