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

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СКАЧАТЬ of creature was I dealing with that could hit me so hard yet not be there when I hit back? Having been in more than one brawl in my time, I knew I wasn’t that slow so I didn’t think I could have missed my assailant.

      I felt rather than saw the presence beside me as it bent down and grabbed me by the head with both hands. A voice whispered in my ear.

      ‘Stay away from things that don’t concern you,’ it said in an accent I couldn’t quite place but one that sounded vaguely familiar.

      This just added to the mystery: a powerful creature that hit like a hammer, had a body that let punches pass through it, spoke like an extra out of a cheap ’40s movie and had powerfully bad breath. I had to ask, of course.

      ‘What kind of things?’

      ‘Your new client and his missing ornament. It might be much healthier for you if you found another line of work in the short term.’

      ‘Says who?’ I was getting a little braver (and a lot more foolish).

      ‘Says someone who thinks that you mightn’t like hospital food and might prefer walking without the aid of hired help.’

      I was now even more confused, as well as smelling like a cheap fruit and vegetable store. How had someone found out about my new client so quickly and, more to the point, why didn’t they want me involved in the case? Before I could ask anything else the voice said, ‘Remember our little conversation, otherwise I’ll call again. Now it’s time for sleepies. Nighty night.’

      There was a firm tap to the top of my head by something hard, a bright explosion of light and then darkness as what was left of my faculties took command and wisely elected to shut everything down. Unconscious, I slumped to the ground.

       3

       On the Case

      Two things struck me almost simultaneously when I woke up: the sky was incredibly blue and the only part of me that didn’t actually hurt was my left elbow. My mind then went from neutral into first gear and started to tie the two thoughts together into a coherent concept. As I could see the sky, it meant I was lying on my back and the fact that I hurt all over was probably something to do with why I was lying on my back. Then the memory of the previous night’s encounter sauntered casually into my head to force my brain into a higher gear. I’d been beaten to a pulp by an invisible someone who I couldn’t touch, who had fists like mallets and knew about my current case. This was not a good start to the day and the prospect of another encounter with Gruff at my new client’s residence meant it was only going to get worse.

      I groaned as I hauled myself to my feet, shedding bits of cardboard, rotten food and used magic beans. I smelled like a garbage cocktail and figured that my new employer wouldn’t take too kindly to my turning up at his residence in my present state. Like all good gumshoes, I always kept a spare suit at the office for those important occasions when I needed a one – like being roughed up, thrown in the river or being forced to spend the night sleeping in garbage. This was obviously one of those important occasions but after taking a step forward (very slowly, very carefully) and then collapsing back on the ground, I surmised I might be a while getting back to the office. I felt in my pockets for my cell phone, hoping to get Gloria to organise a cab. When I eventually found it, it was in a number of small and separate pieces. Obviously I wasn’t the only thing roughed up the previous night.

      As I tried to work out how exactly I was going to resolve this particular dilemma, I heard a noise behind me. I’d like to say I spun snappily around, fists ready for another fight, but I’d be lying. If I had to spin around it would probably have taken me the rest of the morning to do so.

      ‘Hey Mr Pig,’ said a boy’s voice. ‘Why are you covered in beans?’

      I eventually managed to look around very slowly and very carefully. A boy of about nine, keeping a very safe distance away, was looking at me with interest. Presumably he didn’t get to see a pig in a suit covered with garbage every day. He was dressed in faded jeans, sneakers and a white T-shirt with Hubbard’s Cubbard (Grimmtown’s latest music phenomenon) emblazoned loudly across the front.

      ‘I fell,’ I said, keeping it simple.

      ‘So how did you get that black eye?’ he asked. Great: a small nosey boy.

      ‘Fell against those boxes there.’ I pointed to the pile of flat cardboard that had been boxes before I fell on them.

      ‘And the cut lip?’ A small, nosey, perceptive boy.

      ‘Banged off the wall.’

      ‘And how did your clothes get torn?’ Now he was becoming irritating on top of being small, nosey and perceptive.

      ‘Look,’ I said in exasperation. ‘Shouldn’t you be at school or out begging or something?’

      ‘Nah,’ he replied. ‘I don’t go to school on Saturdays.’

      In my defence, I can only say that my deductive powers were still impaired as a result of the previous night’s incident, otherwise, of course, I’d have worked that out in a matter of seconds. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

      He finally decided I was fairly harmless – or at least wasn’t in a position to do him any real harm – and asked if I needed help. As his chances of carrying me were about the same as Dumbo falling out of the sky on us, I asked him to find a payphone and call Gloria.

      ‘Tell her Harry needs a cab,’ I groaned, throwing some coins and my business card at him. ‘There should be a phone box out on the street somewhere.’

      He looked at the card with great interest. ‘Wow, a detective. How cool is that?’

      ‘At the moment, not very,’ I replied. ‘Just make the call and I’ll make it worth your while.’

      ‘You mean I can work for you; be your informant or something?’

      ‘No. I mean I’ll give you ten bucks.’

      His face dropped. ‘But I hear all kinds of cool stuff. I could be really useful, specially with my contacts.’

      ‘Look kid,’ I said with as much patience as I could muster (which wasn’t really a lot), ‘if I need to know who stole the Queen of Heart’s tarts I’ll contact you, OK. Now can you just make the call? Please.’

      He trudged down the alleyway to the street and I tried to clean up my clothes. Apart from used magic beans there were a number of wet newspapers, a variety of vegetables, an old bedspring and spaghetti on various parts of my person. I wasn’t sure if I was removing them or smearing them in. When I was finished I certainly didn’t smell any better and my suit would never be worn again thanks to the many non-removable stains it now sported. Moving very carefully and very painfully I made my way back towards the street, one aching step at a time.

      To my surprise, the kid had made the call and a cab was waiting at the kerb for me. When the driver saw my condition (or smelled my condition, to be more accurate), he was understandably reluctant to let me into his cab. After looking in the back of it I didn’t see how I could have made conditions there any worse as the back seat and floor were covered with candy СКАЧАТЬ