The Beauty Who Slept (a detective story starring Aladdin's Genie)

[Planeteer]

THE BEAUTY WHO SLEPT

(NOTICE: The characters in this story are all owned by Disney. I make no profit from this aside from the entertainment of myself and others.)

It was raining outside my office that morning. I could have made it go away with a snap of my fingers, but I like having it rain. It adds to the ambiance of the setting.

My name is Genie. As you might have guessed, I'm a genie (no surprise there). I'm also a detective. A damn fine one too, if I say so myself.

You're probably wondering why a genie would become a detective. There's three reasons for that. Number one: either because I'm a nice guy(what's known in this business as a sucker), or maybe it's a residual genie instinct to serve a "master", but I wanted to help people. Number two: being immortal, I wanted something to do with my time. Number three: I may be all-powerful, but I don't know everything. Being a detective makes for an intellectual challenge.

So, anyway, I was sitting in my office, alternating between puffs on a cigar and guzzles of hooch (upside of being a genie: you donÕt get health problems) and just waiting for a client. I thought I heard one knocking, so I said, "C'mon in."

Instead, it turned out to be Scrooge McDuck, my landlord. "I'm callin' to see about your rrrent, Mr. Genie," he demanded.

Being a genie, I didn't really have to worry about money. A fact I proved to Scrooge with a gesture. I pointed behind him and made a large hill of gold and jewels.

"There you go, gramps," I said. ÒEnough gold and jewels to keep your ugly beak outta my office for the rest of your life."

"I--I'll have a delivery truck pick it up," he answered. He was so busy salivating over it he didn't even notice my insult.

"Good," I said. "Now get outta here and let me get an actual customer."

"Good day t'ye," he said and ran out, but not without stuffing his pockets with as much loot as he could.

It was two hours before I heard another knock. I was playing with a yo-yo, perfecting my round-the-world technique. "C'mon in," I greeted the knocker.

She opened the door. This one was a real looker. Blonde, doll-faced, set of parabolas. She was obviously rich, too, judging from the fancy dress and the tiara. She was a real hoi polli.

"Genie?" she asked.

"That's the name," I said. "Don't wear it out."

"I'm Charming," she said.

"Darn tootin' you're charming," I complimented her.

"No, I'm Princess Aurora Charming. Married to Prince Philip Charming?"

I blinked. "Oh, yeah, now I remember," I realized. "You're the kid who got sent into a coma or whatever by that Maleficent broad."

She nodded. "My husband Philip died yesterday."

"Obviously, it was murder," I noted, "otherwise you wouldn't be here."

She nodded. "An assassin's dagger pierced his back while he was on a hunt. It was...a shock to all of us." She looked like she was gonna start crying. I magicked up a handkerchief for her, which she took.

After she stopped crying, she said, "I want you to find my husband's killer. I'll pay any price."

"Sister," I smiled, "you don't gotta spend a cent." I listed the reasons I already gave you, then I said, "I'll find the killer for free."

"Thank you," she said. "There's one other thing...there were two other women in Philip's life."

"Really?" I asked. Prince Charming, fooling around? This was getting interesting.

"Yes," replied. "I think one of them may have murdered Philip."

I nodded in understanding. I had a list of suspects longer than the beanstalk Mickey once climbed.

Prince Philip Charming was a real pretty-boy. So were all the Charmings, for that matter. It was possible some woman murdered Phil in a fit of jealousy.

The problem was, which one?

I was on the case of The Beauty Who Slept.

[Planeteer]

It was time for what’s known in this business as “legwork”. I went to Gepetto’s place.

A lot of people assumed that Gepetto and his kid, Pinocchio, were involved with the Mafia just because they were Italian. They were, but not the way you’d expect. Some goombas tried to run what is misleadingly known as a “protection racket”, threatening to burn down Gepetto’s puppet shop if he didn’t pay up.
Fortunately, the Blue Fairy (a sweet dame who’s apparently a soft touch for Pinocchio) wasn’t gonna stand for that, so she turned them all into frogs. That’s real protection for you, and the only payment she got was a “thank you”.

