Sherlock Sam and the Digital Detectives on Instanoodlegram Read online

  “Where-should-we-start-investigating?” Super Battery-Watson asked.

  “I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead,” Devil’s Curry-Eliza admitted. “Pat the Cad, maybe?”

  “Yah, rivals make for good suspects,” Satay-Nazhar said.

  “Oh, her agency,” Bubble Tea-Wendy said, pointing a tiny finger in the air. “She was trying to form a union, right? Maybe her agency didn’t like that.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “What’s the name of the agency that represents her?”

  “Blue Lightning,” Devil’s Curry-Eliza said.

  I did a double take that made my wings flap.

  “Did you say Blue Lightning?” I asked. “That’s fortuitous.”

  “Why?” Devil’s Curry-Eliza asked.

  “Because-they-also-represent-Jordan-Chen-the-owner-of-TeaMe,” Super Battery-Watson replied, his pink cape blowing heroically in the wind.

  “And Inspector Lestrade is going to talk to them tomorrow,” I said.

  I sighed heavily. Grown-ups could be so frustrating.

  “No, Inspector, I don’t need you to buy me Taiwanese instant noodles.” It was uncharacteristic of me to say such a thing, but I needed her to focus on what I was trying to tell her.

  Inspector Lestrade was in Taipei working on the TeaMe case on behalf of her friend, and she was meeting with Ms Lin Yuqin, the CEO and chairperson of Blue Lightning Agency. Since they represented Jordan Chen, the original plan was for Inspector Lestrade to question them about his involvement with TeaMe. However, now that we knew Blue Lightning Agency also represented Jill Su, I wanted the Inspector to look into that too.

  But she didn’t understand anything I was saying.

  “If you don’t want instant noodles, why do you keep asking for them?” Inspector Lestrade asked over the phone. “Also, do you mean cold noodles from the Family Mart here? They’re really delicious. I might be addicted to peanut sauce now.”

  “I’m not asking for instant noodles, I’m asking if you have an Instanoodlegram account.” My tummy rumbled. Mom and Dad had brought cold noodles back home from their last trip, so I completely understood the Inspector’s addiction.

  The tiny Inspector Lestrade on Mom’s phone screen stared at me in confusion.

  I inhaled as slowly as I could, held my breath for a moment, then exhaled just as slowly. “Okay, are you near a computer?” I asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I am staying with my friend who has Wi-Fi.”

  That didn’t answer my question at all, but I decided to let it go.

  “Okay, type ‘Instanoodlegram’ in the search bar and go to the first website listed.” I waited. I could hear the Inspector muttering the spelling to herself. “No, no, Inspector. Not Instant Noodles Gram. It’s—let me spell it out for you. I-N-S-T-A-N-O-O-D-L-E-G-R-A-M.” I waited some more. “Yes, it’s quite a clever name. It’s like instant noodles but not.”

  I tapped my fingers on my desk. I wished Watson was in our room with me, but he was in the living room looking through the 10 million paper documents Inspector Lestrade had sent us. I suspected he was still complaining about being a high-tech sentient robot doing the most low-tech work ever. Also, I had assumed he would be able to speed-read, but he informed me that he could not. I had suggested he give himself an upgrade and received a death glare from his single eye. He had tried to convince Wendy, who was a paper aficionado, that she needed to help because the paper quality of the documents might be a clue, but after touching a couple of sheets, she immediately debunked his theory. Anyway, my sister had a test the following day and was in her room studying, so she couldn’t help either of us. But I suspected she was sneaking in a couple of Jill Su videos during her breaks.

  Inspector Lestrade managed to create her own account on the laptop, then downloaded the app to her mobile phone. I could hear her exclaiming about SeeFood and LunchBox, with her loudest squeal reserved for SnackTown, and I knew she had found the customisable avatar function. I also knew there was going to be a significant delay if I didn’t pull her away from that.

  “Okay, we’re going to switch to LunchBox, okay?” I said, carefully trying to avoid further highlighting SnackTown. Maybe she would be the grown-up she was supposed to be and—

  “No, we shall use SnackTown,” she said stubbornly.

  “We don’t have time—”

  “We shall make time!” she yelled into the phone.

