Solve et Coagula
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/52791179/

Thumbnail art by  Major Matt Mason


A smirk twisted my muzzle as one of the prompters passed out on the third gasp. Hyperventilating in a room where injuries could and would happen to us – seriously, they should know better.

None of us could log out, which was disquieting, but I recalled certain words of great wisdom:

“If you’re wondering how he eats and breathes
And other science facts (lalala!)
Repeat to yourself, ‘It’s just a show;
I should really just relax.’”

I decided to take the advice to heart and panic later, ignored the sarcastic chatter of two robots in the back of my head who insisted on kibitzing, and took a sip from my wine as the others around the table sat deep in conversation or even deeper in thought. It was really good wine, and I shouldn’t waste it.

In fact, the entire dinner had been delicious, from the escargot in garlic-butter sauce, to the cassoulet of duck with spring vegetables and the utterly divine chocolate soufflé for desert. The coffee with the soufflé was also superb.

But I still had half a bottle of wine. Well, waste not, want not.

The others were still talking, while I sipped my wine and did some thinking. How could FromtheDead be both dead and alive? He hadn’t looked like Schrödinger’s Cat, or even vaguely feline for that matter. His cloak and hood must be keeping him in an unresolved quantum state, but if that were the case, why didn’t it resolve itself when the detective lifted the hood?

Despite myself, I chuckled before taking another sip of wine. I sounded like I usually do before I check my car’s engine when there’s a fault.

Setting aside that unproductive line of thought, I glanced around the table. Vixyy was arguing with Alex, and Lu-Man was discussing something with Hauke in low tones. I twitched my tail into my lap, and glanced at Marmelmm.

He was looking right at me.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“I think you might have done it,” he said.

I set my glass aside and adjusted my bow tie. I like the clean lines of a classic tuxedo. “You could have done it,” I pointed out. “You did get up at one point in the meal.” With the echoes of artillery and gurgling noises still not quite faded away, I added, “But I know why you left, so let’s get to why you think I dunnit.”

He squinted at me. “Because I know you’re clever that way, and you’ll heave a surprise revelation in at the last moment.”

“Heh. I’m not that clever, and I don’t like murder mysteries. There’s always some clue that’s left out until the inevitable climax. You might have had Tali give him a klop to the noggin.”

Marmelmm straightened his own bow tie. Added a touch of class to his spacesuit. “Tali wouldn’t do it,” he said, “but I know you know several characters who might do it.”

“I know that you know that I know,” I said, wagging the tip of my tail at the others, “and they know it too. Which is why, if I did it, which I deny, you can’t pin nothing on me copper, I wouldn’t summon a character to waylay FromtheDead. I mean, I hardly know him, and why would I try to have him killed?”

“He’s not dead!” HAAS_Bio_Fox said from across the table.

“Are you saying he’s only pining for the fjords?” I asked.

“No, but he’s been badly hurt.”

“What was he doing in the Restricted area anyway?” I asked. “It’s Restricted, you know.” A few of the others heard my question, and either shook their heads or shrugged.

I shrugged as well, and refilled my glass with the last of the wine in the bottle. I was lucky I wasn’t driving home, although I wiggled the tip of my tail at me like it was a Muppet, and started giggling.

I forced a falsetto and made my tail move. “Hi, kids!” it said.

“You’ve had a bit too much,” Vixyy chided as I laughed loudly.

“Indeed,” I said in my normal voice. It’s a sad state of affairs; in the days of my youth I could salt away half a bottle of 100-proof vodka straight from the freezer and still be sober enough to drive home without attracting attention. Now, though? Damned lightweight.

The cell phone in my pocket buzzed for attention.

A few of the others around the table gave me the eye at my drunken attempt at ventriloquism. Hey, we all talk to ourselves; I just answer back. I took a few deep breaths and centered myself.

Okay.

What was in the Restricted area, apart from the pool? Why was this Detective Renard Steele a feral kitsune, and not an anthro? Why call it The Case of the Deadly Cape? Had FromtheDead’s cloak been saturated in poison, like the Robe of Nessus?

Why am I asking you?

Face-down in the pool, too. How very Gatsby of him, or whoever tried to do him in.

I glanced across at Hauke, thinking that a basilisk might have done the deed, but I dismissed the idea. According to HAAS_Bio_Fox, he wasn’t completely dead, which meant he was partly alive.

No going through his pockets for loose change yet.

I turned inward and summoned the Executive Committee, waited until all of the voices in my head were gathered (dammit, too much wine), and I glared at them. “Okay, who done it?” I demanded.

The others looked at each other before addressing me.

“I didn’t do it!”

“You can’t prove it!”

“Nobody saw me!”

“The sheep are lying!”

Yeah, that’s the problem with sheep; they’re unreliable.

Leaving the Committee to their own devices, I returned my attention to the table. The room lights had been turned low.

The others were all looking at me.

I put my head down on the table, and decided a short nap would clear my head a little.

Zzz . . .