Leroy Brown wasn't like your average fifth grader. As a result of a childhood spent reading and absorbing knowledge, he had a substantial amount of information at his disposal and a knack for cracking mysteries. That's why only his parents and teachers called him "Leroy" and everyone else called him "Encyclopedia." At the dinner table every night, he'd help his father, the chief of police, solve tough cases, usually getting all of the information he needed after asking a single question. During the day, he set up his own detective agency and helped out the neighborhood kids with their mysteries. Daniel O'Brien wasn't like your average fifth grader either, but mostly because he was 23-years old.

The Encyclopedia Brown Detective Agency operated out of Brown's garage. There was a table set up as Encyclopedia's desk and two milk crates--one for Encyclopedia and one for his assistant, Sally Kimball--to use as chairs. Daniel often slept in the corner sometimes and Encyclopedia suspected he had nowhere else to go. Daniel woke up with a groan and a slurred "fuck me," in accordance with his standard morning ritual. "Morning, assholes. Thanks for waking me up, Lady Parts. You too, Sally." "That's not his name," Sally said. "What? It's better than 'Encyclopedia.' Jesus." "His real name is Leroy," Sally offered. "We just call him that because he's so knowledgeable, like an Encyclopedia." "Well, excuse me, we can't all be named after books that appropriately tie into our personalities. I guess I'm just stuck with my own name. Till someone makes a novelization of me plowing the shit out of Brown's Mom, that is." Brown stared at the floor, his usually focused eyes drifting now. "His mom's dead," Sally said quietly. "Yeah. Dead fucked. Ah ha, no, but I'm really sorry for your loss." The tragically awkward silence was interrupted when Marty Darticle, a neighborhood boy, knocked on the garage door. "Is this the Encyclopedia Brown Detective Agency," Marty asked, "because I've got a Halloween mystery." "Oh, wow, man, I am completely tired of your shit, already, like no joke. Like, literally the instant I'm meeting you right now, I hate you forever. You are the worst. " Daniel's standard greeting. "A Halloween mystery, eh," Encyclopedia said, rubbing his chin. "This certainly is SPOOKTACULAR," Brown remarked. Daniel spit on the floor in disgust. Brown shook his head and looked back to the would-be client. "We'll take the case!" Marty quickly deposited his quarter in the tin can that sat on Encyclopedia's desk and Daniel, just as quickly, hopped up and snatched it out. He then took the tin can and loaded it up with homemade toilet wine, like they make in prison. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about this mystery," Sally offered. "Well," Marty began, "I work at my Dad's farm. We grow a lot but, mostly, we make our money from pumpkins. Halloween's great for us, it's our busiest time of the year. Normally we're the only pumpkin-sellers in town, but this year, Bugs Meany, the neighborhood bully, started competing with us. We hold no claim to pumpkins, anyone's allowed to grow and sell them, obviously, but we like going the extra mile. We sell pumpkin pie, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin wine, you name it. The thing about pumpkins-" "Holy shit, there's no way you have more to say about pumpkins. No