Eligible The Mystery of Pokki Island [New Year, New Horizons Entry]

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Case File 001: The Mystery of Pokki Island​

It's hard to relax when you hear your drink is laced with pigeon milk.
I, Bubblegum Shoestring, (or Gumshoe for short) have traveled to many a cafe in my time, but this was the first to offer such unusual dairy substitutes. Even more unnerving was the stoic, muscular barista across the counter. I gave him my best smile, hoping he didn't mistake it for a grimace as I lifted my mug in salute.

Before I can take a sip, a frantic yet dapper owl burst into the scene.
"The Trash Bandit has struck again!"
Trash bandit? I wondered. Is there someone stealing the trash in this town? Sounds like a good thing, if you ask me. This place was pristine on the travel brochure photos.

 

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"I'd like to offer my services!" I volunteer, setting down my cup. "Bubblegum Shoestring is the name, but you can call my Gumshoe for short. I am the world's foremost amateur detective. I don't have my certificate with me, but here is my graduation photo from the Nookington Detective Academy."

"Yes, I am aware my eyes are closed in the photo. They weren't offering retakes."

"We would be glad to have your expert eye on the scene. My name is Blathers and this chatterbox is my good friend Brewster. We are both graduates of Nookford Feathermen University ourselves. Our town has recently been plagued by a littering scoundrel. Let us visit the scene of his latest crime while the evidence is still fresh!" Brewster bid us farewell with a curt nod as I trailed after Blathers to the home of one Ms. Cherry.

Ms. Cherry was in the middle of preparing lunch when we arrived. She received us with a great amount of cheer, considering her house was now surrounded by a gaggle of garden gnomes.

"Like, I totally love the avant garde street art movement; these gnomes are welcome to stay. Living in this high rise condo means my yard décor options are limited," she hands me a bowl of fruit salad fresh from the frying pan. Upon inquiry, she also generously offered the recipe so I could make my own pan-fried fruit salad.

Blathers left me to take notes and investigate while he rushed off to receive a museum delivery. He was stretched thin, serving as the curator, caretaker, janitor, event coordinator, and customer service manager among all the other roles needed for the Pokki Museum.
"I noticed that in addition to the gnomes, someone has inscribed a gothic letter G and left some feathers at the scene. Is that part yours, or did the culprit leave it behind?"

"Oh wicked, that's such a cool calling card! Nope, the feathers and the G aren't mine, but I have been thinking of getting a cool new tattoo since the breakup..."

"Breakup you say? Do you have reason to believe your ex or anyone targeted you specifically with this crime?" I ask.

"What? No way. Hornsby would never bother, since he was always too busy pledging for the Kappas frat. We parted on good terms, really. And everyone here knows I'm cool with them. I can't even say it feels like much of a crime, because I'm not even mad."

 

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Time to hit the pavement, as they say, and interview the neighbors to see if they witnessed anything suspicious.
I decided to knock on the doors of nearby villagers to ask if they saw any unusual activity within the last few days. Paolo and Tybalt were away, either on a "snack run" or exploring the island. The next house (or at least their yard) caught my attention with the sheer amount of boxes and haphazard goods strewn about.

Who leaves their toilet paper outside? Considering it the polite thing to do, I grab the rolls and knock on the door.
My knock was answered by one Ms. Vivian, a stylish and refined wolf ready with a pot of tea.
"Oh goodness, darling! Thanks for bringing my order-- how much do I owe you?"

"Pardon me, ma'am, but I am not here to deliver your toiletries. Honest mistake, I understand; this brown outfit is confused with that delivery company all the time," I smile sheepishly. "I'm here investigating the recent littering spree that has troubled Pokki residents for... you know, I'm not sure how long."

"Well come on in, and pardon all the packaging supplies."
It turns out Ms. Vivian is an avid online shopper, and has been for many years. She notes that her yard and home are actually the neatest they have ever been, after she was featured in one of those hoarder exposé shows.

"I haven't seen anything notable, at least not in the last few days. I did see the Trash Bandit's handiwork in front of Punchy's house, and girrrrrl, let me warn you... don't wear pearls when you see it because you'll be clutching them if you know what I mean," Ms. Vivian waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "He was the first case, as far as I know."
“I don’t like to gossip, but you know who does? Isabelle at Resident Services. She is even paid to listen to it all. What a cushy job…
Anywho, she could probably tell you what Punchy and Cherry were up to recently to earn them a yard full of statues.”

