Chapter 21: Lew Zealand

We all had a bit of a fitful night's rest that night, as Fozzie doubled up in Kermit's room for safety. I, being unable to sleep on the couch because of the mass destruction in the living room, went back to my own room for my forty winks. Any way it went, though, we were at least all adequately rested when we got up the next morning for a healthy dose of fresh oatmeal, courtesy of Uncle Deadly.

"That smell must really drive him wild!" I commented while savoring the taste of real food for breakfast.

"Well, it's not exactly driving us wild, Phyllis," Kermit commented while covering wherever on his froggy anatomy his nose might be. "And no matter how much the landlord likes it, I think we should burn it or at least destroy it at sea."

———

STATLER: Like this story.

WALDORF: Like your remains.

STATLER: I thought I said that when I died, I wanted to be buried in a cemetary!

WALDORF: Not THOSE remains! When you keep saying that we have to "REMAIN" here!

STATLER: Oh. AHAHA...ha...I don't get it...

WALDORF: Never mind, it makes no sense anyways.

———

I at least locked the offending trenchcoat in the bottom drawer of my dresser and wore a cleaner, if slightly smaller, one before we set out for The Muppetburg Times. This time, Robin was waiting inside the lobby when we walked in, and ran over to Kermit the second he set flippered foot in the room.

"Uncle Kermit! Uncle Kermit!" he called, and Kermit put down his briefcase just long enough to give the kid a one-armed hug.

"Hi ho, Robin!" he greeted the enthusiastic little frog, whirling him around for a bit before setting him back on the ground. "I can't have visitors while I'm in the office anymore," Kermit explained regretfully, "but I'll see you again during lunch break if you want."

Kermit started towards the elevator while Fozzie and I started for the door out, but Robin stopped his uncle. "But Uncle Kermit," he protested, "I have something important to say!"

Kermit glanced at the clock, then sighed at the time. "If I'm late I'll hear it from my editor again," he lamented, but he kneeled down to Robin anyways. "But that's OK. Tell me what's on your mind, Robin."

Robin clambered onto Kermit's knee. "But it's just your editor that I'm worried about!" he announced, and I stuck around to listen. Lowering his voice a little, Robin whispered, "Uncle Kermit, I—well, I know I'm not supposed to go in the offices around here or anything, but the other day, I, well, I couldn't help myself."

"What did you do?" Kermit asked, not reprimanding or anything though with a touch of concern in his voice.

Robin turned his head down a little guiltily. "Well, I always wondered what a real editor was like," he admitted, "so I went up to Mr. Zealand's office and thought I'd talk to him for a while, if he'd let me. But his secretary was on lunch break, and I didn't think it'd be such a good idea to try to use the intercom by myself. So I, well," he lowered his voice even more, "I peeked through the keyhole in the door."

"Really?" Fozzie asked, more into the conversation than any of us. He was wearing the "Emmanuel Ravelli" disguise instead of the "Oznowicz" one, just to be safe in case the Chief was still watching. "I always wondered what an editor was like too," he rambled. "I mean, I have a writer, Gags Beas—"

The two kin frogs didn't even seem to notice him, and Robin just went on. "I—I didn't see Mr. Zealand anywhere," he whispered, maybe even a little scaredly, "just—just a bunch of rats!"

Kermit was taken aback for a moment, then laughed. "Robin, that's nothing to be afraid of!" he chuckled. "Mr. Zealand was probably out for a fish break or something and just left his rats in the office while he was gone."

"But—" Robin protested, "but Uncle Kermit—"

"You have some pretty wild ideas in your head there, Robin," Kermit acknowledged, then his tone grew a little more stern. "But don't go spying like that again. It's not a good habit to pick up."

"This from the frog who rooms with a private investigator," I muttered just loud enough for Kermit to hear, smiling behind my hand. He gave me a bit of a sour look, then picked Robin up and set him on the floor again before standing up.

"I've got to run," Kermit called as he raced for the elevator. "Goodbye, all!"

"See ya at lunch!" I called back.

"Lunchtime, froggy!" came Fozzie.

I was just about to leave when Robin tugged on the hem of my trenchcoat. I looked down at him, then with a mighty exhale of breath I bent myself enough to squat on the floor facing him. "Yes, Robin?"

