A trio to remember by Wambdi Bates

Chapter 1

"So, we meet again," Edna says with an ice cream in hand. They've reunited at a Hooters, one of the many that O'Hare has bought him after his failed enterprise. After their father's passing, all three children gathered in a Midwestern state to settle his will. Vector Perkins had been their gregarious, larger-than-life father. Though he loved the children, he would never stick around for long.

Oh, he also cheated on all three of their mothers.

"Edna shouldn't get anything. She's rich," Farquad commented. Losing his kingdom and his potential wife had really done a wonder on his generosity, not that he'd had much to begin with. Forgoing his usual royal attire, he now only exclusively wears Juicy tracksuits. Edna scrunches her nose at the neon pink ensemble he had chosen to wear to the Hooter's. With a matching cape and everything.

Ew.

"Still can't get rid of the cape, I see," she says with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Oh lay off him, Eds," O'Hare said. "Maybe the cape is what he needs to make up for the warmth he never got as a child."

Farquaad drained the rest of his cup, never breaking eye contact with his younger brother. "Do you want to say that again?"

"Yeah. In fact, I'll do you one better. Not only were you the absolute least favorite out of Dad's bastards, but not even the princess you rescued from the tower wanted to be around you."

Emily the waitress was approaching with their meal, but Edna shot her a look. Emily decided to make a U-turn for her own safety.

Farquaad tossed his cup to the side and promptly pounced on O'hare. Edna sighed and waved down their waiter. "Hello, darling. Would you mind grabbing a pitcher of cold water for me?" Emily nodded and brought back the pitcher. Edna poured herself a cup of water and tossed the rest on her squabbling brothers.

"Would you two stop making a scene!" she shouted in their sputtering faces. "I have a social image to keep up and if you two don't start behaving I'll just take the Wii and run with it," she threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," O'Hare said, getting to his feet. "I'd sue,"

Edna looked him in the eye and laughed. "With what money? The tips that you steal from your waitresses? Oh, I'm sure that would be enough to pay for a lawyer. Now would you please. Sit. Down." Both men shuffled to their chairs like dogs who'd just been sprayed down by the hose. Emily was still standing, absolutely dumbfounded, at the side of the table.

"Now, you two know our father," Edna began. "He was...

"A weirdo."

"A clown."

"I was going to go with eccentric, but I suppose those work as well," Edna said. "He didn't leave us a will. Instead, he left us a number for a... private investigator. A man by the name of Benoit Blanc."

Farquaad snorted. "A private investigator. Why would we ever need to hire a private investigator? It's not as if father was murdered or—"

Suddenly Farquaad's ramblings were interrupted by the sweet, timbre sound of a Southern gentleman.

"Uhm, excuse me," he said, drawing out all the vowels. "But am I correct in assuming that you are all the children of the late Victor Perkins?"

Edna shot to her feet and outstretched her hand. "You would be. I am Edna Mode, and these are my brothers. That is Farquaad and that is Aloysius O'Hare,"

Blanc turned his light-skinned stare to each of the men in turn. "No last name, Mr. Farquaad?"

Farquaad turned up his nose and crossed his arms. "That is my last name,"

"Oh, then uh, no first name then?"

He gave a tight smile. "My first name is Lord,"

Blanc's stare got even more piercing as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, nice to meet you all. Now I do have to ask. Why am I here?"

"My brother refuses to leave this Hooter's. He's on house arrest," Lord Farquaad explained.

"No, not that. I'm asking you fine people why you require my services," Detective Blanc clarified.

"Well, Mr. Blanc, our dear sister here seems to have some absurd idea that our father was killed," Farquaad said. O'Hare was busy trying to reach the tray of fries that Emily had left on the countertop.

"I never said I thought he was murdered," Edna said with a sharp quick to Farquaad's shin. "Our father passed and the only thing he left us was this piece of paper with your number on it. We'd like you to find out why,"

"She'd like you to find out why," O'Hare butt in, a carton full of fries clutched in his hand. "I couldn't give less of a shit,"

Benoit Blanc had eyes wider than a deer's after seeing its mother murdered. "Well, uh, may I offer my condolences for your father's passing,"

"You may not, but proceed," Farquaad said.

"I just want to clarify, you want to hire me to find out why your late father asked you to hire me?"

"Yes," Edna said, knuckles white on her fork. "That's exactly right. Our father was an eccentric man and I think we're all hoping to find what he wanted us to find. That way he may be at peace,"

Farquaad snorted and O'Hare looked as if his fries had personally offended him.

"Well, I suppose I could see what I could do," Detective Blanc said.

Edna dropped her fork with a clatter on the plate and clapped her hands together. "Wonderful!" she hopped off her stool. "Where should we start?"

"You mean right now?"

"Well yes. Unless you want to keep me from letting my father's memory rest in peace."

"I would never dream of it, Miss Mode,"

"Perfect, then let's go,"

"You two have fun," Farquaad said.

"I think we'll all have fun," Edna said with a wicked glint in her eyes. "You boys are coming with me,"

O'Hare snorted at that. "Yeah, I'll join you in four to six months, as soon as my parole has started,"

Blanc watched with his haunting pale eyes and wondered just how much weirder his life could get.

id.

"Oh no," Blanc said. "You two are coming with us," he said, gesturing to Lord Farquaad and O'Hare.

<b>A/N</b>: Hey guys thanks for reading comment down below and tell me where they should go next!