Chapter 7: Watteau Gets the Boot Part 2

On the same night from her narrow escape from the bullies, Fern was in her room, putting away her neatly-folded clothes into her closet. She then sat at her bed dressed in her light purple gown, holding her leg, as it began to feel a little more pain from her attempt to repel Binky from bothering George, not to mention from also running away from Molly. A little good night's sleep would help her recover. However, the night didn't feel complete yet. It was still eight o'clock in the night, but it was a little too early to call it a day. She needed to do something to satisfy her mind. Only then will she finally sleep peacefully.

"This just doesn't feel right. What is there to do around here?" Overcome with a sense of boredom, she got up from bed and went to her bookshelf, filled with all sorts of works by various writers. Shakespeare, Hemingway, Mary Shelly, Mark Twain, Agatha Christie. You name them. But out of all of them, nothing could even catch her attention.

"It feels like I've read them all." She then picked up a small green sock dummy on her table. She laid back to her bed and played with it as a puppet. But once again, a small sigh of boredom.

"It looked much more fun when George did it with Wally." She put it back on the table and went back to walking around, picking up various items for her to complete her time. However, object after object just dumped and piled up right at the corner of her room.

"There's nothing to do! Even cleaning up that pile of stuff could be worth the time."

As she was about to surrender herself to a boring night, she then spotted something in the distance. It was her red schoolbag. She rummaged through it and took out her favourite notebook which contained some of the chapters of her Virgule Watteau story. She thought she needed to find something different to suit her time, but right now, she was left with no choice but to do what she loved to do best.

"Oh well, better than nothing." She took her notebook and pencil and lay down on her bed. She opened it up and began writing away at the next mysterious chapter in the career of the 1930's detective duo.

7th September, 1942

Another day of waiting was another day the war dragged on. The Case of the Stolen Boots continued to become a real drag for our heroes. The culprit, Mary Hilliard, was able to launch several runs on different army bases on the East Coast, stealing hundreds, if not, thousands of pairs of boots from supply centres. The search went on for a few days since Mary's last heist at Army Base Lancer. So far, the feisty criminal was nowhere to be found, until one day, in New York City at 7:30 p.m…

A dressing store not far from the city square. It may have looked like your average clothes shop, but looks can be deceiving. Our two detectives walked right into the store for a little window-shopping. The shop had everything; tuxedos, jackets, top hats, neckties and other casual wear, hung within glass cabinets or folded in glass shelves. At the store's cashier counter, a young woman counted her daily results of sales.

And it was there where Watteau and Bastings come in, walking past a man in a trench-coat. They went to view the countless amounts of attire on a seemingly-free day.

"Good day, madame. And how are we today?"

The woman (played by Maria) answered, but in a rather stuttering voice.

"Oh, very good, ma'am. H-Have a look around."

Bastings took a walk in front at a display case of coats while Watteau just stayed at the counter, having a little conversation with the cashier.

"I see business is going well for you, oui?" asked Watteau as she leaned on the counter.

"O-Oh, yes. I never e-expect myself to have m-many customers these days. W…W-well, I'm just working here p-part-time and my boss is out to help s-some poor people down South recover from the W-Wall Street Crash.

"Oh?"

As Watteau continued chatting, Bastings continued to view a collection of neatly-folded jeans, wondering if he could buy a pair today. As he walked on, he got closer to a dressing room. Someone was inside, probably trying out some clothes. The curtain was closed, of course, but the occupant was about to exit the room, much to Bastings' unknowing.

"Hmmmm. Have you ever faced a zheft?" Watteau leaned her arm against the counter, hoping to find some answers to the case.

"Excuse me?" the cashier woman asked, unable to understand through Watteau's foreign accent, though Watteau did not find her own voice that hard to understand… at least for her.

"A zheft." She repeated her question, but it was still falling on the woman's long deaf ears.

"Um..." the cashier woman struggled to guess what Watteau was implying. Luckily, Bastings, with years of experience with his French partner, decided to help the woman out.

"She meant "theft", madam."

"Oh. What makes you say that?" The woman asked further.

"Oh. Just wondering. Zhere has been a number of zhefts out zhere at army base camps." Watteau told the woman while looking around the store as if she was watching out for something.

"You don't say?" The cashier woman responded while arranging the dollars and cents in the cashier machine.

"Oui."

As Watteau continued her conversation, Bastings continued to look through clothes, scanning through the numerous pants and suits available for sale. Suddenly, as he passed by the changing room, a lone person began to move out of the changing room. Unknowingly, he bumped into the unknown woman.

"Oh, a thousand apologies, madam." Bastings bowed and took of his hat while apologizing to the woman. She was wearing a white British dress and a large hat of royalty, but her face was not clearly seen due to the fact that she had her head down.

"Oh, it's alright." She gladly accepted the apology. Bastings could not put a finger on it, but the way the woman talked it almost sounded forced. Suddenly, with a sniffle in his nose, Bastings let out a strong sneeze as loud as a balloon pop.

"A-A-AAA-CHOOOO!"

The woman in the dress arrived at the counter while Watteau, pardoning herself from the counter, tended to Bastings, handing him a handkerchief before he let out another blast.

"À tes souhaits, mon ami." Watteau patted the poor British man on the back.

"Thanks." He blew his nose as hard as he could, slightly disgusting Watteau. The woman at the counter continued to talk to the cashier. Then, the cashier gave a small suspicious look at Watteau before the woman gave her a big paper bag and the cashier looked into it.

"Ah. It's all here." She then placed the bag down once she was satisfied. "The dress is yours."

It was indeed a form of bribery, if only Watteau and Bastings could see it instead of focusing on the sneezing. But as the woman was about to walk off without further ado...

"Wait a minute." Watteau suddenly at a stinging thought in her mind while Bastings sniffed out the last of his snot. "Bastings is allergic to one zhing and one zhing only." Her eyes squinted and made a sharp turn to the exit. There, she saw the woman in the dress walking off. With a swing of her cane and her face stern, she called out.

"Hold it right zhere, Mary Hilliard!"