Robin was looking worried, and as Fozzie knelt down beside me the little frog started fidgeting. "I don't want to bother you, Miss Phyllis," he apologized, "it's just, Uncle Kermit ran off before I could tell him the important part."

"It's no bother," I responded, though I was thinking the opposite. If I was going to avoid another scene like that one with the Chief last night, I was going to have to wrap up this murder today. "What is it?"

Glancing around, Robin lowered his voice again. "Well, it's just...I know I was breaking another rule, but I—I went over to Doc Hopper's Frog Legs. And I met someone there."

"Was it Doc Hopper?" I cried out, then lowered my voice again as Alice peered interestedly over the top of her desk. When Robin shook his head, I went on. "Did he try to steal your legs for one of his 'bucket' specials? Oh, Robin, you know you're not supposed to go over there, even with an adult—"

"I know that," Robin broke in with a bit more patience than I would have managed, though his voice was still a little panicky. "I was just walking that way, and I just went over to check it out, and this person—well, I can't exactly describe him without taking you there."

I hesitated. I'd be breaking one of Kermit's golden rules, which was to never take Robin anywhere within even a fifteen-mile radius of Doc Hopper's. But Robin was so insistent...but I had to solve Sam's murder...but...

———

WALDORF: Yeah, ABOUT that murder. When's she going to get around to actually SOLVING it?

STATLER: SHH! Not so loud, she'll HEAR you! You actually WANT this story to keep going?!

———

A voice rang out in my head, one not from the present but a voice from the day before. Robin's voice, saying, "I may be a little kid, Miss Phyllis, but you don't have to talk down to me." I sighed and slipped Robin's little hand into mine. "Fo—" I started, but then instead of using a name, just glanced back at the bear. "Stay at Movin' Right Along for now, and lay low. We'll be back soon."

Doc Hopper's was a big, imposing place with two huge, flippered plastic frog legs sticking up out of the ground in front of it. It was located in the part of Muppetburg closest to the human cities, which was no real surprise considering that the chain of restaurants was owned by a human. The franchise, as I understand, was popular enough in the human world that they got up enough money to try branching out into Muppetburg. But all the frogs in the town had, understandably, stayed far away from the spot ever since it had opened last year—though this unspoken law was being slowly broken as Robin led me to the whitewashed takeout building, clutching my hand tightly.

Inching forward across the vacant lot spread out in either direction from the building itself, we eventually made our way up to the outdoor tables without remarkable incident. Surprisingly, there were a few Muppets seated around, munching on—thankfully—hamburgers as opposed to the famous Doc Hopper Crunchy Frog Leg Buckets. However, I noticed with some worry that posted on the side of the pay phone were all the numbers possible for poison control.

Beckoning me over to a specific takeout window, Robin carefully sidled up to it and poked his head up over the sill. With a small intake of breath, the little frog cried to me, "Duck!" before hunching down himself. I began to wonder exactly what in a joint like this could make me want to duck unless it was another frog trying desperately to escape, but my instincts have proved to me that in times of doubt, get out of the way.

And Robin's advice wasn't wrong, because a mere second after I stooped down something whizzed past at the exact spot where my head had just been. Looking up in alarm, I saw that it was a fish. Even more shocking, once I'd gotten over that part, was that the fish hovered directly in midair for a moment before spinning back towards the takeout window and landing smartly in the outstretched hand of—

I had to look again before my eyes took in the picture. Leaning out of the takeout window, a Doc Hoppers hat perched on his head, was a little clownlike Muppet, complete with round red nose and ruffled, white-and-red clown suit beneath the Doc Hoppers employee pinstriped apron. He had two wide eyes, a fuzz of black hair on top of his head and an even more wild crop of it beneath his nose. And he was laughing his head off, clutching his crazy fish and throwing it out again, where it once more whipped around in the air and returned. As he grasped his fish once more, wearing a sillier grin than even Fozzie's on his face, he finally noticed me and Robin. "Boomerang fish!" he called cheerfully, waving to us with his fish. "I throw the fish in the air...they sail away...and then they come back to me!"

Straightening very cautiously in case he decided to give his fish another whirl, the clown guy suddenly turned around, and just moments later a voice called, "Zealand! Quit bothering the customers, they don't care about your boomerang fish!"

