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Jim Carrey was getting ready in his dressing room. His agent just had a stern talking to after costing Jim his big musical number.
“Willem Dafoe. Pft. They think he can finish off a show?” he muttered to himself.
These muppets were a lot less professional than he had imagined. Sure, he’d seen the chaotic shows before, but everyone figured it was just an act, right? He didn’t expect to get this kind of treatment behind the scenes. What kind of show accidentally double books the wrong actors and forces them to play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to close out the show?
The managers in charge would have to deal with this issue soon enough, though. Jim Carrey was not a lead-in. He’d get the show-stopping number and he’d be sure to get that dumb frog to agree before anyone was setting foot out of this dressing room.
“Show starts in 20 minutes, Mr. Carrey,” said The Great Gonzo as he poked his head in through the door.
Jim smiled at himself in the mirror. It was showtime. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing the opening bit,” he said. “Maybe we oughta switch my scene with Mr. Dafoe’s.”
This would be the part where he’d get told it was too late to change the scenes. Nobody questions Willem Dafoe, after all. Then Jim would demand to speak with the big guy in charge, where he’d get to really play ball, instead of dealing with the lesser flunkies.
But not today.
“Oh, I think that’s a great idea!” Gonzo said excitedly.
“You do?” Jim asked.
“Yeah. I’m personally a huge fan of yours, Mr. Carrey. I think you’d make a better closing act. Oh! We could even do the Cuban Pete dance!”
Jim sighed. “Cuban Pete?”
“Oh, you know, like in The Mask. ‘ Smmmmokin’! ’ Hahaha.”
“That movie came out like…30 years ago, Gonzo,” said Jim.
Jim Carrey was tired of rolling his eyes at this point. If this muppet brought up Ace Ventura next, Jim was gonna snap. How many films had he worked on over the decades? How many people around the world knew his name, only to fixate on some old projects from his youth? These people did not understand talent.
“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Carrey,” said Gonzo. “I just think you’re a big inspiration to us all. A lot of folks grew up with those movies, and they still hold up to this day. I just figured it would be good to commemorate what was the start of a long legacy of great acting and entertainment.”
Jim chuckled. “Well, if you put it that way-”
“Oh, and we could reference your other films too. How about we get an Ace Ventura shirt for one of the dancers?”
“Alright, that’s it.” Jim Carrey wrung his hands around The Great Gonzo’s neck and began shaking the little muppet like a ragdoll.
“Ack! I’m…I’m sorry. You can wear the shirt if you want.”
Gonzo dropped to the floor with a thud. The air had been choked out of him with his last punchline. For years, Jim had warned people, and it was about time they started listening. But for now he had to deal with the cleanup.
Jim tidied himself up and folded his sleeves. He would have to get his hands dirty. A dead muppet in his dressing room was no way to start a show. Yes, maybe perhaps giving the closing number to Willem Dafoe wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Jim was done being pushed around. Things would be done according to his schedule first.
The door to his dressing room creaked as he poked his own head outward. It would be risky stepping outside. Someone might come looking for him. Jim sighed as he reluctantly grabbed the sheets off the nearest props. Some dusty furniture wouldn’t be his problem. He was already forming a plan.
The first step would be getting this body out of the room. Gonzo was too beloved by the crew. They’d throw a big stink about it if they found him here. Nobody understood real talent these days. This was a simple matter, though. All Jim had to do was make sure the ungrateful little thing died somewhere else.
After a bit of effort, Jim managed to get the body wrapped up in the stage cloth, allowing him to discreetly drag the body out without anyone noticing.
A member of the show’s band walked by and noticed Jim with the large object being dragged across the floor. “Say, whatcha got there, Mr. Carrey?”
“Fan mail,” he answered. “Where can I take out the trash?”
“Oh, well the trash chute is thata way,” the purple muppet said.
Jim paused and began moving in the opposite direction. “Thanks!”
It would be quite an unfortunate accident, what had happened to Gonzo. Fallen head first into the trash while tied up. It was a near perfect plan, but Jim began to think if maybe this was too sloppy. This was only his second time murdering someone, after all. It warranted a bit more thought. Something to flesh things out better, and perhaps protect himself from any future scandals.
As he was pondering his plans, Jim passed by a sleeping stagehand muppet next to the curtain controls. He was holding the remote control in his hands. Nowadays, it was easier to have stage curtains and props moved in electronically. Of course, the system worked better if the operator wasn’t asleep at the wheel.
“Bad practice, Mr. Stagehand,” said Jim to the sleeping muppet. “Didn’t you hear? The show starts in 20 minutes.”
Jim grabbed the remote control from the stagehand’s hands. He grinned, ignoring the muppet stirring a moment before resuming his snoring. What an idiot, handing such an important tool over to him.
Dealing with Gonzo was important, but as the saying went, the show must go on.
Jim Carrey straightened his bowtie. From behind the curtains he could hear Kermit the Frog introducing the show’s first guest.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, give a round of applause for Mr. Jim Carrey!”
The curtains pulled open. It was done manually, of course. The minor issue with the stagehand falling asleep was easily resolved and no one thought anything suspicious. They just needed someone who could pull the ropes with a bit of force, the old fashioned way. The fact that Jim had purposefully jammed the rails had gone unnoticed as he prepared to put on a show. All according to plan.
