🚀 go-pugleaf

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   ||   ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]\\  ] ]  ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]       From the Files   ||
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   ||      !!GOMI!!    ]]]      ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]         Betty Yeh      ||
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   ||   ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]//       ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]    Knight of NEE!/rkm  ||
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	                           Issue 10
                             DIA DE LOS MUERTOS
                               Part II of IV

   Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
                   - Mark Twain, "Following the Equator"

**********

Author's note:
Sorry this took so long in posting, but with the newslist down, I didn't wanna
take a chance at sending it in... I'll be posting something everyday this
week since I've got many stories backlogged from the group going down.
Again, sorry.
                         -Nee
*************


October 29th, 2:20 am -

     "What is it?" came a drowsy voice from beyond the door.  A pale
white face decorated with tufts of red hair peered out.  "Oh, you.  Whatcha
want?"
     A taller, darker man gave a toothy grin.  "I believe you know, Dale.
I have what you asked for."
     Dale's emerald eyes widened.  "Y-you do?  Cool!  Um... hold on."
His face disappeared and the door pulled shut.  The next few minutes consisted
of the sound of locks rattling and a chain being undone.  Then, the yellow
door swung open, and a young emaciated man in a white undershirt and shorts
stood expectantly.  "C'mon in."
     With no words, he entered the rat nest apartment.  The smell of decay
was strong.  He looked to a corner and saw an ebony haired girl sprawled out
on the floor, twitching.  "Is she okay?"
     "Julia?" Dale asked.  "Yeah, she's fine.  She was doing lines a bit
earlier.  She's just sleeping now."  He quietly shut the door and re-locked
the ten-to-eleven contraptions on it.  "So, may I see-"
     "By all means," the man said.  He tossed a small plastic bag to Dale.
"Hope you enjoy it."
     The lanky redhead jumped over his sofa and pulled a cigar box from
beneath its cushions.  Inside he kept a silver spoon and hyper dermic needle.
     The taller man placed his hand on Dale's shoulder.  "Whoa, cowboy.
Aren't you forgetting something?"
     Dale looked up at him through bleary eyes.  "Huh?  O-oh yeah, I guess
I am.  It's over there."  He motioned to a table covered with newspapers and
half empty bowls of cereal.  "Look under the papers.  I put it in that little
box you gave me."
     The man strode to the table, pushing the newspapers onto the already
cluttered floor.  A black shale box sat there, a silver rose resting on its
lid.  Cautiously, he reached to it and took it into his cold grasp.
     "Did you... have much difficulty?" he asked, his breath heavy with
anticipation.
     "Naw, none at all," Dale said.  "Like I said, it was locked away in
storage.  The museum has this warehouse sorta thing over in Houston.  You'd
think they'd have a lot more security there.  There was a lot of paintings
and jewelry there.  Hadda be worth something."  He lifted a cigarette lighter
beneath the spoon.
     Enraged, the man spun about.  "You didn't take anything else, did you?
I told you specifically not to!"
     The young man sunk hard into the couch.  "Na-no, sir.  I didn't.  You
know I'm good for my word.  I tha-thought about it, but no.  Even if I wanted
too, almost all of it was too big to carry out."
     The dark visitor calmed a bit, and worked up a smile.  "I'm sorry,
Dale.  Yes, you are good for your word.  I've been under a great deal of
stress lately.  I do apologize."
     "H-hey, works for me, man," Dale laughed.  "So you're happy with it?"
     The man clutched the box close to his heart.  "You'll never imagine
how happy."
     "Cool," Dale crooned.  He tightened a band about his arm.  "Uh, you
want something to drink or eat or -"
     "Thank you, Dale," he said.  "I'll help myself."
     The lanky man nodded excitedly and lifted the needle to his arm.
     As the dark visitor rummaged through the cupboards littered with half
cleaned glasses and roach traps, he heard struggling and flailing behind him.
"Dale, are you okay?"
     When he returned to the main room, he saw the red haired lackey
shaking in the floor, clutching his arm.  A glowing hyper dermic needle
protruded like a fang from it.
     Dale's head rolled upward.  Spit fell from his trembling lips as he
attempted to make a sound.
     "I believe what you're about to ask me is, 'What have you done?'  Am
I right?" chortled the visitor.  "Well, Dale, you know you're one of my
favorite people to work with so I felt I needed to give you something very
special.  Do you like it?  It's something I've been working on for a few years
now.  I like to think of it as liquefied angst."
     The red haired man arched his back to pounce at the man, but a shock
of agony ripped through his spine.  Dale gurgled a protest and contracted into
a fetal position.
     "Oh, come now, Dale," the man said.  "It's nothing personal.  I just
needed someone to test it out on, and obviously no one would voluntarily test
it for me.  You always take things so personally."
     Hunched over, Dale reached out a shaking hand to the man.
     "What's that, Dale?" his employer asked.  "It's not fair only you
having the pleasure of testing it?  Aw, Dale, you're so right, and as my first
grade teacher used to say, if you didn't bring enough for everyone, you
shouldn't have brought any."  He withdrew a second needle.  "I'm sure Julia
would personally thanking you for giving her an opportunity at this, Dale.
Unfortunately, the mixture immediately overloads various lobes of the brain
and cuts off all muscle control within about four minutes, during which she'll
feel like - well, I guess you know first hand, right?"  He gently rubbed Dale
on the back of the head.  "Aw, Dale, don't worry. It'll all be over in just
three hours of agonizing suffering."  He laughed.  "Oh, I wish you could see
the look on your face."


