In the game of detective work, the skill was to solve the case using the minimum number of moves, and with the maximum amount of sex appeal.
Cadbury: The mechanics of detecthievery.
Anyone could solve the case, most likely, if they bothered to apply themselves to it. If they could smell the wind, anyone could solve the case, and probably already had, before it was even defined.
But only Cadbury Fife could solve it backwards.
And he would finish by performing the crime, he thought.
From there it was a simple matter of working forwards to the solution, which he would present tonight with some manner of love-making spectacular, salted with a grand speech on his whereabouts at the time of the historic event.
Cadbury drummed his fingers in the air with one hand, and made a drumming noise on his desk with the other.
He peered at the sign on his desk that said “They are welcome”.
Cadbury: Behind the veil.
He stood up and danced for a while.
Cadbury was a surprisingly fine dancer. With elegant, smooth moves, he consider it a physical rendering of his thought process. Occasionally he ran into things.
Dancing by the window he noted the stars, the blackness, the empty office windows hanging in the night. He imagined that somewhere out there a cleaner was conducting a faux meeting in a boardroom.
He liked to work at night.
And tonight, he had a lot of work to do.
Cadbury: [Spanish accent] I demand we double the pay of the janitorial staff!
And so he whirled across the room, twirling two canes and removing his clothes.
Then the door opened.