Chapter Text
Peter closes the menu and leans forward in his seat. “Now Harrod, I know your first instinct is going to be—”
“DETECTIVE HARROD IS BACK!” Harrod yelps, donning the hat out of nowhere. He must just have it on him at all times now.
“—That,” says Peter. He frowns and taps the table a bit, trying to think of a way to say this without further invigorating Harrod. “And yes, this is very serious, but—”
“I’VE GOT YOU, CAPITAL P, DON’T YOU WORRY!”
“Please don’t shout in my ear dude.” Peter looks around at the rest of the restaurant–goers. Multiple of them are giving Harrod the stinkeye. He wants to throw up. Even if he’s like half a decade younger than his friend, it’s hard not to feel sorta responsible. “I’m just trying to say I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but it’s really important we get that pen back, okay?”
“Well of course! Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Harrod inquires.
Peter offers a bit of a pained smile. “Well, I guess it’s just that… y’know… well… I figured as soon as I told you that it would completely eat up a day. So I wanted to wait until I had absolutely no schoolwork to worry about, and this time of year…”
Also, I’m not even sure getting you involved in this is going to improve the situation, he thinks to himself.
“Oh yeah, you’ve got your little Fall Break going on right now!”
“Yeah it’s only a couple days but it seems as good a time as any,” says Peter. “Wasn’t really doing anything else.”
“No family trips to Tahiti or anything?”
“No, just… staying here in Normalsville. But it’s fine cause it means I get to track down this pen.”
“And you get to spend time with me!” Harrod gloats. “Speaking of the pen though, what’s so important about it?”
Peter sighs. “Okay, well, it’s a limited edition Lord of the Rings fountain pen, right? It’s kinda expensive. Nothing too crazy, but like, it’s a really cool pen. That’s why I brought it to the party, to show it off.”
“You’re the kinda person to show off a pen?” asks Harrod.
“No it’s just that it’s LORD OF THE RINGS themed and so it’s really cool okay?”
“Lord of the Rings is highkey kinda mid,” says Harrod. “I mean Rocky likes it a lot but me and Zoey got high and watched it a couple years back and it was just so slow and we ended up muting it and trying to come up with lines for the characters as they spoke.”
“Well I like it,” Peter mutters.
“Hey, that’s alright! Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to share my opinion on it and…”
“Nah, you’re good,” says Peter. “I’m over it. Let’s just… Actually, what’s step one?” And there’s one of the two main reasons Peter has recruited Harrod. The dog’s not normally known for being methodical, but Peter had heard from Harrod about The Case of the Gay Bongwater and how meticulously he had managed to solve it. Peter’s going to need some kind of basic planning; he’s the sort who stalls two weeks to make any decision and Harrod very much isn’t. It’s not like Peter thinks Harrod is the best detective in the world or anything, but he has slightly more experience than Peter and he’s also one of Peter’s only friends. Maybe Harrod will recruit another friend who is actually good at executing those plans properly; maybe Peter can even get to know them so that he can feel a bit less insular from the rest of the friend group.
Harrod considers. “We make a list of suspects. Which in this case would be the list of party invitees.”
“I actually already did,” says Peter. “Though I don’t know everyone’s names…”
“Okay, let’s compare lists.” Harrod pulls out his phone and starts typing. “Since it was a party Amber hosted and it was a relatively small event, just the guests and the plus ones. Zoey didn’t bring anyone else. I brought Rocky, Pepsi brought you, Zola brought Artie cause I asked her to, Lake brought Esmé, and Ferris was there with Leo even though the two of them didn’t talk to each other a single time as far as I could tell. That’s twelve people. Don’t think I missed anyone.”
“Yeah that’s the same as the list I made,” says Peter.
“In that case, we’re already most of the way there,” Harrod asserts.
“Are we?” It really sounds like just the start.
“No, I was just saying shit. This could take ages. In fact,” says Harrod, pulling out a fake pipe and sticking it in his mouth. He lowers his voice dramatically and continues, “this could be the first case Detective Harrod can’t crack.”
