《CONUNDRUM》


 Grand Finale

    A principled man; I am a man of true princip-oh who am I kidding! Strung up and frustrated, the false ego of a man had buckled.


    And like that, the sum of an actor¡¯s life is laid bare. At any one time, they portrayed two or more faces to the public. On one end, the famous thespian: another, perhaps the star role on a serial drama, or movie. In the end all the people want to know is who you are when no one''s watching. How ironic.


    As for this man, it took everything out of him to put on this mask one last time. For one reason or another, the famous actor¡¯s acclaimed role was crushing him from the inside.


    But you see, the thing about Lloyd Leonard Bartell; he wasn¡¯t one to take his job lightly even if it killed him. He was an ¡®actor¡¯s actor¡¯. Lloyd was the first to support up-and-coming talent, and first to advocate for better wages for stagehands, minorities and actresses. And what''s more; he put his money where his mouth was by devoting large amounts of his earnings to involve quality cast members in the production of his show. He was a devout, believing man; a family man, and an upstanding human everyone could come to for advice.


    Yet, none of it would¡¯ve meant a thing to anyone if it weren¡¯t for his unparalleled talent. He had his lane, no doubt; but he created the Bartell archetype from the ground up. Never has a lead actor been so passionately coy with ¡®cold and serious¡¯ characters.


    The timbre of his voice could fluctuate at any given moment with such idiosyncrasy that one could not tell if he was being serious or tearing down the wall that was the screen and peering through. It was scary, and he was so, so funny; and entirely gripping.


    His face was¡­, well handsome, but nothing to write home about. Maybe his nose was a bit big.


    Ok, he is called ¡®Falco¡¯ at times by, well, everyone; not just for the large eyes, and the nose, but for his famous slick back haircut.


    Bartell had quite expressive eyes, and they spoke just as much as his mouth did. He didn¡¯t talk ¡®transatlantic¡¯; he was above that. He didn¡¯t walk like the rest either. He was pure rock n¡¯ roll.


    Bartell, now at the height of his powers, is involved in a work of which he had concentrated his whole focus. This effort was in tandem with the director who had until now produced his best film; the enigmatic Gerald Powers. Together the duo was helming the primetime TV mystery series titled ¡®Conundrum¡¯ for over 11 years.


    ¡®Conundrum¡¯ follows the investigations of private detective Blake in the futuristic city of New Bedlam. Rather than repeating the conventions of most mystery series, Conundrum challenged the engagement of audiences with a unique style of non-linear storytelling.


    As an anchor, the first scene of an episode would be, not the hearing of the crime itself, but detective Blake¡¯s matter-of-fact style deduction of the case; catching the presumed perpetrator. From here, the episode may progress in a few different ways.


    For example, At some point in the deduction, a seamless transition following Blake''s words would center the drama on either an element of his personal life or history, or that of the perpetrator, either within the time period of the crime of even before, that would color and change the audience''s perspective of the case.


    From then on, two or three key scenes of Blake¡¯s detective work are followed in reverse chronological order, and usually in reference to arguments in his deduction at the beginning of the episode. These scenes, coupled with the ''perspective switch¡¯ scene before them, serve to make the ¡®solved¡¯ mystery become gradually more unreliable, twisted, and at times; tragic.


    The final scene of most episodes ends with Blake receiving the case, (the would-be beginning of the story) and saying his catchphrase in a cold, seemingly careless way, ¡°oh, what a conundrum...¡± It was up to the audience to draw conclusions as to the meaning behind those words and in short; just what kind of man that detective was.


    What tied the whole show together was that one man¡¯s attitude. It never would have drawn the crowd it did if audiences were not taken by his pathos.


    This unique series had reached its climactic final episode, and it was only to be expected that Bartell was going to capture the sublime in every ounce of his last performance: and he was going to do it even if it killed him.


    That was the overplayed, phoned-in, self aggrandizing and all-so ¡®in-the-know¡¯ eulogy of the man named Lloyd Leonard Bartell that he himself was forced to hear, and that he forced himself to play into day after day on last week¡¯s press tour. Now, as he sat in his trailer, his ears could feel all the ringing of the layered, repeated phrases, and all he wanted was for it to end.