The thief was caught! The hat she was wearing fell to the floor with the sudden surprise, revealing the fashionista crook's face.

With her cover blown, Mary jumped and made a run for it with Watteau and Bastings right on her heels. But as they approached the exit, Mary threw her glitter bomb at them. A puff of pink powder and glitter gushed out, blinding the two pursuers and stopping them in their tracks. As the cloud cleared, Watteau could only see the escaping criminal running off in the distance to the darkness of the streets, letting out another wicked laugh as she went. Watteau could only toss her hat down in frustration. Mary Hilliard has escaped again.

"Drats. Zhat little fiend..." Watteau groaned.

"I'm sorry, Watteau." sighed Bastings. "If only my allergies to her hand-made 'Maritta Belissimo' nail polish had taken effect sooner. I would have caught her before she could do anything." Watteau patted Bastings again to comfort her friend.

"Don't blame yourself, Bastings. It comes, 'ow you say, naturally." With the capture of Mary being a failure, the pair decided that it was time to clear up the mess made by the criminal.

"Well, we should check on the young cashier woman. I'm sure she is traumatized by the whole event." Bastings did not know it, but he was far from the truth.

The woman looked at her bag again with glee, giggling almost obsessively. However, as the two detectives approached her to provide comfort, she quickly hid the bag down under the counter with haste.

"Apologies, madame." Watteau began. "Zhat crook must've stolen somezhing of importance. To her, at least." She whispered to herself at the last sentence, making sure that she does not offend the quality of her store.

"R-really? But s-she did pay for the d-dress." The woman responded with a seemingly confident face. Watteau was caught by surprise with this revelation.

"Oh? Did she now?" The cashier nodded. Now, things were really off. Mary Hilliard? Paying for a dress? It was really odd for someone at Mary's calibre to be actually purchasing something without any content on snatching herself a freebie on the way. Certainly, her little smoke bomb was enough to prove her guilt.

However, Watteau did not have the time to investigate any further. It was late and she needed to report her findings to the Chief before she could take a good long rest at her office. At least the possibility of Mary's presence in the city was enough to call for a local investigation.

"Well, merci beaucop for your time, madame. Hope business goes well regardless." Without any interruptions, Watteau grabbed for her cane and with Bastings, she headed out from the store, opening the door to sound the ringing chimes again.

"Do come back soon." That was all the woman said.

Watteau and Bastings were about to reach to the exit when Watteau stopped to think again.

"Zhis is beginning to get really fishy." She thought. "Why would Mary actually buy somezhing if she was in ze middle of a grand scheme? And ze lady at ze counter. Allowing ze customer to wear ze clothes while purchasing? Zat's a new one."

"Perhaps she's just new, Watteau." Bastings cleared up for her. "It happens to everyone." If only he knew…

With a little more thought, Watteau could only sigh, defeated by her loss in confidence. So close yet again, she was about to finally put an end to Mary's shopping spree madness, but the thief was as slippery as an Artic cod on a warm summer.

"Maybe you're right." But as Watteau was about to step out the door, there was activity happening with Bastings' nose. It began twitching again. "Huh?"

"He-he- HYAAAA- CHOOO!"

Bastings then let out another loud sneeze. And this time, after the first burst, he sneezed another one afterwards.

And again.

And again!

Sneezes all the way!

"Again?" Watteau widened her eyes at the shocking yet revolting display. "And much worse zhis time." Bastings blew his nose out with the handkerchief.

"Blimey. How much stuff did Mary touch with all that polish of hers?"

"Or perhaps she..." She then thought of a brilliant idea on how she might solve this peculiar problem. Snatching up Bastings, she then moved him around the store.

The cashier woman, surprised at their return, was getting anxious.

Just what was in the bag that Mary gave that was so appealing to her? Whatever it was, should Watteau find it, there will be no escape.

The further Bastings went, the less intense the sneezing, but once Watteau moved back, the sneezing returned for the worse.

"Ahchoo!" Bastings sniffed up before glaring at Watteau. "I'm being used right now. I'm not a dog you know."

"Just get moving, Bastings." And after more torturous sneezes around the store, the pair eventually came closer to the counter. The cashier woman was perplexed at their arrival, while also clueless as to what Watteau was doing to her store.

"AHCHOO! AAACHOOO!" There it was. It was at the counter where Bastings released a barrage of sneezes here and there. Watteau had zeroed in on her zone of suspicion. The cashier was really starting to shiver now. Unfortunately for her, the ever observant detective had caught her expression.

Watteau knew there was a lot of nail polish at where they were standing, so she took a look around the counter. Getting more alarmed by Watteau's actions, the cashier woman took a quick look under her table for a second before returning eyes on Watteau.

Big mistake…

"Oh madame." The detective, realizing further of the woman's speedy reaction, went back to her for more questions. "When zhat woman came to you to pay for ze dress, did she say anyzhing else?"

"Uuuhhh... N-no, ma'am. I just gave her t-the dress. Done." With an even more stuttering voice and completely losing sentence-building, she was giving Watteau even more hints to her apparent guilt. Watteau looked at Bastings again, who was sniffing his nose. Then she looked back at the cashier woman.

At that moment, she caught the woman; eyes down again.

"Hmmmm." Then, it was time to pull out her trump card. "What are you looking at?"

"Me? Oh uh, haha, nothing. Just an ant on the floor."

But Watteau was not convinced. She wouldn't be. She had met faces like that of the cashier woman before and she knew all too well that it was the face of pure anxiety. A face of guilt and paranoia. Feeling that she had enough answers to confirm her assumptions, Watteau began to walk towards the counter. As she moved closer, the woman got real agitated. Once Watteau approached behind the counter, she slumped over to look under it.

"AHA!" Busted!

The glamorous-looking paper bag coloured in pink and with three red heart shapes, formed in a line across a lip symbol; the insignia of Mary Hilliard's "brand". The case has come to light.

"Oh…" The woman was now in for a whole lot of trouble now. "H-how did that get there?"

