iClue

Disclaimer: No ownership of either iCarly or Clue here.

Author's Notes: I DO TOO HAVE A PLOT! What, you think I just right down strange stuff everyday! This requires a lot of thought and a lot of planning! Let's see you write an iCarly mystery! Then you'll see how tough it is to- sorry, little stressed. Finals are in two weeks! *Gulp*


Chapter 8: iLook for the Weapon

Scar and I looked all over the manor, using the hidden tunnels, and we were, miraculously, not caught. I thought for sure when we went back to the lounge that Mustard had caught us, but luckily he was asleep. Now, we both are in my room (The only safe room in the manor to talk), and are discussing what to do next. Actually, that's not right. The next step's already decided. We're talking (arguing, actually) about how to do it.

"C'mon, it's obviously a knife," Scar argues, "We just gotta find out WHO'S knife it is," In care you haven't noticed, we're arguing about the murder weapon. I sigh, shaking my head.

"Scar, the knife wound could've been an engineered ruse to put us off track," I respond, "To keep us from the real weapon. I should know; this is my mind, or have you forgotten?" Scar growls at me, very scarily, and I somehow maintain my neutral composure, though this scares me as much as it would have in the real world.

"Alright, so let's say it's not a knife," She compromises, "How are we supposed to find out which weapon it was. Anything from a gun to that trophy!" She's referring to one of Spencer Boddy's Art Awards, which he has placed randomly around the mansion to make himself look cooler. Or at least, I guess that's there purpose.

"So, we splitting up this time?" I ask, somewhat reluctantly. Without Scar, I can't really defend myself. If the murderer gets his/her hands on me without her around... well, Sam will be all on her own in this world.

Scar sighs, obviously as against the prospect of splitting up as I am, and reluctantly nods. I take a deep breath, and shake her hand.

"If I die, make sure this place doesn't get shut down, okay?"


I think the best way to determine what weapon was used is to examine the body (No lame pun this time). It was impossible to do that when the body was first discovered, with all the panic. Now, I can get a good look at the corpse without the interference of others. Scar's job is to gather up potential weapons for investigation. My job is to look over the body. I'm not properly equipped (Or registered) for an autopsy, so just looking at it will have to do.

When enter the bedroom where the corpse is being stored (Spencer's bedroom), I am mildly surprised to see Carlotta there. Mildly because they ARE related, so it would make sense for her to be mourning him worse than most of us. I wonder how close they were before he... well, you know.

I approach the bed, on the side of which Carlotta is sitting, and notice she's humming gently and sweetly under her breath. All the while, stroking the face of the deceased and sobbing silent tears which no one could have noticed unless they were close enough to hear the humming. Not really wanting to disrupt her (But having to), I tap her shoulder oh so gently. She lets out a soft gasp (Must not have heard me come in), and turns to me. A faint smile lights her tear-stained face.

"Oh, Professor," She says, looking down, "I didn't hear you come in," She tries to hide the fact that she was crying by discreetly wiping her tears away on her sleeve.

I gaze upon her with only pity in my eyes, "I'm sorry about your... er, whatever Spencer was to you. I didn't really know him personally, but I'm sure he was a good man," Carlotta smiles sadly, looking up at my face. For a moment, she seems even more vulnerable than ever.

"He was," She assures me, with the kind gentleness of a mother, "And he was my... brother. Though we didn't grow up in the same home; If anything, he's more like a distant uncle you can't help but love than an older brother. My gosh, I miss him..." She stares down upon the corpse, her temporary happiness at remembering what a good person Spencer was leaving her. Now her eyes show only mourning.

Being the kind person I am, I try to change the subject, "What was that song you were humming earlier?" She glances at me.

"How long were you listening in on me?" She asks, all seriousness. I give her a faint grin before answering:

"Long enough. You gonna answer me, or not?" She looks away.

"It was a song my grandmother taught me," She stares out the nearby window, showing a perfect view of the lake nearby, "A beautiful song... but I can't remember the lyrics. So I just hum it. Spencer always liked when I sang it for him, so I'm using it to bless his soul now," Her gaze shifts back to me, "But that's not why your here, is it? I have to go now, anyways," And with that, she heads out the door. I frown, before turning to the corpse. No time to let sympathy in the way. I've got an investigation to finish.

My look over the body was... well, it wasn't the best experience of my life. My mind certainly can be vivid, that's for sure.

Along with the stab wound in his chest, he's been severely beaten around the torso with... something. And there's a large bruise on the top of his head. If it weren't for the numerous cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach, I would've guessed it was a blow to the cerebral. If it weren't for the giant bruise on his head, I would've guessed he died from internal bleeding due to his numerous injuries. And then there's the gaping stab wound in his chest. And, between you and me, I took a blood sample. Ha, wouldn't my dad be proud? I secretly sent it out to be tested by a college; Not even Scar knows about it, and I don't think I should tell her about this one. She'll flip.

Speaking of Scar, she's already entered my room.

"What'd you find?" We both ask simultaneously. I take a moment to laugh nervously, and Scar suddenly finds her feet interesting. After a moment, I dare to go first, telling her of my findings. She doesn't seem impressed.

"Well, I could've told you that, had I taken that job," She frowns at me. I glance at her, reminding her that I'm a professor of Psychology, not medical science. That seems to shut her up.

"And you?" I ask.

Scar, as it turns out, had found some interesting stuff. A rusted knife, an equally rusted ax, a blood covered candlestick, an old metal bat, a dented trophy, a rope (Found in the hall; She'd overlooked it) an old dumbbell with a little chunk missing, a pistol (There were no gun wounds found, but that might come in handy), and...

"Rat poison?" I question as I hold the bottle. Scar grins at me.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to consider it, right?" Scar continues, ignoring me at present, "I found it in the kitchen; It's partially empty, but that might be from rats around the manor," We look back at each other.

"Well, it's not much," I confess; There are too many to make an accurate guess as to what the weapon actually is, "But it's a start, and when there's a will, there's a way. Do you got the will, Scar?"

Her response is a nod.


Well, there it is, chapter 8. My stupid friend called in the middle of making this; and I was already behind due to personal issues, so I stayed up late to finish this. Enjoy it?

Nah, too tired to press for reviews. If ya want, ya know where the button is.