The Last Resort
I woke up at 7:13 to hear my phone ringing and my stomach rumbling. I tried to reach over to the table where my phone rang, but my chubby arms couldn't reach any farther. I was forced to sit up. I picked up the phone, panting from using so much energy.
“Hello?” I asked in the phone breathlessly.
“Hello, Franklin. This is COOL,” my friend and partner replied. I sighed, wondering why COOL would call this early in the morning, with no breakfast!
“What is going on?” I questioned, a bit annoyed. I could hear C.O.O.L pop some gum into his mouth.
“There has been a death,” was his answer.
I am Franklin Andrew Thompson. Yes, my initials do spell “fat,” and I know what you're thinking. I am the detective partner to Christopher Oliver Otis Lewis, who's initials spell “cool”. We solve crimes and try to bring justice to those who need it. And we won’t go down without a fight.
“Where? When? Why?” I sputtered. I could almost see Lewis rolling his eyes beneath his sunglasses.
“That's what we're figuring out,” Lewis replied. I hung up, got ready, and stumbled down the stairs. I squeezed into my car, taking up the driver and passenger seat. I drove to McDonald's and got a Big Mac. Then I left and drove to our detective headquarters, located on South Michigan Avenue. Struggling, I dragged myself out of the car and walked into the tall building. I strode in and took the elevator to the 4th floor. I then walked to Lewis and my office. I got there to find Lewis looking over some files.
“Hmm, yes, mm..” I found him thinking. I approached him, holding my big mac.
“What’s the case?” I asked with raised eyebrows. Lewis flashed me one of his cool grins.
“An engaged lady named Margaret Scott was found dead in her hotel room, with no injury marks or anything,” Lewis said.
“Any cause of death we know about yet?”
“No. The coroner’s are checking out the body right now.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Let me know when you get the news,” I said with a mouthful of food. I strode out of the office when Lewis called me.
“Where are you going?! We have to go to the hotel where it happened and see if we can find anything,” my detective partner told me. I agreed and we rushed out to his car. He had to sit in the front by himself, and I somehow managed to squeeze into the back. We had to roll down the window for my arms to stick out. We drove about thirty minutes to the hotel where the lady was found dead. We hopped out and were greeted by the hotel manager.
“Hello,” he greeted. “I am David Johnson. Welcome to the Last Resort!” Lewis nodded and flipped out his detective badge, flashing a smile and wink.
“Hello, sir, and I am Christopher Oliver Otis Louis, part of the Chicago Bureau of Investigation. We heard of a recent death in one of your penthouses,” Lewis replied. Johnson’s smile faded and he paled.
“Oh, yes. Come this way please,” he said nervously. We walked into the hotel, and I grabbed a muffin off the buffet cart. A lady yelled at me in what sounded like French, so I couldn't tell if she was cursing at me. Johnson took us to the elevator and took us to floor 42. We walked out and found yellow police tape around room 4209's door.
“Here is the room,” Johnson shuddered. He opened the room door and let us in. We walked in, and I pulled out my magnifying glass and looked around. The bed was messy and undone, and it looked as if the room hadn't been cleaned for a day or two. Lewis took notes on what he saw and other observations.
“Crumbs…..” he muttered. He wrote that down, and Johnson left us. I kept investigating, and checked the bathroom. We couldn't find anything else besides the suspicious food crumbs. We left and found a handsome young man with brown hair and slight facial hair walking down the hallway. He looked at us questioningly as we came out of the room.
“Are you investigators?” he asked. Lewis nodded.
“Ah, I was Margret's fiance. I am Luke Jones,” he told us. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You too. I am Christopher Oliver Otis Lewis, but you can call me Detective Lewis,” my partner greeted. “Do you have time for an interview?”
“Hmm…. yes! I do!” Luke replied. Luke, Lewis, and I rode the elevator down to the lobby. I pulled out a dollar to get a soda. Lewis leaned against a pillar supporting the roof of the lobby, but he missed the pillar and fell on the ground. I turned around and tried to help him up when I lost my balance and fell on his face.
“Ge-off-uh-ee!! Yor-suff-in-ee!” Lewis tried to yell. I tried to stand back up, letting Lewis get a breathe, but fell back over and smashed his face again.