Jim Carrey, dressed in his finest suit, began his musical number. He snapped his fingers to the tune of the jazz band’s strings and walked out to his fellow performer, who was also wearing a nice suit.
“Wild Thing,” said Jim, in spoken word.
“Wild Thing?” cried Animal, looking around confused.
“You make my heart sing,” Jim continued, snapping to the beat.
The crowd was eating it up. Such a simple concept, given life by a brilliant actor. It was almost a shame to interrupt such a performance, but Jim would have more opportunities in the future. He waited a moment, until it was Animal’s turn to go wild on his impromptu trash can drums.
“Wild Thing!” he shouted.
Animal performed his drum solo with gusto. With eyes temporarily away from the real star, Jim was free to reach into his pocket, where the remote was. A single press of a button was all he needed. He angled the controls upward to make sure they worked just right.
In the middle of the musical number, movement could be heard in the rafters above the stage. Animal was oblivious, fixated on his drumming as the curtains shuffled slightly. The audience began to gasp at the sight of a shadowy figure falling from above the stage. A limp body fell down from the ceiling, hung by a piece of rope that had tragically wrung itself around his neck before snapping with a loud thwap. The identity of the figure was immediately recognized.
Gonzo had had an unfortunate accident, and was now hanging from the accidental noose above the stage. The audience all gasped, with a few screams thrown in, which confused Animal even more. He glanced around before looking up. The sight of the dead body made him scream even louder than the crowd, banging his drums once again.
“Dead body!” he shouted!
“Animal, cut it out!” cried Kermit, as he rushed onto the stage. “Close the curtains! Get him down from there! Uh, ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the issue. We’ll deal with this shortly before resuming the show, so stay put.”
The curtains closed and stagehands began racing to unhelpingly pull Gonzo down. It was difficult to hold him still while the curtains drew in to hide the gruesome act from the audience, moving the rope along with it. Despite their best efforts to help their friend on time, it would be too late, however. He was already dead, and Jim would simply act shocked, alongside everyone else. No one would suspect him of being a killer.
Up on a balcony, Statler and Waldorf watched the curtains close as the chaos behind it grew louder.
“Looks like they’re cutting the show short, today.”
“Yeah. What is it, our birthday?”
“Dohohohohoho!”
An old Peugeot pulled up to the theatre. Rather loudly, at that. A group was blocking the way into the parking lot, all loudly demanding refunds. Another hectic scene cursing a poor unsuspecting business.
Lieutenant Columbo pulled up to the side of the road. Before he could even finish parking, a brown dog muppet approached his window.
“Excuse me. You can’t park here.”
Columbo instinctively pulled out his badge, as was customary when people saw his car. The LAPD was here to investigate a murder, and it was a big one, from what the lieutenant had heard.
“Well see, that’s a nice wallet, but you still can’t park here,” said the muppet. “Oh wait, there’s something IN the wallet. Let’s see here, uh…Lie Tennant Culoombo. That’s a strange name if I ever heard one.”
“Uh, lieutenant,” said Columbo. “I’m with the LAPD. Is this the Muppet Theater?”
“Oh! Right this way, sir. Our valet will take your vehicle.”
An orange muppet in a vest pulled up to Columbo’s car, catching him by surprise. The lieutenant took the opportunity to get out of his car. He had never gone anywhere fancy enough to get valet parking. He began to calculate in his head what would be a good amount to tip the driver.
Stepping out onto the exterior of Muppet Theater was a sight to behold. It was a shame he couldn’t come under better circumstances. His wife would’ve loved to see a show. He followed the employee muppets inside and observed everything in great detail.
On the way in, he passed by a few audience members refusing to leave their seats. Some didn’t seem to realise the show was over.
“When are they going to do the next dance sequence?” one muppet asked her partner next to her.
“They must be doing some avant garde stylings, nowadays,” he answered back. These folks were much more patient than the loud crowd outside.
The theatre was still relatively quiet, aside from the stage itself. In addition to the many performers trying to get things organized and answer questions, several pig muppet officers were gathering evidence and taking photos. One accidentally flashed his camera into the eyes of a muppet dancer, who toppled over backwards. The pig simply shrugged.
“Everybody, please calm down,” said the frog host taking center stage. The famous Kermit the Frog needed no introduction. “Now the police are here to get things sorted out, so let’s all help them as best we can. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“That’s right,” said an elegantly dressed pig next to him. She had on a fine coat and a deestalker hat, putting on her best Herlock Sholmes impression. “We’ve got a murder on our hands, and I won’t rest until I find him.”
“Murder?!”
The crowd of muppets all began to panic and run amok, knocking over the nearest cop muppet. Kermit tried his best to get everyone’s attention by waving his arms.
“Now everybody, just calm down. Everyone. There’s no need to assume this was a murder. Let’s leave that to the police. That goes for you too, Miss Piggy. Why are you even wearing that?”
“Well excusez-moi, Kermit,” said the pig, “But I believe the people are owed a performance today, and they’re going to get it. If the show is canceled, then I’ll have to wow them with my magnificent brilliance. Now watch as Detective Piggy solves the case! Let’s go!”
Miss Piggy ran off, eager to chase the killer that was likely still on the loose. Unfortunately, she ran in the direction that would immediately take her off the stage, so she turned to take the long way around.
“He’s probably in that direction, actually.”
Kermit shook his head. The theatre was becoming chaos already. It was hard to process that his friend Gonzo was truly dead. All that was left of him was a very awkwardly drawn chalk outline on the stage.