Oh God, maybe this bit’s actually really dumb, thinks Peter. He doesn’t voice it though. “I think we’ve got this,” he says pretty flatly. “Twelve people who mostly like you and are willing to cooperate shouldn’t be that hard.”
Harrod gives a little thumbs up and continues. “We’re both in agreement that Zoey is the first suspect, right?”
Peter gawks for a second. “No? Why would I think that?”
“She’s been acting so suspicious lately!” says Harrod. “She’s been giving me the silent treatment for NO REASON since that party and she was being so shifty with something when she was there. Kept on opening up her purse and shuffling through it. I mean, can you get more obvious?”
“Why would Zoey steal a pen.”
“She’d steal your pen to get at me, your friend,” says Harrod.
“But you don’t know why she’s mad at you.”
“Well I’ve been thinking about that, and I think it’s because she’s upset that you and I are spending so much time together.”
“That’s… dumb.”
“Exactly! She’s being so dumb!”
“Harrod, if we ask everyone else and don’t find any leads, we can ask Zoey. But I don’t think she particularly likes me and if she’s giving you the silent treatment she’s probably not in a good mood.”
Harrod sighs. “Fiiiine. You’re pushing back more than usual.”
“I really need to get that pen back.”
“Got it. I think that—”
“May I cut in and take your order?” asks the waitress, finally having noticed that neither of them are looking at the menu.
“Er, yes,” says Peter. “I’d like a… uh… a water. And can I just order some french fries without a meal?”
“We can’t do that,” says the waitress. “It’s not a separate menu item.”
“Dang,” says Peter.
“No worries dude, you can have mine. I’ll get a quarter pound medium well cheeseburger with fried onions and bacon and lettuce and ketchup please and also one of those mint chocolate chip milkshakes with the slice of cake in it and the fried pickles look great so an order of those too and a sprite.” The waitress puts Harrod’s massive order into her little tablet, somehow without missing a beat, and heads off, leaving Peter looking bewildered.
“Dude how are you not like six hundred pounds,” he asks.
Harrod shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe all the excess calories I eat somehow end up going to Zoey. So you’re paying right?”
Peter purses his lips. “Eh, yeah. Yeah I guess.”
“So cool that you’ve got infinite money dude.”
“Right, well…”
If Harrod notices anything about Peter’s demeanor, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he gets right back on track. “I think the second best suspect is Pepsi. I’m sure you can agree on that.”
“Finally. Yes. She at least has something to do with it I’m sure.”
“So should we just… ask her?”
“She’s the only one I’ve already asked,” says Peter. “Well I asked Ferris too, but I don’t think it was him.” There’s the second main reason he’s invited Harrod—considerably main–er than the first, honestly—Peter doesn’t really know most of Harrod’s friends that well.
“No, Ferris wouldn’t do that,” Harrod agrees. “What did Pepsi say?”
“She’s spent the past two weeks adamantly insisting that she’s never even seen my pen.”
Harrod narrows his eyes. “Suspicious.”
“Exactly! But I’m the younger brother and she’s the rebellious one, it’s not like I can get her to say anything. And anyway, I searched around her place a bit. If she did steal it she’s done a real good job of hiding it.”
Harrod shrugs. “Well,” he says. “I do have an idea for how to ask Pepsi.”
“Let’s hear it,” says Peter.
“Alright, so, you know how she finally put out her first album recently?”
“Yeah. I heard some of the recording sessions,” Peter says with a shudder.
“Well, my idea is that in exchange for her intel, I’ll… actually listen to her album.”
Pete’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t!”
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do, P,” says Harrod, holding his hand out all authoratively.
“I’m really touched you would do that for me Harrod, but maybe there’s another way,” says Peter, sounding desperate.
“No. This is the only way,” Harrod insists.
Peter thinks for a moment. “But is it really?”
“Uh. Probably not, honestly, but I’ll admit I’m kinda curious.”
“Dude, it’s awful. I mean, I love her, but she’s just trying to waste Dad’s money with the studio time and stuff. And she uses the goddamn banjo on every track.”
“Every. Single. One?”