I walked up to Pinocchio and showed him the color of my money. “Hmm, green,” he noted. “Why don’t they make red money, or blue, or even purple? Hell, I’d settle for brown.”
“If you don’t like it...” I started to say.
“Nah, nah,” he said. “I’m just curious is all.” We sat down to a few drinks and he started talking. “So whatcha want?”
“I want information on Prince Philip,” I told him. “Who’d wanna kill him?”
“Who wouldn’t?” he asked, shrugging. “That Maleficent frail may’ve been a bad egg, but she had family. Then there’s the nasty rumors spreading...”
“What kind of rumors?” I questioned.
“Something about polygamy,” he told me. “I hear he was two-timin’ Aurora with at least two other frails.”
I magicked up a cigar and smoked it, thoughtfully. Polygamy may be technically legal in Agrabah -- you know, harems and crap -- but only scumbags practiced it. I’d figured it was even uglier outside Agrabah.
“Hey!” Pinocchio yelled, pointing at my stogie. “Could you not point that at me? Flesh or wood, I’m still flammable, you know!” He had a phobia about fire.
“Sorry,” I said, and with a gesture I made it go poof. Still, the list of suspects was growing, with one being rather prominent.
“Anyway,” Pinocchio continued, “even without that, maybe it was politics, some other government, you know. If I was you, I’d...”
Suddenly, his ears pricked up, and his face grew fearful. “Geddown!” he yelled, grabbing me and yanking me to the floor. A second later, bullets smashed through the window.
“It’s them!” he yelled. “The goombas! They never give up!”
“Let me take care of them,” I snarled.
“Aren’t you under some kinda genie law or something, says you can’t kill them?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, “but then again they can’t touch me.”
I wasn’t planning to kill anyone anyway. I just stuck my head out the window and saw them. One bolt of magic and their car turned into a birdcage. Appropriate, since they’d soon be singing to the cops.
“Not bad,” Pinocchio smiled. “I could probably use a guy like you in my organization...”
Pinocchio’s organization was an amusement park. He described it as “like Pleasure Island, only nobody becomes a jackass.” Nope, despite his street-smart wiseguy veneer, Pinocchio was 100% legit. Not only did he keep that cricket around as his conscience, but back when he was a puppet, he used to suffer from a condition that made his nose grow every time he lied. Humiliating, really, which is why he stayed honest.
“Maybe someday when I get tired of this detective gig,” I suggested.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Anything else?”
“Not right now,” I said. “Maybe later.”
“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out,” he told me.

[Planeteer]

I was on my way back to the office to figure out my next move when I saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens. I looked and saw a row of police cars lined up at the park. I raced to the head of the line and saw something that shocked me.

A dead body hung from a tree by a noose. The part that shocked me was that the body was Aurora's. They were cutting her down.

"Hi there, Blue," said a voice behind me. I whirled around to face Bonkers T. Bobcat. "Blue" was his pet name for me. "So, whatcha doin'?"

"My job," I said flatly.

"It's funny how we hear a report about a dead body in this area, and then you just show up," Bonkers said. Bonkers didn't like me. Maybe it was because I was like a comic book superhero: all my power and I preferred using it to fight crime as a lone wolf as compared to doing it as a cop. But like Eddie Valiant and Roger Rabbit taught me, cops can't be trusted, too much corruption.

"You accusing me?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing to slits. "First off, genies can't commit murder, not even free ones like me. And besides, your only proof is like you said: I just got here. For a cop, you're pretty ignorant of the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' thing."

"You're still a witness at best and a suspect at worst," frowned Bonkers. "Don't leave town."

I didn't plan to. What had started as a routine case was now personal. My client was dead, and I wanted to know why.

"Sargeant!" shouted a voice. It was Bernie the Cab, recently remade into Bernie the Black-and-White. "We found this on the body!" He produced a sheet of paper. Bonkers read it out loud: "My fault. Accident. Wrong one. Didn't mean it. God forgive me."

"Sounds like an open-and-shut case," Bonkers frowned. "She committed Philip's murder on suspicion of his seeing another woman. But it turns out the guy isn't Philip, so she whacks herself."

Bonkers frowned. "Problem is, we both know there's really no such thing as an open-and-shut."

"Which is why I'm here," I frowned. Eddie and Roger taught me well. Good ol' Ed and Rog.

I magicked up a tape measure. Putting the clasp on the branch she hung from, I let the tape case fall to the ground. "What's it say?" I yelled to Bonkers.

"Twenty-six feet," he shouted. "There's no footstool or stepladder around..."

"Maybe she had a horse," I suggested. "Could've kicked it in the fanny to get
it moving out from under her..."

"Only it'd have to be a twenty-foot-tall horse," Bonkers concluded. "And I don't think the royal stables breed 'em that big."

"Just what I was about to say," I tell him. "Besides, there's no hoofprints."

"Look, since this is evidence," Bonkers said in reference to the suicide note, "I'm gonna have to take this down to the station. You know, to see if it's really her handwriting."

"You do that," I suggested, magicking up a copy of the note on the sly. I also wanted to verify whose handwriting it was.

And then I was gonna pay a visit to the morgue. If the "wrong one" comment was on the up-and-up, it meant that a Charming had been killed, but not which one.

And Aurora...the height from which she'd been hung suggested that if she'd really committed suicide, she'd had help doing it.

[Planeteer]

When I got back to the office, I magicked up Aurora's diary. A quick look at the last few entries showed me the truth. Aurora had never planned to commit any murders, although she did suspect her hubby of cheating. Also, the handwriting was all wrong. Whoever it was, wasn't Aurora. Now for that trip to the morgue.

I looked down on the classic pretty-boy features of Prince Philip Charming. All three Charmings had the same damn features. If not for their hair, you wouldn't be able to tell who was who.

"You'd think the stabbing was enough," commented the doc. "But I detected minute traces of poison in his system, which suggests that the weapon had been envenomed. Whoever did it wanted to make sure he died."

"Poison, huh?" Suddenly, the wheels started turning in my head. One of the Charmings had resurrected (with a kiss, if you gotta know) Snow White after she'd been fed a poisoned apple.