“Oww! At-urt!” he mumbled. I managed to stand back up but with the help of the hotel manager and Luke. Lewis’ face was as red as a radish, but we managed to get back to the car. I sat in the back and Luke and Lewis sat in the front. We arrived at the detective headquarters in about 30 minutes, me with my 10 piece Mcdonald’s kids meal and Lewis with his notepad and sore abdomen. We were ready for the interview.
“Tell me about your day when you last saw your fiance’,” Lewis said. Luke crinkled his eyebrows in concentration and scratched the slight facial hair on his face.
“I last saw Margaret when we eating breakfast on the first of May, Tuesday. I went to my office to work and went out to lunch at Brunchies. Then I went back to work until 4:00 and came back to the hotel to find police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. I ran inside and to our room to find all the commotion of officers and the dead body of my beautiful Margaret,” he replied sadly, recalling the day. Lewis nodded and I nodded, flinging salt and french fries everywhere.
“What relationship did you and Margaret have when you were engaged?” Lewis asked.
“Margaret was thrilled when I proposed to her. I had proposed to her two months before, and we were to have our wedding on the 20th of June,” he said. Lewis jot down some notes.
“I suspect that you had other ladies that were interested in you, considering your good looks,” Lewis grinned.
“Actually, yes! The maid by the name of….. what is it? Oh, Hannah something or other, put up a good act of flirting,” Luke laughed. “I still loved Margaret, though. Hannah was pretty surprised when I told her I was engaged.” Lewis stifled a laugh and tried to act cool.
“So, how often did you meet with this girl, Hannah?” Lewis questioned. He clicked his pen in interest. I shoved some chicken McNuggets in my mouth.
“Oh, I just sometimes saw her around the hallways….. You know, just sometimes,” Luke smiled nervously.
“OK. Thanks for coming, Mr. Jones. We’ll contact you if we need you,” Lewis said shaking Luke’s hand. Luke left the building and hired a taxi.
“I think there is a little more going on than just visiting that girl, Hannah,” Lewis murmured suspiciously. “Let’s give the hotel a call and ask Hannah to come here for an interview.” Lewis called up the hotel and asked for Hannah Sanchez. She said she would be right over. “Is she coming?” I asked. Lewis nodded. “We could be one step closer to solving this mystery,” he grinned. In about 40 minutes Hannah arrived and came to our office. She was a pretty Hispanic women with wavy black hair. “Hello, I believed you called for me,” she told us. Lewis nodded. “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind, could we ask you a few questions about the death of Margaret Scott,” Lewis asked. Hannah agreed to it. “Did you know Margaret Scott well?” Lewis questioned with his notepad ready. “Hmm….. well I have seen her in the hotel walking around, but we never actually had a conversation,” Hannah recalled. “Did you know her fiance’ Luke Jones at all?” At this question Hannah seemed to tense up and sit up a little bit straighter. “Yes…. quite well. We used to talk and he once took me out for lunch. He was kind and I thought we had a great relationship, until I learned about him being engaged to Mrs. Scott. Then our relationship kind of fell apart,” Hannah almost spat with disgust. I scooted back into my chair, with defense mode on. “So, you were one of the maids for the hotel and did you clean Margaret and Luke’s room? Did you have anything against Margaret besides the engagement?” Lewis inquired. “I did clean their room quite often. And no, I did not have anything against Margaret. If anything, we actually got along,” Hannah replied. “What were you doing when the death happened?” “I was cleaning rooms! What do you think?! I believe I was cleaning room 4112 around 3:50” Hannah said with a little tightness in her voice. “Thank you. You may go now,” Lewis said. He shook Hannah's hand, and she quickly left our office. Lewis looked at his notes, flipping pages and chewing on his pen with his shockingly white teeth. He leaned his arm against the wall a slipped and fell on the floor. He quickly got back up and dusted himself off. “Well. Now I believe we have only one or two people left. I think we should interview the cook in the kitchen, and maybe the people from room 4112. Just for proof,” Lewis told me. “Why the cook in the kitchen?” I asked excitedly. I licked my lips. “Remember how I found crumbs on the bed in the room? There must have been food involved, and that is why we should talk to the cook,” Lewis replied in a matter-of-fact way. “Can we at least have a snack first?!” I complained as my hunger took over my body. Lewis rolled his eyes, but agreed. We drove