“Excuse me,” said the lieutenant, who had finally climbed up the stage. “I’m Lt. Columbo, with the LAPD. Mind catching me up to speed?”
The frog stuttered a bit at the human towering over him. “Oh, uh, yes, sure. Well, you see, we had just about started the show when Gonzo fell from the rafters.”
“A tragic accident,” said a blue eagle muppet. “I’ve seen dangerous conditions in London theaters, but not here on the stages in America. Our standards must be much higher than this.”
A murmur among the crowd shared in the disappointment, alongside the few audience members still watching the “scene” unfold. Columbo looked up at the rafters the body fell from, a very high altitude, and then back down to the bunched up rope on the theatre floor.
“Was there anybody else up there with him?” asked the lieutenant.
“Well no. I don’t even know what he was doing up there,” said Kermit. “Apparently we ran into some trouble with the curtains. Maybe he was up there to make sure they didn’t get caught?”
An orange muppet with red tufts of hair raised his hand. “Right before the accident, I saw the curtains begin to move. We also had some trouble getting them open. I think Gonzo was trying to fix the curtains before the opening scene ended so we could properly close them.”
Columbo pointed at the muppet who spoke and then moved his finger around toward the other stagehands. “Did you all see this backstage? The curtains moved and then he fell?”
The muppets all spoke in unison. They were uncoordinated, which made it difficult to keep track of everything. Columbo tried his best to jot as much as he could down in his notepad, but it seemed to all be confirmation of the events. Curtain mixup, show start, then some movement and a drop. He already had several questions. Before he could ask any of them, however, he and Kermit were interrupted by an unexpected guest.
“Well I must say, this is certainly not the performance I was hoping to give today,” said Jim Carrey.
Columbo snapped his fingers and pointed. “Jim Carrey? The star?”
“The one and only.”
“Well I’ll be,” the lieutenant said, grasping at his head. “I knew I was coming to see some famous people today, but they just keep on coming. You’ve been famous for a really long time, you know. How much did it cost to get you on board with these muppets?”
Jim chuckled. “Well, it’s a pretty famous show. And there’s always room for me when stars are involved.”
“Oh, definitely,” said Columbo. “My nephew’s been telling me all about you in that new movie, with the hedgehog? Kid’s ten and he’s already a big fan of you. Wasn’t even born when your biggest movies came out, but he wants to watch them all. You’ve got fans of all ages, Mr. Carrey.”
“Oh please,” Jim nodded. “I’m just doing my part. Or at least, I wanted to, but things got interrupted, it seems.”
Columbo continued taking notes. “Did you see the incident, Mr. Carrey?”
“Saw it?” Jim guffawed. “I certainly got a better look than anyone could’ve ever asked for.”
“Uh, Mr. Carrey was on stage when Gonzo fell from the rafters,” explained Kermit. “He must’ve been real shocked.”
“I sure was, Kermit,” said Jim. He feigned sadness, trying not to laugh as he recalled Gonzo’s face. “It was…startling, to say the least.”
“I’ll say it was,” said another voice entering the stage.
Willem Dafoe came up to the crowd. One of the cop muppets took a photo of him as he passed by, prompting an odd glance.
“You got Willem Dafoe, too?” asked Columbo.
“Yes,” answered Willem. “It’s dreadful what happened. And to think that could’ve been me in Jim’s shoes. I can’t imagine.”
“Uh, pardon?” Columbo interrupted.
Willem Dafoe looked around to see who else was helping the lieutenant. He didn’t see enough and took it upon himself to explain more. “Oh, well, Jim here was on stage when the accident happened, but we almost switched spots on the show’s roster. I was going to open while Jim did the closing bit. I can’t imagine how horrible that’d be. You must be so startled, Jim.”
“Certainly,” said Jim Carrey. He was eyeing Willem suspiciously. This old has-been had better not ruin this for him, he had thought.
Columbo closed his notebook, seemingly satisfied. “Well, I'd rather neither of you saw something that gruesome. But at least that means you have an alibi, Mr. Carrey.”
“I’m sorry?” asked Jim.
“For the murder, you see. That’s why I’m here,” Columbo explained. “Homicide. I don’t think this was an accident.”
“Murder!” shouted Animal, who was proudly shouting on stage now that he realised he also had an alibi. “Murder!”
“Y-y-you think one of us killed Gonzo?” Kermit cried. He was not ready for such a plot twist.
Miss Piggy, however, was ready, as she slid back onto the set. “That’s right. Murder most foul. Done by none other than someone in this very room. Isn’t that right, lieutenant?”
Columbo shrugged. “I can’t say for certain yet, but I can say it’s all very suspicious, this business with the curtains. How’d the rope get down anyway? Did anyone confirm what the issue was?”
The group of muppets who pulled at Gonzo while he hung all spoke up. “We dragged him down,” one of them said. “He was stuck there pretty good.”
Columbo held his hands on his hips as he examined the rope on the ground. “So people only saw what was on the stage then? Just about anything could’ve happened while up there.”
“The perfect opportunity to commit cold, hard murder,” Miss Piggy said, eying Willem Dafoe. “And who better to do it than the one person with no alibi. Just where were you during the incident in question, Mr. Da foe ?”
“Me?” Willem cried back. “Why, I was in my dressing room. Where else would I be?”