    Ring! ¡°Lloyd? It''s Gerald. Beck and the boy are out here to see ya.¡±


    Once again, Lloyd stared through his vanity mirror. Behind him within that luxuriously cramped space were some boxes and packed up suitcases. Some were full of items and memorabilia from past seasons that held a special place in his heart alongside his 401k. Others were clothes, pictures, and other junk he brought in there to make him feel not too far away from home.


    He spent a lot of time in that room; As friendly as he was, the man was not keen on sacrificing the commitment needed to play his role. Bartell had almost a pre-show ritual involving a profuse amount of rumination, which could sometimes be heard from outside. No one on set knew exactly why. Well, no one except Powers. Powers, and of course¡­The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Knock-knock-knock. ¡°Oh Lloyd, would you stop that ghastly exercise and let us in, you¡¯re scaring the boy!¡± It was his wife, Rebecca; and she was quite irritated. ¡°Barry would really like to see you before the last shoot, so please lighten up and come out.¡±


    Well, Bartell thought to himself. It was about that time to kick this thing off.


    ¡°Alright hun, but only if you take off that mean look too, it''s hard to take such a pretty lady seriously when they get so angry; no disrespect, I just feel that really it is quite beneath you.¡± Lloyd answered back, hoping to puncture the pressure she had held in just to relay those words. Usually she¡¯s quite the darling.


    And it was no fib. Rebecca was adorned in a simple blue dress and cardigan, yet there was no question she was a modestly full woman. Beyond it all, the way her smile shaped her soft, dough-like face, her charming eyes and expressions; it all made her a joy just to be around.


    Then, as if to put any man to shame for even innocently seeing first a beautiful dame, she would speak-just as beautifully as any actor that had ever graced the screen-


    But Lloyd digresses.


    ¡°Oh Lloyd¡­¡± she started to blush behind the wide glasses she was wearing as she held her son a bit closer, pinching his cheek to get him to laugh a little as well. He tried his best to not respond in kind.


    ¡°Hey now, ha-ha; I don¡¯t write the rules on your ship, but this is my show; and unless you want to sleep on that couch in there tonight just get down here my friend.¡± Gerald said in effort to add more levity, though no warmth was felt in any way by anyone in earshot.


    The trailer began to move just a bit until Bartell reached the door and opened it.


    ¡°Powers¡­¡± Lloyd nodded at his friend with a slight smile. ¡°Beck, glowing as usual¡­, and who is that gremlin-is that Barry?! How are ya kiddo?¡± Lloyd clearly loves children. And if it wasn¡¯t apparent, then the discomfort he has for his stepson made it all the more clear.


    ¡°I¡¯m eight years old, Leonard.¡± After that cold response, he turned to his mother, ¡°Mom, can we just go back inside; I don¡¯t wanna ask him anymore.¡± This response ignited a hurried excitement in Lloyd. For once, he was excited that someone had something to ask him about himself.


    ¡°No, no, it''s fine, Barry, I''m sorry for the wait, I¡¯ll take any question you have for me! Come on son, let¡¯s go get some soda pop and talk.¡±


    Barry tried his best not to respond in kind.


    After climbing out of the RV and taking a hold of the boy, he turned to his wife and the director, ¡°Excuse us, the men must discuss business.¡± Something more resembling a smile appeared on Lloyd¡¯s face.


    ¡°Talk you to ya later Powers, I won''t miss that meeting we¡¯ve been meaning to have before the shoot today, you can bet on it.¡± He held his hand out to Powers.


    Gerald stared at him through his shaded sunglasses, then Lloyd¡¯s hand before reluctantly shaking it. ¡° Of course, and you are sure you''re alright?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, Powers; once we start we¡¯re gonna knock it out of the park.¡± The actor assured him.


    And with that Lloyd walked off with the boy.


    ¡°Leonard, please drop your arm from over my shoulder; you¡¯re kinda a heavy guy¡­ ¡± They could hear this kind of conversation developing in the distance as they watched them walk up ahead from the RV.


    It was then, when Powers and Rebecca were alone, that Powers felt comfortable asking a question that had been intensely on his mind. An invitation, really, to find out more about his friend, and in some ways, his muse.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­still suffering with it isn¡¯t he?¡± Gerald asked Rebecca that question with care. He truly respected the man, and they were as close as Lloyd allowed him to be. But as of recently, Powers found it difficult to approach any conversation of real concern with Lloyd, and it was eating at him. It seemed by the look on Rebecca¡¯s face that he was not alone.


