"I don't know if this is such a good idea, Detective Klubb," Kermit confided in his protector as they pulled onto the Golderman Pictures parking lot, "Mr. Golderman isn't the nicest of guys when he finds he's been had. Telling him you've got Jim's will when you don't is dangerous."

"That fat oaf doesn't scare me," Sam snorted, shutting off the engine, "I can best him any day. Now what I want you to do, Kerm, is watch the lot here. Make sure no one else comes around to back Golderman up."

"And if the Riverbottom Gang shows up?" Kermit inquired.

"Give a yell or something, I don't care, just anything that I'll hear but won't tip off the rest of the neighborhood you're here," Sam shrugged, "If I'm not back in ten minutes, come up."

"Fair enough," Kermit nodded. He watched Sam slip through a conveniently unlocked door and flattened himself up against the wall so he was out of view from the street. "I hope he's quicker than ten minutes," the frog said softly to himself, "I hate being out here in the open like this."

Then he shook his head. "Come on Kermit, you're getting paranoid," he told himself, "No one else knows you're here."

But it was at that moment that a shovel hit him on the head, knocking him senseless. The last thing Kermit saw before he blacked out was a strange face looking down at him—a face with rather rough eyes and a long snout.

In the meantime, Sam slowly crept upstairs toward Golderman's office. He could hear the sound of nervous footsteps pacing around inside. The executive had sounded nervous when Sam had called him a half hour ago claiming he had Henson's will. What else he was hiding the detective was determined to find out.

The office door was slightly ajar. Through the crack Sam could see Golderman standing by the window taking a swig of whiskey. He waited until he was midway through a gulp before knocking on the door, so that when Golderman jumped in shock, he spilled the whiskey all over his chest. "Who, what, why?" he cried out in shock.

"Special delivery for Fred Golderman," Sam called out, striding into the office, a rare grin on his face.

"Please don't do that!" Golderman yelled at him, "My nerves can't take it, Klubb! You've got the will?"

"Yeah, but…!"

"But nothing; give it to me!" Golderman snatched the paper Sam had started to pull out out of his hands. Sam immediately reached for a whipped cream pie on the table behind him. "I Kermit the Frog, ask you the undersigned, the members of the Muppet Theater troupe…this isn't Henson's will!" Golderman shouted.

"Nope, and neither is this!" Sam threw the pie in Golderman's face, then landed a haymaker on the magnate's jaw that sent him sprawling. "All right, admit it Freddie, you killed Bitterman!" he snapped, hauling him up against the wall.

"Aha, just as I suspected!" without any warning, Sherlock Hemlock popped out of the closet, holding his magnifying glass high, "I was so obvious that it was…!"

"AH, STAY OUT OF THIS!" both Sam and Golderman picked Hemlock up and tossed him out the window. "Nice work," Sam shook Golderman's hand, then immediately grew hostile again. "So was anyone else in on it besides you, Freddie?" he growled.

"Who," Golderman gasped.

"Who?"

"And Watt."

"I'm not asking you what, Golderman, I'm asking you who!"

"I just told you who, Klubb, it was Who!"

"I'm asking YOU that!"

"And I'm TELLING you that!"

"What?"

"Yes, he was in on it too. Weir too."

"I'm asking WHO, Golderman, not WHAT and WHERE!"

"I know! I told you, Who was in on it, it's as simple as that!"

Sam let out an aggravated growl. "You're really angering me, Golderman!" he shouted at the executive, "Tell me who was involved with you killing Bitterman!"

"That's what I'm saying, Who was my accomplice!" Golderman cried. Before Sam could argue the point further, he added, "But you can't pin me with murder, because Bitterman isn't dead!"

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped.

"Yeah, like I said, Watt was involved too," Golderman said, "Bitterman faked her death. She wants to make sure Muppetville ends up all hers, well, hers and…"

Just then Sam noticed the reflection of a gun in the awards case against the wall. He hit the deck seconds before a spray of bullets filled the room. When it stopped, he looked up and saw that Golderman wasn't going to be able to tell him anything else—or tell anyone anything else, for that matter. The detective ran to the window. From his viewpoint, he saw Miss Piggy running down the alley. Immediately a wave of fear for Kermit's safety swept him. He barreled back downstairs and looked all over the lot. To his horror, there was no sign of Kermit. Hearing the sound of an engine starting, he jumped in his car and sped off after the impossible-to-lose pink sedan that he knew was Piggy's. He followed at a discreet distance.

Until, that is, Piggy turned toward the tunnel that led straight to Muppetville. Sam abruptly slammed on the brakes and let her get away. He had been too scared to go back to Muppetvile ever since his family had been killed. And there was no telling if he'd run into…it. One thing was for sure; he'd need better ammo on the other side of the tunnel. He tossed his gun aside and hefted one that fired Muppet bullets. As much as he would have liked to run a field test, he didn't want to let Piggy get away. Muppet gun in hand, he floored it through the tunnel. The large flat at the far end slowly grew larger and larger in the windshield, until it rose up when he was a few feet from it. He was in the middle of an abstract landscape, on which dozens of Muppets of all shapes and sizes were merrily dancing their cares away to the tune of The Muppet Show theme. Sam couldn't help watching the strange show around him, which was the primary reason he abruptly crashed into a saloon. Shaking himself off, he climbed out of the car to find himself face to face with Sam the Eagle. "You weirdo!" the eagle condemned him, "You've caused massive structural damage to this wonderful establishment! What have you to say for yourself?"

