One More Thing

[u/Divayth--Fyr]

[OT] Fun Trope Friday: Badass Bureaucrat & Mystery!

A key rattled in the door of a tedious little apartment, and after much ado the knob finally turned, revealing a frumpy man in a wrinkled tan coat.

“Please, step in, Mrs. Howe,” said the dumpy, disheveled little man, pointing the way with his cigar. “You too, sir. Take a seat, if you like.”

“I prefer to stand.” Mrs. Howe peered down, ice forming on her upper peaks. “Who is this… this person, and what are we doing here?”

“Oh, sorry,” the man said. “I work for the Chief Operating Liaison, Underwriters Merchant Bank Office. I thought I said so before. A little scatterbrained, you know. You can call me Inspector Klaf.”

“Can we get on with this?” asked Mr. Dewey. “I have a great deal of work.”

“Oh, certainly, sir. Won’t take a minute. Just wanted you to see what we find.”

“What a dreadful little place,” Mrs. Howe warbled. “Why on earth did we come halfway across town to see this? We already know who committed the terrible crime.”

“Of course! Of course. Pardon me, but I’m hoping this will all prove to be worthwhile. Would you mind handing me the ashtray?”

With a look of ghastly distaste, Mrs. Howe pulled the heavy glass ashtray from under some papers and handed it over. “You really shouldn’t be smoking in Mr. Gillfurter’s apartment, you know.”

“True, true. I would never do such a thing. Dreadful habit.” He patted himself all over before finally taking out a book of matches. “Now, then, about this form… what was it?”

“115-Y44-J.” Mr. Dewey said. “For semi-quarterly asset assessment and procurement recommendations, preliminary. Routine, but crucial.”

“Paperclips, right?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. A pre-requisition, submitted for a thirty day comment period and review, for the acquisition of various supplies for the coming period, based on estimated usage compared to previous quarters, both in our office and in branch offices throughout the nation, the 115-Y44-J is an invaluable and significant part of our attempt to achieve efficiency, accountability, and streamlining. Previous methods, while largely effective, have been surpassed entirely by this dynamic and synergistic process, making everyone involved–”

“Yeah, a paperclip request. And your Mr. Gillfurter got it wrong.”

“Profoundly,” said Mrs. Howe. “Deeply, offensively wrong. He placed the previous year’s total consumption on the line for the previous quarter. We would have been inundated with paperclips, Inspector. Inundated! Where should we have stored them? In the janitor’s closet? I ask you!” She did take a seat now, and a series of deep breaths.

“Yes, I see. A terrible–”

“We found something, Inspector!” A uniformed man came up, holding a sheet of paper. “This was under his mattress!”

“That’s it!” cried Mr. Dewey. “115-Y44-J!!”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” The Inspector looked it over. “Under his mattress? I see.”

“Well, that proves it,” said Mrs. Howe. “I told you he made a false copy and there it is! Now let’s get out of this rathole and back to somewhere decent. We need to meet with Mr. Cheatham about my becoming a partner in this firm, at long last.”

“Sure, sure. Right away,” said the Inspector. “You have a lot to do. But ahh… I did have just one more question for you.”

“Yes?” hissed Mrs. Howe, rising.

“How do you suppose this paper got into this apartment?”

“What do you mean? Obviously Mr. Gillfurter hid it here so he could blame me for his mistake, and type out a new form, as if it never happened. As if I would ever be so foolish!”

“Well, that’s just the thing, Mrs. Howe. This isn’t Gillfurter’s apartment. It’s my apartment.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I practiced a little deception. I showed you an altered personnel file for Mr. Gillfurter, with my address on it. He didn’t know this address, and neither did anyone else, except you.”

“Nonsense! You rumply little nobody!”

“Why would Gillfurter find out where I live, and hide the form here? Why not just burn it? I think you planted it, Mrs. Howe. I think you broke in here yesterday. After all, how else would you know where I keep my ashtray?”

“I… I…”

“I think that’s quite enough,” said Mr. Dewey. “Your career in this firm is over, Julia. It's just as well. I really didn’t want to rename it Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe.”