"Hmmm. I don't know. Let me see." The sarcasm in Watteau's voice showed that her question was nowhere near convincing. To further prove her point, Watteau moved the bag towards Bastings. And, as she predicted, Bastings sneezed uncontrollably again, much to Watteau's disgust.

"Eck." Appalled by Bastings' sneezing, Watteau moved the bag away from him. "Merci, Bastings." She looked into the bag to find a transparent box of a similar colour scheme inside. Inside it was loads of bottles of "Maritta Belissimo" nail polish. Bottles filled to the brim with pink and purple liquids of polish. The cashier could hold no more.

"Alright you beat me." the woman ended up sighing, defeated and forced to tell the truth. "I admit. I traded that dress with this irresistible work of beauty. How could have I resisted? I wanna look good for the customers." Her confessions were actually truthful to Watteau's ears, understanding the circumstances of dealing with a fashionista.

"Zhere's no doubt zhat Mary's products are razher appealing to every man. Well, almost every man." Watteau turned to a poor Bastings was blowing his nose away. "But still, what you have done is still against ze law. Your boss could use a lot of answers."

"I know." The case was seemingly over that easily. To finish up, Watteau decided to confiscate the nail polish, doing her best to avoid Bastings while rummaging through the bag.

"What do you find appealing in zhis cheap waste of good..."

Suddenly, when she took out two bags containing the polish, she looked into the paper bag again and saw the unexpected.

"Aha!"

Whatever she found, Bastings and even the woman herself were completely confused. However, Watteau pulled out to what she discovered. It was a pair of military boots! They still looked like the ordinary boots, except that now the boots had red-coloured shoelaces instead of brown or dirt-like, and they were painted all over, as well as having glitter all over them!

Suspecting another deeper scheme at play, Watteau stared at the woman.

"Letting ze zhief get away with a dress is bad enough, but now supplying her dirty work?"

However, this time, the woman was now fully denying the allegations, shocked beyond belief.

"W-wait! I d-didn't order a p-pair of old boots. I-I swear!" She waved her hands out, desperately trying to get Watteau to listen to her. As always though, the detective was not buying it.

"Zhen what were zhese doing in ze bag with your new polish?" she asked further.

"I-I don't know." The poor woman continued to insist. "She didn't tell me anything about boots. I did wrong to take the polish, but I did not say anything about those boots. Please you got to trust me on this!"

Finally, Watteau soon thought about the woman's attitude and seemed to have picked up on her expression. She was able to see that the woman was being quite arguable about the issue and that had to mean that there was truth in her voice.

"I zhink you may be right, madame." She acknowledged. "But zhis is still a serious case. Fear not. We will only go as far as question you under ze watchful of ze authorities."

She took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed them together by the woman's wrists. The cashier woman allowed herself to be arrested with no opposition, feeling guilty over the nail polish-dress trade but she was also feeling betrayed and curious, at the same time, about the hidden pair of boots in the bag.

Meanwhile, elsewhere back at Army Base Lancer, the scene of the last crime, the area was all quiet again, Guards were watching the area. And at the building where the shoe theft occurred, we see a soldier entering inside it. He took out his flashlight and looked around the dark interior. There were lots of empty shelves from the heist. He walked in, flashing his light here and there. Nothing but fallen boots on the floor and the empty shelves.

But as the light shone on a few crates, something was there that got him interested. A shadow formed, but it wasn't from the crates. It was a human-like shadow. Shining the light back again and, this time, it was gone. Just the shadows of the crates. But to be really sure, he walked to those crates and shone the light directly behind them.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

Later on, in the Detectives' Bureau, in a dark and busy corridor filled with other detectives walking around here and there, Watteau and Bastings were spectating a questioning session, hoping to find answers from the possible assailant of Mary Hilliard. Inside the blank room, the young woman was sitting at a table with a fellow detective opposite her. She tried her best to compose herself at such a tense situation. There were signs of extreme nervousness, but she was more than willing to know what the big deal was about her boot ordeal.

"So you didn't know the boots were in there, Miss Wanda Bridgett?" the detective asked.

"I've b-been telling Miss Watteau the s-same thing over and over. O-of course I didn't k-know." insisted Wanda.

"And you said that you've been good friends with her since two months ago?" added the detective.

"That i-is correct, sir. I've been g-getting goods from her ever s-since, in exchange for her p-products."

"Alright. I need you to be honest with me. What else did she say or do to you?"

Okay. It went like this just earlier today. So, there I was. Counting my money. The day was going by just nicely. There were no customers but a strange man in a trench coat and bowler hat. He walked around the store, browsing the clothes like any customer would.

Then, out at the exit, came a woman also in a coat and fedora. She walked, head down and hands in her pocket. It was Mary Hilliard herself.

As soon as she came in to find the dress I told her about a week ago, the man earlier walked out to the exit.

Then Mary came in and took the dress right there near the exit. I don't know this, but they appeared to have stopped at each other for a second there. Probably an accidental nudge. She then walked fast towards the changing room. That was when the two detectives came to the shop.

Judging by the pace Mary went by, I was guessing that they were no strangers to her, neither were they her friends, but I wasn't entirely sure. When Mary came to me with her bag, I still didn't feel anything other than the guilt from the possibility of getting caught.

And it happened. One of the detectives let out a very strong sneeze. And at that moment, Mary gave me the bag quickly and walked out of the store.

Just then, the other detective, Miss Watteau, yelled out to Mary, knowing her instantly when her hat fell off. Mary ran as fast as she could, with the two detectives hot on her heels.

I then tended to the bag and couldn't be any happier about getting those nifty nail polishes. But the happiness was not to last. So eventually I got caught and you should know the rest.

"A-and that's what happened." The suspect had concluded her story, with the detectice in front of her jotting down every detail she told him.

Watteau and Bastings entered the room, awaiting the results of the questioning.

"Well?" Watteau crossed her arms, asking Andrew of the results.

"From the looks of things…" Andrew tipped his cap. "She appeared to have told me the whole truth. I can tell." Watteau rubbed her temples, wishing she would hear better finds from Andrew.