                      ----= * =----


9:00 am -

     "So, where do we start, Betts?" Cho asked.
     Betty Yeh pulled out a yellow paper tablet.  "I want to get a copy
of a crime report from the police department.  You know, see if any new
murders have occurred that they haven't announced."
     Her friend gave Betty Yeh a weird look.  "Are you talking about
cases that are being kept from the public?  I doubt they'd turn over a sheet
of those to me."
     The PI pulled a familiar wooden jewelry box from her briefcase.  "I
know.  When you get inside, I want you to open Skinnybutt's box.  He'll
snoop about and find what you don't have access to.  I put a slip of paper
between the lid and box itself.  Don't remove it until you need to let him
out."
     "And why not?" Cho asked.
     Sandy Yeh reached over and pulled the slip of paper out.  "Try to
open it now."
     Struggle as she might, Betty Cho couldn't pry the small box open.
     "Only I can open it," Betty Yeh stated, slipping the paper back in.
"The paper keeps it from being completely shut, hence you can get in."
     "Great," Betty Cho griped as she snatched the box.  "I get stuck with
Bone Boy."
     "There's worse," Sandy countered.
     "Who?" Cho demanded.
     Sandy gestured to the postal mailbox behind her.  "You could be stuck
with the little Gothic poser who's been following us for seven blocks."
     "The what?!"  Betty Yeh walked to the mailbox, opened it, and reached
in.  "I've got you, Dorkula.  C'mon out!"
     She pulled a teenaged boy with pale make-up and dyed black hair.
     "My bride," he cried.  "At last, you come to me.  You have given up
your useless struggle against my powers!"
     "Oh, Timonius," Hell Kitty growled.  "Get over yourself, okay?"
     "It's been a long time, Poser-Boy," Betty Yeh said.  "Granted, not
nearly long enough."
     "Look into my eyes, Betty Yeh," Timonius moaned.  "Feel my might."
     "We're in public, you pervert!" Betty Cho cried.
     "No, Betty," her Chinese namesake corrected, "what you're thinking
about is feeling his shame.  I intend to do neither."  She turned her
attention back to the Gothic.  "What's your deal, Timonius?  Don't you have
a role-playing convention you should be at so you can try to pick up some
thirteen-year-old poser girls?"
     "There is no other woman for me," Timonius demanded.  "It is you I
desire, and you I shall have."
     "Aw, Timonius, that was somewhat sweet and cute in your own little
Neanderthalish way," Betty Yeh giggled.  "You want me?  I'll give you just
a lit of me, okay?"
     The Vampire-Wanna be's eyes widened.  "Really?"
     "Really," Betty Yeh yelled.  She drove her fist hard into his chest,
sending him back against the hard pavement.
     "That does it," Timonius roared, picking himself up.  "I'm about to
give you a severe talking at."
     The Yeh sisters exchanged glances.  "I can tell we're not gonna be
getting rid of him anytime soon," Sandy offered.  "We might as well drag him
along.  He might be useful."
     "Maybe as a human shield," Hell Kitty meowed.
     "If we must," Betty Yeh said.  "Cho, we'll be at that greasy little
spoon across the way from our hotel.  Call us there when you find something.
I'm gonna be briefing the Vampire Leschmuck on the situation."
     Betty Cho set a hard glare on Timonius.  "You gonna be okay with him
around?"
     "Oh, you're worrying about the wrong person," Kitty said with an
evil grin."