  I sighed for the... I’d lost count. “Okay, okay. Can you send a request to join the Supper Club’s SnackTown?”

  “Please let me join the Supper Club’s SnackTown,” the Inspector very politely said.

  “What? No, I don’t mean make a request over the phone—” I buried my face in my hands for a moment, then I explained to her exactly how to join our SnackTown using the app. I was a patient consulting detective, but this was taxing me.

  “How do you not know any of this?” I asked as the Inspector finally managed to send me a request to join our SnackTown. I quickly accepted. Her neon-coloured stand popped up in an empty slot and immediately opened for business. “You’ve never had any issue with techie stuff in the past.”

  “It was all an act, Sherlock Sam.” On Mom’s phone, tiny Inspector Lestrade winked. “I merely pretended to know until someone explained it to someone else, and only then did I actually know what we were talking about.”

  My mouth fell open. I wondered how anyone gave her any grown-up responsibilities at all.

  “Let us not tell the others about this, okay?” She winked again. She had a huge grin on her face. “But now it is time for us to switch to our avatar personas on SnackTown. Where we can truly be who we were meant to be.”

  She abruptly hung up.

  I put Mom’s mobile phone down and turned to my laptop and the Supper Club’s SnackTown. There was a strange rustling in a bush that was very close to where all our stands were gathered.

  My chicken wing form hesitated a moment, then took a tentative step forward and immediately stumbled backwards when Baguette-Inspector Lestrade leaped out from the bush.

  “ARGH!”

  I lifted my arm to an approximation of where my chicken wing heart would have been. “How is it you can’t figure out how to send a simple join request, but you can figure out the complexity of the customisable clothing option to design your own outfits?”

  “You should know by now, Sherlock Sam, I am a master of disguise in any realm,” Baguette-Inspector Lestrade said.

  “You’re right, of course,” I said, shrugging my chicken shoulders.

  The baguette smiled widely. She proceeded to dash around, looking at all the stands. No one was online, so they were all shut. She stopped in front of Eliza’s sole undecorated stand with a quizzical look on her face.

  “Okay, so like I explained earlier, this is SnackTown.” I gestured at the wide expanse of digital terrain. “It’s a part of Instanoodlegram, which is a social media site with various modes of communication and home to the world’s largest repository of video content from creators around the world.”

  The baguette nodded. “Yes, those are all words in English I understand...individually.”

  I didn’t have feathers in my chicken wing form, but if I did, they would most definitely be ruffled.

  “One of those creators, a video game streamer who streams on SeeFood, is in trouble.”

  “Oh no!” An exclamation mark appeared right above Baguette-Inspector Lestrade’s head. “Has she been kidnapped? Is she hiding from organised crime? Or”—she gasped—“did she fall into a well?!”

  “No. Well, we don’t know,” I said. “In fact… we’re not entirely sure anything is actually wrong.”

  Baguette-Inspector Lestrade raised a crusty eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  I recounted what we had learnt from Eliza and what we had observed from Jill Su’s latest premiere video.

  “So, she is still making premiere videos and interacting with fans in the chat, but Eliza believes it is under duress?” Baguette-Inspector Lestrade asked.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you actually know what those words mean, or do you need me to explain them?”

  “I know enough, Sherlock Sam. Context is king, after all.” Her bread eye winked. In human or baguette form, the Inspector’s winks were starting to make me suspicious.

  “To answer your question, yes. I know Eliza believes something is wrong, but I—” I shrugged again. I didn’t want Eliza to think we weren’t taking her seriously, but I also didn’t want Inspector Lestrade to get in trouble for investigating something she was not supposed to. “I don’t know if she’s seeing something that isn’t there. We think there’s a lot she’s not telling us about what’s been going on with her in Taipei.”

  Baguette-Inspector Lestrade cupped her chin in what I presumed was her contemplative pose. “Well, the only way to make certain is to investigate, is it not?”

  I sighed again, this time in relief. “Yes, of course you’re right.” I wanted very much to help Eliza, and get to the bottom of the Jill Su situation, and I was glad Inspector Lestrade did too.

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “You’re visiting Blue Lightning Agency today, right?”