    ¡°Lloyd¡­; at times I just-I don''t know what¡¯s going on with him. I wish Lloyd wouldn¡¯t draw away and-¡±


    ¡°I feel the same, Beck, If he would just know that if he were to explain it to us, that we could understand..,¡±


    Rebecca interjected as Powers began to remove his sunglasses.¡±I mean really, really understand. And I feel that, at least in a favoring-, in a forgiving way, I do. I know it''s not his fault it''s a part of him.¡±


    With arms partly crossed while one rested alongside her cheek, the woman began to fade into thought for a minute. It would be the following thoughtless words from Powers that would bring her out of it.


    ¡°Of course, to him it has to be, that''s the only way he can forgive himself.¡± It was only halfway through his next sentence that he remembered just where he went wrong.


    ¡°Smart guys like that always try to solve the crazy and insane...ah! Isn¡¯t that partly why he married his first wi-¡± Gerald, in all his wisdom, tried not to turn around and face Rebecca, but her exclamation made it quite difficult.


    ¡°Did he¡­, so that''s what he''s been telling you now isn¡¯t it?!¡±A sense of betrayal was expressed in the sharp tone of her voice. ¡°He told you it''s something else didn''t he, that it''s something after him?¡± her voice faded after asking the question as if she had realized something mid sentence.


    She made that clear when she hurried off into the actor¡¯s trailer.


    One by one she began to investigate the drawers of the desk in front of the vanity window. After that, the suitcases that sat squarely in the middle of the room.


    ¡°No¡­, it can¡¯t..it can¡¯t be.¡± Like a limp doll, Rebecca drooped down to kneel along the carpeted trailer as her french bob cut ballooned over her face; wholly despondent.


    After standing frustrated outside the trailer while she had that episode, Powers finally tried his hand at consoling her and walked up into the RV.


    ¡°Look, Beck, Im sorry I upset you; it''s not like he¡¯s crazy, you know that, he just has to put everything in its own little perspec-¡± It was then that Powers turned his gaze from the woman crouched down on the floor in distress to the vanity mirror.


    Sitting there was a full bottle of prescribed medicine; Thorazine.

 The Pier

    After Lloyd and Barry stopped by the concession stand,  Lloyd decided on the nearby pier as the local for their conversation. That Thursday afternoon was quite the scorcher, but the reflective waves and the brisk air of the sea made all the heat more bearable. Together they stared across the loaded pier, watching as speckled seagulls flew overhead; peppering the skyline.


    Barry, now eight years old, had chugged down his can of soda. With a look to his right, the boy soon took notice that Lloyd hadn¡¯t touched his drink at all; not even opening it.


    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna drink that, Leonard?¡± Barry asked.


    ¡°Oh, the pop? No son, really, I only bought it for you. I don''t take to this stuff well.¡± Lloyd responded as he humorously inspected the properties of the can, including the so-called nutrition label. He then held out his hand to offer the drink to the boy.


    ¡°Want another? I won¡¯t tell your mother¡­¡± he crooned.


    More than any other moment in their detour, Barry was primed and ready to ask his burning question.


    ¡°Leonard, about what I wanted to talk about; It''s about, well, it¡¯s about your show.¡± Barry nonchalantly began to eye the soda can he just emptied, miming Lloyd¡¯s inspection just to see if there was anything of actual issue his powerful brain could discern.


    ¡°Shoot, Barry! Ask me anything; heck, it all ends today doesn''t it?! ¡®All will be revealed.¡¯ Hahahaha¡­¡± Lloyd continued to laugh with himself, finding his sudden mimicry of one of his own famous lines to be peak comedic timing.


    ¡°...Yeah, so; I¡¯ve watched a few reruns, and¡­ they weren¡¯t bad; not bad at all¡­¡± Barry continued.


