clue


"Okay, how about Coran in the parking lot with a bus?"

Hunk looked incredulously at his small companion. "Are you serious?"

Pidge shrugged. "Hey, it's possible."

"All right. What's your reasoning?"

Pidge grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them into his mouth. "Well," he said around the nuts, "the way I figure it, Coran's jealous 'cause he's no longer the 'big man on campus' as it were. After all, an old pro like him relegated to the position of a has-been advisor--that's *got* to hurt his pride. So, he gets a bus and BAM. Keith pancake."

Hunk snorted. "And where would he get the bus?"

"Oh yeah." Pidge sighed. "So, what's your guess?"

"Hmm." Hunk tilted his chair back and contemplated the ceiling. "Well, what about Sven in sound Stage 5 with the wrench?"

"What about me with a wrench?" Sven poked his head into the green room. "There isn't going to be another 'Mr. Fix-it' episode, right?"

"No. We're just saying that you killed Keith with the wrench in sound Stage 5." Hunk grabbed the bowl of peanuts. "Nuts?"

"They're legumes, but thank's." Sven grabbed a handful and sat down at the table. "So why'd I kill Keith with a wrench?"

Hunk shrugged. "You snapped and spotted a wrench that was left lying around by a negligent grip, grabbed it and beat Keith's head in, conveniently forgetting that you had done so as the moment of insanity passed. In fact, as we speak, Keith is lying in a bloody pool on the floor of sound Stage 5."

Pidge rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, ignoring Hunk's disapproving glare. "No way, Hunk. For one, Sven doesn't have any blood on his clothes."

"I could have changed," Sven defended weakly.

"Not bloody likely. I don't think he'd change into clothes that have sweat rings under his arm pits."

"I do?" Sven lifted an arm and looked at the stain. "Shoot. I'm going to write a scathing letter to that antiperspirant company. Can we say 'false advertising'?"

"Or you could just stop wearing black." Pidge blew a perfect smoke ring. Hunk coughed and waved away the blue-grey smoke.

"Put that out, Pidge. Do you have any inkling to the damage you're doing to your lungs right now? Besides, you're under contract to not ruin your voice. They're not going to be happy if they have to go hunting for an adult with a child's voice again."

"Hey yeah. Give that to me." Sven reached out and plucked the cigarette from Pidge's hand. He took a puff. Hunk transferred his glare. "What? I don't speak, so I'm not under contract."

"You're still killing yourself."

Sven snorted. "Please. They brought me back from the dead once. I'm sure they'll do it again." Hunk's glare intensified and Sven sighed, stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray. "Fine. It's out. Happy?" Hunk nodded, and smiled. "So, why are you trying to figure out whether or not Keith's dead?"

"Well, we had this big scene too shoot, but Keith wasn't around, so we couldn't do it. The director got pissed, we sent Lance off to go find Keith about, oh," Hunk checked his watch, "about a half-hour ago, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of 'em since. So, given Keith's punctualness and all around anal-retentiveness, we figure he's got to be dead by now. All that's left is figuring out who done it."

"We're doing it clue style, 'cause we're bored."

"Cool. Can I play?"

Hunk looked Pidge who just shrugged. "Sure."

"All right." Sven thought for a moment. "Well, what about Nanny with the candle stick in, um, the props room."

"Intriguing." Hunk tilted his chair back again. "What's your basis for this hypothesis?"

Sven shrugged. "She propositioned him for sex, he refused, she killed him."

Pidge laughed. "Good one. My turn?"

"Yup."

"Okay, I've got a good one this time. Allura in her dressing room with, uh, a letter opener." Pidge grinned and propped his feet up on the table.

"Why Allura?"

"Again, it's a sex thing. She tries to get laid, Keith refuses, Allura goes ballistic and stabs Keith with the letter opener."

Sven shook his head. "No way. You know Allura's dating that guy from the Vehicle Voltron team, whats-his-name, Jeff."

"Oh yeah. Well, you're turn, Hunk."

"What about Lotor in the showers with the lead pipe? Y'know, a penis envy thing. Needs to exert his dominance and all."

"Good idea, but I Lotor's been with me practically all day. I was helping him rehearse." Sven grinned. "Next acting job I get, I'm going for some sort of authority figure. Power rushes are happy things."

"Well, it's your turn."

"Okay. Lance with the rope in his dressing room. Hey," Sven said
defensively in response to the looks he was getting, "I hear those sex games can get pretty wild. Who's to say that Lance didn't accidentally kill Keith while they were doing something kinky."

"That's disgusting. Besides, Lance isn't that good an actor. He wouldn't be able to hide that he'd killed Keith for very long."

"True." Pidge looked down at the table, then picked up a peanut. "Well, what about Keith in the kitchen with a peanut?"

"He killed himself? Plausible, but with a peanut?" Hunk shook his head. "No way, Pidge. Not buying. How would he die?"

"Chokes to death." Pidge popped the peanut in his mouth. "Or maybe he's allergic to peanuts and has something with peanuts in it. Like a 'Payday' or 'Snickers' or something."

"Are you guys still at it?" The three boys looked up at Allura's voice. She leaned against the doorway, a slightly disapproving look on her face.

"Yup. So, Allura, what's your hypothesis?"

"Lance, in the janitor's, with his, er Lance's, kisses." Allura sighed and dropped down into a chair. "I, um, 'overheard' them making out when I was coming over here." She shook her head. "It was, quite frankly, more than I needed to know."

"Huh. Death by snogging. Well, there's a new one." Pidge shrugged. "I still like my peanut theory better, though."

End.