“As far as I know.”
“Well I’ve committed already,” says Harrod.
“You really don’t have to do this Harrod.”
“I can’t die without knowing what Pepsi was cooking.”
“Please, I’m begging—”
—
Pepsi isn’t expecting a knock on the door. She’s kicked back in her bean bag chair, feet up on the big cardboard box her unused ottoman came in. She’s in the middle of taking a draw of her vape, some of the most unbelievable experimental harsh noise folk country punk you’ve ever heard blaring from her speaker system, when she just barely is able to make out some knocking. Or more accurately, someone absolutely slamming the door with full force.
She leans forward and turns down the volume. “Yeah?” she shouts. She can’t quite hear her own voice from the ringing in her ears.
Muffled speech sounds from the other side of the door. She frowns and turns off the music completely, then gets up and walks to the door.
It opens up to reveal a somewhat anguished-looking Harrod, and behind him, her chuddy brother.
“What do y’all want?” asks Pepsi.
“Stop saying y’all, it sounds so, so, so inauthentic coming from you,” says Peter. “You grew up in Long Island so—”
“Uh, hi,” says Harrod. “Could we start with hi?”
“Louder, please,” Pepsi says. “Can’t hear y’all too well.”
“Hello!” Harrod shouts.
Pepsi sighs. “Hello Harrod. Brother. Is this about the pen?”
Harrod nods. “It’s about the pen.”
“Of course it’s about the fucking pen. For the last time, Peter, I have no idea at all what happened to your Goddamn pen and also I’ve never even seen it before and it probably never existed get over yourself.”
I’m so glad me and Rocky aren’t like this, Harrod thinks to himself.
“Pepsi, you might not have the pen,” he says. “But you have to have seen it. Come on. You’re acting so shifty. Just say something.”
“No,” says Pepsi, glaring at him. “Because I’ve never seen the pen.”
“Look, I didn’t want to have to do this. But if you just tell us what you did with the pen, I’ll listen to your album.”
Pepsi’s eyes go wide. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll listen to your album. Give it an honest shot. I’m not a music reviewer or anything but I’ll let people know if it’s good,” Harrod says.
“Ha! Only the most hardcore of punks can really appreciate my vision. But sure, go ahead. I dare you.”
“Gimme a CD,” says Harrod, gesturing to the big boxes full of unsold CDs that are littering the room.
Pepsi obliges, handing an unopened one to him. “I accept your bribe. Brother, I’m afraid I don’t have the pen. What happened is…”
She trails off.
“Yeah?” Peter eggs on.
“Well, you know…” the bravado completely vanishes. “God, okay, Pete I didn’t want to tell you cause I totally screwed up.”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you lost it.”
Pepsi throws up her hands. “I lost it.”
“Pepsi!”
“I grabbed it from the table because I thought it would be funny to hide it, but I’d kinda just been holding it for a while without really doing anything. I could tell you’d started looking for it but you weren’t telling anyone for some reason. Anyway, I had to use the restroom, so I put it down in there on the counter to the uh… left of the sink I think. But I forgot it. I headed out of the restroom and maybe three minutes later I realized and I doubled back to get it, and it was gone! But you weren’t wandering around anymore, so I thought you’d found it again.”
“I stopped looking cause Amber came up to me asking what I was looking for and I said ‘nothing’ so I didn’t want to look like I was lying,” Peter admits.
“Ha! You’re so hopeless.”
“You’re the one who lost it!”
“Yeah well, tough luck.”
“Pepsi,” says Harrod. He takes the fake pipe out of his mouth and gives her a very inquisitive look. He’s never in his life looked so inquisitive. “Do you remember around what time that happened?”
“Like 6:40ish.”
“Okay, so if I remember correctly, and I think I do since I was checking the clock a lot to see when the pizza would arrive, around that time I know that Rocky and Artie were talking to each other and a whole bunch of us were playing beer pong right nearby that. I don’t think anyone left during that, other than you. That was me, Ferris, Lake, and you two. So that’s seven out of 12 people pretty much cleared I think. Zoey, Amber, and Zola were over in the kitchen so they were nearer to the restroom door and I have no idea what Esmé was doing, but that’s normal. Wait, who’s the twelfth person again?”