"Merci beaucop for ze help, Andrew." She said before taking over for the detective.

"My pleasure." acknowledged Andrew. "All you need to know about her case is written there on that piece of paper. Knock yourselves out."

He walked out of the scene and Watteau proceeded to read what was written. She read the whole thing explained by Wanda. After a minute, she lowered the paper and tended to the traumatized cashier.

"Madame." Watteau stuck her cane down on the ground. "You know ze consequences of your actions, right?" Wanda drooped her head down, ashamed to even stand up.

"Yes, Miss Watteau." She acknowledged her loss. "I guess I should go to jail, huh?"

"Well, since you have come clean nice and easy, we decided to let it slide for now." The detective delivered the good news to her suspect, which did give some relief to Wanda. However, there were still to be consequences for her actions. "But your boss would still like to have a word with you." Wanda could only lower her head in a mixture and agreement and defeat. She was then escorted out of the room and out of the police station, expecting the worst from her boss.

With Wanda's time in the detectives' case over, Watteau and Bastings walked out of the station themselves, recollecting all the details from their investigation.

Out of everything she was given, there was nothing new to the case, other than a retelling of the incident and the motives. However, there was just one very intriguing detail that really got her thinking.

There were no customers but a strange man in a trench coat and bowler hat. He walked around the store, browsing the clothes like any customer would.

Then Mary came in and took the dress right there near the exit. I don't know this, but they appeared to have stopped at each other for a second there. Probably an accidental nudge.

"Bastings, do you remember a man leaving ze store earlier?" The woman detective began deducing the notes, to which Bastings followed to assist.

Bastings looked back in his memory. Soon, the British detective remembered something from the time he was in the store.

It was during the moment when Watteau and Bastings entered the store. And then, as they walked through the front door, there was a man who walked right by them, not turning around or doing anything. Bastings did not think, at the time, that he was of any importance, but now that it was clear that this was a person of interest, Bastings could then remember the man just walking a few blocks from the shop, and then, entering a restaurant not far from the area.

"I believe I do, Watteau." Bastings nodded.

"Zhen, spill it. Because zhat man may hold an answer to our case." Feeling newfound hope of her new finds, Watteau kept the piece of paper containing the investigation details and spun her cane like a marching baton. "Judging by ze part here at ze "accidental nudge", maybe zhere is a connection. We find ze man, we find Mary's next plan."

"I could've sworn I saw him entering a nearby diner joint a few blocks away from the store." After the final piece of Bastings' recollection was given, the two wasted no time to return to the site of the crime, intent on following her new leads.

"Zhen zhat's where we may find him. Come!"

An hour later, they returned to the same area where the shop, by then closed, was located in. They walked down a few blocks to the left as Bastings had mentioned. They stopped outside the local diner mentioned by Bastings, white in colour and had purple linings and a neon-lit hamburger sign on top.

They entered the joint. Thankfully, it was still open for business, but only three people were left dining on the junk food and fast drinks. It was not the neatest-looking diner they have been to. Messy walls and littered garbage all over the floor. Watteau approached the man managing the counter while Bastings looked around for the possible suspect. He was rather a hot-headed-looking man, a little chubby and in his mid-40's by the looks of him.

"Hey, if you're looking for a good meal, then you're our last customers." The man told them off with a rough and rude manner. "We're closing real soon so make it snappy."

"No, monsieur. We are looking for a man in a brown trench coat and a black bowler hat. Have you seen one?" The man was busy wiping the last of his dishes before putting them down with the napkin on top, turning to Watteau, clearly annoyed by her persistence.

"Hey, lady. I had lots of those guys coming in here. All of them pretty shady people, so I can't give you the scoop really."

"Zhen did one just happened to come a few hours ago?" Now, Watteau's questions were really starting to piss the guy off.

"What is this? Some witch-hunt for the mafia or something? Look, lady…"

As the unpleasant conversation went on, Bastings checked on the remaining customers in the diner; a casual-looking couple and a man in a tuxedo. But so far, there was no sign of the said man in the trench coat.

Just then, he heard a clanking noise coming from behind. He went to find the source of the sound which came from the restroom. Like the place itself, the restroom was just as filthy. Bastings walked closer into the room. He heard a couple of light thuds coming from behind a door to one of the toilets. He moved, opened the door and looked in.

"Aha! Huh?"

But there was no one there. Just an unoccupied toilet bowl. However, above the toilet bowl, he noticed an open window. He knew someone was indeed trying to escape. He inched closer to the bowl and was about to climb up. But then, suddenly, as he peeped through the window, the loud calls of Watteau from the diner were heard.

"Bastings! Come! We got to move!"

"Uh, okay!"

Bastings looked back at the window. But he didn't climb up to look for anyone. He just walked down from the bowl and was ready to move on when, suddenly, he found something on the floor. It was a piece of paper, but what really got his attention was a sparkling shine on it. He looked at it and saw a lip mark. Obviously this was one of Mary's brand logos. He read through the note that was written.

"Bingo."

He rolled the paper up and exited the area. Unknown to him, however, a mysterious figure was seen peeping out of the window. What appeared to be little eyes became thinner as if they were glares, before the figure disappeared into the darkness of the back ways.

Meanwhile, the two detectives exited the diner. Suddenly, as Bastings was about to join Watteau, another detective of the bureau walked towards them, handing Watteau a piece of paper. Reading the paper, Watteau nodded to the man before turning to Bastings.

"It's Sergeant Redford. Somezhing's up."

In the same questioning room where Wanda was brought to, there stood Watteau and Bastings, with Sergeant Redford sitting down at the same table. Opposite him, sat a young man in in a white T-shirt and a pair of dog-tags around his neck. He looked like someone who just came out of college. He had impressive muscles and his head looked it had been dashed with red powder; in other words, he was a red-head who had his hair shaved off. He was a young recruit stationed at Army Base Lancer and was there for only two months. Sergeant Redford was looking real strict. Why shouldn't he be? He was the boy's superior after all.

