You can catch more flies with honey. More flies is definitely what everyone wants.

Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, listeners. Things are a real sheet show right now. You know, like when you hang up your sheets and then a big wind comes and blows them all into the trees, which scares the birds, who fly into traffic, and cause tons of car accidents? Total sheet show.

In case you’ve been avoiding the news lately, which I understand can be necessary sometimes for mental health, here’s the recap, starting with a bulleted list of major developments in the Marcus Vanston and Jalen Rutherford murder cases.

One. We learned that Marcus promised a big monetary donation to Harrison Kip’s mysterious religious group, but that money was never delivered. Naturally, we all thought that because of this financial backpedal, Harrison murdered Marcus in retribution. We are now all very ashamed of ourselves. Because—

Two. We learned that Jalen Rutherford, who worked as a bookkeeper for Marcus, actually intercepted those funds and stole the money for himself. That’s why it never got to Harrison. And Marcus found out about this, and now all signs seem to point to Jalen having colluded with an unknown assailant to kill Marcus pre-emptively in some kind of paranoid self defense. And probably out of a desire to keep all that money.

Of course, then Jalen was also murdered—and we still have no idea who’s responsible for that one.

But this all brings me to bullet point number three. Our best intern ever, Jalen Rutherford’s double who blew in on the last sandstorm, has been arrested by proxy for the murder of Marcus Vanston, since they can’t arrest the original Jalen, because he’s dead.

And now, with Jalen’s double in jail, things are not running smoothly here at the station at all. For one thing, I cannot find my stapler. You’d be surprised how much I need and use my stapler on a daily basis. A lot of people don’t realize that aside from being a deadly weapon of self defense, staplers can also be used to secure papers. Loose papers appear around here at an alarming rate, and constant stapling is the only way to keep them under control. Otherwise, the air gets so clogged with swirling papers I can barely see all my complicated radio button-things and switch-a-magoos. But maybe if Jalen’s double gets his one phone call, he could give me a quick ring here at the station and let me know where the heck that stapler is.

At least the good news in all this is that Harrison Kip has officially been cleared of suspicion. To comment on his exoneration, a message from Harrison Kip.

HARRISON: Thank you, Cecil. And thank you, Night Vale, for all your support. Well, your support now. For a few weeks there, it seemed like old Harrison didn’t have a friend in the world. If you’ve ever been unfairly persecuted, you know how lonely that can be. And that’s exactly why I’m so thankful for my zealous spiritual practice, the unwavering dead-eyed fellowship of my metaphorical brothers and sisters, and the protection of my very literal god. As you can guess, it was a real blow for us to not receive that donation money from Mr. Vanston before his untimely passing. And now all the cash that was earmarked for our holiest of denominations is missing, but that’s another story. In light of all that, if anyone out there wants to absolve themselves of the guilt they have from believing for even one moment that I, Harrison Kip, was capable of murdering my dearest billionaire friend Marcus, you can make yourselves feel better right now by donating to my religious organization. The more you give, the better you’ll feel. That’s just how it works, spiritually speaking.

I want to take this opportunity as well to make it clear that I am extremely opposed to bloodshed of any kind, unless that blood is being shed in the sanctioned Blood Shed out behind my place of worship, where the sacrifices happen. There simply must be rules for these kinds of things. Murder rules are what separate us from the snakes. Especially now that we’re all able to smell the air with our tongues and hear with our jaws and devour our prey whole. Thank you.

CECIL: Thank you, Harrison! Sorry again for doubting you. And now, speaking of snakes: the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. This one was actually submitted by a listener! Let’s see what fun fact “Jimmy C” has to share with us.

Did you know that snakes are happy little guys? It’s true! A new study has revealed that venomous snakes in particular are the happiest little guys on the planet because producing fatal toxins give them a heightened sense of self esteem. Brain wave patterns show that there is no greater confidence booster than knowing you can effortlessly incapacitate any other creature whenever you wish, whether you want to eat them, stop them from eating you, or just for kicks. You are truly on top of the world when your spit is deadly, psychological testing indicates. There have even been limericks written about this very topic, by some of our most famous limericists. For example:

There once was a snake with no bite

His venom would not come out right

To the church gods, he prayed

but the poison just stayed

So he went to the store and bought Sprite

And…that’s all I have here from Jimmy C. The fun fact was interesting, but I’m not sure about the poem. I’m not the most qualified poetry critic, but for a famous limericist, that one didn’t seem particularly well done. It is kind of an odd coincidence that Marcus Vanston’s body was found with a dead venomous snake and a book of limmericks with every third word circled, and today’s science fun fact happens to be about venomous snakes and contains a strange limerick that also has several of the words circled. I mean, that’s just a coincidence, right? It’s not like some anonymous informant would reach out with a coded message meant for me to read aloud on the radio, containing some kind of hot tip about this ongoing murder mystery.