“Deer guy,” says Pepsi. “Leo.”
“Oh right. Yeah I don’t know where he was either.”
“He left early,” says Pepsi.
“Oh? Why?”
“Not sure.”
“Maybe he took the pen and booked it?” asks Harrod.
“I think he was already gone by that point,” says Pepsi. “Still worth checking though. You’re right that it couldn’t have been any of us playing beer pong. Are you so sure about Rocky and Artie?”
“Dude those two didn’t move all night,” says Harrod. “Tried to get Rocky to hang out with us but he and Artie were like discussing architecture or something. Nerds.”
“Can’t rule it out though,” says Peter. “We weren’t paying that close of attention.”
“I guess not,” Harrod admits.
“Plus you were already starting to get a bit drunk,” adds Pepsi.
“True. I just really don’t think it’d be one of them.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think Rocky would see a Lord of the Rings pen and take it?”
“Well he’d admire it, sure, but he’d ask around to see if anyone lost it.”
Pete sighs. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Alright Pepsi, you’ve been a massive help, but we’re gonna let you get back to your music,” says Harrod.
“I’d love constructive criticism on the album! Okay you’re closing the door got it b—”
Peter lets out a big dramatic sigh. “This would have been so EASY if she’d just told me a week ago!”
“Yeah…” says Harrod. “C’mon, let’s head back to my place.”
“By the way, do not give her constructive criticism. She hates it more than straight-up insults!”
They walk the couple of feet required to get back to Harrod’s place and step inside.
Harrod flops down on the couch, pulls out a notepad and starts crossing off names. Peter just sorta stands awkwardly by the door. Even after being invited in so many times, he’s a little unsure how to make a place his own for a little while.
Harrod flaps the notepad a bit. “After last time I’ve decided to keep this on me at all times. You never know when you’ll need it.”
“When was the last time you needed it?”
“This is the first time,” Harrod admits. “But I never knew!”
With the names crossed out, Harrod starts clicking his pen. “Fully crossed out everyone who was playing beer pong and put a star next to Zoey, Amber, and Zola, since we know they were near the restrooms. Not crossing out Esmé, since we have no clue where she was. Didn’t cross out Leo either cause there’s a chance he might not have left by that point. Rocky’s safe. No way he took it. I know him well enough to be sure of that. That gives us five names to investigate, with four main suspects.”
“Wow. So we just made actual progress,” says Peter. “I thought you’d be…”
“I’m no rookie to this, Petey boy—”
“—Never call me that.”
“It took me some real effort to lock in last time, but this time, I know exactly what to do. Plus I’ve also been doing a bunch of those logic puzzle things where you get like a list of things and you have to find out how they correspond to the other things from the things you have cause I’ve been so bored without Zoey and also Sudoku.”
“What?”
“Nevermind, nevermind. Point is, I’m the most qualified detective you’ll ever meet. A modern day Shamrock Holmes.”
“It’s Sherlock.”
“Right, right. And today, you’re going to be my Winston.”
“Watson.”
“Capital P, man, I’m doing a bit.”
Peter opens his mouth and closes it. Oh.
“We should investigate Zola first,” Harrod decides. “Esmé is gonna be hard cause she doesn’t speak English, and Zoey is mad at me so Amber might be too. You and Leo go to the same college right? Can you get in contact with him?”
“Oh yeah,” says Peter. “I can mail him through the school’s email network.”
“Awesome! In that case, you go send off a message and we’ll head over to Zola’s place and surprise her! That way if she stole it, she won’t be able to hide it!”
“We could also message some of the non-suspects,” suggests Pete. “Just to ask if they saw anyone else with it.”
“That’s not a bad plan. I can definitely message Rocky and Ferris. Lake and Artie both have me blocked on everything at this point.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Of course they do.”