  “Yes, to discuss Jordan Chen and TeaMe.” Baguette-Inspector Lestrade suddenly became Belgian Waffle-Inspector Lestrade dressed as a candy shop employee.

  I blinked. That was next level customisation. “Uh, yes, well, it turns out that Jill Su belongs to the same agency.”

  “Really?!” Belgian-Waffle-Inspector Lestrade’s candy shop hat fell off. “Do you think the two cases are related?”

  “It’s not impossible, but it’s highly improbable,” I said. “Like I mentioned, we’re not even sure there’s anything wrong with Jill Su, but since you’re already talking to the agency today about Mr Chen and TeaMe, I thought you could quickly ask about Jill Su as well.”

  “I could do that, yes.” Belgian-Waffle-Inspector Lestrade as a candy shop employee suddenly became Escargot-Inspector Lestrade as a mad scientist. “Should I just ask about their instant noodle video game mystery?”

  I blinked rapidly. “What? No. What? What are you doing?”

  “These outfits are amazing!” Escargot-Inspector Lestrade said. “I wonder if I could build them in the real world. Let me see, I will need a lot of fabric and more wood than I can currently procure...”

  “Inspector, I’m really going to need you to focus.” I worried she would forget to ask about Jill Su, but I was even more afraid I had just derailed the TeaMe investigation by introducing the Inspector to SnackTown’s customisable avatar feature.

  “Do not worry, Sherlock Sam.” Escargot-Inspector Lestrade as a mad scientist suddenly became Croque Monsieur-Inspector Lestrade as Indiana Jones. “I can focus on many things at once. For example, did you know I had left my friend’s apartment and was driving to Blue Lightning’s offices while we were speaking?”

  “What?! That’s very dangerous! Stop talking to me and changing your avatar, and pay attention to the road!”

  “No need, Sherlock Sam, for I have already arrived and parked the car like a…how do you say? Ah, yes, like a boss.”

  “Inspector Lestrade, that is very dangerous behaviour, and I want you to promise me you will never do it again,” I said, a sweat drop appearing above my chicken wing head.

  “I promise, Sherlock Sam.”

  I received a photograph from Inspector Lestrade via SnackTown’s messenger function. It showed her dressed as a cup of bubble tea standing outside a blue VW bug parked diagonally across multiple parking spaces.

  “Especially since I may not actually be able to focus on as many things at the same time as I thought.”

  “That car isn’t long enough to park across four parking spaces,” I said, amazed. “You are breaking the laws of time and space, Inspector. Also, have you been wearing that outfit this whole time?”

  “Since I am not sure I can accurately describe the video game instant noodle mystery, I may require you to stay on the line and ask your questions.”

  “It’s not a video game instant noodle mystery.” I wiped my chicken wing brow with my chicken wing arm.

  “My apologies. The instant video noodle game mystery.” Croque Monsieur-Inspector Lestrade as Indiana Jones suddenly became Beef Bourguignon-Inspector Lestrade as a pilot. At least she wasn’t driving anymore. “Perhaps you should ask the questions via video call.”

  “Yes, maybe I should.” I agreed. “Once you’re there, please switch to LunchBox. That’s the video-calling function.”

  “But my costumes!” the Inspector wailed.

  “Needs must, Inspector,” I said. It was tiring being the only adult in this conversation.

  Beef Bourguignon-Inspector Lestrade sulked. Abruptly, the literal dark cloud that had appeared above her head evaporated and she was all smiles again. It was very suspicious.

  She sidled up next to my chicken wing form. “One more thing, Sherlock Sam. For this mystery, I am not Geneviève Lestrade, INTERPOL Inspector.”

  “Then…who are you?” I was somewhat afraid of the answer.

  “I am Geneviève Lestrade, Concerned Cosplaying Citizen of the World.”

  I blinked again. “But you’re also representing the Taipei City Police Department, right?”

  “Of course! At least 3% of me is representing the Taipei City Police Department, yes.”

  My eye could not stop twitching. “Then let’s go with that instead,” I said as calmly as I could. “You’re Geneviève Lestrade, representing the Taipei City Police Department.” I paused. “But let’s leave out the 3% part.”