Just to make sure though, let’s read those circled words:

COME…TO…CHURCH…STORE

[thinks for a sec]

Nope, doesn’t mean anything to me.

Let’s go to Deb, a sentient patch of haze, with a word from our sponsor.

DEB: Today’s sponsor is Church Stuff and More, out behind the Estes Truck Stop on Route 800. Church Stuff and More has been a family owned business since 1988, when it was first established as a law firm for highway injury victims by attorneys David Church, Angela Stuff, and Rowan More. It was later inherited by David’s grandson, Jimmy Church, who does not practice law and rebranded the business as a religious supply store so he wouldn’t have to change the name or get a new sign. Church Stuff and More, on Route 800. It’s across the quicksand pit, so park in the big rig lot, crawl into the concrete tunnel behind the truck stop, and follow it to the store, where you’ll find great deals on ancient texts, candles, incense, talismans, spellbooks, potions, rain sticks, feathers, bones, teeth, hair, genie lamps, synthetic psychedelic drugs, keychains with Latin words on them, and live venomous snakes. Church Stuff and More. No religious affiliation required. Come on down. Come on down, Cecil.

CECIL: Wait, does it actually say my name in the copy? Deb? Oh, she already dissipated into the air vent. I’d look myself but I can’t possibly know which paper she was reading from with all these swirling papers in the air. Okay, between the message in that poem and the message in that ad copy, my reporter senses are tingling. Something tells me I should probably follow up on this. Listeners, I’m going to do it. I’m going to get my remote broadcasting fanny pack and continue my show down at the religious supply store behind the truck stop.

What’s that, Elise?

[brief Elise voice]

Oh, my producer Elise is saying I apparently can’t just leave my booth with dead air for the next twenty minutes while I drive out there. That’s okay, I’ll use this button that I normally reserve to edit out people swearing on the air. It temporarily changes how time works. Here we go—

Listeners, I am coming to you live from a secret closet in the religious supply store behind the Estes Truck Stop, where I am currently cowering in fear for my life. But let me back up.

Church Stuff and More is located in a wooden shack, obscured by blowing dust, the only structure on the other side of the quicksand pit beyond the diesel bays. There’s a billboard above the shack depicting a fender bender and two stock photo actors yelling at each other. The tunnel that leads through the quicksand to the shop’s front door is barely wide enough to crawl through, but it does have nice stained-glass portholes that let the light in. The chime over the door plays the first few notes of the chorus to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.

When I entered, I saw a young man reading a copy of the Daily Journal, which is running another limited print edition due to all the particularly grisly, and therefore lucrative, news lately.

“Thank goodness,” the man said when I walked in. Then added: “I don’t like to say ‘thank god,’ being an atheist myself.”

“Heyyy,” I said. “Did you send me a coded message in a science fun fact?”

“Sure as heck did,” the man, whose name is Jimmy Church, confirmed.

“Jalen Rutherford was my best friend,” Jimmy told me, “And him being murdered in an excessively violent manner really bummed me out. I was so sad that I couldn’t even read the newspaper article about it until yesterday. And well, you know how they printed the big full color high-res crime scene photos in there? Right away, I saw something in those photos that no one else saw. Or maybe they saw it, but they didn’t know they saw it. Do you know what I mean?”

“Do you mean…you know who killed Jalen?” I asked.

“Sure as heck do,” Jimmy said. Then he pulled a shiny gold collection plate from a shelf of products behind him.

“I got these collection plates at a discount because the paint comes off of ‘em and the edges are too sharp. Like razor sharp. It’ll actually draw blood if you touch it. Try!”

I touched the edge of the plate and sure enough, sliced my fingertip wide open.

