Chapter Text
The weather outside was dark and stormy. Rain pattered against the glass window, while lightning flashed, illuminating the dark office she was sitting in.
Red Bouchard, a private investigator, hunched over her desk, a lit doozer stick in between her fingers. Her clothes were messy, tie undone and shirt only half buttoned, as she brooded over nothing in particular. Something was off, she could just feel it.
Her last case was two week ago. Finding a child's lost bike. Sure, it was an easy case. Paid well, and she found the bastard in a matter of hours. But it wasn't exciting. It didn't bring the thrill she had been hunting for, to get her out of feeling like life was nothing but a perpetual cycle. She needed action, she needed adventure! What she really wanted was a murder, but she figured it was cruel to wish for that.
A noise outside of her office door caught her attention, snapping her out of her trance. A figure was pacing outside, only their shadow visible through the foggy glass. She could hear vauge mumbling, but she couldn't make out any of the words.
She tapped her doozer stick on her ashtray, frustrated that somebody had interrupted her alone time...But happy she would have something to do. She was getting rather bored.
"Oi." She barked at the door. "I can see ya, y'know. Get in here, I don't bite."
The door slowly creaked open, and a pair of black heels tapped against the hardwood floor. Standing in front of her was a teal fraggle with a round figure, wearing a long, deep blue dress, a brown fur stole, and lacy white gloves. His ginger hair was done up in a small bump, but his bangs stayed in front of his eyes. Really, Red had no idea how he saw anything.
"Long time no see, Toots."
The teal fraggle frowned at the nickname, but was quickly distracted by his worry. He rung his hands together, and nervously looked around the office.
"Take a seat, Boober. Don't be such a Cream Puff, tell me what's the matter."
Boober Allen, an old friend, nervously sat down in one of the creaky old chairs, nervously bouncing his knee. He had always been a bit of a coward, nervous about death, decay and disease. He was also a neat freak, and most of his anxiety in the current moment likely came from the terrible state of Red's office.
But despite those flaws, he was a good kid. Despite being extremely boring. But what was he doing here?
"Red, I need your help..." "Yeah, a lotta people do. What's your situation?"
He tried to speak a few times, but nothing came out. Eventually, he squeaked out two words.
"I-It's Wemb..."
Wembley Allen was Boober's husband and high school sweetheart. The two were disgustingly in love, attached at the hip at all times. To see them was seperate was a rarity. If Boober was this worried, something must be terribly wrong.
"What about him?"
Boober held his head in his hands and began to sob. "He's...He's missing! He's gone, I haven't seen him since yesterday morning!"
Red perked up.
"He's what?"
"H-He left for work yesterday, a-and he never came home! I-I thought it was just a late shift, y-you know how firemen are...But then the entire night passed, and nothing! I called the station, I called his brother, they didn't know anything! For all I know, he's dead! So...I'm here to beg...please, I-I need your help to find him!"
Boober continued to sob. Red grimaced, unsure of what to do. She was never good at comforting people.
"Alright, alright. Simmer down, ok? He can't have gone far. And I doubt he's in trouble...nobody could bring themselves to hurt that dumb, stupid face." "Do NOT call my husband stupid!" Boober snapped.
"Sorry. Geez, you've got a bigger temper than I remember." "...Sorry. I-I slept terribly last night." "I can imagine. You mind if I ask you some questions? I just need some basic info." "W-Well...Sure. Ask away."
Red took a piece of paper off of a stack on her desk, restarting the cycle of all of her cases. "When was the last time you saw him?"
"W-Well, yesterday morning, like I said! We woke up, I-I made breakfast, and he went off to work! But six'o'clock came around, and he still wasn't home! S-So I waited by the door until midnight, b-before I fell asleep on the couch...And I woke up alone. So I called the fire station, and I-I called Gobo,"
Red scoffed at the mention of Wembley's brother.
"And he hadn't seem him!" "What did the station stay?" "They said he left at his usual time, around 5:30. He must have vanished on the way home." "Did you call the police?" "No. I came to you first. I trust you...Unlike the pigs."
"Oh. Well, I'm honoured. Was Wembley acting strange before he left for work?" "Not at all. Why, he's been just peachy keen these past few days! I-It's our anniversity soon, and we've been planning something special..." "And what would that be?" "W-We were gonna take trip to Craggle Lagoon. A lovely, tropical place...You ever been?" "Can't say I have. I didn't think you'd be into something like that. Too...exciting for somebody like you, hm~?"