    ¡°But something always confused me about it. Why does it feel like when you get to the end of the episode; after all the flashbacks I mean; why does it seem that when he says his catchphrase¡­it¡¯s like Blake somehow watched the whole thing with ya? Most¡¯f the time he sounds awfully sad. It¡¯s real eerie, Leonard¡­¡±


    Lloyd was at once surprised and also highly amused. ¡°So¡­you are a fan of Conundrum, aren¡¯t you! That was quite insightful; I''m impressed!¡± Barry, though now feeling a bit impressed with himself as well, tried not to respond in kind.


    Continuing on, Lloyd pondered his answer.


    ¡± Well¡­how about I put it this way. Yes, me and Powers, we wanted to make a picture that felt like that. No, there isn¡¯t any trickery. But with what they call ¡®framing¡¯, you can make a regular scene seem truly, truly ominous.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I guess that makes sense. But it¡¯s kinda different in one episode I saw. I think the famous one that''s called ¡°Opal-esque?¡± The boy answered with relative excitement, making it seem that it was an episode he truly enjoyed.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Lloyd stated as the grip of his smile loosened.


    ¡°In that one, you were really irate; I mean heated at the beginning! The ¡®sherlock bit¡¯ stood up to every reveal, I mean it had to be right! But it still seemed like in the end Blake had something to do with the murder¡­¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡± Lloyd said, disaffected.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Barry¡¯s excitement left him blind to the growing disinterest of Lloyd¡¯s responses.


    And so Barry continued. ¡°A-and the one scene was why. It was real eerie, sir¡­where you reach the empty train station on the night of the crime, but we don''t see the other side of the tracks. Just a slow closeup of your face in the wind as the train passes by- ¡±


    ¡°Watching my hands trembling as I try to plug up my ears to stop the raucous¡­yeah, yeah.¡± Lloyd said dramatically while miming the rest of Barry¡¯s recollection of the story he had heard so often in full detail, complete with the hands acting that screams ¡®what have I done.¡¯


    Hey, how¡¯d they make that scene look so trippy? Why, you would¡¯ve thought it was Hitchcock or somethin!¡± Barry said excitedly.


    ¡°Just a dolly zoo-wait; Beck lets you watch Hitchcock?¡± Lloyd, the concerned stepfather said; caught unaware.


    ¡°My theory is that the detective didn¡¯t want to reveal what he saw ''cause he¡¯s guilty.¡± Barry deduced while ignoring his stepfather¡¯s inquiry.


    Resituating his stance, Bartell fell silent for a bit before taking a look at his watch and setting his course back towards the lot; confusing the caffeinated boy. The man could but only string along a few more sentences on a topic which had so truly, thoroughly exhausted his spirit.


    ¡°There¡¯s no theory,¡± said Lloyd sharply.


    ¡°Well, what do ya mean?¡± Barry asked.


    ¡°The title of the episode, son¡­, it has some meaning to it.¡± Lloyd continued.


    ¡°Opalesque? Isn¡¯t that the material of the jewelry that was stolen in the process of the murder?¡± Barry asked inquisitively, turning to look at his stepfather.


    ¡°Well, yes¡­, and for another reason. Opalesque material; they are a bit see through, but only a bit. Kind of murky, you see. But they can change color when light shines and reflects through them¡± Lloyd¡¯s answer was not clear enough even for that bright boy to understand, which he perceived through his befuddled expression.


    ¡°Everyone thinks they have some idea, some light they think they can shine on a man¡¯s case to get to some sort of conclusion so it¡¯ll all make sense somehow.¡± He stated self assuredly before turning to Barry in all seriousness.


    ¡°But really¡­half the time you and I don''t even know why we do what we do; Even the nerd¡­- brilliant minds in the writing room don¡¯t know at least a tenth of the crap they¡¯re putting out is going to be taken another way¡­now they¡¯ve even got people with so-called PhDs telling us why¡­!¡± The rambling continued.


    ¡°We¡¯re murky creatures, Barry; every last one of us¡­¡± Lloyd¡¯s eyes hardened wide as he stood rampaging along in his speech.


    ¡°So I say, to hell with the theories¡­! a crime is a crime, but a measure of a man is not fourty-five minutes¡­.I refuse! You don¡¯t get to see what he saw that night¡­Never; I refuse.¡± Lloyd exclaimed, adamantly.


    ¡°Wait, So it''s not supposed to be solved, a-I thought that was the whole point, Leonard? Now I¡¯m really confused¡­¡± Barry responded as he scratched underneath chin, now a bit frightened by the electrifying performance .


