Pun Detectives and the Case of the Missing Music! (Part 3)

Putting Mr. Treble’s mind-blowing apathy out of my mind, I turned to Lily. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes. I have taken the liberty of dividing the 10 violin players into two sets of five each. You and I should each question a set and then convene at the end to combine our findings, Boss.”

“Sounds good.”

“I have taken the liberty as well of assigning myself the girls. I realize you may have a spot of difficulty questioning them, Boss.”

So she is clued in to how completely pathetic I am when it comes to talking to girls! Wow! Guess I’ll go crawl in a hole and die!

“Th-thanks…”

There were five names on the sheet that Lily had underlined for me, and five for her. Mine read:

Viro Victory

Vincent Vinters

Valentine Vermicelli

Vance Valiance

______ Contraire

Hmmm, that’s weird. What was up with that last name on the list? It was the only one with a last name that didn’t start with a V. And for some reason, the first name next to it was completely scribbled out with a marker, entirely unreadable. It looked a little like Evan’s math homework. I tried flipping the sheet over, but I couldn’t even read the name from the back. Whatever this “Contraire” person’s first name was, I couldn’t make it out at all.

Well, thinking about it wasn’t going to do us any good now. I’d burn that bridge when I came to it, as they say. For now, it was time to start the questioning. List of names at the ready, me and Lily headed to where the violin players were huddled on the other end of the room.

#

The Questioning of Viro Victory

Q (Me): “So, uh, you guys—”

A (Viro): “Wasn’t me.”

Q: “...”

A: “Wasn’t me.”

Q: “I didn’t say it was. I’m—”

A: “Wasn’t me.”

Q: “...”

A: “Wasn’t me.”

#

The Questioning of Vincent Vinters

Q (Me): “So, as a violin player for the marching band, what can you tell me about—”

A (Vincent): “I’m not a violin player for the marching band.”

Q: “You’re not?”

A: “Nope.”

Q: “Then what do you play?”

A: “The music box.”

Q: “Well if you don’t play the violin, then what the heck are you doing here with the rest of the violin players?”

A: “I didn’t want to go outside! It’s cold out there. Plus Mr. Treble keeps marching us straight into certain death. It’s a miracle I’m even alive right now. Good thing I play the music box. I can’t even begin to imagine how the tuba players have been taking this, having to dodge out of the way of danger carrying a couple extra tons, practically.”

Q: “You keep saying you play the music box. The roster said you played violin though.”

A: “I do.”

Q: “You just said you didn’t.”

A: “No I didn’t.”

Q: “Yes, you did. You literally just said that.”

A: “No, I didn’t.”

Q: “Then what did you say?”

A: “I said I wasn’t a violin player for the marching band.”

Q: “...so you play violin, but not for the marching band?”

A: “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Q: “Ok, fine. Well, do you know anything about where the violins might be? Know who nabbed them, maybe? Or why?”

A: “Nope.”

#

The Questioning of Valentine Vermicelli

Q (Me): “What can you tell me about the disappearance of the violins?”

A (Valentine): “Not much. I’m as stumped as everyone else. They were gone when we got here.”

Q: “When you got here? Hey, who opens up the room in the morning anyway? You guys don’t leave the door to this room or the instrument storage space open all night, do you?”

A: “Course not. We lock up every night. It’s usually Mr. Treble or Vance who opens up every morning.”

Q: “Vance? He plays violin too, right?”

A: “Yeah. He's a junior. He’s kind of in charge of us violin players. He’s the only one of us who’s any good really. Well, he’s first chair in orchestra, at least. Not that we have chairs anymore. Haha.”

Q: “And he has the key to the instrument storage room?”

A: “Yep. Mr. Treble trusts him cause he’s one of the best players we have, and he’s a dependable guy.”

Q: “And he unlocks the room sometimes in the morning?”

A: “Not sometimes. Most of the time. Usually he’s the first one here. He gets here earlier than any of us. He also does a couple sports, so he’s, like, always at school early… Oh, but it definitely wasn’t him. He had nothing to do with this. Probably. He’s a cool guy.”

Q: “...”

A: “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Q: “It’s suspicious, that’s for sure. Do you know if he unlocked the door this morning?”

