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St. Cedd's Most Wanted

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Dirk darted past the door of the Junior Common Room -- there were too many people in there that he was trying to avoid. 

"Ahem," called out Jeremy Evans, the President of the College Boat Club, with whom Dirk particularly did not want to speak, or engage in any sort of way at all. Evans had a special talent for making Dirk feel like he ought to be remorseful about certain past, and current, events. "Dirk is that you?"

Dirk froze mid-step, before collecting himself. He spun on his heels and made a dramatic sweep into the JCR. His academic robes really did wonders to add to the dramatic effect; he was taking advantage of attending as many formal halls as possible to skulk around the college in his gown, and visually reinforce the rumour that he was of vampire descent from Transylvania. A rumour which he, of course, denied vigorously at every opportunity. Especially when no one had mentioned it in the first place.

"Yes," said Dirk. "Jeremy. How might I help you?"

Jeremy was flanked by Breitman and MacDuff, the two largest undergrads that the Boat Club could find to splash about on the river Cam. He gave Dirk a piercing glare. "One of the boats," said Jeremy. "It's gone missing."

"Ah, yes," responded Dirk, nodding in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. He continued, truthfully, "I heard about that."

"I know you had something to do with it," snarled Jeremy.

"Oh come on," said Richard MacDuff affably, earning himself a glare of his own. "As if Dirk's hiding a sixty-foot boat in his college room."

Jeremy looked at Dirk suspiciously. "Maybe he is."

"Yes, that's right," quipped Dirk. "I broke into the boat house and carried an eight-man boat all the way across town by myself. I'm a criminal mastermind."

"Huh," said Jeremy, unimpressed. "It has your pathetic fingerprints all over it, I can tell."

MacDuff gave Dirk a sympathetic look. "He might just still be upset about May Bumps last year," suggested Richard quietly. "You know, when you were coxing and crashed the shiny new Empacher into Grassy Corner, right before Churchill caught up to us at the--"

"Please," said Dirk, one watchful eye on Jeremy's increasingly red face. "I beg of you Richard, stop talking."

And mercifully, MacDuff did stop his slanderous tirade.

Dirk knew where the boat was, obviously. Not because he had taken the bloody thing. No, it was being held hostage by those entitled buffoons at Downing College because he, Dirk, had accidentally learned the identities of two of the most elusive Night Climbers at Cambridge University while on the roof of Great Saint Mary's Church earlier in the week. But it wasn't though he'd been stalking the secret society, or as if he was trying to learn their identities at all, that's not why Dirk was on the roof at three in the morning.

It was all one giant misunderstanding.