"Have you seen Miss Piggy?" Sam asked Sam.

"She lives in the apartment complex across the street, " piped up Baskerville from a nearby table where he was playing poker with Muppy and the Storyteller's dog.

"Thanks," Sam called to him and ran out the door, leaving the Muppet with his name glaring after him. "Hey, come back here and clean this mess up, you immoral weirdo!" the eagle shouted after him.

The detective paid no attention. He threaded his way through crowds of Muppets on the street and glanced up at the apartment across the street. Sure enough, the silhouette of a porcine figure could be made out on the topmost floor. "Yes," Sam said to himself. He barreled across the street and into the apartment. Pressing the button for the elevator, he rocked on his heels waiting for it to come down. After an improbable five-minute wait, the doors opened, revealing the Count at the controls. "Welcome aboard sir," he greeted the detective, "Which floor?"

"Top floor, and make it snappy," Sam pushed his way inside.

"Ah, wonderful, now I can count every floor!" the Count exclaimed. He closed the doors and threw the switch. Sam was flattened almost literally against the floor by the incredible gravitational forces, leaving him with little else to do but listen to the Count rapidly count the number of floors to the top of building. Finally the elevator lurched to a stop as the vampire shouted out, "One hundred and thirty-seven, one hundred and thirty seven floors, ah hah hah!"

Sam staggered out the elevator doors as the thunder echoed. He hoped this wouldn't have set Piggy off as to his presence. He strode down the hall to the door at the end and looked inside. A pig was visible inside. "Gotcha," he whispered. He drew his Muppet gun and fired at the lock. A beaver-like bullet zoomed toward it and bit a huge hole in it. Sam kicked the now unlocked door in. "Give it up Piggy!" he shouted.

But it wasn't Miss Piggy inside after all. It was a large, fat, ugly female pig. "Oh sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you!" she exclaimed at the sight of him and charged wildly at him. Repulsed, Sam ran as fast as he could toward the emergency exit…

Only to find once he was on the other side of the door that there was nothing beneath his feet, and he was at least a thousand feet off the ground. He fell screaming about twenty stories before grabbing hold of the flagpole. Little Bird was perched on it. "Don't tell me you fell for that one, Detective Klubb?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Sam reluctantly nodded, "And let me tell you, it sure was no blast."

"Did somebody say blast?" Crazy Harry popped out a window, detonator in hand.

"NNOOOOOOOO!" Sam cried at him, but to no avail. Crazy Harry pressed down on the plunger, blowing Sam back into the air and into his freefall again.

No sooner had he started falling again, though, then exciting music started playing from seemingly nowhere. "It looks like it's time for another edition of our favorite new game show, Stop My Freefall!" announced an unseen announcer, "And now, here's our host, Guy Smiley!"

Guy Smiley flew into view on a jetpack. A cameraman with a parachute soon followed. "And welcome to our show!" Smiley announced into the camera, "Today's contestant is Detective Sam Klubb, whose hobbies include watching noir videos and taking long hot showers. Detective Klubb, are you familiar with our game?"

"No, just get me…!" Sam shouted at him.

"Well then, here are the rules," Smiley pulled out a quartet of parachutes, "Only one of these is an actual parachute. It's your job to pick the correct one before time runs out, so what will it be, Number One, Number Two, Number Three, or Number Four?"

"Three, no, two, no, four, no, two, no,…oh, just give me then all!" Sam grabbed all four parachutes out of Smiley's hands. "Hey, you can't choose them all!" Smiley protested, "That's cheating!"

"It's better than dying!" Sam started pulling all the ripcords. He was in the process of yanking the right one when he roughly hit the street rear first at almost five hundred miles an hour. The parachute superfluously opened after the fact. Fortunately, something had broken Sam's fall. Unfortunately, it had been Wendell the porcupine. "YEEEEOOOOOWWW!" Sam yelled, hopping around in pain due to the several dozen quills now lodged in his rear end.

"Watch where you're falling, buddy!" Wendell shouted at him, dusting himself off and walking away. Smiley jetted to a stop on the pavement next to Sam as he pulled the quills out of his rear. "Well, I guess we'd have to qualify this as a draw," the host announced to his public, so till next time, the is Guy Smiley for Stop My Freefall saying, watch where you step."

He waved for the cameraman to stop tape, then walked off muttering, "I hate these Bitterman Entertainment Group reality programs, Arnie."

"Come to Mommy, big boy!" came the shout of the ugly female pig from up the street. Sam saw her charging right toward him. Thinking quickly, he waited until she was right on top of him, then pulled the manhole off the street in front of him. She fell down it still giggling wildly until she was cut off by a loud splash. Sam dropped the cover back into place. "Gets them every time," he said to himself.

He caught a glimpse of something pink disappearing down the alley across the street. Drawing his Muppet gun, he stalked down the alley after it. "Miss Piggy?" he called out, waving it from side to side, "I know you're in here! You can't hide from me!"

"Klubb, freeze!" came Miss Piggy's voice behind him, followed by the click of a gun. Sam turned ever so slowly toward her, unaware of another figure behind him with a gun also pointed at him.