"Now Private David McLellan. Explain yourself." Sergeant Redford looked at the recruit with the most focused look on his face, staring down on the soldier as he sat with his leg crossed over his knee.

But David was resilient, claiming on and on that he had not done anything wrong.

David (played by the teenage cat from the "Bleep" episode of Arthur") continued to call out for his innocence.

"I'm telling you, sir. I did not do anything at all!" The tough-looking boy defended himself.

"Then how do you explain hiding behind that pile of crates in the boots storage room where the heist was committed?" Sergeant Redford shot back.

Knowing the situation he was in, Sergeant Redford simply admitted to his doing in the army base.

"Okay, so I snuck in, but I was only looking for the right size of boots for me. Do you know how tight the ones you gave me were, sir?" His defiance proved to be of a disrespect towards Redford, enough for the man to discipline him.

"Don't you use that tone on me, soldier. How can we be sure that you didn't attempt to steal them for Mary Hilliard?" However, even if David did commit something of an offense, the boy continued to deny any involvement with the fashion thief.

"Please, sir. I'm really telling the truth. I've never even met her."

Watteau had her hand under her chin at this point. All of this seemed quite vague for her. The young lad had indeed snuck in for a new pair of boots, but it wouldn't be that serious enough for a proper trial. It was a lack of discipline which can be easily arranged at the base itself. Why would this case be brought to court so easily? Moreover, why should he be suspected for assisting Mary? But she still was vigilant at the boy, because it was still possible that he could be conspiring. She felt like she needed to step in and take charge of the investigation and see if her involvement could improve things.

"Is zhere anyzhing else you found, Sergeant Redford?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, I did." Redford then replied. As an answer, he took a plastic bag and put his hand in it. When it came out, he was holding a glitter bomb like the one Mary used last time. The three people looked at David, wondering for the reason he had the grenade in his clutches.

"It looked pretty. I thought of giving it to my girl in Iowa. It may look lethal but it'll fit both of our personalities." he answered.

"How romantic. The combination of two different interests to form one symbolic…" Bastings was giving out something like a dramatic review of a love movie, but the moment was short-lived when Watteau nudged Bastings on the shoulder.

"Whose side are you on?" A firm groan to Bastings was enough to shut him up. Now, with the case now unfolding to a new direction, the detectives decided it was time to continue their investigation. "If it is alright with you, Sergeant, may I take my turn in ze questioning?"

"Uh, sure, Watteau." Complying to the detective's request, Sergeant Redford left the room while Watteau took the seat. Now, she got into serious mode and stared at the young soldier.

"Hmmmm. So, jeune homme." Watteau greeted the soldier, though with a language that seemed unfamiliar to David. "Tell me what had happened so we can clear zhings up."

"Look, that grenade was just there on the floor. I picked it up for said reason." David still tried to answer. "And then I went to pick a pair of boots from the shelf. Then it all came down when that shelf broke. I had to run for cover. Yes, I was indeed guilty of a little change for shoes, but doing it for a fashionable fiend? Come on. I told you. I already have a girlfriend."

"Mary has been known for seducing even ze most loyal of men. Zhat is why you get a decent number of soldiers and policemen losing zheir jobs."

"Well, whatever the case. No fashionista can get me to do serious stuff there." Now, a grin was seen on Watteau's face, showing that she was still eager to get some answers from this boy.

"Hmmm. Defiant now, are we?" And still, David fought on.

"Oh come on. You still think I could be lying?"

"It's never easy to persuade the great Watteau." Bastings supported Watteau's argument with his own experience with his partner.

"And she is indeed zhinking zhat you could be hiding somezhing." With such a defiant suspect in her case, Watteau knew it was time to result to the next stage of her investigation. It was time to return to the scene of the crime.

As Sergeant Redford was able to intercept the boy before anything happened, there could be a chance that Mary had not entered the place yet. His records of the equipment there checked out, but she alsk knew that mary was a persistent woman. Thus, it was a good place to start. "We need to be extra sure. We are going to go to ze army base zhat you were stationed at and find out if you're really telling ze truth."

"Okay. But you'll see." That was all David could say before he turned around and huffed in frustration.

Watteau was feeling a sense of disrespect and arrogance coming from this lad, and apparently, she was not liking it one bit. But she refused to allow the boy's attitude get in the way of her judgement. Her thoughts laid within the case of the missing boots and Mary Hilliard.

"I have got a feeling zhat we shall for sure."

Just then, Sergeant Redford came walking into the room, addressing to Watteau and Bastings of a certain business.

"I just got a call from the officer in charge of Army Base Benedict. There seems to be a stakeout somewhere over the hills nearby. Kept on freaking out that it could be a nest of German spies. But duty calls. I must attend."

"You want us to come along?" suggested Bastings, but Sergeant Redford declined.

"Uh, maybe not this time. This is a soldier's business. Like the guy said, it could be some kraut spies. I'll see you around. Good luck."

He then gave a serious look at David, still believing he was possibly involved in Mary's escapades.

As he left their sights, Bastings was doing something almost peculiar. He was sniffing around, sensing something really odd and… sweet?

But then, he was interrupted by Watteau.

"Bastings, you said earlier you found somezhing in ze men's room?" Watteau reminded the man of the note he had found.

"Indeed I did."

He took out the note he found, but Watteau flinched at the thought of it... being left on the floor. Bastings, knowing Watteau's tolerance for hygiene, assured her that the note was in… how you say, cleaner hands.

"Oh don't worry. I'll read it."

"Zhen you better wash your hands after zhis. I can't stand to even zhink zhat you picked zhat paper from ze floor."

Choosing to ignore his friend's statement, Bastings continued on.

"Ahem."

To my dearest fan,

- Meet me here at Army Base Benedict. We got a whole bunch of boots waiting to be beautified by me! Do keep an eye out from those two detectives.

Love, Mary Hilliard.

"Eeenteresting."

But her interest soon faded when she faced the stubborn David, still looking down. However, her face turned a grin soon after, willing to show this punk that she meant business.

"Well, Monsieur McClellan. We might have to do something about your possible involvement with Mary Hilliard." she announced.