“A likely story,” prepped Miss Piggy. “But not enough to fool moi . Willem Dafoe, if you didn’t kill Gonzo, then who else could have?”
“What? But I didn’t-”
“ J’accuse! ” Miss Piggy began chasing Willem Dafoe, who quickly began running for his life. He wasn’t going to get arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. Not a second time.
Jim Carrey shook his head. “Wow, murder? You really think that’s what happened?”
“Like I said, I’m still looking into it,” said Columbo. “But we’ll find our most important clue yet. I’ve got a good feeling about it. For now, let’s look at the rafters. Maybe we’ll find out what went wrong with the curtains. Do you mind showing me, Kermit?”
“Well certainly,” said Kermit. “Right this way, lieutenant.”
The pair went off, in search of evidence. But the biggest piece of evidence, as the lieutenant had pointed out, was still missing. Jim Carrey slid his hands into his pocket, where the curtain’s remote control was still resting. He’d have to get rid of it sooner rather than later, and he knew exactly where to put it.
Willem Dafoe was hiding behind a potted plant. Hopefully no one would find him here. Or at least, that was what he was hoping. His hopes were soon crushed when he heard the cry of Miss Piggy.
“Get back here, Mr. Murderer!”
Willem ran off, with Miss Piggy chasing shortly after. The two passed by his dressing room, with the name proudly displayed for all to see. Jim Carrey, of course, knew exactly what room to go to. This was what he needed most.
Sneaking quietly to the door, he crept in, unseen by any of the grieving muppets down the hall. Inside he found another dressing room, with the same layout as his. This was becoming almost too easy.
Taking the remote out of his pocket, Jim slid it under the cushions of the chair in the corner. The perfect hiding spot. Or maybe not for hiding. But it was the perfect spot for something hidden to be found. Not only would he move any suspicion away from himself, but he’d even get back at Willem Dafoe for forcing him to share the spotlight.
“Jim Carrey doesn’t share,” he whispered to himself.
“Mr. Dafoe! Are you in here?”
Fozzie Bear poked his head in, almost identically to how Gonzo had forced his way into Jim’s dressing room earlier. These muppets had no understanding of privacy.
“Uh, wrong room,” said Jim.
“Oh, my apologies,” said Fozzie. “I’ll just look at this here nameplate. I thought it said…hey, wait a minute! Willem Dafoe! That’s the name right on there!”
“Okay okay, just keep your voice down!” Jim hushed the bear.
Fozzie held his paws over his mouth in shock, followed by a nod and a mouth zipping motion. The ritual, unfortunately, did not work, for he began to speak almost the instant he closed the door behind him.
“Now Mr. Carrey, what are you doing in here?”
“Uh,” Jim had to think quick. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Fozzie glanced around, uncertain how to answer. He pointed at himself, to make sure he was the one being referred to.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” said Jim. “You’re suspicious too. We all heard Miss Piggy’s sound logic. Willem Dafoe might, in fact, be a murderer. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“No!” cried Fozzie. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I was just coming over here to ask Mr. Dafoe if he wanted some more peanuts. And also maybe reschedule our meeting for another time. There was no murder, but just a very bad accident, definitely.”
Jim scoffed. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Willem’s got the heart of a killer. I can see it in his eyes. I figured you did too. If there’s evidence, we’ll find it here.”
Fozzie scratched his head. He seemed uncertain, but not enough to keep quiet. “Well maybe it could be that? In fact, maybe I wanted to find evidence too. It wouldn’t hurt, right?”
“Oh, of course, Fozzie Bear,” said Jim. “You’re a smart guy. You must’ve known by instinct alone that something was amiss. With our intuition, we can really get to the bottom of this.”
“True, true,” said Fozzie. “You know, I maybe shouldn’t have been so trusting of Mr. Dafoe. He told me we could chat after the show and hang out. He, uh…he said he’d give me some pointers. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Pointers?” asked Jim.
“That’s right. I’m trying out a new routine. I wanted to show it to someone. Get some professional opinions. Say, wait! Why don’t I show you? You’re a comedian still, right?”
Jim smirked. “That’s right, I am.”
“And a non-murderous one, too,” said Fozzie. “I heard you were less funny these days, but I don’t think that’s true. Like when you were on Man on the Moon. I loved that movie. What a perfect recreation of someone else’s jokes.”
“Oh, you liked that one?” asked Jim. “It wasn’t easy, becoming Andy Kaufman, but someone that talented deserved someone extra special to pull it off.”
“Oh, of course,” cried Fozzie. “The way you annoyed everyone on set with your method acting? True genius. I used to think comedy was about just making people laugh, but you really have to get into character to do it right.”
“Annoyed?”
“Yes, like a true dedicated professional. When they made that documentary about you on the set, it was really showcasing your talent more than anything. I loved that level of humour. Much higher in skill than your early work. Though, I’m still a big fan of The Mask. When the dog peed on the guy? Comedy gold! And it may not have aged so good, but we can never forget Ace Ventura-”
Whack!
Fozzie Bear was smacked in the head with a chair, itself breaking on impact. Jim stood over the body of his next victim as it slumped onto the floor. “Somebody stop me! ”
Jim stared at the door, making sure no one else was coming in. There would be another change of plans, but at least things were getting more entertaining, finally. He tossed the broken chair pieces aside and bent down to check Fozzie was really dead. After wiping the remote, he gently placed it beside Fozzie. He then lifted the bear’s paws and rested it on top.