So both victims were left with an involuntary statue garden? Sounds like an interesting connection. I bid my farewells and tiptoed over the bubble wrap on my way out the door.

 

[jadetine]

WARNING: The following entry contains some disturbing imagery to those with sensitivity to seeing a lack of pants, both in the British and North American translation. (I don't know what Aussies and other English-speaking regions think of when they see the word "pants"). Viewer discretion is advised.

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The sun had set and yet no matter how little light, there was was no mistaking the sight of three giant Gallant Statues flanking the path in front of Mr. Punchy's door. His home was on my way to Resident Services, so I figured a quick interview would be useful, especially from a primary victim.

I kept my eyes downcast, scanning the ground for the telltale gothic G, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the feather had also remained at the crime scene. When I knocked on his door, there was no answer. Mr. Punchy had seemingly fled his home; I would too, if I were forced to be greeted with three naked giants every morning, and my height meant my field of vision was aligned with... well...

Anyway, I heard some strange rumbling sounds from the nearby beach, so I went to investigate the source of the noise.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you need assistance?" I greeted a prone feline. The rumbling noise turned out to be his snoring. He rolled over and started to blink his eyes awake.

"Woah, I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. Thanks for waking me before the tide rolled in! I'm Punchy! Who are you, friend?"

"I go by the name Gumshoe. I was actually looking to speak with you, Mr. Punchy, as part of my investigation of the Trash Bandit. I just finished looking around your yard, and I'm sorry to see that the harassment has driven you to sleep outdoors."

"Oh no, I was just moon-bathing after that double-helping of pineapple pizza pot pie. Sometimes the food coma really hits you outta nowhere. The statues don't bother me, much. I suppose it could be a reminder of my past as a body builder, but I love my body and my life now and don't see the need to revisit those old days of calorie counting and grappling for gains."

"I see. Well, for the sake of due diligence, I would still like to ask you if you had seen anything or anyone suspicious or if you've had any reason to believe someone would want to disturb you with this act. Maybe you've had an argument or friction with someone recently?"

"Hmm, well, Huck and I did have a scuffle over the last matcha muffin in the bakery the other day. He and I are always vying for the last of everything in that bakery, though. Hornsby also interviewed me for his fraternity magazine, but seemed really frustrated that (in his words) I didn't live up to my name. I'm just not part of that buff guy scene anymore," Punchy pauses, closing his eyes in concentration.

Or so I thought. In a few minutes, he was snoring again.
"Mr. Punchy? Hello? Should I call a medic?" I decided to rush over to Resident Services to find help.

 

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Despite being the town's salaried gossip-monger, Isabelle turned out to be very caring and someone with the sweetest disposition I've ever met. I could easily see she was well trained in customer service. I reported Punchy's moon-bathing situation, and she assured me he was frequently found napping around town and that she would send someone from Resetti's rescue service to check on him immediately.

"Ms. Isabelle, I have also volunteered to crack the case of the Trash Bandit. Can you tell me how the littering spree began and any patterns or complaints from residents that may lead to some clues?"

"Oh goodness, Ms. Gumshoe. That is very kind of you to help us in the investigation!
The term Trash Bandit was coined by our local construction worker; he discovered the Gallant Statues and is probably the most knowledgeable about the changes to any terrain in Pokki. If you need to speak with him, he's collecting alms for the next construction project on the cliffside to the north.
As for resident complaints, there hasn't been anything unusual: Erik is struggling with the post-holiday weight gain and needs a dancing partner, Marshal and Cherry disagree on the best fad of the 90's, Vivian is trying to resell a DVD collection, and Paolo... Paolo inserted a drawing of a banana into the complaint box and I haven't figured out what he meant by it yet."

I scribbled down notes furiously, trying to keep up with all the information.

"Perhaps it would be best if you continued to speak to the villagers and I kept receiving their daily complaints here. If anything stands out, I would be sure to report it to you, with my thanks for taking up this task," Isabelle flashed a sunny smile, handing me a map of Pokki. I nodded in agreement. I spent the next few days interviewing all the villagers I could find.

 

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Based on my data collected around Pokki, I was able to find 3 people thus far with a possible motive:

Suspect	Motive	Opportunity
Huck	Mad at Punchy for eating all the ice cream bars.	Lives close to Punchy and visits frequently.
Marshal	Had an argument with Cherry over the best fads of the 90s.	Lives far away and has no means of carrying 12 gnomes with his pockets full of Ables Tickets (after wowing Label so many times with his fashion). Emptied out his pockets during the interview.
Hornsby	Ex-boyfriend to Cherry; interviewed Punchy negatively	Busy pledging for Kappa Kappa frat.

