"Hello? Is anyone in there? Mr. Fossil sir?" Howard peered around the open door of the Velvet Onion, staring into its dark and silent depths. The place gave him the distinct feeling of 'the creeps' so he quickly drew back and looked to Vince, who was hovering impatiently at his side. "It's empty."

"It can't be empty! Where's Fossil?" Intent on getting his hat back, the electro-detective pushed past his friend and disappeared into the ominously silent club, scanning the dance floor and stage in a futile search. Howard hesitated a moment, his face screwed up with indecision before following. He took the reasoning that with two people looking for the renegade accessory they'd be able to get away and solving crimes quicker.

They were just crossing to one of the far corners to search there when something came running out of the darkness that led in the direction of Bob Fossil's office, waving what looked like a particularly nasty weapon and screaming like a banshee going into battle.

Both detectives displayed great courage in the face of danger, both leaping off to one side, the moustachioed one with a whimpered cry of "Don't kill me, I've got so much to give!" Upon reaching them, their unknown attacker skidded uncertainly to a halt and glanced from side to side, the weapon, which turned out to be a prosthetic leg, being slowly lowered.

"Howard?"

"Wh-what?"

"Fossil?"

The loud American turned, his eyes peering through the gloom. "Vincey princey?"

Vince's eyes sought the ceiling in a small gesture of irritation. "Yeah. Have you seen a red trilby hat lying around? I need it."

"I'm so glad you're here, Vincey…"

"Red? You never said it was a red trilby! You can't detective in a red trilby hat, you need a strong shade of beige for that, observe what I have on."

"A tent?"

Howard thought of grabbing for the prosthetic leg and thumping his so-called friend over the head with it, but then he closed his eyes and thought of kittens. The kittens calmed him down considerably and no one was hurt.

"I'm going to have to close the Velvet Onion."

The statement broke slowly into the consciousness of the two arguing detectives, surfacing like a bad curry from last night's drunken take out, like they say, you can't keep a bad curry down. They both turned to look at Bob, wondering if they had quite heard correctly.

"Close it down? You can't do that my hat is in here somewhere!"

"Forget the hat, Vince, it's gone."

"Shut up!" Fossil swung the leg he was still holding outwards and trained it alternatively on Howard and Vince, reminiscent of a desperate criminal holding up a bank. "Don't make me pull the angry-bunny face!" His upper lip drew back in preparation for such an endeavour, his nose scrunching up, but he was hurriedly stopped by Vince.

Once they had the American calmed down Howard ventured down a more sensible line of conversation. "Why are you closing the club?"

Fossil winced and nervously eyed the other two men, his eyeballs darting from side to side in his sockets like they were looking for a way out. Slowly, he leant in towards them, lowering the volume of his voice to a rare whisper. "It's haunted."

"Haunted?"

"Haunted!" The man exploded in the ears he had leant in so close to. Vince hopped back, clutching at his abused ear whilst Howard staggered drunkenly, his eardrums feeling decidedly threatened. In a slightly quieter tone Fossil added "And I've lost the headline act for tonight."

Vince's already considerably pale skin turned the unhealthy colour of vanilla yoghurt that had never seen the light of day. In his mind he was standing back outside the Velvet Onion, idly looking at the poster stuck up advertising the main act for the night. He hadn't really registered it at the time, because he had been so busy talking to Howard, but now it sat in the forefront of his mind, flashing as brightly as a light show at a synthpop concert. The poster had announced Gary Numan to be the Velvet Onion's headlining act that night. He swayed, feeling faint all of a sudden. He was barely able to croak out the words "You've lost Gary Numan? Genius pop star and pilot?"

His concern was met with a blank look. "I haven't lost anyone; don't tell anyone, I'll be ruined! You won't tell will you, Vincey, my lovely Vincey?"

A few awkward moments of silence ensued before Fossil took up the initiative once again, his round face becoming suddenly sly and calculating. "Hey, you two are like detectives now aren't you? Like Detective Big-leg, he has a big leg that he can solve crimes with." He hummed a snatch of the theme tune in case they needed reminding then launched into a manic pseudo-karate routine that ended in a wood-splitting chop and an exclamation of "I hate whites!"

Howard and Vince exchanged glances.

Fossil switched back to a wheedling tone, reaching out to pet the electro-detective's shoulder in a way that could quite possibly get him arrested in other countries. "White sheet tutu man took the band away; you could go and get them back. With your detective skills and normal sized legs. I'd give you a plum tree with a little partridge in it."

Of course Vince would go looking for the missing Gary Numan, trilby hat or not trilby hat. "Okay. Where did you lose him?"

"I'm not going down there!" The owner of the Velvet Onion exploded, brandishing the extra synthetic limb once again. "I'm not going down in the sewers! He took them down there!"

"Sewers?"

"Them?"

Fossil glanced between his two questioners with a slack look, trying to separate the two words that had been expelled at the same time. "Yeah, there are sewers beneath the club. Didn't you know that?" He answered finally in the kind of tone that implied Howard really should have known that. With that word dealt with he turned to Vince. "Yeah, them, Kraftwerk Orange, the ones who're meant to be playing tonight. Are you an idiot?" He scowled at the calibre of the people he had to work with.

"I thought Gary Numan was meant to be playing?"

The question was met with an indifferent shrug. "He cancelled. Now are you going to help me or not?"

Vince nodded slowly, then with more conviction. Yes, they would help; after all, helping was what being a detective was all about. Their first case, how genius!

"The bang-y ghost has been taking all my headline acts away," Fossil was explaining as he took off into the dark, down a hallway that Vince had never noticed before. But then, that was always the way of things too, he'd watched enough Midsomer Murders in the afternoon to know that at least. "And sometimes he leaves little notes saying that if I don't leave him five hundred Euros he'll tear down the club."

"He sounds like bad news, sir."

This rather obvious understatement was ignored. Fossil reached the end of the corridor they had been traversing down, a corridor that oddly got smaller and smaller as it went further in, much in the style of that corridor in the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film. Vince had watched that one, he thought it was rather genius, especially the bit where-

"I won't be seeing you again."

"What?!"

"Have a good trip; I'll have some cheese waiting for you when you get back." Fossil muttered once again but this time without conviction, swinging open the trap door set in the floor that led to the sewers lurking beneath the Velvet Onion. Howard and Vince exchanged nervous looks upon seeing that huge, yawning, pitch-black chasm beneath them; but before they could have a change of heart they were pushed down. Everything went black as the trap door banged closed.