"Jones, you're wasting our time. There is no underground operation," Jim said and glanced at his wristwatch.

I gulped. No. This can't be. Jeremiah went somewhere last night and it was no doubt here – in the storage room. But how can that be? How did he manage to transport everything in one night and get away scotch free? If he had been responsible for the art forgery, how the hell did he manage to work in such a small space?

Slowly, I stepped into the room. The floor was blanketed in dust. I bent down. No, it wasn't entirely covered.

"Something was placed here," I pointed to one dustless square which was a few inches longer than my shoe. I turned around and saw another, "And here."

"So?" Jim yawned and tapped his foot, trying to be awesome at displaying impatience.

I walked along the sides of the room, careful not to disturb the squares. There was one huge square on the floor, but unlike the others, it had a small brown handle on it. I knelt down and tried to pull it up.

"Is that -?" Officer Jenny ran next to me and helped me pull the latch up.

Boom!

I fell back, the top of the trap door almost hitting me in the head. I stood up. There, below us, was a steep set of stairs leading to the basement.

"Bingo!" I exclaimed.

-------------

Once lit, we saw that the basement was filled with empty canvasses and easels, which were propped up in rows. To the right were a cabinet and a chest. There were splatters of paint on the floor. Other than that, the basement was also empty.

I pointed to the easels and then to the paint splatters. "They've been creating art imitations here. Jeremiah probably left in a hurry and took what he can carry. Ever since Antonio De Vega visited, he became paranoid and began packing up his counterfeits. He needed to make an escape as soon as possible."

I told them about that moment when I saw someone carrying a veiled painting to the back room. That was Jeremiah carrying the Weeping Charizard. That was why Vulpix and I couldn't find it.

Instead of agreeing with me, Jim laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach. That Magnemite of his bobbed along, looking very much amused. Bastards.

"An easel? Paint splatters? For goodness' sake!" Jim said in between disgusting giggles. "What if this Jeremiah dude's an artist himself? And what if he needed to be out town in a hurry? This proves nothing."

"But the unauthorized copies," I reasoned. "That's got to count for something."

Officer Jenny shook her head. "Jim's right. The evidence against Jeremiah is insufficient."

"Insufficient? But Officer!" I was in total despair. Come on!

"However," Officer Jenny continued, completely ignoring me. "We could always trace the counterfeits to the distributor."

I sighed. It wasn't the distributor's fault. I was about to open my mouth when an image of the Great Detective crossed my mind. I didn't want to beg them to believe me. I had to prove it. That's what Holmes would've done. He would've showed them real, tangible evidence. I looked around and my gaze fell on the paint splatter on the floor. I bent down, dipped my finger in it and sniffed it.

*What are you doing?* Vulpix rushed to my side.

"This smells different. Like –" I stopped.

*Coconuts,* Vulpix finished for me. She had touched her nose to the splatter. *In fact…*

The fox Pokémon began to circle the room, and then she stopped abruptly in front of the cabinet. *Someone's in here.*