CHAPTER EIGHT
It was the third day of Nightbeat’s investigation, and he still had nothing. He’d just finished interviewing the final toys, those being a group of Super Mario Bros. goombas. They usually hung out with Don Snowy, but the only word they knew was “yo.” Nightbeat couldn’t get through the entire interview. It drove him too crazy, so he sent them away. How could someone who spoke only one half-word be guilty of murder, anyway?
He sighed and headed out of the closet. All the other toys were minding their own business, probably not even thinking about poor Joey. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe Fox was right. They were all going to end up at a garage sale, or maybe Goodwill. He hoped not the trash, but who knew? Maybe Wally and Mimi would not want a reminder of their failure as parents around. Nightbeat felt lucky, as he was made of metal and plastic. The others would be torn to pieces.
Joey had owned very few Transformers, and only one other Autobot. Nightbeat had already interviewed Ratchet, but he didn’t really have other friends. What the hell? Why not vent a little?
He found Ratchet snoozing on his medical table, which was made from the back portion of his ambulance mode. Ratchet must have heard his approach, as he opened his eyes. “Nightbeat! How’s the investigation going?”
Nightbeat slumped to the floor. “Not very well.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve interviewed everybody, and I have no idea who did it. Everyone seems to have an alibi that checks out. Either someone’s lying, or I’ve been wrong this whole time. My gut tells me I’m right, though. I have no idea what to do next.”
“Hm,” Ratchet said. “Run everything by me.”
“What, like you’re Sherlock Holmes?”
“Leave out no detail, no matter how inconsequential.”
Nightbeat sighed. He didn’t think this was what he needed, but maybe this refresher would spark something in the back of his head. He told Ratchet about everything, from the moment he heard Joey die to the interview with the goombas.
“Ha!” Ratchet said. “There was one thing you overlooked!”
Nightbeat didn’t have eyebrows, but he would have raised them if he had them. “I’ll take anything you got.”
“You assume that it was one of us who killed Joey,” Ratchet said. “Has it ever occurred to you that it might be one of the parents?”
The thought had occurred to him the day Joey died, but Nightbeat heard both of the parents moving just after the incident. They couldn’t have done it, could they? He mentioned this to Ratchet.
“A-ha! You heard them. You didn’t actually see them.”
“Huh. Fair point.” But if that were the case, how would he find out the truth? “I can’t exactly interview them, though, can I?”
“They’re self-medicating,” Ratchet said. “Maybe they’ll mumble in their sleep? Or maybe talk to themselves when they think they’re alone?”
“It’s a long shot,” Nightbeat said. “I don’t know if I can rely on that. What I can do is investigate the other rooms. Maybe there’s proof out there, and I just can’t get to it because they’re always around.”
“They have to leave at some point.”
Nightbeat nodded. “Thanks, Ratchet. I owe you one.”
“One?” Ratchet said. “Just one?”
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