to McDonald's and headed back to the headquarters. Lewis made a final phone call to the cook of the hotel. “Hmm…. OK. We will be right over. Bye,” C.O.O.L said to the phone. “What's going on?” I asked. Lewis started walking toward the door. “Apparently the kitchen chef is too busy to get out of the hotel,” Lewis replied. “So we have to go there.” “Aww….. more traveling!” I cried. Despite my being upset, we drove the 32 minutes to the hotel and walked into the hotel kitchen. We found a short, stout man juggling around pans and food with his shirt off. He was yelling commands to the other chefs with a thick Italian accent. “No no no! The onions in the sauce, not the pan! Clean up your work station! Toss it HIGHER!” he yelled. He apparently noticed us and stopped screaming. “Hello, hello! I am Neil Anderson, head chef of the kitchen! Mama mia, are you the detectives? “Yes. For a matter of fact we are!” I barked in a rude tone. I apologized because I hadn't had my McDonald's for five minutes. “Well, well! Lets serve you some food!” Chef Anderson tossed me a free box of pizza and I shoved it down my throat. Lewis held back a chuckle. “May I ask you a few questions?” Lewis asked. Anderson nodded and put his shirt on. “Do you bake any kind of treat for the rooms or anything like that?” Lewis asked. “Yes! As a matter of fact, we bake cookies and have the maids deliver them to the rooms! We serve chocolate chip all week except for Fridays when we serve almond and nut cookies!” the chef laughed. I wondered why he was so happy and excited. “On Tuesday, one of the maids asked me for a special order of almond cookies for some reason. I made her some and I saw her quickly leave the kitchen. I thought it was a bit mysterious,” Anderson added. Lewis' eyes widened as he heard these words. He scribbled something on his notepad and thanked Anderson for the time. “Oh! Also, is Brunchies open on Tuesdays?” Lewis inquired. “No! Not at all! It is going to be demolished! It has been closed since two weeks ago, when business started to run low,” Anderson replied. Lewis and I were about to leave when he remembered he wanted to make a stop at room 4112. We rode the elevator to the 41st floor and found the room. We knocked. “Hello?” A lady with dark brown hair peeked out of the room. “Hello. I am Detective Lewis and I am here to ask you a few questions about the death of Margaret Scott,” Lewis greeted. The lady smiled and let us in. “Oh! Anything to help! I am Samantha Watson,” the lady grinned. C.O.O.L and I walked into the room and she offered us lemonade. I took it without thought, but Lewis turned the offer down. “So, where were you from about 2:00 to 4:00 PM on Tuesday?” Lewis asked, ready with his notepad. “I was in my room, reading the book the Hunger Games! What a good book!” Samantha exclaimed. Lewis smiled and wrote something on his notepad. “Did you here anything around 4:00?” Lewis questioned, leaning on his chair. Even I was excited too. I think we were about to finish this 1,000 piece puzzle. “Yes, I did! I heard a loud thump, and I walked around the room, trying to see if anything fell. I forgot about it and went back to my book,” Samantha replied. Lewis and I thanked her and left. We quickly left the hotel and drove back to headquarters. Lewis had a message on his phone from the lab, and we listened to it. It said that Margaret had been poisoned by the chemical arsenic, disguised in an almond cookie. Every detective knows that arsenic tastes like almonds! We drove all the way back to the hotel again and met up with Hannah. We also brought our special friend, the police. “Why did you do it?” Lewis asked a hand-cuffed Hannah. “I was jealous of that stupid Margaret for taking my future husband! He looks like Adam Levine! I swear!” Hannah screamed at us. We had found our cold blooded killer. We had finished the puzzle. She kicked and screamed as the cops dragged her to the police car and took her to jail. I pulled my pants down and mooned her, with my Cuddly Bear ™ underwear, but I accidentally pulled them off, too. I quickly pulled up my pants..O.O.L and I high fived each other but abjectly missed. We chuckled, then walked to Lewis’ car. “How did she do it?” I asked Lewis. He grinned. “She had put arsenic on the almond cookies to hide the flavor. She then probably died 30 minutes to and hour later if it was a strong dose,” Lewis told me. I couldn't think of anything that could make me happier. We had solved another mystery! But, I could really use some McDonald's. THE END
The Last Resort
I woke up at 7:13 to hear my phone ringing and my stomach rumbling. I tried to reach over to the table where my phone rang, but my chubby arms couldn't reach any farther. I was forced to sit up. I picked up the phone, panting from using so much energy.