10:15 am -

     "So, Timmy," Betty started, "last I saw you, you were on your knees
begging Skinnybutt not to do another round of the Mexican sombrero dance on
your skull."
     Timonius sat up.  "I was _not_ begging, I'll have you know."
     "I'm sorry," Betty said, "I confused begging with open-out weeping,
groveling for mercy, and wetting one's pants."
     "There is a difference," Timonius mumbled disheartedly.
     "So you're the Timonius I heard about," Sandy said excitedly.
     "You mean my love has thought of me since our last meeting?" he asked
excitedly.
     "No, but Skinnybutt mentioned you.  But he kept calling you 'Puppy,'"
Sandy said.
     "Blast him!"
     Hell Kitty looked up from the container of creamer she'd just licked
dry.  "Actually, he blasted you... a lot."
     The older Yeh interrupted.  "I figured the o-bake make short work of
you.  How'd you escape that?"
     Timonius sat up proudly.  "It was not easy.  As you imagine, they were
left insanely angered and demoralized after your defeat over their leader.
However, things grew worse when the local goblins learned of their presence
and schemes."
     "Hell(tm) broke loose, eh?" Betty asked.
     "Truly, my violent vixen understates," Timonius whined.  "They joined
forces with the faeries and descended upon us from all sides, waving about
sharp sticks and crying profanities even I shall not repeat."
     "They called you a cootie-head?" Hell Kitty asked.
     The Gothic ignored the feline's taunt and continued.  "I was captured
and taken into the custody of the island's goblins.  However, after a brief
but great skirmish, I did fend them off and escape."
     "In other words, they smacked you around until you screamed like a
school girl and they were bored of you," Betty corrected.
     "May I continue?" Timonius shot.  "As I was saying, I then left the
island with the aid of that foul pink rabbit you had joined forces with.
A thousand curses upon him and his incessant singing of Kombiya!"
     "Buttonwiggles?!" Betty and Kitty shouted in unison.  Various patrons
of the cafe turned to look.
     "He's not with you, is he?" Hell Kitty asked.
     Timonius made a pained face.  "Egads, no!  I used my cunning to
elude him some thousand miles west of here."
     "Cunning schmunning," Betty blurted.  "What'd you do to the rabbit?"
     "I told him it would make me happier if he'd pour the Atlantic Ocean
into the Pacific Ocean, a spoonful at a time."
     "Figures," the cat sighed.
     He reached for Betty's hand.  "No matter.  I am here now, my bride.
Come with me so we might rule my legions of the night together at my - OW!"
     Betty had taken Timonius's fingers and bent them so they were touching
the back of his hand.  "Never even _try_ to touch me," she hissed.  "Look,
unless you want to be re-shaped into something more useful, like a beverage
coaster, shut up and listen:  there's a psychopathic murderer somewhere in the
area and I've been hired to find out who he is, where he is, and stop him
before he does anything else.  Now, if you insist on trailing me, you can
at least make yourself useful.  If you want, I'll let you come along but you
have to do exactly what I tell you to do.  Got it?"
     The poser made a sour face.  "I'm not used to taking orders."
     "I bet you're not used to a body cast, but it's one or the other."
     "I see," Timonius whimpered at the unsettling thought.
     A pretty young waitress walked towards the table.  "Ms. Yeh?"
     "Yes?" the two women answered.
     "Betty Yeh?"
     The PI stood.  "That would be me."
     The waitress motioned towards the counter.  "There's a woman calling
for you.  She says it's urgent."
     Betty Yeh lifted the receiver.  "Betty?"
     "Hey Betty," said Cho's voice.
     "What'd you find?"
     "Well, no new murders, but Skinnybutt managed to find the criminal
records for our pals Kirk and Chauncy," Cho said.  "Along with a list of
possible contacts and past alliances.  There's one they seemed to have a great
deal of history with.  His name is