“The chair was too obvious, anyway,” he told himself.
Columbo and Kermit were up on the rafters. The climb up was slower than expected, mainly because the lieutenant did not care for how shaky the stairs were. They weren’t supposed to creak that loudly, were they?
“Sorry about the place,” said Kermit. “Most of the stage is automated now, so we don’t have many people coming up here. Watch your step.”
“Yeah, I can…I can see that.” Columbo tried his best not to look down. “This place is very high, isn’t it?”
“Oh, definitely,” Kermit hummed. “We usually keep it safe up here. I can’t imagine how Gonzo could have slipped. Someone must have not put the rope away properly.”
“So you still think it was an accident?” asked Columbo.
Kermit stared down at the commotion below. The stage was slowly emptied, aside from the popcorn some of the audience was throwing at the few still keeping the crime scene cleared. They were not a fan of the avant-garde performance thus far.
“I just can’t imagine one of us would kill Gonzo,” he said. “He was our friend. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”
“Might be why Miss Piggy believes it was a guest.”
“W-well, sure, but I don’t think Mr. Dafoe would do something like that. Nobody would wanna kill Gonzo.”
Columbo held the railings tight as he looked down. It was terrifying, but he had a job to do. “Could’ve also been Mr. Carrey.”
“Jim?” asked Kermit. “B-but he was on stage when it happened.”
From up high, Columbo could see the curtains, and the rail they were pulled along. He pointed them out, trying his best to ignore the height for now. “Curtains, Kermit. The remote went missing. We confirmed it with the stagehand. He could have lost it, or maybe it was stolen. No, it was definitely stolen.”
Kermit was glancing around himself, trying not to look Columbo in the eye. He didn’t want to accept any logic like this. The muppets had always been together, and there wasn’t a murderer among them. But the guest actors? They couldn’t possibly be murderers either, could they?
“The curtains seem fine to me,” Columbo continued. “So then how did they get jammed? And at the same time the remote went missing, too. That’s a pretty big coincidence, Kermit. It just seems odd. I mean, Gonzo was a professional, right?”
“One of the best in the business!”
“So then why would he mess with the curtains in the middle of the show?” asked Columbo. “Everyone said they saw the curtains moved before he fell, but no one mentioned anything else during the performance itself. They got the curtains open. Maybe not easily, but they got the job done. So then why did Gonzo bother checking up here? Up where it’s…very, very high.”
Kermit gulped. “So he really was killed? Well, that can’t be true. Why would someone…I mean, he’s Gonzo!”
Columbo glanced down at the ground again. There was something bothering him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet. He tried his best to find a different clue, finally landing his eyes on a dusty piece of cloth. “What’s this?”
On the rafters, tucked into the corner, was a white cloth. The kind draped over all the unused props and furniture downstairs. One glance was enough to confirm they were the same type, but just to be certain, the lieutenant picked it up and felt it with his hands.
Underneath the cloth is where he found even more interesting evidence. “Take a look at this.”
Kermit hurried over. He saw the cloth, but continued glancing around. He couldn’t find what Columbo was seeing. The cloth was simply covering a few crates and ropes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to the frog, but Columbo was quick to point at the bit of previously covered rafter floor.
“The dust.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Lt. Columbo,” said Kermit. “Like I said, we don’t come up here that often anymore.”
“Precisely,” Columbo said, pointing at the cloth this time. “There’s dust underneath the cloth. And it’s messier on the underside than on top. Now how does that happen?”
Kermit continued glancing around. He was not a detective, so he wasn’t following along. “What do you mean?”
Columbo dropped the cloth, observing how much cleaner the topside was. “This cloth was brought here, from somewhere less dusty. Then it was left in this spot recently, where there was still plenty of the stuff. That’s why the bottom part is dirty, but not the top.”
Kermit began whimpering. “W-well, what does that have to do with the accident?”
“Not sure yet,” Columbo answered. “But I think it’s important.”
The lieutenant was done seeing what he had to. It was time to get back to solid ground, where the floor only sometimes creaked. Kermit followed after, silently, letting Columbo think. Things were beginning to add up, but there were still details that needed to be confirmed.
After slowly climbing back down, Columbo took a minute to give himself a breather. When he was ready he glanced back up to where he was. It looked even higher than before.
“Those rafters are very high,” he said.
“Well sure, Columbo,” Kermit said back. “They have to be.”
Columbo pointed at the spot he was just at. Up where Gonzo was at the start of the show. The coiled up rope was bunched into the corner, wrapped around various pieces to keep them from falling off. And yet one piece of it caught onto the curtain railings. It was what spelled The Great Gonzo’s demise. Or so everyone thought.
“Why didn’t he get pushed off?” asked Columbo.
The lieutenant’s finger motioned back down, tracing the path Gonzo had taken during his fall. But instead of stopping where the rope would end, the finger continued tracing, down to the stage, where the outline of Gonzo’s body was.
“If he was murdered, the killer could’ve just pushed him. He would’ve died either way. So why hang him?”
Kermit shook his head. “He definitely wasn’t killed. That proves it. If someone wanted to kill him, it would’ve been easier to just push him off.”
Columbo shook his head right back. “No, Kermit. There’s still something fishy around here. There could still be a killer. But what we know now is that, if he was killed, the killer probably wasn’t up there with him, or they would’ve gone with the much easier option.”
