“If you don’t like it, we will never watch a film made before 1950 again.”
Noah grumbled under his breath, but he finally conceded with a shrug. “Fine. Yes. We will watch the stupid boring movie, but you can’t be mad if I fall asleep.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.” Alistair chuckled. “It’s a murder mystery. One of the best.” He lowered his voice to an excited whisper, saying, “If you pay attention, you can actually figure out who the murderer is.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Alistair smirked. “Unless you don’t think you’re up to the challenge, my aspiring detective.”
Noah narrowed his eyes.
Alistair kept right on smirking, that smug bastard.
“Okay. Fine. You’re on. Let’s do this.”
Noah didn’t think he’d watched a black and white film since high school, but he was determined to show Alistair he could solve the mystery.
The plot was simple enough. A man had been murdered, and the search was on for the suspect, some crazy inventor. The detective was a lush but kinda funny, though Noah had trouble getting the jokes. The slang was weird too.
“Cheaters? What the crap are cheaters?” he asked at one point.
“Glasses,” Alistair explained.
“Old people talk is weird.”
“Keep watching.”
As the plot went on twisting and turning, Noah actually found himself really getting into it. There were betrayal and secret affairs, stolen jewelry, and a cute dog, and he was soon on the edge of his seat.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Noah shook his head furiously at one of the dramatic reveals. “That can’t be right. That guy couldn’t have sent the telegram if he was already dead!”
“Very good,” Alistair praised. “You’re so close to figuring it out.”
“Oh, just you wait. I’ve got this, old man. Sherlock Noah is on the case.”
Noah was surprised how much he was enjoying the film. The weird slang was growing on him, and he kind of liked how posh and proper everyone sounded. It reminded him of Alistair, he realized, and then he liked it even more. He enjoyed hanging out like this, casual but still intimate in some way he couldn’t quite define, and the crazy mess he was caught up in was all but forgotten.
The film was soon approaching the climax, and the detective was discussing the case with his wife at home in their bedroom.
“Why are they in separate beds?” Noah asked. “Was that, like, a thing in the olden days?”
“It was considered too scandalous to show them being in bed together.”
“Seriously?” Noah snorted. “But they have a kid. I’m pretty sure the audience knows they pushed those beds together at some damn point. I mean, come on.”
“Shh. Pay attention.”
“So, they what? Bought two sets of matching bedspreads all the time?”
“Yes, I suppose they did.”
“But what if they didn’t want them to match? Maybe the detective dude thought the lace was ugly. Oh, what if they were buying one set and cutting it in half?”
“You’re about to miss an important clue because of this bizarre bed fixation, and I am not going to feel bad at all that you won’t be able to figure out the ending.”
“Okay, fine. Dropping it.” Noah chuckled to himself and refocused his attention on what the detective and his wife were talking about.
The answer seemed as if it should be obvious, but there was something he was missing…