"Man, what will it take for you two to believe me?" Yet, David still refused to acknowledge any involvement.

"Never mind zhat. Since you are still a suspect, you have to be with us for now.

"Huh? Seriously?" David was shocked to hear that he was suspected of being involved with a fashionista, but now he was being monitored by a bunch of detectives, and Watteau of all people!

Uneasy of the turn of events, Bastings approached Watteau and whispered to her.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It will increase our chances of proving whezher David is guilty or innocent." assured Watteau. "Besides, we could have a great chance at zhis, Bastings. We can solve zis case as we go." Watteau approached David, grabbing him at the back of his shirt.

"Alright. You know ze drill."

"Let's get a move on, lad." Bastings led the way.

"Hmph. I still think you'll be wrong about me." moaned David.

"Just come and behave yourself. We will be ze judge of zhat."

They took David, still handcuffed, with them as they exited the room and the station itself. They then awaited a taxi at the nearest taxi stop. Watteau continued to inspect David's increasingly impatient behaviour. But there was no sign of any wanting to escape. David just sat there at the bench, showing no sign of hostility, unless you think looking angry was offensive.

"Uh, Watteau." Bastings called. "You did hear Sergeant Redford, right? This could be a task only meant for the military. Interfering could mean breaking the law."

"Unless we bring ze case to ze light." clarified Watteau. "Besides, if anyzhing happens, I can try and get us out of it."

"Alright, but I don't see why David should come with us."

"Don't worry so much, my dear Bastings. I'm beginning to zhink zhat bringing him along is ze best idea of ze day. Besides, I have security clearance from ze President himself."

Bastings could only raise an eyebrow curiously, interested on knowing what Watteau could be implying about. It took five minutes for the Detective Bureau's exclusive travel-anywhere service taxi to arrive and send them to Army Base Benedict.

After two hours, they arrived outside the base, which looked more like a naval docking bay than a regular inland army base, for training men to man landing craft and other water vehicles used for amphibious landings. Watteau and Bastings walked over to the guard post at the entrance, with David behind them, still unwilling to claim anything about Mary, but there was still no intent on making a run for it.

"I smell trouble here." Bastings mused.

At the guard post, there was a man dressed in a military uniform and holding a Tommy gun, standing guard. They stopped in front of him as he held his hand up to halt them.

"Halt." He told them. "This area is for military personnel only. State your business." Watteau walked towards the man to state her purpose in the area.

"We are here to investigate a possible case of theft here at zhis base." Watteau reported to the man. The guard seemed curious and went into the post. He looked through a clipboard. After a few seconds, he came out to the group and shook his head. Even with her good intentions, the soldier refused her any permission to enter.

"I'm sorry. But an investigation is already being carried out by a Sergeant Redford. I cannot allow you to enter." Despite the setback, Watteau still grinned. This was her time to pull out her wild card.

"Zhat is okay. I so happened to have special permission from…"

When she put her hand in the pocket inside her suit, searching for the Presidential permit that would allow her to carry on investigations anywhere by permission from the President, she paused. There was nothing in that pocket! The permit which she could have used to easily enter the base, was not there. She could only chuckle in embarrassment. The guard just couldn't have it.

"Sorry, ma'am. No permission, no entry."

Watteau could only walk in disappointment, Bastings and David followed her.

"Sacre bleau. I must've left it back at ze office." she sighed. "So much for ze direct approach."

"So what are you going to do now, huh?" David insulted the detective with a smirk.

"Watch it, you." The boy smiled in delight, annoying the detective even further. "But fear not. I have another plan. Follow me."

They went over to the chain fencing blocking passage to the base to where no one would be able to see them. Watteau crouched down next to the fence.

"Bastings, bring me ze "Fraises spéciales de cachette Bonté." With her hand out, Watteau asked Bastings for a tool with a rather odd name. The detective partner still looked into his pocket, judging by what Watteau intended to do with the wired fence.

"If you mean these wire cutters, here you go." There was some hesitation in Bastings mind. Cutting into a military base seemed very risky, if not dangerous for their careers. However, with such a crisis in their midst, it had to be done, no matter the cost.

David rolled his eyes. Watteau then proceeded to cut through the thick linings until an opening on the fencing was made. Bastings kept the cut off fencing as they went right in through the narrow opening. Bastings then took out a tube of glue and brushed at the pointy ends. He then pasted the fencing bit to where it was before. Now it looked like as it was never cut in the first place.

"Man, how ironic that a bunch of detectives actually erased their own evidence." David taunted.

"Come on, Bastings. If I have to end anozher episode of his boldness, it should be right now." huffed Watteau.

The three of them walked on through the outdoor area of the base. Just everything you would find at a docks were there; shipping crates, large cranes, tug boats and even the old Higgins landing crafts, ready to send brave Marines to land on enemy beaches. As they snuck through, passing every guard they nearly stumbled upon, they arrived at a huge warehouse in the middle of the area. The almost equally large sliding doors were shut tight. They looked for side entrances but there were guards on watch. Every step must be taken with caution.

"No way in. Zis is going to be harder zhan expected." noted Watteau.

"Come on, Watteau." insisted Bastings, who was not feeling the urge to barge in on military matters. "Maybe Sergeant Redford's right. Maybe we should leave this to him."

"And lose our best chance to catch zhat fashion loving creep in crime? No way, Bastings."

Defiant as always, Watteau relented, holding her chin and thought for a bit, but she was once again put off by David.

"Look, your partner has a point. We should just leave before the guards come by."

Watteau shook her cane close at him.

"Ah ah ah. I'm not going to fall for zhat, if it were to deliberately delude moi from catching Mary. If you want to prove you are innocent, zhen hush." She tapped her cane at his chest so hard, David almost fell down to the ground.

"Alright. Your loss."

Watteau continued thinking hard for a few seconds. Then, she looked up at the building and saw an open ventilation shaft near the corner of the front doors. An idea has come to her.

"Bastings. Do you still have ze grappling hook and rope we used during ze attempted heist on ze Lourve?"