Boober huffed. "I'll have you know, I am not just the wet rag you think I am." "Of course you are, dollface. Now I've just got one more question." "And then you'll help search?" "Of course I will. It's my job. Now, can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you or your husband?" "No! Who would want to hurt Wembley, he's such a sweetheart! A-And me...? Well, I don't talk to anyone besides him and Mokey..."
"Interesting."
Red spun around in her chair, taking another puff of her doozer stick and staring out the window.
"Very, very interesting..." "I'm so worried." "You're worried about everything." "This is serious! My husband could be dead!" "He's not dead, Boober. And he can't have gone far. My bet is that he wandered off and got messed up in some trouble...And now it's up to me to find him."
There was a brief moment of silence as she let her doozer stick run out. The smoke made Boober cough a little, snapping her awake and filling her with a sudden determination.
"Alright Jitterbug. Grab your purse, let's split." "I-I ain't comin' with you, am I?" "You've gotta if you're gonna unlock the door." Red winked, fixing up her shirt and grabbing her coat and hat. "Your place is stop number one. Then, I wanna have a talk with your brother-in-law."
"Oh god. Fine, let's go."
The two made their way outside, popping up a large black umbrella to hide from the rain.
"...Where's your car." "Wembley took it to work. I walked." "How far is your pad?" "A few blocks." "You walked a few blocks in the rain? In heels?" "Well, what was I supposed to do?"
Red rolled her eyes. "Boober, I will never understand you." She hopped into her own car, a large red radish on wheels. "Get in. I need directions."
Boober nervously climbed in, and Red took off. Boober and Wembley lived in a relatively nice area, where all the young lovebirds seemed to flock after marriage. Red thought it was too cookie-cutter for her liking, but she figured something boring and simple would be perfect for Boober and Wembley.
As she pulled into the drive, she noticed Boober longingly gazing at the spot where his own car used to be. The last place he had seen his husband.
"Hey, baby." She nudged his shoulder. "Perk up. We'll find him. And then you can go...do whatever it is you do on a beach. Sex?" "Red, that's disgusting."
As Boober unlocked the door, he plucked the fresh doozer stick from Red's mouth as she was in the process of lighting it. "And no smoking. I work hard to make this place nice, and I won't have you stinking it up with smoke!"
The door to the house pushed open, and Red stepped in, shaking her umbrella on the fluffy front mat. The place was absolute spotless, decorated with soft colours and lots of little trinkets. "Cute place. Right out of a magazine." "...Thanks, I suppose? C-Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee?" "None for me, but thanks. Just let me have a look around."
Boober nodded, and curled up on one of the many armchairs placed around the living room. Red began to snoop around the room, looking for any kind of clue. Scraps of paper, or anything suspicious that could hint to where Wembley could possibly be. But the place was spotless, no trace of anything. The cupboards were just filled with funny-shaped candles, vinyl records, and laundry-doing equipment for Boober's home laundry business.
"Anything?" "No. You're a damn good housekeeper. No wonder Wembley married you." "Wembley married me because he loves me, not because I clean well." "Doesn't matter. Can I check upstairs? Do you have an office?" "No. But you can check the bedroom. Follow me."
As they made their way upstairs, Red took notice of a cardboard box sitting at the top of the stairs. Extremely out of place in a such a clean home.
"What's in the box?" "I've got no clue. Wembley brought it home one day and told me not to look." "You mind if I take a peek?" "Go ahead."
She pulled the box open. Inside was balls of yarn, plush mice, and feathers on strings...And bags of green leaves.
"Is it...something bad?" "Well, that depends."
She pulled out one of the baggies and opened it. "W-What is that?" "I'm ain't sure yet." She held the bag up to her snout, and recoiled. "It's catnip. It's a box full of cat toys and catnip..." "Cat toys? Strange...A-Anything else?" "No, just the cat stuff. Do you have a cat?" "No...But I've always wanted one. They're quiet, clean, snuggly...They're the perfect animal. But I wonder what all this stuff is doing here?"
"Well, he was clearly planning something. But who knows if it's related to his differences. Where's the bedroom, I'll take a look around." "Right over here."
