LUCKY O'TOOLE : THE STONE COLD SCULPTOR

                                 
         
         It was a lazy summer afternoon, so I flipped on the Tri-Vid hoping to find something to amuse me. You have to remember that this was Vega Prime and Vegans have a rather peculiar sense of humor. The most popular comedy show was one about a ditzy red head who was married to a nightclub entertainer. The highly improbable situations she and her best friend get into are completely absurd and unbelievable. A show like that would never have made it on Earth, but this was Vega and they loved it. Go figure.
         Thank goodness it was the weekend. The weekends are devoted solely to sports on the Tri-Vee and that is were Vega shines, sports! They have this one game they call Polo. Sound familiar? Not the way Vegans play it.
         There are three teams of five plus a goalie. Each player carries a mallet and rides on an anti-grav board that's approximately three feet long. Anytime an opponent puts the ball in your goal you receive one point. Weird, huh?
         Vegans are scrupulously ethical, so if an opponent scores on you, it is expected that you return the favor. Ideally, at the end of the game all three teams are tied and everyone wins. If one team ends up with more points than their opponents, they are soundly booed, even by their own fans. I told you it was weird, but the Vegans are very passionate about the game. One game resulted in a full blown riot.
         The score was three to three to two with one minute to go. Bloogan Flitzker, an up and coming rookie for the home team, had the ball. All he had to do was put the ball in the Toftadee's goal to tie the game at three to three to three. Toftadee, I should tell you, roughly translated means teddy bears. Instead, he mistakenly put it into the Pourtnil's goal. Pourtnil is equivalent to comfy shoes in Veganese. The resulting riot lasted for a week. Needless to say, Bloogan Flitzker was so vilified he never played again. 
         As I flicked through the thousand odd channels searching for today's Polo match, my door announced that I had a visitor. Much to my delight, it was my brother George!
         "Come in. I was just about to put the game on. Care to watch it with me?"
         "The game? Oh, don't bother. I tried to go, but there was a freak electrical problem of some sort and it was cancelled. They really should take better care of their equipment. Bad luck I guess."
         Bad luck for them George tried to see the game. Did I mention he was a walking disaster? If he ever found a dollar in the street you can bet that it's counterfeit. Once he went to see a play and both the leading man and woman broke their legs and the theater caught on fire. Coincidence? Maybe, except for the fact the actors were sitting at the time and the theater was a tent out in the middle of a field.
         Myself, I have what you might call the Midas touch. Anything I touch turns to gold while anything George touches turns to lead. When we're together we cancel each other out. Sort of. The only time George comes to see me is when he's in a jam and it's usually at the worst possible time for me. I see
George a lot!
         So far I've been able to help him out and glad to do so. After all he is my brother and I love him dearly. Inviting him in, I fixed us a couple of drinks and waited for the bomb to go off.
         "So, if you're not here for the game, how can I help you?"
         "It's funny you should ask. There is something I could use your help with."
         I waited patiently for George to continue. If you try to rush him, he only becomes flustered and it takes twice as long to find out what it is he wants. As I prepared the third round of drinks I tried to give him a little nudge. "So, how's the job coming? Still in the detective business?"
         "Detective business? Oh! Yes I am. As a matter of fact, I'm working on a dilly of a case now."
         "Sounds interesting. Can you tell me about it, or is it hush-hush?"
         "How did you know that was what I needed to talk to you about?"
         Shrugging, "Lucky guess."
         "I'll never understand how you do that, Thaddaeus." Did I mention George is the only one I let call me by my given name? "Anyway, I'm working on a murder."
         That certainly caught my attention. "A murder you say. Who's?"
         "Who's what?"
         Sometimes George has a little trouble following a conversation, but he's my brother and I love him dearly. "Who was murdered?"
         "Oh! Voukchnad Omnadeg."
         "I do recall reading about that, but I thought she was killed in an accident?"
         "Oh, no! It was definitely murder."
         "I see. So, who is your client?"
         "Bloogan Flitzker. He's been accused of killing her."
         Did I mention George had horrendous luck?  Voukchnad Omnadeg was the most popular artist on Vega and Bloogan Flitzker was the most hated person in Vegan history. Only George would have taken Bloogan as a client. As far as I could see, this was a lose lose situation for George.
         I wanted to grab George by the collar and shake some sense into him. Calmly, I asked, "What makes the authorities think he did it?"
         "Oh, the usual. Motive and opportunity. He was there when she was killed."
         "But you don't think he did it?"
         "I'm positive he didn't. Only I can't prove it."
         George has a lot of faults, but he does have good instincts. If he says Bloogan was innocent, I believe him. "What makes you think he didn't do it?"
         "He just looks innocent."
         I should have thrown George out right then and slapped some sense into me for listening as long as I had. Instead, "Tell me more."
         George described the facts as he knew them. Voukchnad was working in her studio on her latest piece, Bloogan was upstairs, asleep. When he woke, he found her dead in a pool of blood. The home's security system showed no record of any visitors inside the house at all that day and happened to be the maid's day off. They had been the only two people in the house when the murder occurred.
         I mulled over the problem. "Hmmm. Security systems have been tampered with before."
         "Exactly my point! Anybody could have done it."
