And now… Fillmore.
Today's episode: To Mar a Stall
Act 1: Flushed Innocence
What started off as a proud presentation of the new X Middle School bathroom modifications turned into a horror show. As steering committee president Robin Starling presented her new display for everyone, all the bathroom stalls were found with the words "Stainless" written on its stalls. Everywhere you shift your eyes, you would find that word in a bathroom stall. Principal Folsom wasted no time calling in the Safety Patrol.
Edward Nygma entered the bathroom as soon as he arrived, which was right after Fillmore and Ingrid arrived. He looked around to see the forensic team checking out all the stalls and the red tags.
"Should you be in here?" Captain Vallejo asked the riddler. "This is no place for a civilian."
"Vallejo, we agreed we'd let him consult with us on some of our cases, remember?" Ingrid asked.
"You think he can help us with this?" Vallejo asked.
Ed smirked. "You can have me, but cannot hold me. Gain me, and quickly lose me. If treated with care, I can be great, but if betrayed I will break. What am I?"
Vallejo groaned. "Could you not?"
"Trust." Fillmore answered. "The answer is trust, isn't it?"
"Exactly." Ed said. "So trust me."
Vallejo sighed. "Fine… but only if you keep those brain-teasers to a minimum."
"So what do we know?" Fillmore asked.
Vallejo opened up his notebook. "A painting crew finished up here around lunch yesterday. They propped open a door for ventilation. It was open all night."
"So it could be anybody." Fillmore surmised.
Ed joined the Safety Patrol back to their office where their captain presented a fishing magazine. He leaned back at the wall listening in.
"Listen." Vallejo said. "I'm going fishing with my dad this weekend. The last thing I need is this Stainless headache messing up my fly cast. So talk to me here people."
"Stainless' weapons of choice are red, black, and green permanent markers." Anza said. "It's the same brand supplied to the school. Pretty much untraceable."
"O'Farrell and I spent the morning curled up with our files of known taggers." Tehama said. "No matches."
"Stainless must be new on the block." Fillmore said.
"Excuse me." Ed said. "Sorry for interrupting, but is no one going to ask the serious questions?"
"You got something to share, Nygma?" Vallejo asked.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I'm just curious… why did Stainless tag the bathroom stalls?"
"Well, bathrooms are popular for taggers." O'Farrell said.
"One is just a bit of fun. But this guy wrote his own nickname down all over the stall walls. Logic dictates this is part of some big plan, and it involves that bathroom."
"Well, in any case, Folsom wants this case wrapped up before Stainless can do any more permanent damage." Vallejo said.
"Perhaps we could consult an expert?" Montoya asked. "I mean, if Stainless is some kind of artist, then maybe he's trying to say something with his writing. Is there anyone who can help?"
"We could ask Randall Julian." Fillmore suggested.
"Randall the Vandal?" Anza asked.
"Isn't he serving indefinite detention out by the athletic field?" Tehama asked. "No way he helps us."
"You guys got a better lead?" Fillmore asked.
"Um, excuse me. New guy here." Ed said. "Who's Randall Julian?"
"I'm with Ed on this one, Fillmore." Ingrid said.
"Randall Julian was one of the greatest art students in the history of our school." Fillmore explained. "His macaroni collages took top honors all over the state. But then, something went wrong. He dropped the mac and glue sticks and picked up a permanent marker."
"So he became a tagger." Ingrid said.
"Not just any tagger. THE tagger. Flava Sava, the best or the worst depending how you flip the pancake. Randall Julian tagged every bathroom in the school except for one: the bathroom in the teacher's lounge. We caught him before he could put that final stroke on his masterpiece."
"You were the one who caught him, weren't you?" Ingrid asked.
"That's right." Vallejo answered. "Which is why I think it's best to send someone else to question Randall. I'm sure he wouldn't want to talk to the guy who put him away."
"Perhaps I can talk to him." Ed said. "He's never met me before, so I might be easier for him to talk to."
"There's no way I'm sending a civilian to the indefinite detention center to talk to Randall the Vandal." Vallejo said. "Not without police protection, at least. Montoya, go with him. Fillmore, Third, you check out the records about the bathroom renovation project. Maybe someone's got a grudge."
Ed turned to Renee who approached him. "Guess we're checking him out together."
