Mistaken Milky Murder Mystery

         What a quiet evening it was, with an exception of an occasional roll of thunder. The air was hot, thick, and heavy, just as Zeppelin Zaminini's heart was. Known amongst the public as Zep Zam, a twenty-two year-old singer and world renowned dancer, was sitting at his writing desk, tapping a pencil against his head. His icy gray eyes stared at a blank piece of paper. He tried his best to summon the creativity out of his heart, but none would come. He was trying to write a song, but since he could not think of a tune to satisfy his fans, he began to draw on the paper. He sketched a face of a girl, a girl he had known very well. A girl that he been with him through thick and thin. A girl he had betrayed. A girl he had lost.
         Zep's butler, James, approached him just as Zep poured a shot of whiskey for himself.
         "I wouldn't drink that if I were you, sir," said James. Zep rolled his sad eyes and drank the whiskey anyway.
         "What's the matter, sir?" asked the butler. "Are you missing Aspen?"
         "Of course I'm missing Aspen. I'm this close to killing myself over it."
         Aspen was the love of Zep's life, but he had gotten drunk one night and slept with another girl, so Aspen left him. This broke Zep's heart beyond repair.
         "I suggest you don't do that, sir," replied the butler sternly. "Don't you want to see the year 2000?"
         With a shrug, Zep said, "I don't know. That's, uh, forty-six years from now. I'll see in the morning."
         "Try to get some sleep, sir."
         "I can't go to sleep with this whore running around and bugging me," replied Zep.
         "Don't call her that. That isn't very kind, sir."
         "But she is one," scoffed Zep.
         "But she's your girlfriend."
         "No, she's just someone I sleep with," replied Zep as he unscrewed the top on his whiskey. "I don't love her, and she doesn't love me. We are together because of our looks. She's Mexican, anyways. She doesn't understand half of what I tell her."
         "You never know, sir. Things happen."
         Zep looked at his butler, poured another shot, and replied, "Maybe I'll fall in love with her when George Washington crawls from the grave and asks for directions to the nearest comic book store."
         Zep sighed and tilted his head, letting his long black curls hang over his face. His eyes fell back on the paper. He stared at the rough drawing he had done, then, under the girl's left eye, he drew a single tear, then wrote his name very small in the tear. He thought for a moment, then crumpled up the paper and muttered curses.
         Sadly, he left his will for creativity and went to sleep. Late that night, his girlfriend, Rosa, joined him in bed and tried to wake him up, for she was craving a kiss from him. He sleepily, half-consciously swatted her hand away that was tapping on his shoulder.
         "Well, I love you," she sassed in her Latina accent. He let out a sleepy "Mmm".

         The next morning, Zep woke up and noticed that Rosa had taken his shirt off in the night. He sighed and flipped over in bed. He watched her sleep with his stone eyes. A few minutes later, when she opened her Hispanic hazel eyes, she smiled at Zep, but he kept a straight face.
         "Why so unhappy?" cooed Rosa as she gently touched her finger on the tip of his nose.
         "Why not?" he replied darkly.
         "You need to cheer up. How about a movie?"
         "Movies are mind-numbing and tedious," replied Zep.
         "Okay, why don't we go to the library? You love reading."
         "I no longer feel the need for senseless fantasies."
         "Breakfast?" asked Rosa.
         "I'm not hungry."
         Rosa tore the blankets off him and snapped, "Look at yourself, Zeo. You are a calaca. How can you not be hungry?"
         "Broken hearts need no fuel."
         "I think your drama is taking up too much room in your stomach, that's what's the matter."
         Zep rolled his eyes and replied, "My stomach is empty, just like my heart."
         "So's your mind. You need to eat something."
         "We'll compromise. I'll drink."
         Zep crawled out of bed, shook his black curls, and headed to his kitchen. He noticed that there were dirty dishes accumulating in the sink. James walked past him, and Zep snapped, "Why don't you make yourself useful and wash these."
         "Yes, sir," replied James, then he got to work. Zep opened a bottle of Jack Daniels and tilted his head back to drink. He sucked down the contents like a baby with a bottle, then gagged.
         "Don't hurt yourself, sir," suggested James. Zep snapped, "I'm gonna hurt you."
         James continued washing without a word. After a moment of awkward silence, Zep asked James, "Don't you have another job to go to?"
         "Yes, sir."
         "Well, finished up those dishes, then leave. What do you do?"
         "I am a, uh, secretary, sir," replied the butler, a bit uncertainly. Zep looked at him and asked, "Oh are you?"
         "Yes, sir. I decided to assist you on the side."