"Why yes. I so happen to have it with me right now." Bastings then reached for his pocket and took out the same tool used for said event. "Why?"

"Because I zhink we are going to make like Santa Claus and come down ze shaft." She pointed out to the vent above them, confusing the two boys in her vicinity.

"Doesn't Santa Claus come down a chimney?" said Bastings.

"Eh, I had nozhing else." The detective just shrugged. They quietly rushed to the front of the building and below the shaft. She took the grappling hook and rope from Bastings and swung it like a lasso. Afterwards, she threw the hook up the shaft, but it missed and hit the wall instead, releasing a loud clank sound.

"Hey, we're trying to get into the warehouse, not redecorate it with dents." David pulled out some new taunts at the detectives.

"And I suppose you could do better?" Watteau shot back.

"Heh. Piece of cake. Here." Much to Watteau's surprise, David took the hook from Watteau and pulled it back the hook quietly and swung it himself. And away it went. This time the hook successfully latched on to the shaft.

"Yes!"

Bastings' faint but still alarming sound nearly gave the two a fright.

"Sssshhh!" Watteau hushed her partner, causing him to slap his mouth with both of his hands.

"Whoops."

And alarming it was, for two passing guards were coming right at them! They walked by, with flashlights shining here and there. One of them was also holding a Colt pistol with his right hand. Watteau and the others gasped silently.

"Quick. Zhis way."

They hurriedly detached the grappling hook and snuck behind a pile of crates just in front of the building. The guards approached in front of the crates, oblivious to the presence of the trespassers, but still vigilant.

"I know I heard something here. It was like a loud yell." The first guard said.

"You sure?" The other guard was not so sure, prompting himself to walk on.

"Come on. Y-you're kidding me, right? You were like a meter away from where I was. How could you not hear what I heard?"

They walked past the hiding spot and walked over to the other side. Watteau, relieved of the seemingly passing threat, slowly put her foot out to move out of the hiding spot. However, the two guards stopped in their tracks.

"I'm telling you. I know I heard something with my two own ears." The first guard relented. Alarmed, Watteau retreated back to the hiding spot. The two guards walked back the other direction. Fortunately for Watteau, the two guards were still arguing on and on.

"Nah, maybe your ears need a good treatment. Go see a doctor once later."

"My ears are perfectly fine."

They stopped in front of the hiding spot and flashed their lights around. Some sweeps barely missed Watteau and the others. But they stayed put, gently swinging their lights here and there. It's a wonder how they were missing the hiding trespassers. Watteau was looking real cross and impatient, itching to move a muscle.

"We have to lose those two guards."

Bastings looked around. After a few seconds, he found a stone on the ground. After picking it up, he tossed right over the guards at such great distance. Once the stone landed, it skipped a few times, releasing faint tapping sounds. The guards quickly turned to the direction of the sound.

"What was that?" Finally, the second guard was now able to hear a sound.

"Now you heard something?" The first guard spat.

"Come on. I think it went this way." Without further argument, the two walked off in a hurry to pursue the source of the sound. They seemed to have gone as far as where the stone had landed, but they just kept on walking off further into the distance. Only then did Watteau, Bastings and David come out.

"Well, that worked." David uttered.

"Good throw, Bastings." praised Watteau.

"I have a knack for baseball, don't you know?" said Bastings with pride. They gathered up and resumed their ascent to the ventilation shaft. They climbed up the rope and when all three are in the shaft, Bastings wound up the rope and placed it back in his pocket. They crawled on inside the long shaft and turned on every inner corner. The vents were really dusty and not to mention, rusty.

"Blimey, what a mess." Bastings moaned in silence after having to touch through the dust and filth of the old vent.

After navigating for a minute, they finally got to another end of the shaft, overlooking a huge, spacious room with thousands of crates and barrels. There was even a smaller crane inside. It was somewhat quiet and dark as would any closed building interior. Just the sounds of calm waters from the nearby dock canal and even some squeaking rat noises.

"Hmmm if Mary would want to steal boots here, zhen she would take forever. A great chance." Watteau tipped her hat, anticipating an advantage over her pampered nemesis.

But the ground below was too far for them to jump down to. So Watteau looked around. She looked at a tower of crates in front of them and judged the horizontal distance between her and the crates. Then, she climbed out and hung on to the edge of the shaft opening. She lifted her legs up to the wall and with one push, she made an impressive leap across and caught hold of the crates. She proceeded to climb down the pile like climbing down a mountain. She then grabbed a nearby ladder and took it to the shaft for Bastings and David to climb down. They all made it to the floor.

"Alright. Now that we are here, what's next?" asked Bastings, looking to Watteau for their next course of action."

"We fan out and search for Mary or anyzhing zhat could lead us to her, given zhat we are not too late." Then, she looked at David, hoping to make sure that he does not do anything foolish during their search. "But when I said fan out and search, I meant me and Bastings splitting up." She walked over to Bastings and put her faith in her partner. "Make sure David doesn't leave your sight, Bastings."

"Argh!" it was starting to get on David's nerves now. Scratching his hair in irritation, he spat back at Watteau. "This is getting annoying. Why can't you believe me?"

"Until we solve ze case. And when zat happens..." She tapped her cane at his chest, trying to put her suspect back in his place. "...only zhen we shall see if or not you are guilty."

Thus, Bastings and Watteau separated and went on different paths, with David forced to be under Bastings' watch. At Watteau's end, she walked along a narrow aisle with towering shelves of crates and barrels on both sides. She eyed on here and there, looking for possible leads to Mary Hilliard. Every two seconds she walked, her cane tapped along the floor. And every time she needed to stop and look at a stationary position, she would lean her hands on that cane.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Mary."

Meanwhile, Bastings and David were walking the other direction from where they were separated from Watteau. And this time, at each side, there were also crates and shipment packages, but were all piled up in stacks or towers instead of being neatly organized in the large metallic shelves. They walked on and on until they reached a waterway that would be used to have a cargo ship to dock and be loaded with the endless amounts of supplies inside the building. And indeed there was a huge cargo ship docked in there at the moment. They looked around the place. Just then, while Bastings was looking at the place, David walked back a little bit behind him, unknown to Bastings. And then, he began to walk off.