Ed and Montoya walked across the athletics field to enter the detention center. Once inside, they approached a desk where a guidance counselor awaited for them.
"We're here to talk to Randall Julian." Montoya asked.
"All right." The counselor said. "But first, I'll need you to check in all writing instruments. Any ink cartridges, pen refills, pencil leads, nibs, quills, chalk, crayons, charcoal, wax pencils. Any interior or exterior pains, spray paint, fingerpaint, poster paint, model paint, paintballs, paintbrushes, airbrushes." He turned over to Montoya. "Eyeliner, lipstick, mascara."
"We have none of that, sir." Montoya said.
"I don't have any eyeliner, lipstick, or mascara either." Ed chuckled.
"Ha ha." The counselor said as he got up from his desk. "Follow me. Mr. Randall Julian is in what we call a permanent state of detention. His parents drop him off into our custody in the morning, then pick him up again in the afternoon. His classes are piped in him via closed-circuit TV."
"That sounds like a lot of security over one guy." Ed commented.
"You don't know Mr. Julian." The counselor said. "He currently maintains an A+ average. On November 3rd this year, a custodian entered his holding area with a miniature gold pencil in his back pocket." He then pulled out a photograph showing it to the kids. "It took Mr. Julian ten minutes to do this to the east wall."
Both Ed and Montoya shared a terrified response seeing the indescribable artwork on the photograph.
"He did THAT with a miniature golf pencil?" Montoya asked.
"And here, I thought it was mad when Picasso cut off his ear." Ed said.
The counselor buzzed the kids into the blank, white room. There were only three things there: a desk, a TV screen showing a class, and a young boy who turned off the TV to give glares to the two.
"You're new." He said.
"Randall Julian, I presume? I'm Ed Nygma. This is Renee Montoya of the Safety Patrol."
"Ah. So you're the riddle boy." Randall said. "And the Safety Patrol… Am I correct in assuming that it was Cornelius Fillmore who sent you here?"
"Good guess." Ed said. He approached Randall's desk and laid out all the photos of the Stainless tags in front of him. The delinquent picked them up to examine them. "Some creep did this to the remodeled bathroom. Fillmore thinks you might provide some insight."
"I can tell you that this guy is uninspired, unemotional, uninteresting, and unimportant."
"We're not here for an art critique, buddy." Montoya said. "We need you to help us catch Stainless."
"Why should I?" Randall asked.
"If you help us, we could reduce your sentence." Montoya said. "The better your information, the better it looks for you."
"And give up all this?" Randall asked waving his hands all over his blank wall.
"You know, it was Fillmore's idea to get your input." Ed said. "He's the one who put you in here, but he still suggested we get your help anyway."
Randall raised his eyebrow. "You claim to be so smart, Nygma, and yet, here you are, asking for a hint. I thought you were supposed to be smarter than that."
Ed clenched his fists. He didn't like anyone making fun of his intelligence. Still, he took a breath and replied, "'I have seen further than others. It is by standing upon the shoulders of giants'."
"What? Is that another riddle?" Randall asked.
"No. It's actually a quote by Isaac Newton said. Right now, I am Newton, and you are the giant who's shoulders I need to stand on to better understand this case."
Randall chuckled in response. "I don't know whether you're trying to flatter me or yourself. You may want to work on that ego of yours."
Ed scoffed. "For someone who supposedly loved art so much, you sure don't show enough passion for a crime with it." He and Montoya were about to leave, but that's when they heard Randall again.
"Your Stainless writes from right to left."
Ed and Montoya stopped to turn around. "What?" Montoya asked.
"The English language, as I'm sure you're aware, is written from left to right. Stainless does his tags backwards. Right to left. You can tell by the overlay of his letters."
Montoya took a photo and examined it. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my word. He's right."
"Looks like you were useful after all." Ed said. "Thank you, Julian." Finally, he and Montoya opened the door to leave.
"When you figure out more, come back to see me. Maybe I'll tell you more." Randall said to the leaving visitors.
"Weird kid." Montoya commented as she and Ed walked down the hallway.
"But useful." Ed added. "We now know that Stainless writes right to left. Figuring out the key to why that is could help identify him. Right now, the real question is who would have that style."
