"So, have you gotten into the habit of handcuffing yourself like that for long, Mr. Klubb?" the cabdriver asked Sam, who shifted around embarrassed in the back of the taxi. "Uh, no, first time," the detective lied, "Just wasn't paying attention to what I was doing and ended up like this."
"I'll bet," the cabdriver snorted, "That must be embarrassing."
"You want to talk about embarrassing, bud,…" came Rizzo's voice from the garbage bag on the seat next to Sam. Sam slapped it before the rat could get any further. "Just practicing throwing my voice," he said with a big innocent smile, "Little hobby I've picked up." He said in a false voice, "Hey, uh, is that a tiger in your shirt, or are you just glad to see me?"
The cabdriver broke up into laughter—with him or at him Sam couldn't quite make out. "So, what makes you bring your trash this way?" he asked.
"Uh, Oscar called me up the other day, said he wanted more for his can," Sam explained quickly, "I'm dropping it off at Sesame Street; just got to stop by the diner for dinner first."
"Well you're in luck; Oscar's there for the evening," the cabdriver told him, "A whole bunch of the folks are there tonight to welcome David back; he decided to come back for his birthday."
"I thought he died?" came Gonzo's voice from the bag. Sam kicked it twice. "I thought he died?" the detective repeated in a falsetto.
"Ah, the papers like to blow stuff out of proportion," the cabdriver shrugged, apparently having missed hearing the whatever. He pulled over to the curb. "That'll be thirty seventy-nine, Mr. Klubb. And be careful out there tonight with that killer frog on the loose. After what he did to Bitterman last night, he'll do anything to escape justice."
"I'll keep that in mind…uh…" Sam squirmed around, unable to reach his wallet with his hands cuffed behind him, "Uh, could you give me a hand here, mac?"
"Don't mention it," the driver reached over the divider and withdrew Sam's wallet. "Don't take all of it now," the detective warned him, "Keep the change."
He took the wallet in his mouth after the cabdriver had taken the amount needed and hopped out onto the sidewalk. "Well, that was the longest ride of my life," Kermit's voice rang out from the bag, "You can let us out now Mr. Klubb."
"Ahhh, who stepped on my tail?" Rizzo abruptly cried out.
"You did," Fozzie explained. Growling, Sam deliberately dropped the bag to the ground. "OWWW!" all four Muppets inside shouted.
"Do the words 'be quiet' mean anything to you?" Sam hissed loudly at them, "Kermit is the subject of a full-scale dragnet; it would greatly help to shut your mouths and not hint everyone that he's right here!"
"Getting caught up in your work a little too much, Klubb?" sniggered a man walking by, noticing Sam's predicament. "Sam ignored him. "Now I'm going to let you stay here with my ex-fiancé out of the goodness…"
"Ex-fiancé? Is that anything like your y-fiancé?" Fozzie cracked. Sam kicked the bag again. "Don't make me consider dumping you all into the sewer!" he warned them.
"Uh, don't take this the wrong way, Detective Klubb, but I think you'll need to work on anger management a little bit," Kermit suggested.
"Hey dork, having fun?" laughed a group of kids pointing at him. Sam growled again and literally bent over backwards to pick up the bag. "You just had to put these cuffs on me, didn't you, you stupid bear?" he grumbled at Fozzie, "Well, let me get you inside the diner; I owe Henson that much."
"Just so I know, this diner isn't a Doc Hopper Frog Legs joint?" Kermit had to ask.
"No, but I wouldn't rule out taking you there if your amigos don't zip it," Sam told him.
The placard outside the diner read TONIGHT, HOMECOMING RECEPTION FOR DAVID CALLOWAY, 4-7, MUSIC BY ELECTRIC MAYHEM AND SPECIAL GUESTS. MUPPET KAROKE TONIGHT AT 9; MUPPETS WELCOME 9:00-9:10. Upstairs, the diner was already filled to the brim with the usual transients and derelicts that came at dinnertime. They were too immersed at their own tables to bother listening to a familiar psychedelic beat being played out by the Electric Mayhem on a special stage up front next to Rowlf's piano. In addition to the dog, they were joined by Hoots the Owl and several Honkers on stage. "OOOh, one two three four five, six seven eight nine ten, eleven, tweellllllllllve!" Dr. Teeth was just finishing his rendition of the pinball machine song, which culminated with simultaneous (and off-kilter) saxophone blasts from Hoots and Zoot. There was no applause except from the table in the center of the restaurant at which several familiar humans and Muppets were seated. Sam counted familiar faces: Gordon, Susan, Miles, Luis, Maria, Gabrielle, Bob, Mr. Handford, Ruthie—even Mr. Macintosh had shown up to welcome David back. Not to mention the Count, Grover, Cookie, Telly, and numerous other Muppets—not to mention least of all, slurping away at a birdseed milkshake, Big Bird himself. It surprised Sam that many of these non-human residents of Sesame Street would dare coming into such a bad neighborhood, even with parental supervision—but then again, they'd always had a higher outlook of humanity on Sesame Street. The detective was admitted amazed to see David there; he too, like Gonzo had believed he'd died—until David had been featured in a local "where are they now" story, where the detective had learned he'd moved to Dade County and started a manatee preserve. The former part-time owner of Hooper's Store rose to his feet. "Thank you Dr. Teeth on that wonderful rendition of that familiar song," he told the musician in a microphone, "I'm really enjoying your show tonight…."