“Hello?” I asked in the phone breathlessly.
“Hello, Franklin. This is COOL,” my friend and partner replied. I sighed, wondering why COOL would call this early in the morning, with no breakfast!
“What is going on?” I questioned, a bit annoyed. I could hear C.O.O.L pop some gum into his mouth.
“There has been a death,” was his answer.
I am Franklin Andrew Thompson. Yes, my initials do spell “fat,” and I know what you're thinking. I am the detective partner to Christopher Oliver Otis Lewis, who's initials spell “cool”. We solve crimes and try to bring justice to those who need it. And we won’t go down without a fight.
“Where? When? Why?” I sputtered. I could almost see Lewis rolling his eyes beneath his sunglasses.
“That's what we're figuring out,” Lewis replied. I hung up, got ready, and stumbled down the stairs. I squeezed into my car, taking up the driver and passenger seat. I drove to McDonald's and got a Big Mac. Then I left and drove to our detective headquarters, located on South Michigan Avenue. Struggling, I dragged myself out of the car and walked into the tall building. I strode in and took the elevator to the 4th floor. I then walked to Lewis and my office. I got there to find Lewis looking over some files.
“Hmm, yes, mm..” I found him thinking. I approached him, holding my big mac.
“What’s the case?” I asked with raised eyebrows. Lewis flashed me one of his cool grins.
“An engaged lady named Margaret Scott was found dead in her hotel room, with no injury marks or anything,” Lewis said.
“Any cause of death we know about yet?”
“No. The coroner’s are checking out the body right now.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Let me know when you get the news,” I said with a mouthful of food. I strode out of the office when Lewis called me.
“Where are you going?! We have to go to the hotel where it happened and see if we can find anything,” my detective partner told me. I agreed and we rushed out to his car. He had to sit in the front by himself, and I somehow managed to squeeze into the back. We had to roll down the window for my arms to stick out. We drove about thirty minutes to the hotel where the lady was found dead. We hopped out and were greeted by the hotel manager.
“Hello,” he greeted. “I am David Johnson. Welcome to the Last Resort!” Lewis nodded and flipped out his detective badge, flashing a smile and wink.
“Hello, sir, and I am Christopher Oliver Otis Louis, part of the Chicago Bureau of Investigation. We heard of a recent death in one of your penthouses,” Lewis replied. Johnson’s smile faded and he paled.
“Oh, yes. Come this way please,” he said nervously. We walked into the hotel, and I grabbed a muffin off the buffet cart. A lady yelled at me in what sounded like French, so I couldn't tell if she was cursing at me. Johnson took us to the elevator and took us to floor 42. We walked out and found yellow police tape around room 4209's door.
“Here is the room,” Johnson shuddered. He opened the room door and let us in. We walked in, and I pulled out my magnifying glass and looked around. The bed was messy and undone, and it looked as if the room hadn't been cleaned for a day or two. Lewis took notes on what he saw and other observations.
“Crumbs…..” he muttered. He wrote that down, and Johnson left us. I kept investigating, and checked the bathroom. We couldn't find anything else besides the suspicious food crumbs. We left and found a handsome young man with brown hair and slight facial hair walking down the hallway. He looked at us questioningly as we came out of the room.
“Are you investigators?” he asked. Lewis nodded.
“Ah, I was Margret's fiance. I am Luke Jones,” he told us. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You too. I am Christopher Oliver Otis Lewis, but you can call me Detective Lewis,” my partner greeted. “Do you have time for an interview?”
“Hmm…. yes! I do!” Luke replied. Luke, Lewis, and I rode the elevator down to the lobby. I pulled out a dollar to get a soda. Lewis leaned against a pillar supporting the roof of the lobby, but he missed the pillar and fell on the ground. I turned around and tried to help him up when I lost my balance and fell on his face.
“Ge-off-uh-ee!! Yor-suff-in-ee!” Lewis tried to yell. I tried to stand back up, letting Lewis get a breathe, but fell back over and smashed his face again.