Lt. Columbo began walking away from the stage. He had more to examine. As he walked he pulled out a new cigar. He was making progress on figuring out how to catch this killer.
“Lieutenant!” cried a voice. “Oh, lieutenant.”
Turning to see who was reaching out, Columbo saw Jim Carrey approach. The actor walked past Kermit and spoke directly to the detective.
“I thought I heard a noise, near Willem Dafoe’s dressing room,” he explained. “I figured I’d come get you before checking it out.”
Columbo glanced at Kermit, who was still staring, mouth agape. The frog had a lot to think about. His friend was just murdered, after all. Columbo nodded and looked at Mr. Carrey very assuredly.
“Lead the way then,”
The trio then walked off, to the backrooms. The stage was nearly emptied, but the case wasn’t over. Up on the balcony, Statler and Waldorf continued watching everything unfold.
“That Columbo guy’s a pretty smart detective huh?”
“Yeah, but he still hasn’t figured out the greatest mystery of them all.”
“What’s that?”
“Why do we keep watching this show?”
“Dohohohohoho!”
Fozzie Bear’s body laid flat on the ground. Completely still.
“He’s done it again,” cried Jim Carrey. “If only I had come here first, maybe…maybe we could’ve helped him in time.”
“No, no, don’t say that, Mr. Carrey,” said Kermit. “Coming to the lieutenant was the smart thing to do. Isn’t that right, Columbo?”
Columbo was observing the body. It didn’t take a detective to solve this case. The bear had the back of his head smashed, with chair pieces scattered all over the floor. The remote for the curtains was in his hands, as well. He had found something he shouldn’t have.
The lieutenant stood up. He raised his cigar that he didn’t get to light before being interrupted. He needed time to think. Jim Carrey was kind enough to pull out a lighter and help the lieutenant out with a smile.
“I thought I saw Willem go over here,” Jim explained. “When I came, though, he was nowhere to be seen. But I did hear Miss Piggy. Maybe Mr. Dafoe killed the bear, but heard her coming after him. He left before he could hide the evidence.”
“That sounds plausible,” said Columbo, as he puffed his cigar. He breathed out a bit of smoke. “I suppose we can definitely rule out any accidents on set. Which doesn’t leave us with many options.”
“I think there’s only one option left, lieutenant,” said Jim.
Columbo stared at Jim Carrey. He also knew how to smile. The lieutenant walked around the room, continuing his search. Aside from the obvious murder weapon that smashed over Fozzie Bear, nothing else seemed amiss. The conflict must have been quick.
“So tell me,” Columbo began. “How come Willem Dafoe needed that remote?”
“To carry out a murder, obviously,” Jim explained. “Didn’t you hear? The remote went missing right before the show. It must’ve been to force the stagehands to open the curtains by hand and notice it was getting stuck. Someone had to go up and check, and that was the end for poor Gonzo. It’s just unfortunate that poor old Fozzie found the evidence before Mr. Dafoe could dispose of it. The killer had to kill again.”
Columbo smoked his cigar, once again watching the bear, surrounded by pieces of broken chair. Kermit was, of course, devastated. He had already lost a second friend tonight.
“Why’d he do it, though?” Columbo asked. “We know somebody stole the remote, but why go through all this effort to kill poor Gonzo?”
“Who’s to say, lieutenant,” said Jim. “Some people, they’re just…wackjobs. Sick in the head, you see. Can’t try and piece together what doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe,” Columbo responded. “But see, when you’re dealing with ‘wackjobs’, as you put it, they tend to commit crimes of passion. They don’t always think things through. Maybe a bad temper, or something they wanted. They do things in the heat of the moment. But this remote plan, it’s just not really coming together for me. Something’s just bothering me.”
“And what would that be?” asked Jim.
“Well, say you were a killer, Mr. Carrey,” Columbo proposed. “You killed Gonzo. But how? You stole a remote, all to make the stagehands panic. The show’s about to start. They need someone to open up the curtains. But the rails, they’re automatic. It had been a while since someone used the ropes to open the show. So someone goes up there to check on it and make sure they can close properly. And of all the people around, it just so happens to be Gonzo.
“Now here’s where the killer would strike. They snuck up behind Gonzo, and instead of pushing him, they strangled him with rope. Fastened it around his neck. Then they pushed him. Made it look like an accident. And before anyone could look up to see what had happened, like, say, you, the guy directly under them, this killer was already gone. They knew to get out of the way immediately, and managed to avoid making any noise amidst all the sounds of people screaming.”
Jim Carrey breathed out a loud sigh. “Sounds like an open and shut case then. You think you know a guy, but they go through all that just to kill someone.”
“That’s right,” said Columbo. “It’s a pretty crazy plan. Not really a heat of the moment sort of murder, is it? Premeditated. Carefully thought out. And carried out with expertise so no one could know the difference. Now does that sound like a ‘wackjob’ to you?”
Jim darted his eyes across the room. Kermit was watching the two humans carefully, still looking worried. Jim merely sighed a second time.
“I suppose Willem Dafoe is more of a heartless killer than we thought.”
Columbo reached out and mimicked a remote control press while watching the ceiling. “See, there’s something that’s bothering me. Why hide the remote in his room? If he wanted people to think the stagehand lost it, he could’ve just left it lying around somewhere for others to find. Why put it here of all places?”