“The day before Jalen got murdered,” Jimmy said, “I sold one of these plates to Harrison Kip. Mr. Kip comes in here at least once a week and buys all kinds of things for his congregation, like ceremonial buckets and axes and rubber gloves and bleach and hacksaws. Buys a ton of stuff usually. He’s one of my best customers. But that day, he just bought this. I warned him about the sharp edges, but he said that was okay with him. He said he liked it that way. When I saw those photos in the paper and the marks on Jalen’s body, I knew he hadn’t been stabbed with a knife like people think, but slashed by one of those discount collection plates.”

Jimmy held the photos in the paper up for me to see, even though I had witnessed the actual murdered body myself quite clearly in person.

“This is how I know,” he said, pointing.

And for the first time, I noticed glittery gold paint flakes around Jalen’s wounds. Then Jimmy ran his finger over the smooth part of the collection plate in front of us and his fingertip came away glittery gold.

“Even if you’re right, wouldn’t we need to find the murder weapon to prove it?” I asked.

“I only sold the one,” he said, “And it’s the same one we’ve been touching. Harrison brought this back in for a refund the day after the murder. Said it was too sharp after all. I think he just wanted his money back after he’d gotten his use out of it. This is the murder weapon right here.”

I told him I needed to call Dana since she’d have a better idea of what to do from here.

But before I could do that, we heard the first notes of the chorus to Hallelujah play again. That’s when Harrison Kip came into the store and locked the door behind him. And Jimmy Church pushed me into a display of Pazuzu night lights that actually turned out to be a secret revolving door leading into a storage room filled with even more Pazuzu night lights.

And that about brings you up to speed, listeners! This is Cecil Gershwin Palmer, from a hidden closet inside of Church Stuff and More, broadcasting to you live and hoping to stay that way. Pray for me, if that’s your thing.

[Elise voice]

Thank you, Elise.

[Elise voice]

Oh, I misunderstood. I thought she was saying a prayer, but she’s saying we need to go to the weather.

[THE WEATHER]

Breaking news. Lead amateur murder investigator and bestie Dana Cardinal was thankfully listening to my remote broadcast and was able to force her way into the store, restrain Harrison with makeshift rosary bead handcuffs, and read him his rights as defined by philosopher John Locke, including life, liberty, and personal assets, especially those that are essential for survival and created under one’s own labor. It’s not a legal declaration, Dana’s just been really into philosophy lately since she’s been doing all this homicide stuff. Death really makes you think about: what even is life? I remember her saying to me recently, to which I had replied, totally.

Anyway, aside from Harrison shouting a summoning chant to his god and some horrible sounds coming from the sky, or maybe the universe, or maybe under the quicksand, everything seemed to be under control, so I went ahead and fled back to my safe little booth here at the station.

And it’s a good thing I did, because I was just in time to receive a phone call from our former intern, Jalen’s double, who will of course remain locked in jail as a proxy for the murder of Marcus Vanston, who was still, we think, killed by the original Jalen, who we now know was murdered by Harrison Kip. A simple open and shut case.

Jalen’s double called to tell me that Harrison was just brought into the jail, and that Jimmy Church, who helped Dana escort him there, came by Jalen’s cell to meet him. That Jimmy had looked at him for a long time, and that he’d almost cried, but finally, he’d smiled. The two had a nice chat and found out they had a lot in common. Jalen’s double is still upset at being in jail for a crime he didn’t technically commit, but he also understands that he looks so much like the perpetrator that it makes people feel safer if he’s behind bars, which is the main function of the justice system. But aside from that, he enjoyed meeting Jimmy Church, and he thinks they might just become good friends. Which will be very nice for Jalen’s double, since he is lonely and bored in there, and very nice for Jimmy too, who misses his best friend very much.

“That’s so great,” I said. “But do you know where my stapler is?”

At that point, Jalen put Dana on the phone.

“Cecil,” she confessed, “I took your stapler.”

When I asked her why, she told me that having the stapler that once saved her life was comforting to her. That she needed comfort because she was afraid. And that she was afraid because she found something out about this case that’s bigger and more terrifying than any of us could have ever thought.

“Cecil, we were wrong. About the murder. About why it happened. Cecil, listen to me, you must-”

Unfortunately then our three minutes were up and the jail disconnected the call. I hope she wasn’t trying to tell me anything important.

Stay tuned for the ceaseless flutter of pages, some important, some meaningless, all thrown together in one chaotic tornado, consuming the very idea of order itself.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

PROVERB: If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. The truth usually sucks. That’s how you can tell the difference.