In order to circle back and get more details, I decided to visit the members Kappa Kappa frat house. The outside was littered with all sorts of trash, but there was no monogram nor feather, but I decided to knock on their door and ask about the yard anyway.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, my name is Gumshoe and I am investigating the recent littering spree by the Trash Bandit. Do you realize your front yard is filled with papers and bottles and trash items?"

"Hi Gumshoe! Uhh... we're celebrating the end of the semester and will be cleaning up after we throw our test papers in the bonfire. We haven't heard about this Trash Band or whatever, but sorry about the noise and the debris."

"No, wait, I'm talking about the Trash Bandit! Not a band; can you turn down the KK Metal? It's hard to converse over this volume."

"What? You want to rehearse with a balloon?"

"Turn down the volume!"

"Big brown cloth loom?"

"..."

At this point, a surprise guest entered the house and tapped on my shoulder.
"Gumshoe! There has been another Trash Bandit victim!"

 

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Blathers could not look more out of place in the frat house; despite all the noise, he was able convey the urgency of the matter, and pulled Hornsby by the elbow out of the house as well. We rushed over to Hornsby's house to discover three Great White sharks and the telltale G + feathers. I turned to Hornsby anxiously.

"This... is... AWESOME!" He exclaimed. "How cool do I look now, with 3 pet sharks guarding my house?"

"I'm sorry Hornsby, but you cannot keep them. It turns out these are also the property of the Pokki museum," Blathers interjected.

"Aww, Blathers, c'monnnn --"

"Wait, what do you mean also property of the Pokki Museum?" I asked. Blathers had a moment of hesitation, and I could see his blush of embarrassment even in the dark.

"Well, I have been so busy, I simply... ahem... it turns out the Garden Gnomes and the Gallant Statues and now these Great White Sharks were all meant to be delivered to the Pokki museum. I had fallen behind on clearing the paperwork for the receiving dock and it just slipped my mind that these were inventory items destined for my displays:
The gnomes I had ordered for an event in the bug display, the Gallant Statues were for a study group in the art wing for detecting counterfeits, and as you can guess, these sharks were meant to fill the new aquarium space." The clues were starting to come together. A plan was forming in my mind.

"If we know where he gets the 'litter', then it's time to catch the Trash Bandit at 'the dump'!"

 

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Blathers and I returned to Brewster's Café to hatch our plan.

It was time to review what we knew about the Trash Bandit:
1. They were stealing items from the museum receiving dock to use in their crimes.
2. The stolen items (Gallant Statues, Garden Gnomes, Great White Sharks) all start with the letter G.
3. They left a Gothic letter G inscribed on the ground at the crime scene, along with some feathers.

Things we do not know, nor see any pattern in:
1. The victims thus far (Punchy, Cherry, and Hornsby) do not appear to be connected, by relation nor location.
2. Thus far, the events seem to happen some time between late evening and early morning.

I started pacing around the café, when I noticed a set of photos on the wall.

"Did you say you were both graduates of Featherman University?"

"Indeed. We shared a dorm room along with another student. The three of us were all liberal arts majors, each with dissertations on various world history or world geography subjects," Blathers explained.

"And where is your roommate now?"

"He is traveling with an expedition crew to some remote island. We aren't entirely sure. He is terrible at picking up his cell phone."

"I see... well, back to the matter at hand. I suspect the Bandit will resurface the next time you have a shipment of items starting with the letter G. When is the next one scheduled?"

"I have a set of Great Statues coming in tomorrow night," Blathers notes.

"We need to find some way to lay a trap at the dock where they will be delivered. According to the map and the terrain information I received, that is the best location. We may want heightened security in general to see if we can catch the culprit in the area that night," I paused, considering different traps that might work. It would take all day to lay the number of pitfalls needed along the beach, but with the three of us, we could probably pull it off.

"I have finished my jail bars project," Brewster volunteers. "I was crafting it for my shark dive next week, but with Mr. Resetti's rescue service, we could drop them from above as long as we can corner the Trash Bandit."

"Brilliant! I say we use everything at our disposal," I smile in approval.