    ¡°Fifty-two.¡± Bartell said.


    ¡°More riddles? Ahhh¡­!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how many episodes there were before that one. If you want the answer¡­I guess you¡¯ll have to watch those ones too¡­¡± The actor said, now tired after wearing his energy thin on his soapbox of which he was quite impassioned .


    ¡°Gee, that¡¯s mighty convenient for reruns, ain¡¯t it?¡± For once, Barry put on a smile; though not without an air of mischief.


    And soon, almost as if the boy realized his incongruent displays of emotion, he reverted back to more measured responses.


    ¡°Leonard, y¡¯know that wasn¡¯t my only question¡­but my mom wouldn¡¯t allow me to¡­¡± The boy said, stringing along his plea.


    ¡°Go ahead son, but we¡¯ll have to get going soon so make it short.¡±


    ¡°Are you really a murderer¡­like my father says?¡± Barry bravely queried.


    Bartell¡¯s heart sank.


    ¡°Do¡­I look like a murderer to you?¡± Unable to face the boy, he stood there rigidly.


    ¡°Pops says you can¡¯t always tell when they''re really crazy¡­but well I hope not mister¡­¡± Barry continued. ¡°Because if you were to hurt mom, I wouldn¡¯t keep mum¡­I-..I¡¯d tell my pops on you..!¡±


    Returning to center, the man turned around, and with swift strength, he picked up the boy¡­


    ¡°Aaaaah¡­!¡± Barry cried.


    ¡­And firmly sat him over his shoulders.


    ¡°That''s just what I¡¯d expect of ya, boy; a real man! Hahahahaha¡­¡± Lloyd continued. ¡°But no, I''m no murderer as much as your pops n¡¯ you care for Beck. Trust me, I know¡­!¡± He smiled brightly. ¡°I, well, I married her after all!¡±


    And so, they walked; mostly silently, back to the lot.


    ¡°Opalesque; you¡¯re right. That episode¡­it''s different¡­different.¡± Lloyd stated quietly, and with finality as his voice began to fade, leaving a trail of riddles that had hooked Barry from then on.


    ¡°For your mother¡¯s sake, I hope you stay as innocent as a dove.¡± Bartell thought to himself.

 The Office

    *Sign* WRITERS¡¯ OFFICE 1F: WG PRODUCTIONS STUDIO 2


    Thwack!


    Never had such a chiseled jaw, (so perfectly manicured and massaged), felt such a violent tap until it was struck by the hands of that woman.


    ¡°Tell me why I slapped you just now, Lloyd¡­¡± Rebecca vocalized sadly as her amber eyes flickered irate.


    ¡°Hey, now, where do you get the right¡­!¡± Lloyd quickly puffed up, ready to engage in the argument. That was at least until Rebecca took out her damning evidence; the bottle of Thorazine.


    A silence fell over the cramped and disorganized, yet empty office room Lloyd chose for the conversation.


    ¡°Well...Beck¡­I,¡± Turning his cheek the other way while stroking the stress out of his neck, Lloyd fell back into the chair behind him.


    ¡°Well, Beck, I¡­Well Beck I, what?¡± She slams the prescription bottle on the office table next to him.


    ¡°Well, did you ever think to wonder-,¡± and with that Lloyd pulled out an item from his pocket; an item that caused Rebecca to raise her eyes in shock. Carefully, he placed it next to the Prescription bottle on the table.


    It was another prescription bottle; almost empty.


    ¡°Ever think to wonder...That I know I need to be on these things; hmm? Have a little faith.¡± Lloyd¡¯s expression turned from that of concern slowly into a gratified grin.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t prove a thing¡­¡± Rebecca softly combated while she gathered her thoughts. ¡°w-what about what Powers told me; that you could even tell him but not your. Own. Wife. It speaks volumes¡­!¡± She continued as her voice started to lose its volume.


    ¡°That you¡¯re still believing it¡¯s your fault what happened to Claire¡­, That a killer is chasing you¡­!¡± Throwing up her hands, she felt a sense of relief after letting out the frustration. It was quite the pensive topic to approach;  at least now there was reason to address her concerns.