          "Unfortunately, the authorities will require a little more proof than that, George. You said he had a motive. What might have that been?"
         "Who?"
         "Flitzker."
         "Bless you."
         See what I mean about George? "No, George. I didn't sneeze. Bloogan Flitzker. What was Bloogan's motive?"
         "Oh! He was jealous of her art."
         I could understand the rationale behind that reasoning. Bloogan, a resounding failure in his chosen profession, might get upset at Omnadeg's success. It would be a constant blow to his ego and a Vegan's ego was considerable.
         "So, how can I help? After all, George, you're the detective in the family."
         "Solving this case would do wonders for my business, Thaddaeus, and you have a knack for spotting things everyone else misses. I was hoping you might be able to do it one more time. It would mean a lot to me."
         I've always had a soft spot for my younger brother, even though at times I wished I had been an only child. Like the time he tried to supe up my hover craft without telling me. I got out of the hospital six months later, but one look at his contrite face and all was forgiven.
         "You know I'm always glad to help you anyway I can, George. Where do we start?"
         "I thought you might want to look at the murder scene. I have this nagging feeling the answer is there, but I just can't seem to put my finger on it."
                                                          *
         Voukchnad Omnadeg live in a mountain retreat. Something of a recluse, she emerged from her hideaway only for her art expositions. Thrice widowed, she had only one child, a daughter from her first marriage. The daughter, Blautznad, had followed in her mother's footsteps becoming an artist herself. While quite good, Blautznad wasn't considered to be in the same class as her mother though.
         I never had the pleasure of meeting Voukchnad, but I had meet Blautznad once. A stunningly beautiful woman. It was at a charity benefit where she had donated one of her pieces to be auctioned off. I still have that piece as a memento of our evening together. But I digress.
         The only way to get there was by air, so George and I took my hover craft and flew to the Omnadeg estate. As we approached the mansion, from the air I saw that the house was a work of art in and of itself. The main body of the house acted as the base with the two wings emerging from the back forming two heads facing each other. It looked like a giant bust of two Vegans kissing. Very impressive.
         Upon landing, George remembered he left the keys he had been given by Bloogan in his other pants. Luckily, someone was home. Blautznad had arrived earlier to take care of some of her mother's affairs and was kind enough to let us in.
         Blautznad wasn't too pleased to see George, as he was attempting to prove Bloogan's innocence, but she did have a warm smile for me. She recalled our earlier meeting vividly and made it very clear she wouldn't mind renewing our acquaintance. Prying myself from her considerable hospitality, I caught up to George in Voukchnad's studio.
         This is where Bloogan had discovered Voukchnad's body. A chisel had been driven into her heart. I hear on Earth they draw a chalk outline around the body. On Vega they draw a picture of the victim. Instantly, I noticed the strong resemblance between mother and daughter. Both tall, willowy and very beautiful.
         Wandering around the studio, I examined the sculptures that were in various degrees of completion. There were sketchbooks of sculptures past, present and of future works. The studio itself was kept in meticulous order. Nothing was out of place except for the chisel. Its holder accusingly empty.
         Not finding anything that might help clear George's client, I suggested we view the security recordings. Adjourning to the security room we spent several hours watching recording after recording of all the entrances to the vast mansion.
         According to the maid's statement, when she left the night before, the only people left inside were Voukchnad and Bloogan. There were a couple of deliveries that day, but none of the delivery men entered the house. Bleary eyed, I was beginning to think I was going to let George down. But, like George, I had a nagging feeling the answer was staring me in the face if I could only see it.
         "George, play back the recording of  Voukchnad coming back inside through the side entrance."
         "Why? We're looking for the killer not the victim."
         "I know, George. It's just something about it that's bothering me."
         "What? Apparently she went outside to do some gardening and was just going back inside."
         Then it hit me as to what was wrong with this picture. The answer had been right in front of us all the time. "That's it!"
         "What?"
          "Call the authorities and tell them you've solved the case and ask them to send someone out to arrest the real murderer."
                                                          *
         The authorities arrived an hour later. I showed them what I had discovered on the recordings and together we went to Voukchnad's study to confront the real murderer.
         Blautznad sat behind an intricately carved desk going through some of her mother's papers. I told her the jig was up. While the recordings showed Voukchnad going into the house, there wasn't any record of her ever leaving. So, the woman going inside was actually Blautznad, pretending to be her mother for the cameras. The only thing I hadn't figured out was the motive.
         "What you have to understand, gentlemen, is my mother's heart was as cold as the stone she worked with. Not once did she ever show me the love or kindness a mother has for a daughter. You saw the sculpture she was working on? She stole the idea for it from me. It was to be my crowning piece, but she couldn't let her daughter show the world that she had finally surpassed her teacher. I thought imbedding a chisel into that stone she called a heart was quite fitting. Don't you?"
                                                       *
         Bloogan, even though cleared of all charges, was still hated by every sport fan on the planet. Some things you just don't forget or forgive. Blautznad's confession and subsequent conviction were headline news for months. George's detective agency boomed with new clients. Me? I took an extended vacation off planet, letting George enjoy the limelight. It isn't often he has the opportunity and, after all, he's my brother and I love him dearly.