I went back to the office and went through my desk. I finally found what I was looking for. Someone had tried to sell Snow White bogus land. I'd stopped her halfway through the signing and she tore up the contract. I kept the part with her signature for just such a event.

I compared her signature with the suicide note.

The handwriting matched perfectly.

It was time I made a house call. I teleported to Snow White and her prince's abode.

[Planeteer]

I soon found myself sneaking around the Charming palace. I found her on the balcony, petting birds. I teleported myself to just behind her.

"Hiya, dollface," I announced. She turned to face me. She was a looker, all right: her skin like snow, her hair like night, her lips like blood...her name, Snow White.

"What are you doing here?" she asked me.

"Confirming my suspicions," I told her.

"I...I'll call the guards!" she shouted, yanking back a curtain and pressing a red button. I let her push it, having disconnected the wires earlier. Just because a guy's immortal and omnipotent doesn't mean he should be sloppy, not in this job.

"I wanna know about your involvement in the whole Philip Charming business," I told her.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about!" she protested.

"Then maybe you can explain this," I said, whipping out the suicide note. She reached out for it, but I was too fast for her, poofing it back where I got it.

"Let's reconstruct the crime, shall we?" I demanded, snapping my fingers. A full-sensory illusion was created. One of the Charmings was smooching Cinderella; another was getting cozy with Aurora.

"The Charmings look so damn alike," I explained, "that you thought your hubby was running around. An honest mistake, really. But you didn't wanna confront him because you were afraid he'd either lie or turn abusive on you, and you didn't want a divorce because you were afraid he'd get everything."

The scene changed; now Snow White was reading from some grimoire, and sticking a dagger into a cauldron full of an evil concoction. Then it changed to a scene in the wilderness.

"So learning something about poisons from some books you late stepmom left lying around, you poisoned a dagger, hoping that a political enemy would be blamed. And then, when your hubby and his brothers were on a royal hunt, you tossed a knife at the one you thought was yours."

That snow-white face was turning peach-pink with rage at this point, but I didn't care. Not yet.

"When you found out it was the wrong one, you were ashamed, horrified, remorseful. That confession-slash-suicide note I found in Aurora's dress was yours, doll-face. You were gonna come clean, then off yourself with a fast-acting poison so you wouldn't have to bear the shame."

I conjured up an image of Aurora and Snow White drinking champagne together. "Just then Aurora paid you a visit, asking for a shoulder to cry on over Philip's loss. You figured that you could escape the shame by making her look like the guilty party."

The Aurora-image clutched her throat, gagging, then fell to the floor. Then the scene changed to Snow White dragging Aurora's body over to the tree she'd been hanging from. With a length of rope, she pulled the body up.

"After poisoning her champagne, you hid your confession in her dress and then made it look like she'd hung herself. That explains the lack of footprints in the mud...the combined drag of your dresses erased them."

"Very clever," sneered Snow White. "Too bad you'll never tell anyone." She whipped out a pearl-handled ladies' gun and aimed it at me.

I rolled my eyes. Hello? Immortal genie here, remember? Still, like I said, you can't be too careful in this business. I turned the gun into a water pistol, and all she did was water my trenchcoat.

"Thanks, Blue," said a voice. Bonkers was there with Benny the Black-and-White. "We'll take it from here."

"Not so fast, you two," I warned. "One of you is an accomplice."

[Planeteer]

"You see, doll-face," I explained to Snow White, "I just realized that to lift Aurora's body twenty feet the way you did would require superhuman strength. And I also noticed that Benny the Black-and-White here is twenty feet long.

"So let's try this again," I said, conjuring the illusion once more. This time it was of Snow White handing a large sum of money over to Benny, then of Benny standing on his rear wheels, forming his front wheels into hand-shapes as he worked the rope around Aurora's neck.

"You paid Benny a hefty sum to do your dirty work," I told her. "Tiptoeing on his air-filled rear wheels so he wouldn't leave any prints, he took Aurora over to the tree and hung her."

Benny -- the real one -- glowered. "You'll never take me alive!" he yelled, whipping out a gun from his glove compartment. He shot at me -- but the bullet went through me harmlessly. Too bad the same couldn't be said of Snow White, and her pretty white skin was stained red with her blood.

Bonkers shot out Benny's front tires. Then he demanded an explanation. "Why'd you do it, Benny?" he asked.

"Just because I'm a black-and-white," Benny replied, "doesn't mean I see the world that way. A guy's gotta do what he can to survive, and those simoleons she paid me could've kept me in tires and fuel for life!"

I heard Snow White moan something. I hunkered down and bent my ear to her. "You g-got...something else wrong, G-Genie," she said. "It wasn't champagne...i-it waaasss...braaaannnndyyyy..."

"Same difference," I said, but it was too late to hear.

Later, Bonkers and I were drinking sasparilla.

"Y'know, Genie," he said, "I might not approve of your 'lone-wolf' attitude, but when it comes right down to it, you're an OK customer. You ever decide to become a cop, I might put in a good word for you."

"Maybe I will," I smiled. "So, you want me paying, or is this your treat?..."

THE END