         Zep nodded, then took another drink from his bottle. He sat down and turned on his television. Word of a New York City gang had moved into Buffalo, where Zep lived, was the top story. The gang was one of the most dangerous in the nation, and the gang didn't try to stand out. They blended in with society and killed quietly. Zep payed no mind to it, knowing that no one would try to hurt him. No one would dare.

         That evening, Zep lifted weights. He had to keep his body in perfect dancing condition, and he was quite consumed with his outward appearance. Then, his telephone rang. He put down his barbell and picked up the receiver.
         "Hello?"
         The reception was bad in his basement, but he recognized the voice like he recognized the backs of his hands.
         "Zeppelin?" asked a female voice. He froze. Once he wrapped his head around exactly who was on the other line, he muttered, "A-Aspen?"
         "Yeah, I bet it's a surprise to hear from me," she replied. "I just wanted to warn you about something."
         No matter how bad the news was that she ahd to tell him, Zep was savoring every moment talking to her.
         "What's the matter, Aspen?" he asked.
         "Zep, someone's out to kill you."
         "Wait, what?"
         Zep's heart stopped. Aspen paused, then said, "Don't ask how I know that, but I heard it through the grapevine."
         "Why would someone try to kill me?"
         "You're the envy of everyone, Zep. Honestly, who wouldn't try to kill you?"
         Zep stuttered, "But, but this doesn't make any sense."
         "Just be careful, okay? Be aware of who's around you."
         "Um, okay. thanks, I, I guess."
         "You're welcome. Goodbye, Zep."
         "Wait, Aspen-"
         He was too late, for Aspen had hung up the phone. He sighed, then put down the receiver. His cold eyes fell on the barbell, and he no longer felt like lifting weights.
         That evening, Zep went to a bar to waste yet another night. He sat down at the bar, and a cute waitress approached him and asked, "Can I get you anything, sir?"
         "Bourbon on the rocks, please," he answered. The waitress paused, then asked, "Wait a minute. Aren't you Zep Zam?"
         "That's me."
         "Oh my God, I don't believe it!" replied the waitress, smiling. Instead of getting his drink, she scurried off to a group of waitresses, and Zep overheard them whispering and gossiping about him. Then, he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He turned around on the bar stool, and there was a man, obviously drunk, standing over him.
         "I know you," said the man with a deep tone. Zep chuckled and tried to be light with the man.
         "I would hope you do. Some five o'clock shadow you've got going there, fella," Zep joked.
         "Excuse me?"
         "There's this great new invention called a razor," teased Zep with a smile. "I think you should try it."
         Suddenly, the man punched Zep so hard, it threw Zep to the ground. He quickly got up and said nervously, "Hey, man. Easy. I was just joking with you."
         "I don't like to be joked with," replied the man darkly.
         "Apparently not."
         The man punched Zep again.
         "What did I do that time?" cried Zep as he put a hand to his stinging nose.
         "I know you," answered the man.
         "You punch me because you know me?"
         Zep paused, thought, then replied, "Oh, you're just drunk. I get it. Been there, done that, buddy. You know, I once kicked a-"
         The man swung his fist again, throwing Zep to the ground. When he popped back up, he was in no mood to be friendly with the man. Zep hit him back, and this made the man angry.
         "How do you like it?" snapped Zep. They exchanged a few more punches, then, out of the man's trenchcoat pocket, he pulled out a .44 Magnum revolver and pointed it at Zep. Zep froze.
         "Okay, take it easy, big boy," said Zep, a bit scared. "Let's not do things we might regret later. You know, you'd really regret killing such a famous-"
         The man obviously didn't care, for the man shot the gun and missed Zep's head by a mouse's whisker. The bar went silent, except for a few startled screams. The man shot again and missed Zep's leg entirely. Zep knew that the man was drunk and could not aim correctly, so he wasn't as nervous as he would've been if the man had some sense. With every move smooth and flowing, Zep began to dance. The man tried shooting at Zep several more times, but Zep's seemingly impossible dance moves allowed him to dodge each and every bullet. The man eventually ran out of ammunition and decided he could not win against Zep. Zep left the bar, forgetting about his bourbon but feeling quite accomplished. Winning fights was what Zep lived for.

         The rainy afternoon of the next day was a miserable one for Zep. He was extremely hung over, and he couldn't do anything but breathe without throwing up. His telephone rang while he was complaining on his couch, so he answered the phone.
         "This is Zep Zam, how can I help you?" he answered. The voice on the other line was dark and muffled to where Zep could barely understand what the man was saying.
         "I know where you are, Zeppelin Zaminini. I know everything. I know your life story. I know where you live. Yes, I know your full name. I'm gonna get you. You better keep those gray eyes peeled, Zep. Yes, I even know your eye color. Watch out, Zep. I'm gonna get you."