Zealand? This sounded like something I should probably look into. "Oh, but really, we are," I insisted, still keeping hold on Robin's hand.

You should have seen the change come over the guy. His eyes widened further, and his mouth opened in wordless ecstasy. It was kind of like when I'd asked Dr. Honeydew for those printouts of Muppet Labs stuff, or when I'd complimented Fozzie on his comedic techniques...actually, most Muppets were like that, now that I think of it. "REALLY?" he shouted, and immediately he had torn off his Doc Hopper cap and apron and bodily clambered out of the takeout window, touching down very neatly on the ground. "Well then," the guy said, gesturing at a table, "sit down!"

I glanced at Robin. "Th-thank you..." I managed, and we sat down after him.

A light purple Whatnot poked his head out of the takeout window. "Zea-land!" he protested, but as this "Zealand" propped his feet up on the table and started unfolding a copy of The Muppetburg Times the other guy just shook his head irritably. He'd probably realized that retrieving him to his post would be near impossible.

While our host flipped through the newspaper, I leaned back and whispered behind my hand to Robin, "This guy?"

With the little kid's vigorous nod, I turned back to face "Zealand", who was still looking at the paper. Suddenly, though, he put it down in disgust. "You know," he commented, his voice as rotund and bouncy as a stress ball, "this paper isn't even good enough to wrap fish in anymore."

An odd expression, but it got his point across. I thought hard and after deliberating over the words, I asked, "Excuse me, I don't think I learned your name, Mr...?"

"Oh!" he realized, and stuck his fish across the table for me to shake. "I," he announced in that incredibly amusing voice, "am Lew Zealand, and this"—he indicated the fish—"is one of my amazing boomerang fish!" Lew patted it proudly, and elaborated, "Number Three. Say hi to the fish!"

"Um...hi," Robin stated, obviously a bit worried by the fact that not only was he being told to talk to a dead fish, he actually was talking to the dead fish. "I'm Robin."

"I'm Phyllis," I introduced, and with a sidelong glance at the takeout window I asked, "Could you excuse me? I'd like to use the phone."

"Ah yes, the phone," Lew began, wandering into a personal story of some sort. Robin tried to stand up and follow me as I left for the pay phone, but as Mr. Zealand began talking Robin apparently found himself unable to get up while still being polite. "One time, I was with my boomerang fish, and—"

I was soon out of hearing range for the story, although Lew's voice certainly carried well enough with the volume he put on it. Though I first had to wait for some guy to call the health center because of something in his food, eventually I made it to the phone. It was a different model than I was used to—probably due to the human influence—so to avoid the possibility of electrocution I had to dig up some change from the scanty tips people had left on their tables. At length, though, I got enough coins together to pay for the call and, in a brilliant move that I somehow had never managed to consider before, dialed Kermit's number directly instead of trying to haggle with Alice.

"Kermit the Frog, The Muppetburg Times, make it short because I don't have much phone time today," the amphibian's tired voice recited.

"Kermit," I began immediately without any prelude. "Is your boss in?"

"Phyllis?" he asked confusedly before answering my question. "Well, you'd have to call on a different extension to get him—"

"I'm not trying to call him, just is he in his office right now?" I demanded.

Even more bewildered, Kermit replied anyways. "Well, I think so," he said.

"I need a definite!"

I heard some shuffling as Kermit apparently poked his head out the door and looked around the corner at his boss's office. "Yeah, he's in there," Kermit confirmed, "but what—"

I cut him off, casting a glance at Lew Zealand still talking Robin's ear off. "Listen," I instructed, "six months ago before Mr. Zealand stopped being seen at the office, did he have a round face, a red clown nose, a black mustache and did he go around with boomerang fish?"

"Yes," he responded dazedly, "How di—"

I didn't hear the rest of what he was trying to say because I hung up the phone with a click. That was all I needed. Stalking my way back to our table past the choking and/or food poisoned Muppets, I sat down just as Lew finished his lecture. "—and that's how me and my boomerang fish saved a worried guy who was almost married!"

———

WALDORF: REALLY?

STATLER: Yeah, really. I was a WITNESS!

WALDORF: REALLY?

STATLER: Well of COURSE, what do you—

WALDORF: REALLY?

