Dr. Pickles sat at his desk at The Free Clinic For Wayward Girls going through his mail.  The nurses were busy dusting and cleaning the examining rooms.  Pickles noticed a letter with find calligraphy on the envelope so he opened that first.  It was an invitation from Cash Money for a dinner party.

Dr. Pickles,
You are cordially invited to a dinner party.  Dress is black tie.  R.S.V.P.
Cash Money

Dr. Pickles picked up his phone and called Cash Money, as she had forgot to say when, where, and what time.
_____________________________

Dr. Pickles sat down at a long table.  Cash Money sat at the head of the table.  Timothy Petrov and Vaticus sat on either side of her.  Tyrion Lannister sat between Vaticus and Pickles.  Phil Steak sat between DonBot and Timothy.  Pickles and DonBot stared at each other, both eyeing their shrimp forks as potential weapons.  Imagine what a shrimp fork injury would do to a metal hand!

Dinner was served.  First, a nice shrimp cocktail, followed by caesar salad, and then a very delicately seasoned pork tenderloin.  Cash Money acted like she cooked everything herself, but the take-out boxes could be clearly seen in the kitchen.

It had been a dark and stormy night.  There was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.  The lights went out.  A moment later, they came back on and Cash Money lay dead in her rhubarb pie which had been served for dessert.  DonBot and Pickles immediately stand and point fingers at each other!  Tyrion and Vaticus both stood up and told the two contentious diners to sit down.
_______________________________

In the drawing room of Cash Money’s manor, Dr. Pickles stood against the fireplace.  Somehow he had obtained a deerstalker hat and was smoking a pipe.  Timothy, Vaticus, Tyrion, Phil, and DonBot sat in various chairs.

“One of you is a murderer!  And, I intend to find out which one of you it is!  You all have motive.  You all had opportunity! 

Timothy Petrov! . . . Cash Money drank all your rum.  Perhaps your motive is the most understandable. 

Vaticus!  Cash Money took care of your dog while you were out of town.  Before you came back, she fed him a wheel of cheese!  I hear your HQ had to be fumigated. 

Tyrion!  You and Cash Money have been at odds since the Christmas party where she ate the last gingerbread man you had your eye on! 

Phil!  Cash Money failed to serve the six-pack of champagne you had brought for the party.

And, DonBot!  You would have killed her just to frame me!

Finally Pickles looks at himself in the mirror  . . .

Me!  I wanted Cash Money dead because she was using my Free Clinic to steal drugs to sell to orphans and circus clowns!”  Under his breath he added “that’s MY racket!”

DonBot stands up.

“Pickles, how much more of this inane grandstanding are we going to have to sit through, and who appointed you lead detective?  For that matter, why hasn’t anyone called the police or an ambulance or anything?”

Timothy Petrov and Vaticus look at their watches.

“Pickles,” said Vaticus, “Hurry up!  Timothy and I have an appointment at the barber’s.  We’re going to get matching hair cuts.”

Timothy looks at Vaticus incredulously.  “Wait . . . what?!?”

Pickles looks at the group.
”Patience is a virtue, my esteemed fellows . . .”

Tyrion starts walking out.
“I have better things to do than be accused of murder!”

Phil follows suit.
“I’m late for . . .  um  . . . Sunday School.  Yeah, that’s it.  Sunday School.”

Timothy and Vaticus leave.
“You’re an idiot.”
”We’re off to the Secret Guild of Cut-Throats and Murderers.  Tonight is when our book club meets.”

Pickles turns back to DonBot.
“Well, then, by a process of elimination, I have narrowed the suspects down!”

”You what?  Pickles, you couldn’t get to the bottom of a case of beer!”

“I could too!  But, that’s neither here nor there!  I submit you killed Cash Money!”

“Well, I submit YOU killed Cash Money.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

”That doesn’t even make sense!”

Pickles paces back and forth while DonBot gets his coat from the butler.
“AHA!”  Exclaims Pickles.  DonBot stops and turns to see what Pickles is exclaiming about.  “Of course!  The butler did it!  In situations like this, the butler always does it!”

“Really, Pickles?  That’s the best you can do?  You’re a better doctor than a detective.”

DonBot punches Pickles in the nose and walks out.

Dressed in a beautiful tuxedo, as always, Golden Gun couldn't help but think why he had agreed to help Cash Money by going undercover and impersonating the butler after all she did steal his mothers silver bowl . He was here now and there was nothing he could do about it, unless… he could come up with a good way of showing that he had no interest in silverware at all and place the blame on someone else…

Golden Gun already sounded posh so he didn’t have to use an accent…

I’m sure I saw Cash Money and Dr Pickles arguing over a circus clowns shoes in the Observatory, Cash Money was the victim and Dr Pickles has to be the murderer!