    ¡°Wait just a moment, don¡¯t start with this now¡­changing goalposts, telling me what I believe and what I think of my own self in my own head. I¡¯ve had it with that!¡± Lloyd adamantly argued as he slowly rose from his seat, almost now towering over Rebecca as her once upright stance began to falter to a more vulnerable position.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I just wanna know you¡¯re ok, but you don¡¯t speak to me; you, you won¡¯t let me listen¡­¡± Her face now in the pillow of her hands, Rebecca slowly began sniffling.


    Lloyd was a man who liked to stay on point when he was accused, as any man would. Clearly, though, the matter was deeper.


    Sure, he was aware of the problem, but he had always averted his gaze; always trying to push the matter to another day. He was forced to confront it now.


    ¡°When¡­, when Angela was¡­taken from us, I was terribly grief stricken.¡± With a pause, Lloyd began clearing his throat so as to more clearly relate his feelings. All it did was make it easier for the pain to register.


    ¡°My daughter, though¡­when I found out Claire was gone forever too¡­, it was like time stood still; just for me to relive that moment at every waking hour. The world was over.¡±  Lloyd''s eyes fell low while he tried to open up the sore wound of a memory.


    Rebecca rose up again, listening intently to every word Lloyd uttered.


    ¡°My work with this show was the only thing that kept me going. So I took to it more, and more-and then more; bleedin¡¯ away.¡± Turning away from Rebecca, the man started stroking his neck again out of anxious habit.


    ¡°It¡­made me sick.¡± Lloyd, holding on those words, began to feel weak.


    Rebecca¡¯s eyes became wide as she saw the weight fall over Lloyd¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°And then, One day on set¡­I saw this beautiful, intelligent-just drop dead gorgeous gal¡­you know the rest¡­¡± Turning slowly to face Rebecca again, he tried his best to maintain his eyes focused on her face, lifting his head.


    Slowly, a smile crept onto her face just at the right time to overcome her unstable emotions.


    ¡°What I¡¯m trying to say is, Beck you¡¯ve changed things for me in ways you can¡¯t possibly imagine; you and Barry.¡± Lloyd said with a bit more power and joy.


    Lloyd, coming to center, took hold of Rebecca¡¯s hand, rubbing his cheek along her knuckle. ¡°There is no one else whom I¡¯d rather have alongside me; share a new life with. Why¡¯d you think I quit the show?¡±


    ¡°You¡­, you mean you quit?¡± Rebecca asked.


    ¡°I gave up the world...¡± He responded happily.


    ¡°Oh, Lloyd¡­¡± Rebecca said with elation; drawing closer.


    ¡°D-oh, Lloyd¡± Bartell quietly added under his breath; falling inward.


    The two embraced each other in the sort of way where trust had taken over; each with their face sitting over the shoulder of the other, unable to see the other¡¯s expression. All they knew was that they were fully enveloped in the other.


    ¡°Of course, I blame myself  for what happened, but I can¡¯t just let go of  it¡­it¡¯s only natural¡­¡± Lloyd continued.


    ¡°But, you really must forget¡­at least forgive yourself¡­ ¡± Rebecca tenderly tried to reason.


    ¡°Ah, but¡­.I can''t forget...¡± Lloyd stated matter-of-factly.


    ¡°Please try¡­¡± Rebecca cried, endearing him.


    CRASH!


    In seconds, Lloyd released himself from their embrace and slammed his fist on the table, dropping the two bottles that sat upon it to the floor.


    ¡°I. Said. I Will NOT. Forget¡­!¡± The large burst of energy reverberated through his body; the heat seeping through his face. He took on a bewildering countenance.


    Silence befell the room again. Each of them now had no courage to continue on; even to look the other in the face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you see¡­The man, he must die., Before I can rest¡­before the weight on my soul evaporates-¡± Quickly Lloyd turned around, gesturing rapidly to the tune of his lament so as to input meaning into any of the words he spoke, which, to Beck, were but pure madness.


    She did not turn back; as if it did not even register that he had spoken a word after his outburst.


    ¡°You go prepare for your shoot; Falco¡­You can¡¯t perform with stress like that¡­though I think you''re thoroughly warmed up now¡­¡± Swiftly, Rebecca opened the door to the office room, and after pausing for a bit, took courage and walked through.


