They're back, the laconic detectives from "Pattern."

Deadpan

by Erin Halfelven

"This is another weird one, Joe."

"What do you mean weird, Frank?"

"You've got to know what I mean, Joe."

"I'm asking, Frank."

"This is a weird one, Joe."

"What kind of weird?"

"Strange, peculiar, spooky, kinky, disturbing sort of weird."

"Yeah."

"I mean, murder isn't weird, Joe. We see too much of it."

"Yeah."

"And some of it's pretty strange."

"Yeah."

"But to kill your girlfriend then dress in her clothes and begin eating her. That's weird, Joe."

"I see what you mean, Frank."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"Peculiar."

"Yeah. But he didn't dress in her clothes, Frank."

"No? How do you figure? She's naked and he's all dolled up in that pink frou-frou thing."

"An organdy lace evening gown. Would have been right in style thirty years ago."

"Sort of whatcha-call-it?"

"Retro, yeah, Frank."

"But you don't figure it's hers? She's lying there naked with bite marks and you don't think the dress he's wearing is hers?"

"No. She's a size eight. The perp has to be at least a sixteen."

"Twice as big."

"That's not how sizes work, Frank."

"You think it's his dress, Joe?"

"It fits him pretty well."

"Why would he wear a dress like that to commit a gruesome murder, Joe?"

"Well, it is Halloween, Frank."

"Yeah, I forgot that. Yeah, it is the night for ghosts and goblins, ain't it? Good thinking, Joe."

"Not really."

"I didn't think of it."

"You could have, Frank."

"Too weird for me. I don't think I would have thought of it. Halloween. But it's obvious."

"Yeah."

"Don't rub it in, Joe."

"I said you could have thought of it, Frank."

"Yeah, sure. You think he was on his way to a party and just stopped for a snack, Joe."

"I don't know, Frank."

"Probably, though. Going to a party, at least. Wearing an evening gown from the fifties, in his size."

"Could be."

"What else could it be, Joe?"

"Maybe he's just an old fashioned ghoul, Frank."