“Oww! At-urt!” he mumbled. I managed to stand back up but with the help of the hotel manager and Luke. Lewis’ face was as red as a radish, but we managed to get back to the car. I sat in the back and Luke and Lewis sat in the front. We arrived at the detective headquarters in about 30 minutes, me with my 10 piece Mcdonald’s kids meal and Lewis with his notepad and sore abdomen. We were ready for the interview.
“Tell me about your day when you last saw your fiance’,” Lewis said. Luke crinkled his eyebrows in concentration and scratched the slight facial hair on his face.
“I last saw Margaret when we eating breakfast on the first of May, Tuesday. I went to my office to work and went out to lunch at Brunchies. Then I went back to work until 4:00 and came back to the hotel to find police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. I ran inside and to our room to find all the commotion of officers and the dead body of my beautiful Margaret,” he replied sadly, recalling the day. Lewis nodded and I nodded, flinging salt and french fries everywhere.
“What relationship did you and Margaret have when you were engaged?” Lewis asked.
“Margaret was thrilled when I proposed to her. I had proposed to her two months before, and we were to have our wedding on the 20th of June,” he said. Lewis jot down some notes.
“I suspect that you had other ladies that were interested in you, considering your good looks,” Lewis grinned.
“Actually, yes! The maid by the name of….. what is it? Oh, Hannah something or other, put up a good act of flirting,” Luke laughed. “I still loved Margaret, though. Hannah was pretty surprised when I told her I was engaged.” Lewis stifled a laugh and tried to act cool.
“So, how often did you meet with this girl, Hannah?” Lewis questioned. He clicked his pen in interest. I shoved some chicken McNuggets in my mouth.
“Oh, I just sometimes saw her around the hallways….. You know, just sometimes,” Luke smiled nervously.
“OK. Thanks for coming, Mr. Jones. We’ll contact you if we need you,” Lewis said shaking Luke’s hand. Luke left the building and hired a taxi.
“I think there is a little more going on than just visiting that girl, Hannah,” Lewis murmured suspiciously. “Let’s give the hotel a call and ask Hannah to come here for an interview.” Lewis called up the hotel and asked for Hannah Sanchez. She said she would be right over.
“Is she coming?” I asked. Lewis nodded.
“We could be one step closer to solving this mystery,” he grinned. In about 40 minutes Hannah arrived and came to our office. She was a pretty Hispanic women with wavy black hair.
“Hello, I believed you called for me,” she told us. Lewis nodded.
“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind, could we ask you a few questions about the death of Margaret Scott,” Lewis asked. Hannah agreed to it.
“Did you know Margaret Scott well?” Lewis questioned with his notepad ready.
“Hmm….. well I have seen her in the hotel walking around, but we never actually had a conversation,” Hannah recalled.
“Did you know her fiance’ Luke Jones at all?” At this question Hannah seemed to tense up and sit up a little bit straighter.
“Yes…. quite well. We used to talk and he once took me out for lunch. He was kind and I thought we had a great relationship, until I learned about him being engaged to Mrs. Scott. Then our relationship kind of fell apart,” Hannah almost spat with disgust. I scooted back into my chair, with defense mode on.
“So, you were one of the maids for the hotel and did you clean Margaret and Luke’s room? Did you have anything against Margaret besides the engagement?” Lewis inquired.
“I did clean their room quite often. And no, I did not have anything against Margaret. If anything, we actually got along,” Hannah replied.
“What were you doing when the death happened?”
“I was cleaning rooms! What do you think?! I believe I was cleaning room 4112 around 3:50” Hannah said with a little tightness in her voice.
“Thank you. You may go now,” Lewis said. He shook Hannah's hand, and she quickly left our office. Lewis looked at his notes, flipping pages and chewing on his pen with his shockingly white teeth. He leaned his arm against the wall a slipped and fell on the floor. He quickly got back up and dusted himself off.
“Well. Now I believe we have only one or two people left. I think we should interview the cook in the kitchen, and maybe the people from room 4112. Just for proof,” Lewis told me.
“Why the cook in the kitchen?” I asked excitedly. I licked my lips.
“Remember how I found crumbs on the bed in the room? There must have been food involved, and that is why we should talk to the cook,” Lewis replied in a matter-of-fact way.
“Can we at least have a snack first?!” I complained as my hunger took over my body. Lewis rolled his eyes, but agreed. We drove to McDonald's and headed back to the headquarters. Lewis made a final phone call to the cook of the hotel.