A: “I’m sure he did. I got here right when Mr. Treble did, and the door was already open. And since no one else besides Vance and Mr. Treble has the key, no one else besides Vance could’ve opened it.”

Q: “So it was him! He has to be behind this.”

A: “No, I don’t think so. Vance isn’t that kind of guy. There’s no way he could’ve done this. No reason for him to have done it either. You’ll know once you talk to him. Heck, Striking Eyes will tell you the same thing.”

#

The Questioning of Vance Valiance

Q (Me): “Hey Lily I’m going to east ring to question the next guy. Coming?”

A (Lily): “I’m afraid not, Boss. I still have two more girls to question. Please proceed on your own.”

That was the conversation I had with Lily over text as I was walking over to the East Ring to question Vance Valiance, junior, first chair in orchestra, and supposed master of the violinic arts. Just like Valentine had said, he was a triathlete. Swimming, tennis, and track. A star in all of them, apparently. And that meant that he didn’t always have the time to come to marching band practice. Even though he had apparently stopped by to open the door to the music practice room earlier this morning, today was one of those days when he was prioritizing one of his sports — swimming, the other violin players had told me. That meant that he was over at the East Ring, all the way on the other side of the school.

The East Ring was where all the school’s fields and courts were, and the pools too. Basically anything having to do with sports was there. By the way, “East Ring” was a typo. It was supposed to be “East Wing.” As in the opposite of the “West Wing.” But when they were adding the two wings to the school, someone screwed up, and ever since then, we’ve had a West Wing and an East Ring.

The East Ring was the newest building on campus, and it was essentially a massive indoor sports complex. Sometimes I wondered why the school had blown through so much money building the thing when they could have used it on literally anything else.

Then I remembered who was in charge around here.

Grandpa had spared no expense when he’d singlehandedly drafted, pitched, and approved the plan to have the East Ring built last year, and we only found out why after the fact. The day of the East Ring’s grand opening, a skywriter just happened to be passing by over the school. Right in the middle of his message (something to do with a blowout clearance sale on used socks), he doubled back in confusion and hastily scrawled “Wait, WTF is that!!?!?!?!?!?!?!” — the scrappiest contrails ever. Looked a bit like Evan’s math homework, come to think of it.

Anyway, what he had seen from on high was something that could never be unseen. Half the school scrambled up to the roof, pushing and shoving to the edge to get a peek at whatever had shocked the poor pilot.

That was when we all learned that the entire East Ring was, when you looked from the top down, constructed in the shape of Grandpa’s face.

From the ground, it looked just like any other building. But one peek from up high was all you needed if you ever wanted to look straight into the skylight-sunglasses and railing-framed face of the worst principal in world history. How much did this thing cost to commission anyway? Good question. All I knew was that the crowning ceremony this year was probably just the nail in the coffin. Grandpa had been bleeding the school dry for ages now, all for stupid vanity projects like this one. Our own tiny version of the Nazca Lines or Palm Jumeirah. Only way lamer and more depressing and narcissistic. Come to think of it, maybe we would still have desks if it weren’t for all the dough gramps had blown constructing a building in his own likeness. I sighed at what could have been, and how much better it would have been than what actually happened.

Still, I knew all the athletes appreciated it. Fuel for grandpa’s egomania or not, the East Ring, and all the sports facilities inside it, was sure a step up over the weedy fields and cracked blacktop that preceded it.

I stepped into the East Ring. A blast of air conditioning slapped me in the face as I walked through the automatic front doors. Hollow echoes bounced off the high walls and domed ceiling, betraying tennis balls racketed, volleyballs spiked, and basketballs swished, all down the long hall. I was right under Grandpa’s nose, I guessed, though figuratively I was still under his thumb. Somewhere at the end of the rows and rows of indoor courts, the hall opened to an oval of artificial turf that quadrupled as a field of the football, baseball, soccer, and track varieties. Even now, before school had even started, the place hummed with activity. Somewhere in here was an indoor pool, and that was where I was supposed to find Vance. I sighed.

Better start looking.

The end of Pun Detectives and the Case of the Missing Music (Part 3)!
To be continued in Part 4!