"Hmmm. This should be a probable place for an escape route." Bastings surveyed the area.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Bastings felt a strong force, pushing him at the back. It was so strong that he was tumbling over the protective railing that would prevent him from falling into the water.

"Woo- WHOAAAA!" He fell right into the water, head first. He dived down deep with his entire body submerged under the salty sea water. And he was nowhere to be found. Just then, a sihouette of a man came by to watch as only bubbles came popping out at the surface. He then disappeared as he walked off deeper into the warehouse, leaving the poor detective to drown in the dark waters of the docking bay.

However, after another few seconds, at the site of the splash, more and more bubbles began to surface. Next, with one gush of water, Bastings finally emerged out of the water! He floated on after coming out and swam towards the nearest platform. He climbed up to safety, lying down on the floor, taking deep breaths and choking up, tired.

"Well, that was…" Bastings uttered between coughs. "…refreshing..."

On the other hand, Watteau was still walking on until she was at a cross-junction area. She thought of which to turn to - either go right or left, straight or even back. But then, when she was about to make a decision, she saw something behind a forklift truck at the left turn. As she looked closer, there it was. Another dark silhouette! It then made a mad dash to the left turn.

"Hold it right zhere!"

But the figure did not listen. It ran as fast as it could, and so did Watteau. She chased the mysterious being throughout the area. Other than making runs on the ground, it also attempted to shake her off by climbing up crates and hopping across shelves. But Watteau could do just as much and with such ease. But at one point when the figure made a leap from a shelf to another, Watteau nearly fell doing the same, but held on to the shelf and put herself back up. She continued her pursuit for a few minutes. Then she came across a large space of crates that seemed to be filled with military equipment from the logos and labels that would discourage people from opening them. She lost sight of the pursued silhouette and scanned the area with her sharp eyes for it. But for all she could look for, there was not a single trace. She walked a little further into the area when she spotted a peculiar-looking crate. It looked like it was shaking. Watteau moved closer and tried to touch the box. But as she was about to, something leaped out of the box and tackled her down to the ground! It was the figure. And this time, his clothes could be seen clearly. He was wearing a plain black wool shirt and dark green jeans. He had a nearly fat stomach and a mask to cover his face. From there he held a baseball bat with his right hand and raised it in the air, while pinning Watteau down with his left one. He was ready to swing it down on her! But before he could launch a strike, Watteau immediately kicked him with her legs at his stomach, sending him flying a few inches away and landing on his back. Watteau recovered from the attack and took her cane. The masked man then tried to attack back with his bat but Watteau knocked his hand with her cane and sent another knockout blow to the head. The man fell to the floor dizzy and then, unconscious. Watteau spun her cane as a victory pose. She then tied up the crook with some long rope she found nearby and sat him up against a pole.

"Désolé. But I have had enough headaches for one day."

Then, she saw someone coming around the corner. It was Bastings. He walked towards Watteau, seemingly weak and soaked.

"Bastings." She called out to her partner, concerned over his appearance. "What happened to you? You're even wetter zhan a fish out of ze water." Then, to her shock, she also noticed the absence of David. "And where is David? I zhought I told you to watch him."

"Let's just say I've had fun swimming with the fishes." answered Bastings, almost angrily. "Thanks to an uninvited guest. And I've got a good feeling I know who it was." Before he could continue, he was then halted by Watteau.

"Never mind zhat. While you were taking a dip in ze canal, I found zhis scoundrel giving himself quite ze chase." They walked towards the unconscious man, Bastings noticing the knocked out man for the first time.

"Who do you think he is?" Was he an accomplice of another Mary Hilliard heist? This was the most important question up their minds.

"Only one way to find out." She held on to the mask to unravel the identity of the man she was chasing so thoroughly throughout the vicinity. With one firm pull, the mask was off. And the man's face was visible.

"Sacre bleau!"

Watteau's face was filled with extreme shock and so was Bastings'.

"Great Scott! How can it be?!"

"Watteau: It is... It is..."

But just as Fern was about to let loose the big secret, a few knocks on the room door were heard.

"Huh? Oh uh, come in."

The door opened and in came her mother, Doria Walters. The mother looked into her room, seeing that her daughter was still up.

"Fern dear. You're still up? Do you know what time it is?" she said.

"I know. Time for bed." Fern then adjusted herself on her bed, putting her book away and laid back down. "Just trying to find something to complete my night."

Doria then turned to the hill-sized pile of crunched-up pieces of paper at the corner. Unpleased with this, as most mothers would, she let Fern know of her tolerance for cleanliness.

"My goodness! What happened here?" she exclaimed.

"Um." Fern chuckled with a nervous voice. "Rejected ideas for my spare time."

Doria just sighed, refusing to raise her voice at her daughter since it was quite late in the night.

"Why can't you be more like your father?" She then smiled. It was quite typical of looking at Fern's room and spotting evidence of her hard work, even it much of the evidence were discarded and scrapped ideas. "But it's getting late, so I'll let this slide. But if you don't clean this up tomorrow, it'll really slide down, if you know what I mean. Alright, honey?"

"Of course, mum." Doria then tucked her daughter to bed and exited the room.

"Good night, my little writer." She bid Fern a good night before shutting the door behind her.

"Night, Mum."

Fern let herself relax under the comfort of her pink-coloured bed. Now that she thought of it, she was now feeling really drowsy from her little writing session. Looks like she found a way to find some sleep after all, and it was through something she enjoyed doing.

She let out a strong yawn before settling down for the night.

"I think I'll finish the chapter tomorrow."

And thus, she began to doze off to dreamland. And this might leave you to wonder; who was the identity of the mysterious masked man? What was it that shocked our heroes? And just what happened to David? All intriguing questions that shall be answered on the next chapter!

Another chapter complete! And boy was this long or what?! Anyway, hope you read and review soon!