“Hmm…. OK. We will be right over. Bye,” C.O.O.L said to the phone.
“What's going on?” I asked. Lewis started walking toward the door.
“Apparently the kitchen chef is too busy to get out of the hotel,” Lewis replied. “So we have to go there.”
“Aww….. more traveling!” I cried. Despite my being upset, we drove the 32 minutes to the hotel and walked into the hotel kitchen. We found a short, stout man juggling around pans and food with his shirt off. He was yelling commands to the other chefs with a thick Italian accent.
“No no no! The onions in the sauce, not the pan! Clean up your work station! Toss it HIGHER!” he yelled. He apparently noticed us and stopped screaming.
“Hello, hello! I am Neil Anderson, head chef of the kitchen! Mama mia, are you the detectives?
“Yes. For a matter of fact we are!” I barked in a rude tone. I apologized because I hadn't had my McDonald's for five minutes.
“Well, well! Lets serve you some food!” Chef Anderson tossed me a free box of pizza and I shoved it down my throat. Lewis held back a chuckle.
“May I ask you a few questions?” Lewis asked. Anderson nodded and put his shirt on.
“Do you bake any kind of treat for the rooms or anything like that?” Lewis asked.
“Yes! As a matter of fact, we bake cookies and have the maids deliver them to the rooms! We serve chocolate chip all week except for Fridays when we serve almond and nut cookies!” the chef laughed. I wondered why he was so happy and excited.
“On Tuesday, one of the maids asked me for a special order of almond cookies for some reason. I made her some and I saw her quickly leave the kitchen. I thought it was a bit mysterious,” Anderson added. Lewis' eyes widened as he heard these words. He scribbled something on his notepad and thanked Anderson for the time.
“Oh! Also, is Brunchies open on Tuesdays?” Lewis inquired.
“No! Not at all! It is going to be demolished! It has been closed since two weeks ago, when business started to run low,” Anderson replied. Lewis and I were about to leave when he remembered he wanted to make a stop at room 4112. We rode the elevator to the 41st floor and found the room. We knocked.
“Hello?” A lady with dark brown hair peeked out of the room.
“Hello. I am Detective Lewis and I am here to ask you a few questions about the death of Margaret Scott,” Lewis greeted. The lady smiled and let us in.
“Oh! Anything to help! I am Samantha Watson,” the lady grinned. C.O.O.L and I walked into the room and she offered us lemonade. I took it without thought, but Lewis turned the offer down.
“So, where were you from about 2:00 to 4:00 PM on Tuesday?” Lewis asked, ready with his notepad.
“I was in my room, reading the book the Hunger Games! What a good book!” Samantha exclaimed. Lewis smiled and wrote something on his notepad.
“Did you here anything around 4:00?” Lewis questioned, leaning on his chair. Even I was excited too. I think we were about to finish this 1,000 piece puzzle.
“Yes, I did! I heard a loud thump, and I walked around the room, trying to see if anything fell. I forgot about it and went back to my book,” Samantha replied. Lewis and I thanked her and left. We quickly left the hotel and drove back to headquarters. Lewis had a message on his phone from the lab, and we listened to it. It said that Margaret had been poisoned by the chemical arsenic, disguised in an almond cookie. Every detective knows that arsenic tastes like almonds! We drove all the way back to the hotel again and met up with Hannah. We also brought our special friend, the police.
“Why did you do it?” Lewis asked a hand-cuffed Hannah.
“I was jealous of that stupid Margaret for taking my future husband! He looks like Adam Levine! I swear!” Hannah screamed at us. We had found our cold blooded killer. We had finished the puzzle. She kicked and screamed as the cops dragged her to the police car and took her to jail. I pulled my pants down and mooned her, with my Cuddly Bear ™ underwear, but I accidentally pulled them off, too. I quickly pulled up my pants..O.O.L and I high fived each other but abjectly missed. We chuckled, then walked to Lewis’ car.
“How did she do it?” I asked Lewis. He grinned.
“She had put arsenic on the almond cookies to hide the flavor. She then probably died 30 minutes to and hour later if it was a strong dose,” Lewis told me. I couldn't think of anything that could make me happier. We had solved another mystery! But, I could really use some McDonald's.
THE END