 

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The only thing worse than falling into a pitfall that you’ve just buried is doing so multiple times. Not only is it frustrating to have wasted the trap (which required painstakingly foraged materials to craft), but the experience is outright terrifying; you essentially get sucked in by your ankle and then you have to breakdance your way out of it. I had never been so physically and mentally exhausted in my life, but I'm happy to say that we finished our traps along the secluded museum beach / dock right before nightfall-- hours before the scheduled delivery. Brewster had also offered some DIY schematics for mouse traps and bear traps, but since we didn't know the species of the culprit (nor did we want to harm them with legally gray contraptions), we decided to stick with just the sky-drop jail bars and the minefield of pitfalls.

After a short break, we regrouped at Brewster's café. The pigeon had just poured me a drink with some latte art in the shape of a blob when the surveillance radio chatter started to crescendo.

"This is Resetti-1, coming in hot, in pursuit of suspect, over."

"Oh hey lil bro, this is Don. How's it going?"

"Don, you need to respond as Resetti-2, I already told you. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO FOLLOW PROTOCOL?! OVER."

"But why am I Resetti-2 when I was born first?"

"GRAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" And then a few tense minutes of radio silence. "Ok, sorry, it's all the caffeine and adrenaline as I'm flying after this character. But I started this company and came up with the code names first, so I get to be Resetti-1. FINAL. Oh! The suspect appears to have fainted on the northwest shore; I'm dropping bars around him now... Yes! Perfect capture! The suspect has been detained. I repeat: the egg is in the basket!"

We rushed down to the beach to see who was caught behind bars.

Blathers gasped, as Brewster shook his head in confusion. "That's our college roommate, Gulliver."

 

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"B and B! What's going on? Where am I?" Gulliver wheezed, awakening from his stupor. It took several attempts of shouting nonsense in his ears and tickling his feet through the bars to drag him out of his seaside slumber. "How did I get here?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Blathers crossed his wings, while Brewster pulled out a toolkit to start dismantling the jail bars.

"The last thing I remember was falling asleep in my ship hammock, after braving my way through the Temple of the Casu Marzu."

"Oh no, tell me you didn't ingest any of the Casu Marzu!" Blathers exclaimed. It seems he was already familiar with the temple Gulliver mentioned.

"I, uh, I mean... it was on a glowing pedestal, and uh..." Gulliver stammered.

"Not only did you sample the world's most dangerous cheese, but you KNOW what happens when you consume dairy products!" Blathers slapped his own forehead.

"Well, I have recently dreamed of myself as a serial calligrapher / lawn decorator, bringing joy to a town of sad villagers..."

"Could someone fill me in on what is going on here?" I interjected. "I am not sure I'm following along."

"Lactose-induced Somnambulism," Brewster explained.

"And the cursed cheese of Casu Marzu temple. A potent combination," added Blathers.

By Tom Nook's gold-limned whiskers! I had never heard of such a fascinating condition. A dairy-triggered sleep walker! A sleep walker, empowered by a cursed cheese, into a case of extreme sleep walking.

Once we had freed Gulliver and had him treated by a local physician (who prescribed the same universal wasp nest panacea... don't even get me started on that quack...), the four of us returned to the café to monitor Gulliver, discuss next steps, and compile a summary report for the morning announcements.

 

[jadetine]

Hello friends! Gumshoe here. I thought I would tie up a few loose ends to close up the case.

• I'm happy to report that Gulliver has been enrolled in a reputable sleep study from the renowned Dr. Shrunk. Brewster and Blathers visit him every weekend -- and although he still awakens every night, Gulliver no longer attempts to steal items or graffiti anyone's lawn. Unfortunately, he is still molting profusely and each morning, there are unexplained national monuments and famous cultural treasures in his pockets.
• I have now earned a friends and family discount at Brewster's Cafe (which I just learned is known as The Roost, how clever). I am very caffeinated and will certainly miss the beverages once I leave this island.
• Cherry's gregarious nature combined with Vivian's hoarding has led them to combine forces to market items online as influencers. They keep the local post office very busy.
• The statue evidence was returned to the museum, without protest, except for Hornsby and the sharks because in his words, "once you name a shark-bro, you can never let him go!"
• Isabelle has still not figured out what Paolo's banana drawing was for in the complaint box, but it is framed and posted on the wall behind her as a reminder to always be kind.
• Due to noise complaints, the Kappa Kappa fraternity has been sentenced to community service, which included dismantling all the traps we set up along the Museum dock area. The occasional pitfall is still catching the members, and they have turned it into a hazing ritual / rite of passage.
• Blathers opened an assistant position at the museum. He had hired Punchy, who was found sleeping on the beach one too many times, and consequently let him go. The position remains vacant.