Golden Gun shunted Timothy Petrov to a different seat while he attempted to lift the silverware from the table only to stop himself he lifted a wooden cup instead.

Lilac bursts into the room, nodding her apologies just as GoldenGun shoves Mr Petrov out of the way in a bid for some silverware.

''I had a feeling you'd be here'', she sighs. ''Mr Petrov, I am so sorry - he simply can't control himself around items like this.'' She holds a spoon aloft, waving it out of GoldenGun's reach as he dribbles furiously and attempts to snatch it from her grasp.

''Get a grip of yourself, Sir! We've spoken about this before: never in public!''

Golden Gun, flabbergasted by the recent arrival of Mrs Lilac Delaney, he was quick to protest...

I am not here for the silverware Mrs Delaney, well I am, but that's not the the main reason. I am here to protect Cash Money. It seems I didn't do a very good job.

She was infact a spy working on the inside with these mob bosses and it seems that now someone here has already figured that out...

Golden Gun tries to grab the spoon while Mrs Lilac is unaware but fails miserabley.

CASH_MONEY struck her hand in the air involuntarily, her eyes popped open and a dramatic inhale was taken. She was ALIVE. The best part of all of this was that they thought she was dead. DEAD! They thought she was that easy to kill. CASH_MONEY laughed manically as she moved her hand to her mouth, licking off some of the rhubarb she had died in. Speaking of dying in pie, CASH_MONEY popped out of the position she was in on the floor like a new born baby and rushed to the nearest mirror which was conveniently on the other side of the room.

The rhubarb had done a number on her. When CASH_MONEY had been knocked over the head with a squirrel that had been dead for ages but had gone under the knife of taxidermy, her head had landed perfectly in the middle of the pie. Now though, as more psychotic laughter came from her and a reflection of a mess looked back at her. It was a site. The sticky, gooey mess of the pies insides made it seem like someone had shot her in the head. With a gun and a bullet and some other stuff.

If she had been actually shot it looked like the bullet went into her skull and her skull had vomited her brains all over her hair. Which looked a mess now, but never looked very good to start with. Someone had gotten to her hair stylist earlier that day, yes, the stylist was now dead. CASH_MONEY should have seen that as a sign. Unfortunately she didn't but that's okay, now that the house owner thought she was dead she was able to steal all the silver. The silver would be hers. Her precious.

As CASH_MONEY snuck around the house on her tippiest of toes collecting all the valuables that filled in her pockets and shopping bag she had stole from the kitchen. As she passed the drawing room she heard voices. Real voices, like other peoples voices, not just the ones in her head. She looked through the key hole and saw Dr. Pickles leaning against the fire place, smoking and with a ridiculous hat on his head. She'd have to steal that hat next time she was in the Free Clinic stealing his drugs. The hat could wait, their wallets, she wanted them now.

CASH_MONEY slipped into the coat closet. Before each guest left, the hanger of the coat magically floated towards them out of the darkness of the closet. She was on the other end of the hanger and as she leaned forward to hand the coat to it's owner she lifted wallets out of pockets. First it was Tyrion's, who was looking a bit ghostly and then it was that meaty guy Phil's. Timothy and Vaticus got their coats together while holding hands. Finally, DonBot. CASH_MONEY thought about going after his lucky foot, but then decided it might be heavy and just pinched the wallet.

She weighed the bag of loot in her hand after the last guest left the mansion she had claimed belonged to her. And they believed her about that. A laugh parted her lips. Really? This place was way to glitz and glam for her. She was most surprised that she had fooled Pickles, he was usually the first to catch her schemings. CASH_MONEY gave a quick look inside and besides the wallets, there was a ceramic flower vase, a deck of cards, the stuffed squirrel (she'd leave it in the place of Pickles hat when she stole that) and three forks and two spoons. Silver, she hoped. She decided the bag was heavy enough to depart from the estate before it's true owners arrived home.

On her way out CASH_MONEY stumbled into another conversation she wasn't apart of and was also not in her head. She caught the last bit of it.

"…never in public!"

Oh yeah, Golden Gun. She had almost forgot about him. She swung into the random room they were talking in and hooked her arm around his elbow pulling him to the door.

Yes ma'am, I'll bring him back to the pottery barn for all this childish theft. Right away ma'am! Thank you for finding him for me!

CASH_MONEY called over her shoulder at the woman who had been giving Golden Gun a pep talk. She looked over at Golden Gun and smiled, noticing a few silver pieces sticking out from his pockets.