"The real question?" A quiet voice caught the two by surprise. They turned their heads right next to them seeing a door similar to Randall Julian's. They heard a boy make a small laugh. "That's the wrong question entirely."
"Nobody asked you." Ed responded.
"If anyone has to ask something, they might as well ask the right questions." Said the voice. "For example, why did he call himself Stainless?"
"You know about Stainless?" Montoya asked.
"More than you think."
"Then perhaps you can help us." Montoya said. "If you have any information…"
"What? You'll help get me out of here? Thanks, but no thanks. I'm perfectly happy here."
Ed gave a suspicious look. "In detention? Why would you be happy there?"
"It's the only place I can think clearly. Look, I'd love to help you with Stainless, but I've got bigger priorities on my mind at the moment, and I'm already behind schedule as it is. Farewell, you two."
Ed and Montoya took a look at each other before walking away. It didn't take long before seeing the counselor again.
"Did you get what you needed?" he asked.
"Kinda." Ed said. "Hey, what can you tell us about the guy in the other cell?"
"Other cell? You mean Vic Sage?" the counselor asked. "Yeah, he's a strange one. He was sentenced here after invading the privacy of others and trespassing into restricted places on multiple occasions. He keeps asking things that no one is comfortable talking about. If he said anything to you, it's probably best you ignore him."
Ed felt a little out of sorts with the idea, and Montoya couldn't help but think more about it.
After leaving the detention building, Montoya and Ed delivered their report to Vallejo. They would have mentioned their strange encounter with Vic Sage, but they were still unsure how to feel about him, so they kept to themselves for now.
"So where are Fillmore and Third?" Ed asked.
"Questioning the members of the art club." Vallejo said. "Apparently, the bathroom steering committee was moved to their office for the renovation project. Hopefully, they can close this case before my new fishing rod gets delivered."
As if on cue, the said duo entered the office following Tehama. The forensic analyst began setting something up.
"You two find anything?" Ed asked.
"Nothing concrete." Ingrid said. "You?"
"Well, we learned that Stainless has an unusual writing technique." Montoya asked. "He writes from right to left for whatever reason."
Just then, the room got dark. Tehama displayed the Stainless tag through a projector onto the wall and explained her observation.
"Check it out. The ink flow on a certain section of the tag is off 72%."
"What could cause that?" Fillmore asked.
"Only one thing. His red marker had to spring a leak. Probably from the rear of the pen."
"That marker is permanent, right?" Ingrid asked.
"Whoever Stainless is, there's a good chance he's walking around with a red marker stain on his hand or wrist."
Ed gave a chuckle. "Talk about red-handed. But in all seriousness, if Stainless is planning to strike again, won't he need a new pen for that?"
"Ed's right." Fillmore said. "And there's only one place where he can get one."
Fillmore, Ingrid, Ed, and Montoya all waited within the shelves of the supply room. The place was built like a warehouse. They hid keeping an eye on the markers when they heard the door open.
A blue-hooded kid walked in and approached the markers. He was about to grab one when Fillmore jumped out of hiding.
"Freeze!" he ordered.
Nevertheless, the hooded kid took three markers and ran off. Ed and the Safety Patrol gave chase through the aisles. The hooded boy knocked over cardboard boxes to slow down the Safety Patrol, but Fillmore went high for the chase.
Seeing Fillmore catching up, the hooded kid took a rolling chair and rode on it for speed. But being the quick thinker he was, Fillmore used a rubber band he had on hand to fashion a slingshot with his own chair. With that much speed, Fillmore caught up to the suspect and grappled with him on top of the rolling chairs. That all ended when Ingrid poked a hole in a box of rubber cement that spilled all over the floor. The suspect's wheels got caught in the cement and the hooded kid crashed. The four of them finally surrounded him.
"Riddle me this, buster." Ed said. "How are you like a bride on her wedding day? The answer… you're both about to be unveiled!" He grabbed the kid's hood and pulled it off. The boy underneath had a freckled face, brown hair, and a red baseball hat worn backwards.
"Anyone know who this guy is?" Montoya asked.
"We do." Fillmore said. "This is Tommy Howard, the art club treasurer. So you're Stainless?"
Tommy chuckled. "Can't blame a guy for trying. You know what I'm saying?"