The Mismatched Murderer: Chapter two

(Cut to the interior of Basil's flat. Dawson is reading the paper, while Basil is pacing.)

Dawson: (looking up from his paper) Confound it, Basil. How long have you been pacing?

Basil: (looking up) Hmm?

Dawson: I'm surprised you haven't worn a hole in the floor.

(Sure enough, there is a slight hole where Basil is standing, which is at knee depth.)

Basil: Sorry, old chap. It's just that it's been several weeks without a decent case.

(Dawson turns back to the paper, reads for a moment, then turns back to Basil.)

Dawson: I say, Basil, you might want to take a look at this.

(Basil snatches up the paper from Dawson and looks at the headline mentioned. It reads "Mysterious Assailant Attacks Local Criminal Mouse, Leaves Dead".)

Basil: Hmm . . . . Interesting.

(Cut to the interior of the Scotland Yard office belonging to Inspector Vole. Vole is sitting at a desk, and Basil and Dawson are sitting in chairs in front of it.)

Basil: So, you're certain that Doran is dead?

Vole: Absolutely. We checked his pulse and breathing rate.

Basil: And?

Vole: There were none.

Basil: Of course, the body could have been switched with a dummy.

Vole: No, there was an autopsy, which disproves any foul play with the body.

(Cut to the morgue. Doran's still body lies under a sheet on a table.)

Vole: There were no bullet holes, so we can rule out someone shooting him-.

Basil: Did you take a blood sample?

Vole: Yes, we did. Take a look.

(Basil walks over to another table, and peers through the eyepiece of a microscope.)

Basil: Curious.

Dawson: What?

Vole: Yes, what?

Basil: There are traces of some strange chemical in the blood sample unlike any I've ever seen before, or any that come to memory.

(Suddenly, Doran sits up straight on the table, panting heavily, and really scaring the other three mice.)

Dawson: AAAHHH!!!

(Basil walks over to Doran.)

Basil: Doran.

Doran: (really freaked) What happened? The last thing I remembered was Wotton standing over me, and . . . . Where am I?

Basil: You don't remember?

Doran: Not a thing.

Dawson: Why do you suppose Wotton would try to kill Doran?

Basil: Probably under someone's orders, I suspect.

Vole: We'll be leaving that for the police to discover. (to Basil) Basil, you'd best get home and let the police handle this matter.

Basil: Nonsense, Vole. Something particularly strange happened, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.

(Suddenly, a dark figure looms outside a window in the morgue, which looks all too familiar, and it spooks Dawson. The figure is-.)

Dawson: B-Basil?

(Basil turns away from the microscope.)

Basil: What is it, Dawson?

Dawson: (pointing and stuttering) Re-Ra-Ri-.

Vole: Who?

Basil: Confound it, Dawson!

Dawson: (Practically on the point of screaming) RATIGAN!!!

(Sure enough, Professor James Ratigan is staring in through the window, an evil smile on his face. But he ducks out of sight.)

Basil: Dawson!

(Dawson pulls out his revolver, firing a shot, which misses Ratigan by a mile.)

Basil: (to himself) Blast it. (to the others) Come on!

(Basil, Vole and Dawson leave the room, leaving a very confused Doran.)

Doran: What about-?

(Vole runs back into the room.)

Vole: Oh, sorry. (Snaps handcuffs on Doran) Almost forgot.

(Doran stares at the cuffs, silently fuming. Cut to the interior of Vole's office. The lamp is unlit, so there's no light. A huge figure is leaning back in a chair behind the desk with its feet on the table.)

Dawson: (outside) I assure you, Vole. I saw Ratigan!

Vole: (also outside) Impossible, Doctor. Ratigan has been dead for several months now!

Basil: (They're all outside the office, stupid.) What about the fact that there was no body found?

Vole: (beat) True, true.

(Vole opens the door, and they all walk in, oblivious of the figure.)

Basil: So, logically, he must have either survived, or his body was picked up by someone.

Vole: But how can you be sure it was actually him?

Dawson: Blast it, Vole, aren't you going to turn on a lamp in here?

Vole: Fine, fine. (Turns on a lamp)

Voice: (smugly with false concern) Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?

(Basil, Vole and Dawson all turn to the source of the voice and gasp. Pan over to reveal that the light has revealed the one and only Professor James Ratigan. He is smiling evilly and insanely, and holding a small, nondescript rubber ball in one hand.)

Dawson: (breathlessly) Ratigan.

Vole: (same state) Bloody hell.

Basil: (Confused) Ratigan? (back in form) Ratigan! I'm a little surprised to see you, (giving Vole an "I told you so" look) alive.

Vole: (chuckles meekly) Sorry.

Ratigan: (calmly, as if Vole's apology never happened) My dear Basil, I'm a little surprised that you're so pleased to find out I survived the fall from the clock tower. (chuckles) Congratulations.

Dawson: There's just one thing I'm unclear on.

Basil: What's that?

Dawson: Everything.

Basil: The only thing that confuses me is this: How did you survive the fall from Big Ben?

Ratigan: (frowns) Garbage scow.

Basil: (momentarily triumphant) Ha! I knew it! (to Dawson) I believe an "I told you so" is in order.

Ratigan: (turning the unadorned rubber ball over in his fingers) But, enough about me. I know you survived, Basil. A brief check of my surroundings revealed that you hadn't fallen into the scows, ah, cargo like I had. That left only two options. One, you had plunged into the river and to your death, but no body was found, which only left one option. You had managed to grab onto the propeller from what remained of my dirigible and was able to pedal your way back up to the aircraft you constructed to pursue me. (evilly chuckles) Which means the game isn't over. Oh, no. Far from it.

(By this point, Ratigan has stopped turning the unsophisticated rubber ball in his hand, and is now holding it between his pointer finger and thumb.)

Dawson: (half-terrified, half-curious) It-It's not?

Ratigan: Oh, no, my dear doctor. The game is just beginning.

(Suddenly, Ratigan vaults over the desk and throws the simple ball onto the ground, and it releases a cloud of thick, crimson smoke. Pulling out what appears to be a revolver, Ratigan turns to face the desk, and fires several dozen shots. When the smoke clears, Vole, Basil and Dawson are lying on the floor, unconscious, but there are no bullet holes or darts in any of them. On the other hand, there are several bullet holes, all of them riddling the desk in the message "The game is just beginning". "Ratigan" is now wearing a gas mask, and as the last of the smoke clears, he pulls it off, revealing a very smug grin.)

"Ratigan": (Kimmish, Nalaish voice) Well, that was easier than they made it out to be. (Frowns briefly) But Basil suspected something . . . (smiles) Maybe this mission will be quite entertaining after all! (Ratigan voice) Pity I missed all the shots.

("Ratigan" sneaks out of the window, chuckling evilly in Ratigan's voice.)