"So at least it's not a complete bomb for them," Oscar sniggered across the table from him.
"Now Oscar, you promised the Electric Mayhem you'd treat them with respect," Gordon looked the grouch right in the eye, "Like I always tell Miles, it's always best to show someone respect, even if they don't give it their best."
"Except these guys never even came close to best," Oscar counted. "Hey toots, another mud and banana peel special, on the double!" he yelled at a passing waitress, "I'm starving here!"
"And now," Rowlf had taken the microphone on stage, "our special singer of the evening will perform a solo of his own. Here for your listening pleasure is the one, the only, Don Music."
He tried to generate more applause from the other patrons as the stressed-out songwriter made his way to the piano, but only managed to get a half-hearted set of claps from the table nearest the window. "Three, three mediocre claps!" the Count counted them. Everyone grabbed their drinks and lowered their heads as the obligatory lightning flashed overhead. "Thank you for your support," Don Music addressed the crowd, "And now, I will perform my new, remixed version of 'Ladybugs' Picnic.'"
"Why does every good song have to be remixed today like it's some lumpy cake batter?" Gonzo had to inquire from the bag.
"That's the recording industry today, Gonzo," Kermit told him with a sigh, "It's all about the bottom dollar. I can't wait till Golderman hires some obnoxious young diva to redo 'It's Not Easy Bein' Green' without telling me."
There was the drumming of keys as Music warmed up the piano. "One two three, four five six, seven eight…seven eight….seven eight…" he stopped midway through the song, apparently having forgotten how to count to ten. "Oh, it's just no use!" he hyperventilated over the microphone, "I'll never remember this song, never, never, never, never!"
He pounded his head off the keyboard in frustration to a loud chorus of boos, including one from Oscar. "Boring!" the grouch yelled at the songwriter, "Go back to retirement, buddy!"
"I should probably go give him some more advice on the song," Kermit commented. He tried to get out of the bag, but Sam held it tightly shut. "Aren't we forgetting that you're a fugitive?" he asked the frog.
"Fugitive or not, it only takes a little help to go a long way," Kermit protested.
"Hi Kermit," Rowlf said out loud as he passed Sam. The detective took hold of the dog's arm. "How do you know it's him?" he hissed under his breath.
"Who else would Kermit go to but you?" Rowlf responded, "Everyone knows when a Muppet needs help, there's only one place to go, Klubb and Klubb and Klubb and Klubb."
"Not anymore," Sam shook his head, "Listen, go get Connie; tell her I need her right away."
"Gotcha," Rowlf strolled off toward the counter, where Connie was giving a check to the Two-Headed Monster, who was (or was it were?) trying to literally split the bill while spewing gibberish. He couldn't help staring longingly at her. If things had only gone right in the past one way or another…
"Snap out of it, Sam," came Fozzie's voice from the bag, "You're looking at her like she was your mother."
"Who asked you?" Sam growled at him.
"Just thought you'd like to know," Fozzie shrugged.
Sam paid no attention. He watched as Rowlf whispered in Connie's ear. She stared at her one-time love, then walked over to Dr. Teeth and whispered something in the entertainer's ear. Dr. Teeth nodded, and in seconds launched his band (with the exception of Animal, who was pigging out on potato chips behind the counter) into a heavy rock version of "Madame Butterfly" that made just about everybody in the restaurant cringe. Connie walked over to Sam. "I hope you know what you're doing, bringing a wanted fugitive here," she told him, "This won't look good on my resume."
"Hey, I don't even no what I'm doing here," Sam shrugged as he followed her toward the back of the restaurant, "Somehow this was just what I thought of bringing him."