“Wiping fingerprints,” Jim Carrey explained. “Plenty of stuff here to wipe things with. Maybe he just didn’t have time to do it sooner, with everything that happened.”
“First he fails to hide the evidence, then he fails to hide the body,” Columbo pondered. “One minute this guy’s a master killer, and the next he’s doing sloppy work. I just don’t get it.”
“Then there’s the cloth, lieutenant,” added Kermit.
“Cloth?” Jim asked.
“We found something up in the rafters,” Columbo explained. “Cloth. Very dusty, but only on one end. I think it was used to move something there. But what?”
Jim shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Could be anything,” Columbo continued. “But we didn’t find anything else unusual, and no one else has been up there for a while. The only new thing up on the rafters was Gonzo himself. Which has me wondering, how do we know he was alive when he fell? The killer could’ve strangled him and then moved the body to have it appear during the show.”
“For what reason, Columbo?” Jim Carrey asked sternly.
Columbo looked the killer straight in the eye. “To make an alibi, of course. Everyone saw the dead body fall. There was no question of the time of death. But no murderer to be seen anywhere. And then there’s how convoluted this whole scheme was. Why would someone go through so much effort to kill one muppet when there were much easier ways to do it? That tells me one thing. The killer is someone who was seen during the show. So everyone backstage, onstage, wherever there were people, they’re all suspects now. In fact, it could only be someone who needed the alibi. So I don’t think it was Willem Dafoe. He was alone in his dressing room at the time. This whole rope business didn’t serve him any purpose.”
Jim paced the room. His fingers tented as he pretended to figure out the riddle. Then he snapped his fingers and began laughing.
“Oh, I’ve got it!” he shouted. “Lieutenant, have you ever considered that perhaps Willem Dafoe was counting on our shows being switched? Remember, me opening the show was a last minute change. Maybe by the time he heard the news he had already prepared Gonzo’s body.”
Columbo smoked his cigar again. “You know, maybe you’re right. But if so, that’d put us back to square one. And now everyone’s a suspect.”
“True,” said Jim. “Or maybe we’re just overthinking the actions of one crazed madman.”
“Maybe,” said Columbo. “But whoever did this, I bet they overlooked one thing.”
Columbo turned and walked out the door. He puffed his cigar some more as his coat swished dramatically. Kermit, glancing nervously, followed after, leaving Jim alone with the body.
“What…what did they overlook?” he asked. But no one answered. He was ignored. “Lieutenant, what did they-”
Jim paused. He had to be careful. He waited outside the door. ‘Guard the crime scene’ like a good witness. The police were already making their way over to examine the body and keep everyone else out. The murder investigation still wasn’t done.
Everyone was gathered around the stage. The curtains were closed, but it was a full house. After dealing with enough complaints, everyone was allowed back inside to watch the events unfold. They were all eager to watch the “murder mystery” show happening.
Sitting on the closed stage was the lieutenant himself. Columbo smoked his cigar, waiting for people to take their seats. Kermit approached him, still a bit nervous.
“Uh, are you sure this plan will work, Columbo?” he asked.
Columbo looked out at the crowd. “It’s not enough to catch a killer. Miss Piggy’s got that covered. But if you really want to put a murderer behind bars, you have to find proof. And that’s what’s missing. So I’m gonna need you and your friends to help me out a little. Do you think you can do that?”
“O-of course. It’s time to get things started,” said Kermit. “Alright everyone, places please!”
Jim Carrey came out in front of the stage, along with several other muppets who had no clue what was happening. If the show was starting over, they certainly weren't told. Jim didn’t like being left out.
“What’s going on here, exactly?” he asked.
Columbo gestured at Jim. The guest of honour was here at last. “Why, we’re just going to do one last show for the night, Mr. Carrey. Are you interested in joining us?”
Jim stared at the audience. A few murmured, wondering if they’d see him finish his musical number. Off to the side, Animal began drumming imaginary trash cans, eager to put on his number again. But that performance wouldn’t get an encore tonight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could indulge me for a few minutes, I have something I’d like to test out.” Columbo stood from his spot. The spotlight shined on him, nearly blinding him as he stepped back. He wasn’t used to being this showy, but he had a job to do. “We’re here to test out a few theories about the murders that happened.”
The curtains began to open behind him. On the stage, there was a large machine. Dr. Bunsen Honeydew was preparing some last minute preparations while his assistant Beaker finished strapping the bodies of Gonzo and Fozzie onto a table. They were strapped to odd headsets and wires.
Off to the side, Miss Piggy stood valiantly over her catch, a tied up Willem Dafoe.
“Will you untie me? I’m innocent, I tell ya!” he shouted.
“A likely story,” said Miss Piggy. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight.
Jim continued to let his curiosity get the better of him. “Care to explain this, Columbo?”
“Well why don’t I let the good doctor explain for me?” Columbo responded.
Dr. Honeydew stepped forward quite eagerly. “Yes, allow me to explain. This machine is my rejuvefication chamber. You see, muppets are quite sturdy. We have strong necks, and also some thick skulls.”
The doctor bonked his head to signify how sturdy he was. Behind him, a curious Beaker tried the same gesture, only to get a loud thunk that knocked him senseless. He wouldn’t be doing that again.
