iClue

Disclaimer: Hiya! In case you weren't aware of this, I don't own iCarly, or Clue. Well, what are you wasting your time reading the disclaimer for?

Author's Note: In short, the chapter title should be a dead give-away as to the contents of this particular chapter. I just enjoy writing the author's notes. Okay, CONTINUE!


Chapter 12: iDetermine the Weapon

"Scar, just tell me already!" I snap at the red clad counterpart of one of my best friends. She's discovered something that just might be vital to our mission, and she won't tell me anything about it! It's getting harder and harder not to strangle her as she leads me back to the observatory, bent on showing me whatever she found via the evidence. However, she enjoys seeing me suffer (Sadistic Demon), and keeps stopping and asking me questions, and she made us stop by the kitchen to get some ham (Which is completely out of our way). Now, it's just annoying, but we're almost there.

Scar smirks back at me, "Nope, not gonna. Just be patient, Fredweird," Scar had discovered, at some recent point, how much I miss Sam's name calling. It just doesn't seem right to go without it. So, she's been calling me Sam's nicknames. Instead of getting me angry, they calm me down in here. I still need to get out though.

Finally, after what seems like forever (It's probably only been a half hour, though), Scar and I arrive at the observatory. Scar enters first, picking up some books from a pile on a nearby desk, and skimming through them, looking for the right book. I simply waited in a nearby chair, with thinning patience. Finally, Scar unceremoniously drops a book in my lap.

I take a moment to glare at her before eying the book she had dropped into my lap. It doesn't have a title on the cover, instead it's a simple leather hard cover. I take it, and flip idly through the pages. Scar, who's now the impatient one, flips to the page for me. On the page is a picture of our late host, and Scar and Carlotta, who smile at the camera, waving in it's direction. I stare at her, confused.

"Okay, what does this have to do with the murder?" Scar frowns, pointing to a paragraph. I read through it once. Twice. And it still isn't absorbed by my brain:

The committee of Art hereby awards Mr. Spencer Boddy the Picasso de Statuette Award, for his work in the creation of the statue dedicated to the victims of the Great War. Seen with his younger cousin, Carlotta Peacock, and family friend, Samantha Scarlet, the great artist himself has done work with some of the biggest stars in Hollywood. From William Boyd (How do I know that name?), to little Miss Marissy herself, Boddy has made quite a name for himself here in Hollywood. The man is currently being paid for a project that will likely span onto many years...

I stare at the page, my mind drawing a blank. So, Carlotta didn't tell me everything, eh? Or did she simply not know? This mystery's getting more and more complicated. Not to mention that my friends are still waiting for me on the other side of the consciousness barrier. But something is telling me to see this through to the end. Guess I have no choice, then. I'm stuck with Scar. Oh joy.

"Okay, so this means that Spencer knew Mrs. White before she became his maid, but what does that have to do with anything?" I address my partner in crime fighting. Scar sighs, explaining that any connections to the victim are important. I take her word for it.

"MAIL CALL!" I hear the maid call. Sighing, I step to the side. Scar looks at confused... until she looks down the hall, gives a squeal of surprise, and jumps to my side, barely avoiding the stampede of Mustard and Green as they run to get their mail.

Heading down myself now, I find Mrs. White distributing the mail accordingly. Carlotta gets mail from a few relatives, Green receives letters from some 'friends' of his, Mustard gets a few letters from his military buddies. White didn't have any mail, and neither did Scar. I, however, had gotten one letter. The letter I've been waiting for since... last night. Man, they work fast!

Without speaking to anyone, I grab Scar's arm and head for the theater. Nobody goes in there anymore, so the two of us use it as our headquarters. All of our important stuff, including my notes, is hidden somewhere in here. But, back to the important stuff.

"What? What's going on?" Scar asks as I finally release her arm. I sit down, ignoring her for the moment, and tear open the envelope, reading through it quickly:

Dear Mr. Benson (Yeah, I used my real name. Couldn't let them know it's a famed professor, huh?)

We have, as you requested, done forensics on the sample of blood you had sent us. It may be interesting to know that the blood, amongst what's expected, contains a non-deadly amount of Rat Poisoning. We have determined that whomever the blood belonged to would survive, but must have a large amount of bed rest to assist in the recovery process. The person would be vulnerable and subsceptible in this state, and must be tended to at all times. Lest something bad happen.

Sincerely,

The Forensics Department of the Police Academy of Seattle, WA

I read through the note again and again. Then, turning to my partner, I smile. She stares at me, confused, before proceeding to ask me what the chiz is going on.

"My dear Samantha," I say, grinning at her, "I believe I know what did Spencer in. I figured out the murder weapon,"

It was really all so simple.

Mr. Spencer Boddy was weakened by the Rat Poison, cleverly sneaked into his food at dinner the other day. Since his strength was weakened, the murderer used a trophy to hit his head, causing his death. Then, he was stabbed by the already rusted knife to confuse whoever would try to solve the mystery. It was ingenious.

Too bad it didn't work right.

Scar stares, mouth gaping slightly, as I explain this to her. Unable to believe it was that simple, she then asks me if that helps us.

"Not really, I mean... Every one of us had come into contact with Spencer at one point last night (I think), and everyone has access to the kitchen. It's still unknown who the murderer could be," Scar sighs.

"So, you have no idea?"

I contradict her immediately, "I do have one idea, but it's just a lead. I'm going to inspect the scene of the crime again, don't try to stop me," And I exit the theater, heading once again towards the main hall.


Okay... that wasn't anything like I'd imagined it would be. But that's writing for ya.

R&R, please!