Connie didn't respond. She inserted a card key into an opening in the wall. An entire wine cabinet slid aside, revealing a secret staircase leading down to…nowhere in particular as far as Sam could see. "You might want to hold on to the railing, it's…oh, sorry Sam," she apologized, noticing his handcuffed condition.
"Yeah well I didn't…" Sam was cut off as he abruptly slipped on wet steps and tumbled down thirty-nine steps to the bottom. "Hey, make up your mind, are we going up or coming down!" Rizzo protested, "What kind of restaurant is this, anyway?"
"We specialize in Forties food," Connie ripped open the bag. "It's a good thing I trust your former boyfriend Detective Klubb," Kermit commented, rubbing his nose, "Otherwise I'd report him to the Humane Society for this!"
"I thought we'd never get out of there," Gonzo stretched, "That's the most uncomfortable ride I've ever been on. What's this room supposed to be?"
"We're still not sure," Connie admitted, opening another set of doors to the right, "They added it onto the building for no particular purpose. You'll be safe in here, Kermit."
"Oh boy, a secret hiding room!" Fozzie was beside himself with almost childlike joy. The bear ran into the room and turned on several surveillance camera screens against the far wall. "And cameras to the outside! We should get these for the Muppet Theater, Kermit! We could watch our own performances!"
"You'll have to keep it down, Fozzie," Rowlf had joined them, "This may look like a deep room, but really we're only about three feet under the restaurant."
"Well, as long as it's nice and safe from the authorities, that's all that matters," Kermit plopped down in a worn-out armchair facing an old-time radio, "Does this set get Top Forty Countdown?"
"Is there anything in here that can get these cuffs off?" Sam asked anyone who cared.
"Tools are up here," Rowlf reached for a box on a shelf against the back wall, "Which do you want first?"
"Hacksaw, cut them off," Sam instructed him. Rowlf picked up the hacksaw in the box and began sawing away at the handcuffs. "He sure knows his way around here after only one day," he asided to Connie.
"He lives here too," Connie told him, "His doghouse was repossessed for him failing to pay income taxes."
"You missed taxes?" Kermit was aghast, "Rowlf, why didn't you say anything? I would have loaned you the money."
"Hey, look at that, Cookie Monster's eating the entire set of dirty dishes!" Gonzo and Rizzo were busy watching the monitors. Sam rolled his eyes. He heard a scraping sound behind him. "Uh, I don't think the hacksaw's going to work, Sam," Rowlf told him. He held it up, showing the teeth had been scraped off it. Sam groaned. "All right, what else is in there?" he asked.
"How about a sledgehammer?" Rowlf held it up. Sam sighed. "Fine, but watch where you aim it," he told the dog.
"I thought I heard someone down here," came a small, familiar voice from the floor. Sam glanced down to see five miniature creatures pouring through a hole in the wall. "Sam Klubb?" exclaimed the orange one with purple hair, "I didn't know you lived here in Outer Space now."
"I don't….YYEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!….live here now, Gobo," Sam glared at Rowlf, who'd hit his fingers accidentally, "We're just…."
"The rumors are true then," Boober Fraggle lamented, putting his head against the wall, "Outer Space is overcrowding! Soon there'll be Silly Creatures pouring into Fraggle Rock itself! We're all doomed!"
"Will you keep it down!" Sam snapped at the Fraggle as he started wailing over his species' presumed extinction, "We're harboring a fugitive from the law here!"
"Kermit!" Gobo rushed over to the frog and embraced him—sort of—"We were worried about you!"
"You know him personally?" Sam inquired.
"Kermit was the one who set up our lives to be documented," Gobo informed him, "He was our go-between with Mr. Henson during taping."
"It was a little strange being shrunk to enter the caves of Fraggle Rock, but ultimately it was worth it," Kermit explained, patting the Fraggle on the head.
"News sure travels…OOOOOOOWWWWW!—fast among Muppets," Sam gritted his teeth to try and ignore the pain of Rowlf hitting his fingers again.
"We get instant news from the Underground," Mokey explained. She and others were climbing up the legs of the table Sam and Rowlf were leaning against.
"The Underground. That makes perfect sense…OOOOOUUCCCCHHH!" Sam spun around gave Rowlf a murderous look. "Uh, let's see what else we've got in here," Rowlf rummaged through the toolbox, "How about we use this blowtorch here?"
"What an interesting fashion statement, Detective Klubb," Wembley was staring at the handcuffs, "Gobo's Uncle Traveling Matt says a lot in his postcards that Silly Creatures wear strange clothing these days, but this is more than…"
"Getting back to the big question of the day," Connie cut in to all the essentially pointless jabbering, "You said you'd never take another Muppet case again, Sam? What changed your mind?"