    Standing at the front door was the young boy. Lloyd turned to face Barry.


    ¡°Leonard..what did you do¡­?¡± Barry said angrily in a strange, sing-song like cadence.


    ¡°Smart-arse.¡± Lloyd thought in response.

 Hour Before Showtime

    The final scene would be filmed on a studio set on the WG Productions lot in a certain room all the members of the cast were all too familiar with; Detective Blake¡¯s private office room.


    With all big finales, the big wigs roll out to assume the prize of adoration from their cohorts, who in themselves come to receive the same priceless attention from the other.


    The biggest wig of all, however, was the company president; Warren Gershwin, the namesake for the company. There he stood alongside some of his board. That is, until he took notice of the true stars on set; the actors.


    ¡°Ah, Gwendlyn! How¡¯s life been treating you, my dear? And where¡¯s Gerald, and his bosom buddy, Hahaha..! Ahh, those rascals¡­¡± The heavy, robust man said jovially to the lead actress and love interest of the series while puffing his smoke.


    ¡°Oh, sir, I¡¯m well¡­but if I may, why is it that whenever you ask of me, It¡¯s instead for someone else?¡± The slender, long haired blonde had the kind of smile that felt old, stale; like it had been waiting for you to arrive so it could roll over in its grave to be seen upright. That''s about all one feels they need to know about her before, well¡­; brilliant actor though.


    ¡°Ah yes¡­because..y¡¯know¡­,oh- I¡¯ll look for them myself¡­!¡± The president said in forfeit as he walked off to speak to another of the actors, trying his best not to make eye contact with the still grinning woman.


    ¡°Harold Edgars! I¡¯ve been meaning to talk with you there¡­, come on, come-on now, and you too Bo, the stars of the episode!¡± Gershwin began to cough after exercising his jaw in more ways than one, and perhaps one too many.


    Harold Edgars played rival detective Schezwald for the New Bedlam Defense Police Force, which was commonly shortened to NBDF. He was a rival not only in picking up and putting to bed cases, but also for capturing the heart of Roxanne Considine, the lead love interest and daughter of the Constable.


    This of course, was no competition; either in the series proper, or in reverse, life outside of the small screen. As for Gwendlyn, Edgars loved her madly; and everyone was quite convinced, too, that she loved the fact that the young man loved her madly.


    ¡°How are you, Mr. Gershwin; Good to see you!¡± He lied. Of course, that too was for her sake.


    Bo Eidelman was the star actor of the episode, and had been on but one episode previous of Conundrum in the first season.


    ¡°Good afternoon, sir, Good to be back!¡± Eidelman responded.


    ¡°Do you boys know where Powers ran off to, I really want to speak with him about this script¡­truly peculiar, don''t you think?¡± Taking a break from his pipe, he took rest of his arm around Eidelman, and let out his objections. That alongside alcoholic fumes, which emanated from his voice the louder he projected it.


    ¡°All this time, all these years, we¡¯ve twisted the order of things¡­, the present starts in the future, the future in the past, all that psyche nonsense I don¡¯t get¡­Now. Now, they want to tell it straight?!¡± Pulling back from Eidelman just to express his bemusement, he sighed. ¡°Why can¡¯t time just stand still for once in the guy''s life; really it''s got me spinning¡­¡±.


    ¡°I do think it¡¯s quite the bleak story too, boss; Blake following the life of the man he apprehended for a whole decade, just see if he who pleads innocent can at least enjoy the grace of God on planet Earth; Lloyd himself¡­, Aww I just know he put Shirada up to this script.¡± Harold complained alongside the boss. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    It was clear that he enjoyed Bartell¡¯s company.


    ¡°H-hey hey, I think it ties in really well with the pathological character Blake is, and with what the audience wants to see¡­They¡¯re always wondering if the people actually did it aren''t they?¡± Brown nose Eidelman had no complaints, this may have very well lit a match under his career, after all. It had been a long while since he had such attention on his name. In fact, it was really since the previous Conundrum feature.