“Look, Lake is definitely my fault, I individually reviewed every single gummy worm in a jumbo-size package while I was high without realizing I was messaging her and then doubled down on a take she didn’t agree with. I don’t know why Artie has me blocked! I thought we were on good terms.”
“It’s cause you’ve spent the past decade tormenting him with pranks,” says Peter.
“That’s supposed to be water under the bridge now! I’ve forgiven him! I haven’t pranked him since last year!”
“It doesn’t have to go both ways,” Pete says with a shrug.
“I’ve been trying to make it up to him ever since I realized he still hates me though, Peter,” says Harrod. “I made him a cake! I made a dating profile for him so he could get a boyfriend! I even bought him a car with your money!”
“You’re going to bankrupt my family,” says Peter.
“I looked up your Dad’s net worth,” says Harrod. “190 million dollars.”
“...Yeah,” says Peter.
“Well alright. I’ll start typing up my messages for Rocky and… you’ve already asked Ferris. So just Rocky.”
“And I’ll message Leo,” Peter says.
“Right!”
—
It’s been a miserable two weeks for Leo. Ferris invited him to that stupid party full of people he barely knows, immediately started drinking, spent the first while complaining about how even now that Harrod’s gay he’s still out of reach, got full-on drunk faster than everyone else, ranted about some guy he was sleeping with, threw up everywhere, and then proceeded on to hang out with more people Leo didn’t know without any sort of proper introduction or anything.
Ferris was not usually like that for sure. If he was, Leo wouldn’t… feel the way he does about him. But just cause Ferris clearly has shit going on doesn’t mean Leo was cool with being shafted like that. Even if it wasn’t a date and wasn’t meant as a date and Leo shouldn’t have gotten any date vibes because it wasn’t a date he shouldn’t be stood up. 6:20ish he texted Ferris, ‘it ok if i head off? i know i was meant to be your ride but i really don’t want to be here so if you’re able to get someone else to drive you home…’
Leo was outside on the porch, just leaning against the wall by the door. Vaguely watching the grass, since it was not as trimmed as the surrounding houses and just windy enough to be moving. He wished he had anything to do at the moment, like smoking or whatever, but he cared too much about his lungs/was too much of a pussy to do that, and what else could you do to make standing around less lame? Wear cool clothes? As if. Leo’s wardrobe is not suited for parties.
People were coming and going from the porch. Leo, the odd one out, not meant to be here in any capacity beyond ‘Ferris’ friend’ and yet shafted so Ferris could spend more time with Harrod, who for the record, was not all that. Back in High School someone probably would have come to talk to him, ask him if he’s alright before heading back off. The only interaction he’d had since heading outside was some lady saying something to him in French, seemingly oblivious to the fact Leo couldn’t understand what she was saying.
It took ten minutes for Ferris to reply.
‘Yaeh just aske d Harrod if that be okay? he said he can drive :(’
‘Sorry I’m such am ess Leo i shouldnt drink so much so fast’
‘Life hurts rn kinda’
‘And my stomach’
‘Yea h have a good time at home i’m sorry agan’
‘CAN’T SPELL SHIT RN!!!!!!’
Leo had just rolled his eyes and driven off.
He then spent the next two weeks thinking about how to approach this with Ferris, on top of normal college stuff, which brings us to now.
He’s at some random café downtown, staring at his phone and trying to come up with something to tell Ferris. Maybe it’s finally time for the confession, but then again if Ferris was gonna wander off when they went to an event together he probably isn’t into Leo, right?
But what else could fix things adequately? He can’t just water-under-the-bridge it and he doesn’t want to upset Ferris by calling him out on something like that.
They’ve barely texted at all these past two weeks. Just a couple images sent back and forth, and some ‘good morning’s and ‘gn’s. It’s funny how someone like Leo—who, not to toot his own horn, is great at writing dialogue and imagining conversations—can’t figure out anything to say to someone the moment something a bit awkward happens.
He sets down his phone and just lays his head down on the table. He definitely wants to bash his head against it just a little but he’ll avoid the urge.
BZZZZT.
The phone right next to him goes off, as phones are wont to do. He pulls himself up and checks the notification.
