It's Not Where You Are, But Where You Aren't

gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, as is his wont, and yelled out to his buddy, as is his wont, "hey, danny boy! what're we eating tonight?"

"vietnamese shaking beef with watercress," came danny blake's answer, already pouring a beer.

"thank you, sir," cardigan took the glass and walked back to his customary table to join the others. "howdy, y'all."

"hi, gavin," marian elfman welcomed him to the table. "how's business?"

cardigan grunted. "oh, it's okay, i guess. i ran down a deadbeat dad today, so i closed that case. a new client wants me to look into the backgrounds of a couple of local college football players who could be drafted by the NFL next month."

"really? which school do they play for?" taylor asked eagerly, and indeed, they all leaned in closer.

"a local school is all i know," cardigan replied glumly. "i'm sorry, guys, i wish i knew more, too."

"i thought you were supposed to be the world's greatest detective, gavin," linda nulo sighed. "can't you figure out where we're supposed to be?"

"burkie won't tell me anything," cardigan grumbled. "you know how clever he is."

sierra charles nodded knowingly. "true. remember when he wore shoes from two different pairs once?"

"and how he thought the water pump on a car was the thing that sprayed water on your windshield?" blake added as he brought cardigan's salad to the table.

"i've given this matter much thought," marian noted. "i think we can reason this out. remember when we were talking about vacation spots? that means we obviously aren't in new york, santa fe, or a place with warm, sunny beaches."

"and now we know there is at least one university here," added Mysterious Lurker, her jet black hair blending in with the shadows behind her.

"and it gets blustery cold at times," cardigan mused, thinking about how he sometimes enters the pub to get out of the wind. "maybe it's chicago?"

"burkie's never been to chicago," a voice spoke up behind them.

"hello, who are you?" sierra asked the newcomer.

"Special Assistant Hepzibah. i'm burkie's, er, special assistant."

"hepzibah?" tucker sounded excited and started strumming his guitar.

"that's okay, tucker. i don't need a song, really." s.a. hepzibah implored him, but it was too late.

hepzibah was a desert rose
she wore a red stone in her nose
she had a runner in her hose
my little desert rose

"really, tucker, it's not necessary."

the sunshine kissed her golden skin
pride was her favorite deadly sin
it's where she's going, not where she's been
she is my yang, i am her yin

linda shook her head, and the Lurker patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"does this mean that wherever we are, it's a place that burkie has been to?" sierra broke in.

"correct," s.a. hepzibah replied. "it doesn't mean he knows it well, but he has at least done more than simply drive by it, which is the case with chicago."

"what's burkie got against chicago?" judge st. bishop demanded, storming in.

"nothing," s.a. hepzibah responded. "at least, not to my knowledge. he likes their football team. the cubs, right?"

"the bears," they all reply in unison.

"anyway, i don't think he has anything against chicago."

"well, he should go there sometime and find out for himself before he categorically eliminates it!" the judge declared.

"i'm sure he will someday, but his schedule is kind of full at the moment, what with planning his trip to italy. that's why i'm here tonight instead of him. he says hello, though."

"italy? can we go?" sierra perked up.

"well, i guess. i mean, you aren't real, so you can go wherever you want." s.a. hepzibah answered slowly.

she followed me to italy
and even on to sicily
we toured the sights extensively
arm-in-arm, companionably

"i guess that means we're not in italy, either," marian noted as she typed it into her "Where Are We?" spreadsheet under the "Eliminated" column.