         The man on the other line hung up and left Zep staring, wide-eyed, straight ahead. He shakily put the receiver down and blinked a few times. This made him a bit nervous. He remembered what Aspen had told him. Maybe someone was out to kill him? He wasn't sure, but he didn't want to find out.
         James approached Zep and asked, "Can I get you anything, sir?"
         "Some milk would be nice," Zep replied pitifully. James disappeared into the kitchen, then returned with a glass of milk. Rosa entered the room, and before Zep could take the glass, Rosa took the milk and said to James, "Oh, thank you. I am dying of thirst."
         Zep rolled his eyes, and James said, "That's for Zep, Rosa."
         The butler left the room in a hurry, and Rosa shrugged and drank the milk. Once she finished, she put the glass down on the coffee table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
         "Really?" asked Zep, irritated.
         "I was thirsty," she replied with another shrug.
         "I can tell."
         All of a sudden, all the color drained from Rosa's face. She screamed in pain, and Zep was instantly alarmed. She bent over, clutching her stomach, then collapsed on the floor.
         "Rosa!" cried Zep. He dropped to his knees beside her and held his hand to her heart. He concentrated for a moment. Nothing.

         The next morning, Zep woke up, feeling unusually depressed. He decided that he needed to call Aspen to tell her what had happened the day before.
         "Hello?" Aspen greeted once she answered the phone.
         "Aspen, this is important."
         "Oh, Zep. What's up?" she asked.
         "Yesterday, I asked my butler for a glass of milk, but my girlfriend drank it instead. She was fine for a few seconds, but the her heart stopped."
         "Wait, what? She's dead?"
         "Yes, she's dead!" cried Zep. "I don't know what happened!"
         "Was the milk spoiled?" asked Aspen. Zep calmed his tone, quite irritated.
         "Spoiled milk can't make you drop dead, Aspen."
         "Oh. Well, uh, I have no idea what could've happened. You never know, Zep. It could've just been a coincidence. Regardless, I'm sorry for your loss."
         "I don't think this was a coincidence," argued Zep. "I got in a fight with a man a few nights ago."
         "I heard about that," Aspen muttered. Zep paused, then asked, "What? How did you hear about that?"
         "I didn't say I heard about it," she replied quickly. Zep was confused, but he decided to ignore it.
         "Okay, whatever," he said. "Then, just yesterday, I got a strange phone call."
         "From who?" asked Aspen.
         "I don't know. The man didn't say his name, but he knew my full name, my eye color, everything about me."
         "So?"
         "He said he was going to get me," said Zep, growing a bit scared as he recalled the incident.
         "Zep, take it easy. That could mean anything. You're just paranoid after what I told you. You know what, forget about what I said. You're probably right. No one would try to kill you. Just forget it, okay? Later, Zep."
         She hung up before he could reply. He sighed, not willing to completely forget about a death threat. He tried calling Aspen again, but she didn't answer. Now, he felt alone.
         Zep went to talk to his butler. James was making Zep's bed, and Zep asked him, "Hey, do you have any idea what happened to Rosa?"
         "No, sir, except that it's an unfortunate tragedy," he replied casually. Zep sighed and said, "But you're the one who gave her the milk in the first place. Was anything wrong with it?"
         "No, sir. Not that I noticed. You can check the expiration date on the milk if you'd like to, sir."
         "But spoiled milk can't kill you," replied Zep.
         "That is true, sir. Maybe some kind of chemical was spilled where they bottle the milk," suggested James. Zep decided that James had no idea what had happened, so he left. On his way out the door, Zep said, "Or maybe the cow was on acid."
         That evening, as Zep read a magazine, he called for James. James approached him and asked, "Yes, sir?"
         "I'd like something to drink, please."
         Zep knew it sounded paranoid, but he had a plan. James disappeared into the kitchen, then brought Zep a glass of whiskey on ice. Zep smelled the whiskey, and James walked away. Zep called him back and said, "James, this smells a bit funny. Why don't you try it first? You know, just to make sure it's safe."
         "Uh, no, sir," replied James.
         "Why not?"
         James stood in front of Zep, and Zep noticed James' face turn a bit red.
         "I don't drink, sir," replied James.
         "Oh you don't, do you? Well, I've seen you several times sneak a swig of my liquor, so you must drink."
         "It's against my religion, sir," said James.
         "Well, you've already broken that rule of your 'religion', so why don't you just break it again?"
         "I really don't want to do that, sir."
         Zep stood up and held the glass out to James, who took a step back.
         "Why are you so afraid of this, James?" asked Zep quizzically. "Do you know something I don't know?"
         Zep knew he was on to something.
