"The partially, nearly Naked Gun 3 : 'They Saved Crumpf's Brain'…"
Summary: Frank Drebbin is out of retirement and on the case when he learns the fanatical former president and loser candidate Fred Crumpf may not be quite as dead as he left him and he and/or his crazies including his family threaten the newly elected President Woodrowmina Wilson.
Of course, Nordberg is no longer on the squad because of, well, we never talk about that...
Part XV…
Brown Jeep in parking lot of a small and not well known by the public but respected by professionals medical building…7:00 am the same morning…
"Come on, from the beginning…"
"Not again, three times was enough…Plus you were at graduation yesterday." shake of head.
"Come on…Just once more…" wheedling tone. "Make Mommie's day. Just once more. We can't go on just yet. The next guy won't be at his office till eight and he's the earliest of the other four."
"Uhhhh…" sigh. "Ok…But this is it."
"Oh…Goody." Beam, clap of hands at steering wheel.
"'Fellow classmates…Distinguished guests…' Wait what are you doing?"
"I wanna record you, in case this is the last time you'll do it." The early thirty-something woman seated behind steering wheel explained as she fumbled in her coat pocket. "Ah, ok, go ahead…" she raised cell phone, pressing record…
"But you and Grandma recorded me at the school. Grandma had a professional videographer."
"This is back up…Plus a different venue. Go on…"
"We're in a car, parked outside a medical clinic."
"Right? Different venue."
"A car outside a medical clinic with two bodies inside, currently rotting? Mom, need I remind you this could be used as evidence?" the young eighteen-year old seated next to an early thirties-ish older woman noted with frown.
"Eh, if someone knew enough to grab our phones for evidence…" the older, but quite youthful-looking woman made a slicing motion across throat, grinning.
"And some clueless relation or friend sees this and notes we were outside the same building where several murders took place?" the younger woman, a small, slim beauty with long hazel-colored hair eyed her mother, a lovely wavey-haired brunette with wide, sparkling eyes and a warm smile, both women dressed in stylish yet not overly so clothes, the younger woman in blue skirt and tan jacket, the older in pink coat and blue-grey ski cap.
"I still feel kinda…Sorry…About one and three…Though I get the nurse/receptionist had to go too, the janitor was a shame. Just doing his job." Sigh.
"Murders? What murders?" the older woman offered shocked expression. "Has there been a how-do-you-say...?" very fake Belgian Poirot accent. "…A…murder?"
"Three." The younger woman, exasperated. "And they were very good ones…"
"Murders-suicide." The older insisted. "You know the scenario I worked out. Dr. Werner…Verner…Beck was having the affair de la coeur with his shapely nurse/receptionist. Oh la la…Naughty fellow in love and medical experimentation."
"Not that shapely."
"For him, shapely enough." The older woman shrugged. "But she wanted out…And a financial settlement to hold ze tongue. So, lover boy shot her in the head but…Alas." She gave sad expression. "He could not live with the horror of what he'd done…" Hand over forehead. "Alas…" she urged. "The poor janitor came in too soon and had to go as well…"
"Alas." The younger woman nodded, sighing. "And I do mean on the janitor. Though I know it couldn't be helped."
"So…Then our first, the not so good Dr. Beck, shot himself through the pump. Ze end, c'est moi."
"Fin…If you were doing French."
"Belgian…I was Poirot."
"Close enough. But it could still be suspicious to see us on camera right outside the place." The younger woman noted sternly.
"Eh…Fine." The mother stopped the recording and deleted the video footage. "We'll stop along the way. I could use a donut anyway. But when we get to ze how do you say, ze do-nut…Shoppe…"
"Lord." The younger woman shaking head.
"Sorry, mademoiselle…Not all of us have had the benefit, how do you say?"
"You're saying it."
"Of ze fine prep school in which to perfect my Belgian."
"Enough, Detective…I confess to this horrible crime." The younger girl sighed.
"Rory Wilmore…" Mock shock. "A Kilmore Girl never confesses to a crime. Parking violation or murder, especially murder." The older woman mock frowned. "I'd thought I'd taught you better. Think of the shame for my beloved adopted WASP parents. And our more clueless friends back home in Stepford Hollow…?" stern look.