The bedroom was equally spotless. Sheets perfectly tucked, pillows gently fluffed, and all of Wembley's collectable stuffed animals were perfectly dusted, sitting on a little shelf.
"Wow." "Look anywhere you want. Just don't make a mess."
Just like the rest of the house, there was no trace of anything that could possibly give her any clues. For a moment she wondered if Boober hid the evidence, but shook that thought away. Boober and Wembley were cute...but they weren't smart enough to fake a kidnapping.
Red hummed for a moment, wondering about her next step, before she noticed the baby pink phone on the nightstand.
"Did he receive any calls in the last few days?" "He got a call from Gobo yesterday. I didn't snoop, but it didn't seem too important." "Are you sure it was from Gobo?"
Boober paused. "...No. I never heard his voice, I-I just assumed. But Wembley wouldn't do anything bad! I know him!" "I'm not saying he did. But if he got a call from somebody other than Gobo, we might be able to track his location. When do your logs come in?" "Not until the first of the month."
Red grumbled. It was the 12th. "Alright. Well, than I guess we'll just have to give Gobo a visit. Where does he work?" "The Pickled Radish. A nightclub." "A nightclub? You ever perform there?" "Every once in a while. Mokey works there, too."
"...Mokey? She's still around?" "She neva' left. She talks about you sometimes. Asks how you are, and all that." "Does she? Hm..."
Mokey Desjardins was Boober's older sister. She was sweet as honey, with a beautiful singing voice and a caring demeanour. In high school, Red had the hots for her, but didn't get a change to confess her feelings before graduation. She hadn't seen her since, and had assumed she had gotten hitched and moved away.
"She married?" "No. I think she's still waitin' for you." "For me...Heh. So, the Pickled Radish, hm? Let's go." "What? No, I am not comin' with you!" "Sugartits, c'mon. I need you for this, I can't do this alone." "Sugar-!? Oh, Red Bouchard! I am five seconds from wringing your neck!"
"Yeah, keep sayin' that...let's go."
As Red walked down the stairs, Boober followed her, babbling out excuses. "I-I'm not helpful! Why would you want me with you!?" "Moral support. And you know Wembley better than anyone. Lock the door, get in the car." "Red, I'm not a detective!" "No? Well, you're about to be, Toots. C'mon."
Boober huffed, quickly following her out of the house and locking up the door. He did want to see his husband as soon as possible, and going with Red was probably the fastest way to make that happen.
"Do you make all your clients follow you on cases?" "No. But I really do need your help with this. You're Wembley's entire life, this entire case will revolve around you two. I need you for information. It's hopeless without you."
Boober got quiet after she said that. He would mumble when Red needed to make a turn, but he was otherwise silent. Red couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she didn't want to pry. He was having a hard time, and was probably worried sick. Red didn't exactly understand, having been single most of her life.
"Hey...If you don't find Wembley at the bar, we'll stop at a diner and I'll get you dinner. My treat." "...Why?" "I mean, you're my friend. And so is Wembley. I know we haven't talked in a while, but...I'm worried too. But I can see that it's tearin' you up, and I wanna make you feel better. A platonic date, the lesbian and the gay man! Whaddya say?"
Boober let out a little huffy laugh. "You're a bonehead." "Yeah, I've gotten that a lot." "From who? You get a lot of company in that lonely ol' office?" "...Nah. Just clients." "You should come over for dinner sometime. Y'know, when we find Wemb...I'll make lentil loaf and radish salad!" "Please don't tell me it'll be encased in jello..." "Of course it will be! Why, I've got all that gelatin lyin' around the house! What am I supposed to do with it?" "Throw it in the trash." "No! You're gonna eat it, and you're gonna like it!" "I will not. I'm gonna spit it out." "You wouldn't dare!"
The two shared a laugh, suddenly flooded with the nostalgic memories of their banter in high school. When Boober was the chubby dork with ance and headgear, and Red was the immature jock who picked too many fights. Except this time, they were all grown up, and investigating a possible kidnapping...Oh, how things change.
"Did that lighten the mood a little? You feelin' better?" "Not by much...But thanks. I missed this...I missed us." "I missed you too, Sugar."
She pulled into the lot of the Pickled Radish and hopped out. "Now let's get in there. We've got a husband to find."