  “That’s missing a little je ne sais quoi, but as you have said, needs must, I guess.”

  We disconnected from SnackTown and switched to LunchBox.

  “Hello, Sherlock Sam! Long time no see!” She laughed at her own joke. I could see her bubble tea costume more clearly now, and it looked like the tea was an actual liquid sloshing around in a cup, and there were tapioca balls around her. How did she do that?

  She held the phone in front of her so I could no longer see her, but the view of the direction she was walking. This wasn’t as good as actually being in Taipei, but it was better than nothing.

  Inspector Lestrade walked through a revolving door. The phone was facing the floor, then it spun a few times and faced the ceiling, making me dizzy.

  “Sorry, I dropped my phone,” Inspector Lestrade said.

  She picked the phone back up, and I saw a reception desk ahead of us.

  “Ni hao!” the lady behind the counter said brightly, then immediately frowned.

  “Uh… How may I help you?” she asked, still speaking Mandarin.

  “My apologies, miss, but my Mandarin is not quite at the formal speaking level. Do you speak English? Parlez-vous français? Sprechen sie Deutsch? ¿Habla español? Hangugeo haseyo? Kya aap hindi bolte hain?”

  The lady quickly held up her hand. “I speak English. How may I help you?”

  “We are here to see Ms Lin,” Inspector Lestrade said.

  “We?” the lady repeated. Inspector Lestrade raised the phone. I waved at the lady. She waved back as her frown became a look of confusion.

  “I’m afraid Ms Lin is quite busy and may not have time—”

  “Oh, I have an appointment,” Inspector Lestrade said.

  “You do?” Confusion became surprise on the lady’s face. “May I have your name?”

  “I am Geneviève Lestrade, Concerned Cosplaying Citizen of the World representing the Taipei City Police Department with at least 3% of my being.”

  I facepalmed.

  “Uh…let me check…” She typed something on her computer, and her eyes grew wide again.

  “Amazingly, you do have an appointment, but I’m afraid I cannot let you in dressed like…like…well, like that. I’m sure you understand.”

  “And I’m sure you understand that my time, your time and Ms Lin Yuqin’s time is quite valuable and should not be wasted on silly rules that do not actually exist. Or would you rather we discuss Jordan Chen and TeaMe here in the lobby?”

  The reception lady stuttered a bit before picking up her phone. “Ms Lin’s 11 o’clock is here,” she said in Mandarin before pausing. “Right away, ma’am.”

  She hung up and said, “Please take the lift to the 55th floor.”

  With all her playfulness, I sometimes forgot the Inspector was a very good police officer who knew how to get things done.

  Inspector Lestrade walked to the lift and pressed 55. I noticed the lift had buttons for all the floors containing the number four. This wasn’t uncommon in Taiwan, but it was nevertheless a little surprising. Many East Asian cultures consider the number four unlucky because the word for “four” and “death” sound very similar in many East Asian languages, Mandarin and Cantonese included (similar to how “eight” sounds like “wealth”, explaining why that’s considered a lucky number). Nazhar told me some buildings in Hong Kong skipped every floor with a four in it, as well as the 13th floor. This meant a building that went up to the 55th floor was actually only 40 stories tall.

  This building was 55 stories tall, however, and we reached the top floor fairly quickly.

  A slender woman in a bright yellow dress began to greet Inspector Lestrade but choked and coughed when she saw a large cup of bubble tea step out of the elevator.

  “Hello, are you Ms Lin Yuqin?” the Inspector said, beaming.

  “Uh…ah…uh…” The young woman was blinking quite rapidly.

  “Let her in, Ms Han,” an authoritative voice said in Mandarin. It came from inside the office behind the stuttering Ms Han.

  Ms Han gestured towards the open door behind her, still blinking rapidly. Inspector Lestrade walked through the door, and I saw a lady sitting behind a large oak desk. She was wearing a sleek white pantsuit and had her long hair up in a loosely tied bun. Almost all her fingers had slim rings on them. She looked about Mom’s age.

  “Please take a seat, Inspector,” Ms Lin said. She then cocked her head and said, “Can you take a seat in that outfit?”