“Under the right specifications, we could potentially bring back our deceased companions here,” Bunsen explained. “It’s tricky, but with some help, we managed to preserve the corpses long enough to prep them for such a procedure. A quick shock could re-animate them, allowing them to reveal the culprit with their own words.”
Jim Carrey scoffed. “That’s crazy. Is that even possible?”
Kermit, who had taken the stage as well, came to give his speech to the audience. “I certainly hope so. These are our friends, and if there’s anything that could bring them back we should do what we can. We all want our friends back.”
“Speak for yourself,” cried Statler from the balcony.
“If it works can you promise never to use that thing on us?” asked Waldorf.
“Dohohohohoho.”
Dr. Honeydew pressed a few switches, causing the machine to light up with a loud whir. The top part crackled with electricity.
“Now hold on, is this even safe?” asked Jim. “Is it ethical?”
“If there’s the slightest chance it could work, it’s worth trying,” said Columbo. “Doctor, if you please.”
“Beaker!” ordered the doctor.
“Meep meep!” said Beaker, who pushed the final lever. The shock from the machine electrocuted him a little as he did.
The loud crackles filled the room. Up high, the ceiling lights flickered, leaving the audience to murmur in the dark. Before long, loud shocks were administered to both Gonzo and Fozzie. Bunsen was cackling from afar.
“They’re alive!” he shouted. “They’re alive!”
The two muppets shot up. “Jim Carrey!” they shouted in unison. The crowd went crazy. Jim himself was caught off guard. This was impossible.
“It’s a lie, I tell you,” he said. “I didn’t kill anyone. I just…I just…I should’ve done a more thorough job!”
Jim lept forth and grabbed Gonzo, strangling him like he did before. If these hacks were going to tell everyone what happened, he’d be sure to take them both down with him this time.
But The Great Gonzo fell limp in Jim’s hands. There was no life there at all. Just felt and cloth. Jim paused, unsure what was happening. He touched Fozzie Bear, who had also gone limp. They were both completely lifeless.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “I thought muppets could be brought back to life?”
“No, sir, they cannot,” explained Columbo. “And also, those aren’t muppets. They’re merely puppets.”
“ Puppets?” Jim screeched.
“The real Gonzo and Fozzie are in a morgue somewhere,” Columbo continued. “But we had you fooled didn’t we? Come on out, fellas.”
A few muppets came out from the secret compartment under the machine’s table. The stagehands had become puppeteers for the fake bodies. It was very lifelike, enough to fool even Jim Carrey.
“Impossible, I…I swear I-”
“No sudden moves, Mr. Carrey,” said the pig police behind Jim. He and several others were ready to arrest the celebrity.
“Like I told you in the dressing room,” said Columbo. “When someone gets killed like this, it’s usually a crime of passion. The trick with the remote, the setup in Mr. Dafoe’s room? It was all sloppy. Pointless things the killer had no need to do. They only served one purpose, to distract us. And who would benefit from that more than the guy who was on stage when the body fell? Someone who needed to set up an alibi on the fly.”
“You lying son of a-”
“There goes your temper again,” Columbo pointed out. “See, I kept wondering, why Gonzo? Why Fozzie Bear? Those two never hurt a fly. It had to have been a heat of the moment decision to kill them. Someone who can’t control themselves. What would someone like that do if he saw a stage show that called him a murderer?”
“So you decided to trick me?” Jim hissed. “Typical cops, huh? Couldn’t solve the case so you forced a confession out of me, huh?”
“Well that’s just showbusiness, Mr. Carrey,” Columbo explained. “I told you it was a show. An act. We’re even on stage. No one asked you to come up here.”
Jim Carrey, now in handcuffs, was ready to be escorted away. He tried his best to resist, but also knew he had nowhere to run. Before stepping away, however, he gestured toward his pocket.
“Well, before I go, could you do me a favour, officer?” he said. “I got a lighter in my pocket. May as well give that to the lieutenant. Cause you know what they don’t allow in prison?”
The crowd held their breath as Jim reeled his head back.
“ Sssmokin’! ”
The audience roared with laughter at hearing the iconic line from the 1994 comedy film, The Mask. Jim died a little inside, but was happy to hear the crowd enjoying themselves.
“Always leave them laughing,” he said to himself.
As Jim exited stage right, the crowd began clapping. The applause signaled the end of the show. A few odd glances were exchanged by those who didn’t quite understand the avant-garde humour of it all.
The crowd continued to applaud and the curtains closed. The few left on stage lingered in silence, staring at the lifeless imitations of Gonzo and Fozzie. Kermit was the first to speak up.
“W…well done everyone. We helped catch the killer. We should…we should be glad it’s over now.”
Columbo pat the poor frog on the back. “I know it won’t be easy, losing your friends like that. If there’s one thing that keeps me going in this job, it’s knowing that people who make you feel the way you do right now won’t go on to hurt others. And maybe someday, no one will have to feel that way again.”
“Yeah,” said Kermit. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Um, so what about me?” said Willem Dafoe, who was still tied up. Miss Piggy was in the process of dragging him off the stage.
“I’ll be sure to let our suspect go after a few last minute questions,” she said. “We’ll be in my room.”
“No, wait, but I’m innocent. You can let me go now. Please.”
After all their losses, all the muppets, onstage and off, couldn’t help but laugh at Willem Dafoe’s suffering, still. Beyond the curtains they could hear the audience getting out of their seats satisfied, with the closing music playing. Despite everything, it was a good show.