It’s from a name he’s only vaguely familiar with. Peter Stomwell. A disciple of Harrod, just like Ferris, only seemingly without the pathetic pining. Or the same level of physical attractiveness.
“Subject: Missing Pen.”
“Hello Leo Foster. I’m informing you that I lost a pen at the party we were both at towards the end of September and I was wondering if you may have seen it. It’s a Lord of the Rings fountain pen with Sindarin text on it. Which is the script used most frequently in the books. I need it back.”
Lord of the Rings pen? Leo ponders that for a second. It seems genuinely quite familiar. He must have…
Realization dawns. He’d seen it on an online auction site. Probably the same one at least; the way it had been described there made it seem one-of-a-kind.
The listed minimum price had been fifteen thousand dollars. Of course, nobody on the site in question had marked themself as interested and the listing got taken down after a couple of days. But yeah, that has stuck with him. Very rarely do you see something quite so frivolous being listed in a college town. Barely anyone would have the money.
It had been a random little distraction that day and it is today as well. Still, he courteously types something up about having seen it.
“I didn’t see it at the party, but it was actually up on Facebook Marketplace for a bit. They were trying to get 15,000 dollars for it. I guess I’m not 100% certain it’s the same pen but it’s certainly something to look into. Pretty sure it got taken down off of there but could be on another sorta similar site. Best of luck. By the way, I’m pretty sure you know my friend Ferris Churchill. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him for a little while now, and I was wondering if you could let me know how he’s doing.”
The ‘not being able to get a hold of him’ bit is a lie, but Leo does definitely want to know if Ferris has been alright these past two weeks, or if like. Well maybe he’s thinking about it. Maybe it’s awkward for him too. Contacting Peter about it’s a bit bolder than what Leo normally goes for when just meeting someone, but the chance to get to know someone who knows Ferris without Ferris himself knowing seems valuable.
And hey, it gives him a reason to put off typing up this dumbass message.
—
Rarely do Rocky’s days off feel like they’re truly days off. He made the mistake, way back when he got the job, to tell Harrod both of the days he has off work each week. Wednesdays and Thursdays. Since then, Harrod has since managed to embroil him in shenanigans almost every time he has a day off.
Today’s different. It’s a Monday, and Rocky would normally have work from around 2:30 to 11:00 PM, the opening shift for the bar, which he’d be getting ready for now, but he’s got today and tomorrow off, since the days off for the students means more employees’ schedules are freed up. That gives him a full four days, two of those of course being ones that Harrod doesn’t know anything about.
He is still of course preparing to head out; he’s gonna go get a bit of an early dinner with someone, and wants to buy some kind of gift first, just to like. Repay a favor. He might need to visit multiple places to find something, or even get distracted window shopping, so he’s building in some time in advance. And also he’s maybe pretty excited and realizing that pacing around the room waiting is not the best way of spending his time. He’s got a piece of paper with a bunch of gift ideas plus a couple errands written on it. Normally it’d be on his phone, but he felt like doing something a little different today. It’s for that reason, though, that he doesn’t have his phone on him.
It’s while he’s patting the pockets of his coat looking for it that it chirps (from across the room, of course.)
It’s over on the table where he’d written up his list. He grabs it. It’s just a text from Harrod (honestly, not who he was hoping to see) and he almost thinks to just ignore it since he could just get around to it later, but there do appear to be a lot of exclamation marks at the end. Could be important.
And so he reads. And reads again.
‘Rocky!! Sorry to bother you when you have work so soon but I was just texting everyone who was at the party two weeks ago to see if they saw a pen that Peter lost. It’s one of those ones with the ink that you have to put in yourself and it’s apparently Lord of the Rings themed??? Peter’s telling me to make sure I let you know it has ‘Sindarin’ on it, whatever that means. And he says it’s one of a kind and he would have asked around but he doesn’t know anyone at the party so yeah. Anyway did you see the pen!? !!!!!!!’
Rocky puts his phone back down, feeling a little shocked. There on the table, right the notebook, is the pen he used to write his list.
It matches Harrod’s description perfectly.