         "I know nothing, sir," said James. "I just don't want to drink right now."
         "You don't have to drink a lot. Just take a sip. Come on, James. It won't bite."
         James backed away from Zep, but Zep jumped forward and grabbed James by the collar of his shirt. Through clenched teeth, Zep snapped, "Drink this or tell me what's going on."
         "What are you talking about, sir? Have you lost your mind?" asked James, alarmed. Zep suddenly calmed. He let go of his butler and said casually, "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll just have to find out for myself."
         Zep stormed into the kitchen, put the galss of whiskey on the countertop, and began searching the kitchen. He looked through the cabinets, then peeked out the kitchen at what James was doing. James was talking on Zep's telephone, and he was talking quietly and urgently.
         "I need help," James hissed into the receiver. "He's figuring out too much."
         Zep was outraged. What was his butler keeping from him? He looked through a few drawers, then he found a small black medicine bottle. He read the name of the contents in small print on the label: rat poison. Zep threw the bottle on the ground and stormed out to James. James hung up the phone, ran into Zep's bedroom, and locked the door. Zep tried his hardest to open the door, but the door wouldn't budge.
         "I'm gonna get you eventually!" cried Zep. "You can't stay in there forever! You tried to poison me! How dare you!"
         All of a sudden, Zep's front door was broken down, and three people rushed into the living room, all armed with guns. The two men Zep didn't recognize, but he was crushed to know exactly who the one woman was.
         "Aspen!" gasped Zep. Aspen looked daggers at Zep.
         "I'm sorry, Zep, but you've got to go," she said in a low tone.
         "What? Why me? What did I ever do to you?" asked Zep frantically.
         "You broke my heart, that's what you did. Now you're going to pay."
         Zep was dumbfounded.
         "Wait, what? You're killing me because I made one small mistake?"
         Aspen, obviously the leader of the attack, waved her gun in Zep's direction and barked to the two men, "Get 'em, boys."
         James came out of Zep's bedroom, and he too had a gun.
         "We all have our reasons, Zep," said Aspen. Zep took a look at them all. Once he concentrated on the two men's faces, he recognized the two. One was the drunk man he had gotten into a fight with, and the other was Zep's very best friend, Alex.
         "Wait a minute, I thought you all liked me!" exclaimed Zep.
         "You treat me like dirt," said James.
         "You cheated on me," Aspen snapped. Alex said, "You always think you're better than everyone else. You think you're ruling the world, but you're making it worse. We're just helping the human race, Zep."
         Zep looked at the drunk fighter.
         "What about you?" asked Zep.
         "Oh, we borrowed him from the Mafia so we would have an expert with us," Aspen replied for the man. Zep was trapped. The four surrounded him, all pointing their guns at him. Zep took a deep breath, readying himself to die. Then, he remembered something. Dance. He kicked his left foot, sending his shoe across the room. His shoe hit the PLAY button on his stereo, and music began to play. Zep danced, and the four began to shoot at him. Bullets sailed like rockets past Zep's head, and his fast dance moves made him a hard target. Alex ran out of ammo, then James ran out, then the Mafia member. The song ended, and Aspen pointed her gun at him. Zep stopped dancing and looked at her. Their eyes locked. Aspen suddenly let go of her gun, dropped to the ground, and burst into sobs. Zep didn't know what to do. It crushed him to see her this way, but he wasn't sure if she was tricking him. Zep turned to the rest of the attackers and exclaimed, "Get out of my house! I suggest you do. I'm gonna call the cops."
         With that, they all scattered, except Aspen, who was still sobbing. Zep sighed, then dropped to his knees beside her.
         "Aspen, don't cry. Don't cry."
         He put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him.
         "Oh, Zep!" she blurted. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking! I-"
         "Don't explain yourself," Zep interrupted. "I don't want to know. No matter what you do, Aspen, I could never stop loving you. You are the most special girl I have ever met."
         "But Zep," she sniffled, "I tried to kill you."
         "But you failed. Miserably."
         "I know I did," she replied softly. Zep thought for a moment, then said, "You know, I think I know a way that you can make this up to me."
         "How? I'll do anything."
         He smiled and replied, "Give me one of those heavenly kisses you used to give me."
         "That's all?" Aspen sniffled with a slight smile.
         "That's all."
         Aspen dried her eyes, then leaned forward and deeply kissed him. Zep's heart melted, but it hardened again when he felt a cold piece of metal pressed to the side of his head. He let go of her and looked into her eyes. Aspen held her gun to his head.
         "Aspen," Zep nervously said, "you can't do this to me."
         "Why not?" she asked.
         "I thought you loved me."
         She shrugged and replied, "That was then."