"Nothing!" Sam had to shout over the roar of Rowlf's blowtorch, "Except either Golderman or Bitterman or somebody set me up to rile Kermit up with that video, and I'm going to find out who!"
"Nelson Zigmont," Fozzie abruptly blurted out.
"Who's Nelson Zigmont?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"I don't know," Fozzie frowned, "I thought you could tell me."
Sam thumped his head off the wall in frustration. "The blowtorch doesn't seem to be working," Rowlf admitted, "There's got to be something strong enough to break these cuffs."
"There's a drill over here in the corner," Gonzo called.
"Sure, might as well," Sam said…immediately regretting it when he saw the drill was a large construction-style drill. Gonzo placed it over the handcuffs and turned it on. Sam vibrated wildly from it. The tape Robin had given him clattered out of his pocket, nearly crushing Gobo on the floor. "What's this strange thing?" the Fraggle inquired.
"A hideous Fraggle crusher!" Boober gasped.
"NNNNNNNNNooo yyyyyyouu ffffoooooooollll, ittttttt's evvvidddenncccccee!" Sam stammered from the drilling.
"What sort of evidence?" Kermit picked it up and popped in into a convenient VCR nearby. "Good grief!" he exclaimed, noticing the scene Sam had left it on, "Jim's will! I knew Bitterman was holding onto it!"
"YYYYYepp, annnnndd IIIIIII tthhhink ttthhhis wwwwas wwwwhhhy ssshhhhhe wwwas bbbbbbumppedddd offfffffffff," the drill stopped, but Sam continued vibrating. "I don't believe it," Gonzo stared down at the drill, which had been completely damaged, even though the handcuffs were still completely intact, "Will nothing break these cuffs?"
"No use, we'll just have to blow them off," Fozzie had reached into a box labeled DYNAMITE: EXTREMELY EXPLOSIVE (AS IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW). Sam immediately dove behind the table. "The papers didn't say they'd found it, so it's out there somewhere," he said in a hyper voice, "All we have to do is find it before they do—don't come near me that!"
"You'll have to trust me, Detective Klubb, it's for your own good," Fozzie advanced toward him with six lit sticks of dynamite tied together.
"So who would kill Bitterman for the will?" Kermit asked, staring intently at his former boss's manifesto of their fate, "I can't think of anyone that desperate."
"I can; your boss Golderman," Sam backed away from Fozzie, who refused to back off even though the dynamite's fuse was running out, "I'm guessing he wanted to take control and bumped her off. Somehow he…WHAT THE HELL? ARE YOU SERIOUS?"
Fozzie had stuck the dynamite in his hands. Before Sam could let go, a huge explosion blew him all the way across the room into the wall. And even though the explosion had been that big, he could tell it had no effect on the handcuffs. "Good form," Wembley commented from the table, I'd give that a 7.8, how about you, Gobo?"
"Hey, this thing would make a great ride," Red had Gobo's attention at the moment, as the two of them were standing atop the drill, "If we could just shrink it a bit, we could make a fortune producing them."
"Do you Fraggles have a really purpose being here?" Sam's patience wasn't the best at the moment, "Isn't there any way to get these cuffs off?"
He shifted his arm to the right…and found his right hand had gone right out of the cuffs. He swung his arm around to the front and gave the cuff on his other arm a short tug. The handcuff came off as if it were a glove. He sheepishly threw it to the floor. "It's always the last thing you think of, huh?" Rizzo commented.
Sam paid no attention. "I'm going to check out Golderman's office," he told Connie, "If there's computer down here, access public files on Muppetville. Just so I know, could Kermit stay here for a while until the dragnet for him blows over?"
"They're not going to do anything crazy, are they?" Connie watched the Muppets in the room with guarded suspicion, especially now that the Fraggles had started up the drill again and were gaily riding it all over the floor. Fozzie and Gonzo jumped on top of it and joined them. "I can't make any guarantees," the detective sighed.
"I'll do my best to keep the others in check," Kermit volunteered.
"Please do," Sam told him.
He walked toward the door and strutted back into the restaurant. Fortunately, the Electric Mayhem was still playing away at full steam,covering up the sounds of wildness below. No sooner had he walked out onto the street, however, than dozens of hairy hands grabbed him and dragged him into an alley. "Hey, what's going on?" he roared at his attackers, whom he saw were dozens of Jareth's goblins.
"Just sit tight, Detective Klubb," a large brown horned goblin told him, "You're going for a little ride."