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

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СКАЧАТЬ guy, scruffy white beard, perpetually angry and smells of cheese?’

      ‘Yeah, that’s the fellow; the inimitable Mr Gruff. We’ve had run-ins before.’

      Boy Blue swallowed the dregs of his coffee and pushed the cup away. He belched loudly and with great satisfaction. ‘Amazin’ thing about this place: lousy food, great coffee. Didn’t think it was possible.’

      ‘Well think about it,’ I replied. ‘Stiltskin’s got to have something going for him – apart, of course, from his scintillating personality. But let’s get back to Aladdin.’ I tried to gather my thoughts. ‘Thing is, why would anyone want to steal this lamp, if the story about it is, in fact, just that – a story? Can’t see this particular gentleman being overly upset at the thought of having a family heirloom stolen – certainly not upset enough to hire me. It certainly didn’t look valuable from the photo he showed. Then again, what do I know? I’m no antiques expert.’

      Boy Blue’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker. ‘What if the story’s true? Think about it, what could someone do with a magic lamp?’

      I thought about it. More to the point, I thought about what I could do with a magic lamp – and I didn’t have too fertile an imagination: big house, big car, gold-plated – maybe even pure gold – feeding trough. One rub and all my troubles would be over and, before you ask, it’s a convention in this town: you always rub any brassware you might find on the street, just like you always wave any ornate stick when you pick it up and always click your heels together when wearing any kind of sparkly red jewelled shoes. I may not like magic but that’s not to say there isn’t a lot of it about and people certainly know how to check for it.

      It also hadn’t escaped my notice that if the wrong people got their hands on this particular source of untold wealth and power then it could create quite a lot of problems – assuming it was the genuine article. There were too many stories of people in Grimmtown who bought pulse vegetables from total strangers with the promise of great things happening to them. With the exception of a guy called Jack (another client whose story I must tell you someday), these great things didn’t ever amount to much more than a hill of beans, unless you happened really to like eating vegetables.

      My chat with Boy Blue, however, gave me the distinct impression that we were dealing with the bona fide article and a client who wanted it back urgently – presumably before someone else could do what he did all those years ago. Even worse, maybe they had stolen it to use against him. Even worse again, he had hired me to get it back. Ah yes, things were definitely on the expected downward spiral. This was turning out to be a typical Harry Pigg case: much more trouble than it was worth, the potential for great harm being inflicted upon me, and probably impossible to get out of unless I actually found the artifact. I seem to attract these cases like a cowpat attracts flies.

      I turned my attention back to Blue, who had now started on my coffee. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve any idea who might have taken this lamp?’

      ‘Take the phone-book; stick a pin anywhere in it. Chances are you’ve found a likely suspect.’ He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. ‘Any idea how it was stolen?’

      ‘I’m going out to Casa Aladdin tomorrow to have a look. It strikes me that it must have been a professional job. I imagine a man like him would have state-of-the-art security. Someone that rich with something he treasured that much is hardly likely to keep it under his bed beside the chamber pot.’

      ‘That narrows it down a little. Depending on how good his security system is you’re lookin’ for someone with enough dough to hire the right help, or the technical smarts to do the job themselves.’

      I thought about it. ‘Maybe, but if they had those kind of resources, they probably wouldn’t need the lamp, would they?’

      Blue sniggered. ‘Think about it. Ever seen a Bond movie? The kind of guys who would want to steal this are probably thinking about taking over the world, not how they might put the owner of a laundry out of business. We’re not talking washing powder and scruffy underwear here, we’re talking big weapons, thousands of thugs with large guns, huge secret headquarters hidden under water. Think big and you have your likely villains.’

      This really wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was hoping more for a pawnshop and an easy recovery not megalomania and superweapons. A small-time detective probably wouldn’t have much of a chance against that kind of opposition – particularly not this small-time detective.

      It was time to go and detect. I slid out of the booth and put my overcoat back on. ‘Enjoy my coffee,’ I said to Boy Blue. ‘It’s on me.’

      He didn’t acknowledge either my generosity or my departure. Typical informant!

      I waved goodbye to Rumpelstiltskin on my way out and left the restaurant. Night was falling and, as I headed back to the office, I tried not to laugh out loud as Grimmtown’s bright young things made their appearance. I’m no connoisseur of fashion, but to my non-discerning eye this autumn’s look was clearly vampire. Lots of black: shoes, clothes, capes, lipstick, hair and eyes. In fact, if there hadn’t been any street lights, it would have been difficult just to see them. But, unfortunately, you could still hear them and, in keeping with the theme, there were lots of ‘velcomes’, ‘do you vant a drink’ and other stupid vampire sayings from cheap Hollywood B-movies. Nothing like an idiotic trend to send the fashionistas flinging themselves like lemmings over the cliffs of good taste. Six months from now it would probably be the Snow White look and Dracula would be ‘so last year, darlink’.

      Outside the Blarney Tone Irish bar, a small man in a bright green outfit was trying to entice customers inside to sample the evening’s entertainment. At the Pied Piper Lounge a group of idiots dressed as rats tried to provide an exciting alternative to the more discerning client. It was just as well it was getting dark. No self-respecting punter would enter either premises if they had seen it in daylight.

      A number of fast-food sellers were hawking their less than appetising wares on street corners. Hungry though I was, I restrained myself – rat-on-a-stick with caramel sauce didn’t engage my senses as perhaps it should. It looked like another busy night in the town’s social calendar and one I was, in all honesty, looking forward to missing – not being the social type at all.

      I walked the mean streets of Grimmtown back to my office – the further I walked, the meaner they got. I turned into an alleyway that I frequently used as a shortcut. As Grimmtown Corporation hadn’t seen fit to light up the alley, I made my way carefully along in the dark, trying not to kick over any trashcans (or any sleeping down-and-out ogres – they were never too happy when suddenly awoken).

      As I stumbled along I became aware of a shuffling noise behind me. As a world-famous detective, I had developed a sense of knowing when I was being followed and now this spidey-sense was screaming ‘Danger, danger, Will Robinson!’ I spun around, trotters raised, ready to fight and, in the same fluid movement, flew backwards into the rubbish behind me when a large fist punched me powerfully in the stomach.

      Gasping for breath, I shook old potato peelings and rotting fruit off my suit and slowly came to my feet, trying to see who had hit me. In the darkness I could barely make out my fists in front of me let alone see anything else. I heard the shuffling as my adversary moved towards me again. This time I was ready and aimed a powerful left hook-right hook combo (one of my favourites) at where I guessed my assailant to be. Both punches made satisfying contact with absolutely nothing and, as my momentum carried me forward, I received another blow to the stomach and a kick on the backside. The impact spun me around and I became reacquainted with the pile of rubbish that I had struggled up out of just a few seconds earlier.

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