Cynthia: Minuo

Thank you again, Doctor. Your remarks were just the motivation I required to devise a suitable plan of action that would enable me to determine which of our suspects is the villain.

Without delay I phoned Doctor Godfrey and relayed my deep concern and apprehension that the assault on my person by the Aborigine Smiler (not conveyed in these terms, obviously) had in some way infected me with any of a number of blood-borne diseases, as I had been, in essence, showered with gore when Jeffrey shot him. The Doctor did his best to mollify me, but I made it clear that I would not be satisfied until he had run a complete blood-test on me.

Adjusting his schedule accordingly, Doctor Godfrey paid a visit to my home, and I insisted that both Garrett be present as well as my newly-hired security guard, should there be any trouble. I then set my computer to type and transmit all that I said in the event that the Magician, upon his unmasking, simply decided to eliminate me then and there- at the very least the three of you would be aware of his true identity.

As the Doctor prepared to insert the needle in my arm, I feigned an episode, where I claimed that the attempt to murder me and the subsequent grisly aftermath had left me scarred and terrified, and while I desired nothing more than to be certain that my blood was unpolluted, the act of penetrating my flesh with a needle was anathema to me.

As I expected, neither the icy Doctor Godfrey nor the dour Garrett reacted or cared much about my fictitious predicament, so I sweetened the pot, offering them each ten thousand dollars on the spot if they would only draw their own blood first, reassuring me that the process was indeed harmless.

The Doctor attempted to console me, telling me that the procedure could not be safer or more commonplace- and in any rate I would obviously feel nothing- but I refused to be accommodated, building upon my depiction of the neurotic patient and upping my offer to twenty thousand dollars. The Doctor hesitated, then finally agreed with an avaricious grin. Rolling up his sleeve, he turned the syringe upon himself and drew a small amount of blood, thereby unwittingly crossing himself off our list of suspects.

I pressed Garrett then, but he appeared repulsed by the entire proceeding. Shaking his head and cursing that he wanted no part of it, he stalked from the room.

Informing the Doctor that I no longer wished to go through with the procedure, I used my teeth to write him his check and to his consternation notified him that he was fired.

One down, three to go, and I believe I will take you up on one piece of advice, Doctor Yoshida: tomorrow I will give the appearance of choking, and when Garrett goes to clear my windpipe, I intend to bite him.