                      ----= * =----


Across town, 10:49 am -


     "Knock louder," Betty Yeh suggested.
     "For crying out loud, Betty," Cho responded.  "Want me to just get an
ax and break it down?"
     "You're doing it all wrong," Sandy said.  She grabbed a handful of
Timonius's hair and repeatedly slammed his forehead against the yellow door.
"Mr. Dawnrite, are you home?  Hello?"  She threw the poser's head back and
gave a shrug.  "No one home."
     Hell Kitty forced her way forward, claws outward.  "You'd all be
lost without me - remember that."  She put one of her nails into the lock
and wiggled it a bit until a loud snap erupted.
     Betty Cho reached for the door and attempted to push it open.  "Well,
she got one of the locks open."
     Betty Yeh took her wooden box and opened it slightly.  "Ski-chan,
you there?"
     A soft hum came from inside.
     "Ski-chan, sweety, could you open this door for us?" she asked.
     A cloud of black smoke rose from the box and snuck beneath the door.
A few minutes later, it was open and a familiar skeletal figure was standing
behind it, smiling.
     "Thank you, Skinnybutt," Betty Yeh piped.  "You're such a dear little
dead guy."
     "He's not the only dead guy here," Sandy muttered.
     Betty Cho bent and inspected a red-haired corpse.  "Oh, yeah.  This
guy's in rigomortis."
     "Any ideas what caused it?" Sandy asked.
     The Korean Betty held up a spoon and needle.  "Spoonful of sugar
makes the medicine go down."
     "Or thereabouts," Betty Yeh put in.  "Great, we've stumbled into a
3-D playing of 'Trainspotting.'"  She closed the door.  "Hey, Skinnybutt.
How many of these locks were locked?"
     The ghost concentrated.  "All of 'em, 'cept the bottom one.  Why?"
     "Just curious," Yeh said.  "Wanted to know if it could be murder or
not, and seeing as how this basement apartment has no windows -"
     "A murderer would have no way out - gotcha."  The ghost latched his
bony arms around Betty Yeh.
     "What's that for?" she asked.
     "Feeling affectionate," he said.
     Betty Cho picked one of the bodies up and rolled it onto the sofa.
"Yes, nothing quite like stumbling upon the hardened bodies to make you just
wanna express your feelings for the ones you love."
     "Hallmark should makes cards for moments like these," Sandy laughed.
     Timonius snatched up a hyper dermic needle.  "Bride, correct me if
I'm wrong, but heroine isn't normally a pastel color, is it?"
     "Poser, you may just earn your keep yet," the PI commented.  "No,
it's not.  What is that?  Pink?"
     "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor - not a fashion designer," Betty Cho shot.
     "If you ever make a reference to Star Trek again," Betty Yeh growled,
"I will break your legs in ways never before fathomed by the human mind."
     "Geez, in a grumpy mood, Bets?" Cho asked.
     Betty Yeh surveyed the two dead bodies.  "Silly me.  What was I
thinking?  This would be a perfect place for a picnic."
     "Hey, guys.  When a human body goes into rigomortis, does it normally
draw into this fetal position?" Sandy asked..
     "I don't think so," Betty said.  "But then again, they were probably
ODing on whatever is in this needle."  She snapped open her briefcase and
placed the needle (in a protective plastic bag) inside.
     Skinnybutt stooped and took a close look at the woman's body.  "There
is something wrong with this, Betty."
     "You mean aside from the obvious?" Kitty asked.
     "When a human body dies, all blood in the body drains to the lowest
points of the carcass, usually the feet," Skinnybutt said.  He pricked the
woman's left shoulder, which was pointing upward, with a nearby knife.
Purple drops pushed outward.  "It's got no oxygen, and she is dead, but..."
     "But?" the group said expectantly.
     Skinnybutt scratched his head.  "Blood's still flowing."
     "Are you serious?"  Betty Cho dove by the body and began to check
for pulse, then placed her hand over the woman's chest.  "No heartbeat at
all.  She's as dead as disco, but if you were to check anywhere else, you'd
find a pulse."  She looked up at Betty Yeh.  "I think I'm gonna have to ask
for a cut of the money you're getting paid.  I can tell it's gonna be a long
case."
     "Keep wishing," Yeh retorted.  "We're getting nothing done this way.
We're gonna have to split up into groups.  Sindy and I will be one.  Kitty,
you take Timonius.  Betty, I want you and Skinnybutt to be the last group.
Kitty and Timonius will take the Riverwalk area.  Kitty has most off the
list of suspects, contacts, and such memorized.  Skinnybutt, you and Betty
take the intercity areas... like the slums and such."
     Cho stared at her dead partner.  "Oh, yeah.  This is a ball of
suck."
     "Do you see me jingling with pleasure?" Skinnybutt asked.  "Why can't
I go with you, Betty?  You're my master."
     "I don't want my baby sister out of my sight," Yeh said.
     "Not like I'm an adult or anything," Sandy whispered to herself while
looking over the dinner table for clues.
     "Besides, this will be a good opportunity for me to test that whole
experiment of me focusing your energy at large distances."  Betty took his
skeletal hand.  "I know you don't wanna, but please - for me?"
     He pouted, but consented.  "As my master wishes, I full-heartedly
obey."
     Betty turned to the poser.  "And Timonius?"
     He perked.  "Yes, my volatile maiden?"
     She slapped him.
     "What was that for?" Timonius asked.
     "I dunno.  Just seemed right.  Okay, guys, scatter.  Sindy and I will
finish searching here."  She tore pieces of paper from her yellow tablet.
"Start looking after these leads.  Page me if you need anything or have any
problems."
     Cho glared at the ghost.  "Do personality conflicts count?"
     Betty Yeh straightened up.  "You two are gonna have to get over
yourselves, okay?  Now get going.  Time's running out.  The longer we wait,
the more of our leads are probably going to wind up like these two."

continued in next post....