Written 6 October, 2010
The Bob Saga
XIV: Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along
You know that annoying Calling Cards folder in your inventory? Well, Sweetie has one called Fingerprints. It's huge, pushing her inventory to more than 800,000 items, but there was no match. Nor was there one in the FBI's IAFIS.
"There's just one more place to look," she said. "That's the Torley-Ravenelle FLICKR files. Those are massive. DOWNLOADING... Nope, not there, either. Our UNSUB's prints aren't on file anywhere."
"Meaning they've never been arrested," I said."Hmmm. I'll bet AlexHeyThere JuneauAlaska has never been arrested. He's been leaving a suspicious number of comments in this blog. I think he's still sore about the hummingbird."
"No, no, his name's not AlexHeyThere JuneauAlaska; it's AlexHatPin Jambalaya," said Sweetie. "And no, it's not Alex. He's not the one."
"Drat!" I said."I'm still leaving him in my Suspects folder. Just in case."
[CLICK MORE BELOW TO CONTINUE THE INSANITY]
"Don't put him in your suspects folder, Cheyenne," said Sweetie.
"Why not? Why isn't AlexHeyabusa JumpingJackFlash a suspect? He's suspicious."
"Exactly!" she said. "TOO suspicious. Therefore he isn't suspicious at all."
"I love your logic," I said. "I don't understand it, but I love it."
"I can sense it with my deeply ingrained espionage training," she said. "Alex is a spy. I'm just trying to figure out if he's the single, double, or triple latte type of spy."
"Okay, I'll bite," I said. "What's a triple latte spy?"
"The sort of spy who is charming, suave, slick with a quick answer. He does Romeo assignments, primarily. He stays up too late too many nights, so he has to consume triple lattes all the time to stay awake while working his 'I'm obviously so not a spy' cover."
"Ah!" I said. "I like chai. What sort of spy does that make me?"
Sweetie ignored me. "I suspect Alex instigated the hummingbird attack to make contact with us.He uses it as an excuse to comment on the blog. If you spoke better Italian you'd know he's talking in code to his handlers. His last message was a complex algorithm. The message was 'drink more milk' That's spy talk for 'Send more money or I'll have to switch to black coffee.' So you can drop him from your list. He's a known quantity-- although he might prove useful in the future.'"
"But who is he working for?" I asked.
"Hmm," Sweetie said. "Sometimes it gets so tangled up you don't really know who you're working for. It could be anybody. Perhaps the Lindens. You ARE a known troublemaker, after all."
"Moi?" I asked innocently.
"Or he could be a hit man for the Goreans. They have reason to hate you."
"For one single blog post?"
"You did call it Those Motherfuckers From Gor," Sweetie said innocently.
"That I did," I said. "Considering how many people I've pissed off over the years, it could be anybody."
Sweetie smiled and preened for a moment, using the shiny edge of the blade of her ever-present katana. "So, back to the matter at hand.The person who left that fingerprint was most definitely not a professional."
"No," she said, thrusting her katana forward to emphasize her point. Sweetie is never subtle when making a point. "Because a pro wouldn't leave a print. This is the mark of a crazed amateur, I'm afraid."
"That's brilliant!" I said, backing away slowly-- because she DID have that katana in her hand. "An amateur! Ha! We'll have this wrapped up in no time!"
"No, she said. "The amateur part is easy. It's the crazed part that makes it difficult."
"You have that look of satisfaction on your face," I said. "There's something you're holding back."
"Yes," she said. "Remember I told you the lettering on the third postcard was written with slow-developing raspberry jam?"
"Yes," I said.
"The second card was written with confectioner's glaze. And the first, the one with black ink? It wasn't black at all, just dark, dark brown. Because it was fine Belgian semi-sweet chocolate!"
She continued. "Next postcard, please bag the evidence so I can't get to it," I licked nearly all the writing off before I could analyze it. I am not responsible for my actions when sweets are present."
"Sorry," I said.
The mastermind behind Bob's abduction is taunting us," she said. "Taunting us!"