    The episode,¡®Counterpoint¡¯, was quite interesting. Detective Blake, for the first time, asks the perpetrator the burning question that permeates the whole show; not how, but why. The deduction details how the killer murdered a man whom he believed betrayed his trust and ruined his marriage. Instead of going back into the young man¡¯s past to find out the answer, we instead enter Blake¡¯s past as a cadet for the NBDF. There also was Roxanne''s first appearance.


    Schezwald, who was like a brother to Blake, gets caught in a love triangle as they rise in the ranks of the force. Schezwald uses his charm to worm his way into Gwendlyns¡¯ heart. Yet, in Shakespearean fashion, the principled yet conflicted Blake betrays poor and beggarly Schezwald by reporting on his petty theft from the organization.


    Constable Considine, a man of Loyalty; and not principle, humbles Blake and lowers his rank. This begins Blake''s burning anger for Schezwald and the Constable, and he drinks himself into destitute lows. Blake is eventually discharged from duty.


    On the night the man is going to leave town, Schezwald confronts Blake, asking why he did it.


    ¡°Just look at yourself¡­,¡± Blake responded harshly. ¡°All you do is take-, take-, take- from me, that''s all you ever do. All I¡¯ve ever earned, and not once have you ever thanked me, my family¡­, you¡¯re a low man, and this city, as low as you; and they can keep you..., all I hope you don¡¯t ruin her¡­¡± Blake said, instigating a fight.


    After a struggle at the piercing edge of the dock, Blake pushes Schezwald into the water. Looking satisfied, then quite bothered, he just ruminates there, with each breath being drawn more heavily than the last.


    The story then cuts to Blake receiving Bo''s case; A man who had accidently slain his own younger brother. Blake stands silently as the sounds of washing waves play in the background. As if his thoughts are heard from the flashback the scene before, we hear those famous words ¡°Oh¡­what a conundrum.¡±


    ¡°...Yeah, you are right, Edgars, I ought to find all three of them right now¡­¡± Gershwin said, overlooking Eidelman''s response.


    Eidelman, being rightfully ignored for not giving a more honest opinion; even if something like ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less,¡± or, ¡°the Flintstones is more my speed,¡± decided to walk away from the conversation.


    Not long after, those three men in fact entered the room, and it did not take long for Gershwin to find them and give them a piece of his mind.


    ¡°Oh-hey! There they are now¡­a couple of lousy¡­¡± Gershwin coughed up under his breath before gesturing towards the group.¡± Powers, hey, all of ya, Come-on, come along now¡­¡± Looking at each other knowingly, Lloyd, Powers, and lastly Shirada;  the head story editor in the writers room.


    ¡°What''s this about, Warbucks?¡± Powers responded slyly.


    ¡°Oh¡­, you know what it''s about; it¡¯s this script. Have you all heard of a proper happy ending? It¡¯s common decency¡­!¡± Gershwin stood his nose up, snubbing them in protest.


    ¡°Shirada, whose idea was this, you?¡± Gershwin quickly turned to Shirada, who shrank back timidly.


    ¡°I¡¯ so, so sorry sir. Please, we can¡¯t change anything now. Even now we are behind¡­¡± The man responded.


    ¡°Now, Warren; You signed off on all production for the final episode months ago, why now; why this?¡± Lloyd said tiredly, rubbing the two brain cells he had left together through his brow.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­, I think it could anger people¡­and well,¡± Before Gershwin could finish, a single tear cascaded along his reddish face.


    ¡°Aww, I''m gonna miss having you all on the lot¡­, Come here you sickos!¡± To which the man quickly drew close to the three, hugging them and patting them on the back while still crying sweet tears of joy.


    ¡°You...you all make me so happy¡­, you make me so much money! Hahahaha!¡± For Gershwin, there was no blurred line between love and profit.


    Edgars, unhugged and unloved, despite being an important factor in the success of the series, watched perturbed while the men quickly got their way.


    With that, all quarrelling and hijinks had come to a close. The final show was to begin.


    Despite all the difficult conversations, all the anxiety over his final performance, Lloyd Bartell had convinced himself he was at peace with it all.


    The consequences of that afternoon were not set in stone; they were simply in limbo, waiting. Waiting for the time when he could break the chains and release the shackles he had locked himself in. Soon he was going to return to a more regular fantastical life. Something manageable. Something real.


    At least, that was his hope. In this world, time waits for no man¡­


    But it just may stop.