STATLER: Hey wait, you're cheating again, aren't you? TURN THAT HEARING AID ON!

———

"Well, um, Mr. Zealand," I interrupted as he took a breath in preparation for the rest of his life story, "uh...where did you used to work before now?"

"Huh?" he asked, then scratched his head with his fish. "Um, a newspaper, I think..."

"Was it The Muppetburg Times?" I prompted. Robin just looked up at me, not surprised or anything, just watching. He'd known that Lew had been the editor all the time—that much was clear.

Using the fish to tap his head, Lew remarked, "Yeah, I think it was." Picking up the Times again, he unrolled it and spread it on the table. Now using his fish as a pointer, he declared, "And, you know, every day I read this newspaper, and every day there's a bunch of letters to the editor in it, and all of them say 'To Mr. Zealand'. And even though I've been gone for a long time, every day I answer!" He settled back in his chair with the paper again, giggling. "I always like to see what I'm going to say to the next one. Sometimes my answers in here are so funny!"

This clenched it, and that particular case was solved. The answer was so simple, I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought of it before. Lew Zealand was different than normal at the Times because it wasn't really him there. It was someone else, someone very cunning and good at both forgery and mimicking voices...or several persons. And I already knew exactly who it was—but that wasn't my problem now. I'd have to head back for Fozzie at Movin' Right Along, and then I had a murder to solve. This could probably wait for a little while. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Zealand," I remarked, standing up, and at his silent insistence I added, "And your boomerang fish. But we really have to leave."

"Good-bye!" he called back cheerfully as Robin stood back up beside me. "Come visit me sometime! I got a whole lot more boomerang fish for you to meet!"

At least I had finally figured out what the heck Kermit had been talking about when he described his boss as walking around with his "fish".

As Robin and I departed from the lot, he started tugging on my sleeve again. "Miss Phyllis?" he asked worriedly. "Shouldn't we tell Uncle Kermit who his editor really is?"

"So you came to that conclusion too, kiddo?" I inquired, and he nodded. "No, not yet. He's already got enough on his plate to deal with, and besides that I don't think that the Chief will accept any criminals that I bring in until I've gotten some concrete evidence on the murderer that he's supposedly already gotten." When Robin glanced at me confusedly, I said honestly, "I'll tell you later. I promise." My singular wonder was where I was going to get another clue as to who had committed the terrible crime of Sam the Eagle's murder.

———

WALDORF: Does she have short-term memory problems or something? It's OBVIOUS what she's supposed to do!

STATLER: SSHHH!! Keep it down, do you want her to HEAR?

WALDORF: I mean, there was that RECEIPT that they found at that stupid Happiness Hotel! It was all the rage until Chapter 17, then everyone FORGOT about it!

STATLER: No! Don't go any further!!

WALDORF: So OBVIOUSLY, they should finish trying to figure out what the thing was that those guys bought!

STATLER: AAAAAUGHHH!!

WALDORF: Oh, be quiet, she can't hear us from HERE!

———

Suddenly I remembered something that I'd forgotten about after Camilla had arrived on the apartment doorstep almost twenty-four hours ago. The receipt from the first time we'd been at The Happiness Hotel, the one from Floyd's room with the name of a shady-sounding store that said that they'd bought a really expensive Muppet Labs product! I'd overlooked it after yesterday morning, but at last I now had a lead!

———

STATLER: AAAHH!! I TOLD you!

WALDORF: Oh, shut up...

———

I paused, though. At our visit to the Hotel yesterday, Floyd had been so...nice. Uncharacteristically nice. Did I really have to find out whether it had been him or some other guy who'd murdered Sam?

Then my thoughts drifted back to the heavily-disguised bear sitting in Movin' Right Along, ducking out of sight every time a policeman came by. If the Chief caught him, everything would be over and done with. I had no choice.

I sighed, and once we were substantially out of the vicinity of Doc Hopper's I turned to Robin. "You think you can get home from here all right, kiddo?"

Looking around, Robin nodded his head slowly. "Yeah," he answered, "I know my way back from that next corner."

"Good," I replied, and started down the street. "With any luck, I'll be able to tell you the story from the beginning soon," I called as the Red Car came into view, "and if I'm just a bit more fortunate, maybe it'll even have an ending."