The Curds and Whey Mystery. Bob Burke

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       3

       Follow the Yellow Brick Road

      Building sites are difficult to find your way around at the best of times. Add in some night, a sprinkling of rain, a generous helping of mud and not only are they difficult, but they become downright unpleasant. The ground that has already been excavated becomes very slippery. Pools of cold, dirty water lie in wait for the unwary pig and, if the pig is very unlucky, there are large holes in the ground just waiting for him to fall into.

      This particular building site was about a mile from Miss Muffet’s place. Huge hoardings announced that a new motorway, coming soon, would provide access to Grimmtown for countless commuters, blah de blah de blah. It was the usual PR doubletalk. Of more interest was the name of the construction company involved in this wondrous feat of engineering: The Yellow Brick Road Construction Company looked to be doing this particular job. Then again, as it was owned by Edna, the Wicked Witch of the West Side, an old sparring partner of mine (to put it as euphemistically as I could), the YBRCC did most building jobs around Grimmtown. To an outsider, it probably seemed amazing how they always managed to get the big building deals. As any insider would tell you, they greased politicians’ palms, encouraged planners to ‘share’ any competitive quotes and generally bullied any other prospective contractor out of business. If they were doing this job and Miss Muffet was in the way, then chances were she wouldn’t be in the way long. More to the point, if the spider strategy didn’t work then they’d probably find something a tad more imaginative to encourage her to sell up.

      I knew Edna of old and knew she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, especially where money or power was concerned. She was also a woman who didn’t let much get in the way of achieving whatever her current objective was, so I had to tread very carefully indeed if I wasn’t to become a permanent part of the motorway foundations. Not that I wasn’t treading carefully already. Not only was I trying not to ruin my clothes, I was trying to make sure I didn’t break any legs, arms or other vital parts of my body by suddenly falling into one of those previously mentioned large holes.

      I figured if there was any information about the building work, like plans or drawings, it’d be in the construction hut. I could just about make it out in the distance, a small, cheap prefab mounted on blocks. I squelched my way towards it, unsure of what was ahead of me. In order not to alert any security I had decided not to use my torch – a decision I was now regretting as it seemed that every large puddle on the site lay between me and my destination and I was stepping into each one in succession.

      Eventually – cold, wet and muddy up to my knees – I arrived at the hut. I listened carefully at the door and, when I didn’t hear any obvious sounds from inside, very carefully picked the lock and slid in. Considering my history at picking locks, it was surprisingly easy. Ensuring the window blinds were closed, I was finally able to flick on my torch and a pencil-thin beam of light swept the room.

      In fairness, it didn’t take much in the way of detecting skills to figure out what was going on – the plans were in plain sight, tacked to one of the walls. It would have taken a pretty poor detective to miss them. They confirmed the construction of a new ring road around Grimmtown and the road ran straight through where the Curds and Whey B&B currently stood. Was it any wonder someone wanted her out? If they had been foolish enough to start work on the road without ensuring beforehand that all the land could be built on, then I could understand their urgency. Every day that the road couldn’t go through Miss Muffet’s house was another day of unnecessary costs to the construction company and, if I knew Edna, she wouldn’t take too kindly to any unnecessary costs – or indeed any costs at all usually.

      Now that I had the information I needed it was time to disappear. Unfortunately, that looked like it was going to be a futile wish as, just when I was getting ready to open the door, I heard noises from outside the hut. I could tell they were gnomes from the growling half-animal sounds they made, so it probably meant that Edna’s security had been doing their rounds and were coming back to base – a base I was currently occupying and didn’t seem to have anything remotely large enough to hide a pig in. I had a quick – and admittedly extremely optimistic – glance at some filing cabinet drawers, but had to concede that I’d barely get my legs into one of them, let alone the rest of my body. Once the gnomes opened the door they could hardly miss me and, stupid though they were, they would certainly have enough sense to realise I wasn’t supposed to be there. Heaving a long and resigned sigh, I knew there was only one thing for it. I braced myself against the wall opposite the door and waited.

      I didn’t have to wait long.

      ‘Check hut?’ muttered the first gnome.

      ‘Yeah, we check,’ agreed the second.

      ‘Got key?’

      ‘No, you got key.’

      ‘No, me not got key. You got key.’

      At which point there was a minor scuffle, during which one or the other (it was hard to tell which) found that they did have the key after all.

      Seconds later peace had broken out and the door opened cautiously. Two unkempt gnomes entered, preceded by their smell. As soon as they were in view, I let out a loud roar and rushed straight at them. It was no contest; a fine specimen of prime ham landing on two weedy security guards, who were already terrified at finding a very large and very angry creature in a hut that had most definitely been empty the last time they’d looked.

      The impact took all three of us back out through the door and into a pool of mud on the ground beyond. Fortunately, the gnomes broke my fall, so they took the brunt of the landing as well most of the mud. From the cracking noises I heard it was obvious that my fall wasn’t all they’d broken. As I struggled free, one of them sank his teeth into my leg and I roared in pain.

      ‘Pig,’ howled the gnome to his companion as he recognised the taste. ‘Not monster; pig.’

      As I’ve already mentioned, gnomes are quite stupid. In this instance they were stupid enough not to realise they’d been injured, but not so stupid that they didn’t recognise that their attacker was a pig. Figuring I was easier meat (possibly literally) now that they knew I wasn’t a creature of the night, they seemed a bit more positive about chasing me. Staggering to their feet they lurched after me. Although I had the benefit of a fully working body, they had the advantage that they knew the terrain, so while I splashed my way across a sea of mud, they took drier, less slippery paths and slowly began to close in on me.

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