"I don't think so, no," Debbie replied.
"It's your optimism that draws me to you."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"Do you think anyone's even close to solving the mystery yet?"
"I'm not sure that's the point of the game anymore, to tell you the truth," Debbie said.
"What do you mean?"
"It's turning into a battle of the wits…and the sexes. Seems to me that it's Mrs. Bartlet, Amy, and CJ against the rest of the boys."
"Hmm."
"And I don't think the boys are gonna like it so much when they get their asses kicked."
"I know who the killer is," Josh said, approaching Leo in the dining room.
"Who?"
"What'll you grant me if I tell you?"
"Your job."
"Point well taken."
"Who's the killer?" Leo asked, though he wasn't exactly prepared to believe whatever answer Josh gave him.
"Mrs. Bartlet," Josh replied, smugly.
Leo raised one eyebrow at him, suspiciously.
"Why?"
"Cause it is."
"Why?"
"She doesn't strike you as the killer-type?" Josh said.
"I didn't say that. I'm asking you why."
"Well, for one thing, she's got everyone wrapped around her finger."
"What else is new? Abbey Bartlet has always had everyone wrapped around her finger, for as long as I've known her."
"Not the least of which is…the President."
"You're just catching onto this, Josh?" Leo said.
"Well…"
"The President is a whipped man. This we know."
"Reason number one why I think the First Lady is the killer."
"Mmm, nah. I don't think that's a good enough reason."
"Well, if she's not the killer, she's definitely the accomplice."
"I think that's exactly what she'd like to you think," Leo answered.
"I think First Lady is in on it with Amy."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I'm just saying. I don't think we should put it past them," Josh said.
"I don't think we should put anything past them."
"Claudia Jean."
"Amelia."
"Whatever happened to using our Clue names, huh?"
"My guess is it got old fast," CJ answered.
"I was really starting to like being called Mrs. White."
"I wish I could say the same about being referred to as Mrs. Peacock."
"Understandable."
"So. You the killer?"
"Are you?" Amy asked.
"I asked you first."
"That's very childish of you."
"Answer the question."
"No."
"Me either," CJ said.
"Ok then. Who is?"
"I don't know!"
"You must know something!"
"Why should I tell you?"
"I think we should form an alliance. If we put together what I know and what you know, we're bound to be onto something," Amy said.
"How do I know this isn't a trick?"
"How do you know it is?"
"Good point. What do you know?"
"What do YOU know!"
"This isn't working," CJ observed.
"Yeah. Ok."
Without another word, they both walked off in different directions.
Jed cleared his throat. "Everyone, can I have your attention." He waited for the chatter and the hushes to go away and the silence to ensue over them before he continued. "Come on. Let's all gather close. Come on. We've got someone here who thinks they've solved the mystery."
This declaration peaked enough interest in everyone that they gathered somewhat quickly.
Jed turned to Josh. "The floor is yours to make your case."
"Thank you, Mr. Green." Josh closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get into his best 'Sherlock Holmes' frame of mind. "It's elementary, really." Sad thing was, though, he was a far better Watson.
"Save us the clichés. Please." Toby all but begged.
Josh sent his friend a look before continuing. "The killer is none other than Mrs. Bartlet."
Jed looked to his wife, a hand moving over his heart. "Is this true?"
"No." Abbey looked from Jed to Josh. "You're not a very good detective."
"But you have to be the killer."
"Why?"
"Because." He rethought his line of thinking. "Everything fits."
"If it fits, you must acquit." Debbie joked.
Everyone but Josh burst into fits of laughter.
"That was good, Debbie." Sam chuckled.
"It wasn't." Josh tried to be serious.
"Josh, sit down before you look any more stupid than you already do."
"Toby. I resent that. At least I'm trying."
"Please. I've had it figured it for hours and I'm not even trying. Leo has it figured out too."
"How do you know?" Leo looked to Toby.
"You've got that look that you have when you know something no one else knows."
"Well, naturally." Leo remarked. "I mean, yeah, I know who did it. But that's not what the look's for."
"What is the look for then?" Charlie asked.
Leo's eyes darted around the room before resting on his best friend and President. "Sir. Ron Butterfield asked me about an hour ago to tell you the report on the crash is on your desk for your review whenever you're done playing."
Jed's eyes went skyward. "When did you talk to him?"
"About an hour ago." Leo said slowly.
Jed shot him a look. "You know what I mean."
"One of the agents in here passed the message along to me."
"They were supposed to stay silent."
"Jed, what are you two talking about?"
"The crash ended twenty minutes into this game."