"Sorry…It was your terrible accent. I couldn't hold out under that and the harsh lights."
"Well, I vill let you off this time as you have such the pretty face and sweet manner…And you are going to Yale. But let this be ze warning to you." Wagging finger.
"Never to kill again?" Rory eyed her solemnly.
"Never to confess to killing again, girl. Well, one plus down, four plus to go, then this Lieutenant Drebbin." The older woman pulled out a news photo of Frank.
"Not bad looking…" Rory noted. "He's the one who got the Medal of Honor last night from the President, isn't he?"
"Nice way to go out…Height of his career. Though I don't like this being tacked on to the others so last minutey. I hate to rush these things. I get sloppy when I'm rushed and I hate to be sloppy." Pout. "Don't let Mama be sloppy, Rory." Nestling head on Rory's shoulder fondly…
"Don't worry…" pat. "But I can't believe the man dodged Creed and Ford." Rory shook head. "I think we should take our time with Lieutenant Drebbin, especially if he has powerful back-up. And given the short notice…" she eyed her mother.
"I did warn Mr. Banner it might take a day or two more…"
"Good…So, no rush." Rory nodded.
"Yeah, but I wanted some time with you, kiddo. Yale looms and I'll only see you on weekends and special scheduled hits…And precious few of those, missy. You have to focus on your future."
"I guess…" Rory sighed. "But journalism almost seems tame now, compared to contract killing."
"Especially when my little girl is so good at it." Fond beam. "But…You have a goal, we're sticking to it."
"Right. But maybe I can still kill on the side. Being an international journalist with credentials would open up many possibilities."
"Lets focus on college, then career…And for now, lets go get some coffee and a donut if we can find a decent place round here."
"Too bad we have to leave so early, we could've carried over from Duke's." Rory sighed.
"So much to do, so many to kill, so little time…" the mother noted. "You remembered to bring the grocery list and the list of more things for Yale?"
"Right here…With my silenced glock, my little friend." pat of pocket.
"The best friend a lady can have…" Nod. "But don't pull it out with the list again."
"I'll be more careful, Mom."
…
8:20 am…
Hmmn…Director Bailey, Frank, and Captain Hocken looked round the outer office of Dr. Werner Beck, noted neurologist…
Who preferred keeping his patient clinic small and a bit out of the way despite some award-winning research in neurology.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Marjorie called.
"Hey, Dr. Beck…It's Ed Hocken! Sorry to come without an appointment but I tried to call on the way over…" Ed called. "Nurse Kismet?"
"No one seems to be around…" Frank looked round.
"Strange…" Marjorie looked around. "The office hours are 8:00-2:00."
"Yeah, but I wish I could work hours like that." Ed noted. "Hey, Doc!" call.
"Right here…" Dr. Goebbels-Banner had come in from the front door.
"Oh, hey, doc." Ed beamed at him. "Thanks for meeting us here. But I was trying to reach Dr. Beck…"
"Glad to come. Not only am I happy to help with anything that can help Mrs. Hocken, I've long wanted to meet Werner Beck. A very brilliant man…" Dr. Goebbels-Banner nodded.
"With a very small practice it seems…" Marjorie noted. "I'd expect a few patients waiting for a man of such high reputation."
"Well, he's known to be a bit eccentric…" Goebbels-Banner shrugged. "I think he prefers to have as much time for research as possible."
"Well, all clear in here…" Frank noted. He opened the inner office door. Hmmn…
"Dr. Beck, I presume?" he called to the stiffening corpse in chair turned away…Walking over.
"Doc?" Ed peered in.
"The doctor is out, permanently." Frank noted, swinging chair around to reveal a 60'ish bald man with spectacles, in dark suit, dead in chair. With clear bullet hole with soaked blood on suit. Gun fallen beside chair.
"Whoa." Ed stared, Marjorie and Dr. Goebbels-Banner coming to the door.
One down…Goebbels-Banner thought, pasting stunned expression.
Though a shame, really had wanted to meet him.
