The Third Pig Detective Agency: The Complete Casebook. Bob Burke

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      ‘Indeed,’ said the voice. ‘And while you’re trying, no doubt, to figure out where you are, who I am and what you should do next, allow me to recommend that you make yourself comfortable while I make some suggestions.’

      I slowly sank onto a very ornate and very comfortable ottoman and waited.

      ‘As you have probably already deduced, the gnomes were clearly not a good investment. In less than twenty-four hours they stole the lamp but left clues so blatant that a corpse could have followed them. They then managed, with an incredible lack of subtlety, to make Grimmtown’s organised crime fraternity aware that they had an object of immense value and then, while bringing it to me, succeeded in handing it over to one of our more illustrious criminal masterminds in the process. Do I summarise the situation accurately?’

      I nodded weakly as I could see where this was going and I didn’t need a map to give me directions.

      ‘I think I now need to utilise the resources of a more accomplished craftsman to reacquire the lamp and you will probably not be surprised when I tell you that I have chosen you, Mr Pigg.’

      I opened my mouth to object with whatever reasons I could think of but before I could even come up with ‘Scintillating Excuse Number One to Avoid Locating a Stolen Lamp’, I was interrupted.

      ‘I will, of course, not tolerate any refusal on your part,’ said the voice with an uncanny sense of anticipation. ‘My need for this lamp is far greater than your need to refuse and I can change you into anything I choose should you prove to be difficult.’

      Now I was getting paranoid. There was a definite trend here and it wasn’t one I was particularly enamoured with. Why was everyone suddenly so intent on hiring me and, when I expressed any kind of reluctance, quite prepared to use very effective threats of bodily harm to compel me to agree to work for them? Was I really that good, or was I just that unlucky? Was it possible for anyone to be that unlucky? Maybe I just had that kind of face.

      Whatever the reason, it now looked like I had two clients, both of whom wanted the same thing and one of them was now telling me I had to steal back an already stolen lamp from one of our most ruthless criminals or face an unpleasant, but as yet undefined, alternative. With my imagination, however, I could think of quite a few ‘alternatives’, none of which were remotely attractive and none of which I particularly wanted to face. It looked like I was about to add breaking and entering to my already extensive set of skills.

      ‘OK,’ I said, resigning myself to the inevitable. ‘What do I have to do?’

      The whirring sound increased in volume and a large amount of paper was ejected from one of the printers at the high-tech end of the room. From what I could see, it was building plans of some kind.

      ‘Blueprints of Madame Edna’s building,’ confirmed the voice. ‘My understanding is that the lamp is in a room on the third floor, securely under lock and key. Unfortunately, security in the building is, by definition, rather tight. This means, of course, that it will be difficult to find a means of access that won’t be guarded in some way. I, however, have a high degree of confidence that, if undetected access can be found, then you are just the pig to find it. I would suggest that, if you are successful, you should reflect on the options available to you and, perhaps, the recovery of the lamp may not be as difficult as it first appears.’

      Great, now he was talking in riddles as well. I grabbed the sheaf of papers and looked at the ceiling.

      ‘On the off chance that I do manage to get the lamp back, how do I contact you again?’

      ‘You don’t,’ came the reply. ‘I shall contact you.’

      ‘Great,’ I said, with a considerable lack of enthusiasm. ‘Can I go now?’

      There was another loud bang and associated white light. When my head cleared I found myself back outside the Blarney Tone, staring into Benny’s ugly mug. As Messrs Lewis and Carroll were still in close proximity it mitigated against his taking advantage of my disorientation. When asked, they confirmed that I had disappeared from right in front of their eyes, had been absent for about ten minutes, and then reappeared in exactly the same spot.

      This had been one of the strangest days of my life and I should know; I’ve had quite a few. I decided it was time to cut my losses and plan for tomorrow before things got any weirder.

      I turned to Benny. ‘Benny, stick to the day job and give up burglary.’ I paused for a moment and reconsidered. ‘On second thoughts give up the day job as well. You suck at it. And while we’re on the subject, please don’t ever let me see you within a mile of me, or my associates here may play with your neck again.’

      Benny went pale but nodded in agreement.

      ‘Very good, Benny; you’re a quick study.’

      He disappeared up the street so fast I was impressed with his powers of recovery.

      Satisfied that they were no longer required, Lewis and Carroll disappeared back into the darkness.

      Clutching the plans I’d been given, I trudged slowly home to formulate some way that would allow me to enter Edna’s base of operations, steal back the lamp from under her very prominent witch’s nose, escape undetected and return it to one of its alleged owners, while trying to keep the other alleged owner from doing something unpleasant to me.

      Easy!

       8

       A Brief Interlude in which Harry Doesn’t Get Threatened or Beaten up by Anyone

      In the relative safety of my apartment I finally managed to find some time to consider the case.

      None of it seemed to make any sense. The original theft was clearly an inside job because of the in-depth knowledge of the security systems, but I didn’t figure either of the two possible suspects (Gruff or Aladdin) for it. Aladdin had no obvious need to steal his own lamp and was wealthy enough to suggest that an insurance scam wasn’t high on his list of priorities. Gruff seemed to be too loyal to his employer to consider stealing the lamp and was probably only too aware of the likely consequences if he was found to have been responsible. There was nobody else in Aladdin’s employ that had either the smarts or the access, so where did that leave me?

      Well, I’d (sort of) met someone who claimed to have masterminded the job even if I didn’t have the faintest idea who he was either. He seemed to fall into the criminal megalomaniac category Boy Blue had referred to, as he had all the tricks of the trade: deep dramatic voice, an impressive HQ – at least what I saw of it – and a strong desire to show off. All he needed to complete the effect was a white Persian cat to sit in his lap and be petted constantly – assuming he actually had a lap.

      Mind you, having used Benny as the actual thief also demonstrated a certain fallibility on his part. Maybe he wasn’t as all-powerful as he thought. Of course, he was powerful enough to compel me into reacquiring the lamp for him – a task I had to take somewhat seriously or suffer embarrassing, if not downright unpleasant, consequences.

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