Under Gornstock

by Clive Mullis

  The four headed down the street, walking slowly as if they hadn’t a care in the world. The rough cobbles turned slimy, where carts, hauled up from the river, had spilt their loads of perishable goods, coating the street with a gooey mess.

  Between the four detectives and Phimp, Fluffy padded along softly, eyeing out tantalising and interesting things stored in the sordid alleyways: future investigation foremost in his mind.

  Oblivious to the goings-on behind him, Phimp never looked back, not even suspecting that four detectives closely followed him — confident or reckless? The depressing thought passed through Cornwallis’ mind that perhaps Phimp’s intents were all legal and above board and the chase they had embarked upon would lead them to a dead-end. It could be possible that they were wasting their time.

  ‘He’s turning right,’ observed Tiffany, keeping her eye on Phimp.

  Cornwallis acknowledged with a nod.

  ‘And so’s the cat,’ added MacGillicudy.

  Another nod.

  ‘There’s too much happening on this side of the river,’ said Rose. ‘All those ships tied up at all these wharves. The likelihood is we’ll lose him in the crush.’

  ‘We might, but I don’t think the cat will.’

  They quickened their pace and came to the end of the alley then poked their heads around the corner looking at the direction that Phimp went. A track led behind the warehouses and although Phimp had gone out of sight, they could still see the cat. Fluffy looked over and made sure that the detectives were following and then carried on with the pursuit.

  Cornwallis and the others rushed forward and were quickly behind the warehouses. Moving forward they paused at the end of one and looked towards the river. Fluffy sat at the end, waiting for them.

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Cornwallis as they approached the cat.

  Fluffy twitched his head. ‘Over there; he’s standing and looking down into the wet.’

  Cornwallis looked to where the cat indicated and could see the back of Phimp standing on the edge of a wharf. He seemed to wait for a few moments and then stepped forward and gradually his head disappeared.

  ‘Steps,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘He’s going down some steps.’

  ‘Thank the gods for that,’ said Cornwallis. ‘I thought my eyes were playing up for a moment. C’mon, let’s see what he’s up to.’

  The four and the cat moved forward and spread out, dodging the carters and dockers working along the quay and the wharf. They went and stood at the edge, looking down as surreptitiously as they could. They saw Phimp sitting in a wherry, back straight and staring ahead, over the head of the wherryman as the boat moved out onto the river.

  Cornwallis moved close to MacGillicudy. ‘We can’t follow him now,’ said the commander.

  ‘We can,’ answered Cornwallis. ‘There’s a water-cab there,’ and he pointed at a small boat bobbing against the side.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said the commander. ‘I think Phimp is aiming for that ship over there. The one anchored with those funny looking bits on the side, opposite your warehouse.’

  ‘So he is,’ answered Cornwallis, looking keenly at the ship in question. ‘I wonder what those bits are for?’

  Chapter 30

  Tiffany felt a little out of place as she took another sip of her glass of best bitter. She was adept at feeling at home in most social situations, from the boisterous atmosphere of the feelers local, The Truncheon, to afternoon tea with the ladies of Gornstock’s aristocratic social elite. She could turn from Lady Tiffany Trumpington-Smyth to just plain Tiff in the blink of an eye, discoursing on a whole range of subjects from “Who got it in the nadgers?” to “Where did you buy those delightful curtains?” She never got lost for words. However, sitting in the Stoat that evening, the protocol confused her: is it work or is it a social occasion? In other words, who did she have to be?

  The problem rattled around inside her head as she listened to her commander and her sergeant discussing Cornwallis’ latest idea.

  ‘Just need to use the facilities,’ announced MacGillicudy, pushing his chair back. ‘I’ll order some refills on the way.’

  Rose turned to Tiffany as the commander battered his way through the throng to the privy at the back of the pub. ‘You’re quiet, is there something on your mind?’ she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

  ‘Um, er,’ replied Tiffany hesitantly. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure I should be here.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ answered Rose. ‘Er… unless you don’t want to be here?’

  ‘That’s not the problem, no, but I’m here as a feeler, with my commander and sergeant. I’m not here with Rose and Jethro, am I?’

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean: rank or perception of rank. We’ve put you in an awkward position.’

  ‘A little bit of one,’ she admitted.

  ‘If it helps, I’m only Sergeant Morant when I put on the uniform; it’s more an honorary rank anyway. At all other times, I’m just Rose, a poor country girl who got lucky.’

  ‘So at the moment, you’re Rose?’

  ‘Yes, look, you respect the uniform, whoever’s in it at the time; when they’re not in uniform you can respect the person, or not, as the case may be. You’re here to help us, but not as a feeler, but as Tiffany who happens to be a feeler. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a friend who’s helping. In truth, it should be me feeling awkward, as socially, you far outrank me. You’re Lady Tiffany; I’m just plain Rose Morant from the sticks.’

  ‘I’m only that when I go home,’ replied Tiffany. ‘I left all that when I joined the force.’

  ‘Like Jack; does he swan around as Lord Jocelyn Cornwallis III?’

  ‘No, no, he doesn’t.’

  ‘In actual fact, if the question arises he says he’s just an Honourable. He hates titles, he even prefers just plain mister.’

  Tiffany sighed. ‘I know what he means. I used to be a stuck-up snotty little cow who used the title like a sledgehammer to get what I wanted. Now I’ve learnt that it’s people who matter. When I meet up with my old friends, I see how vacuous their lives really are. I don’t want to be part of that anymore. Mr Cornwallis, Jack, showed that I could do it. I never met him, but all my type knew of him, how he elbowed privilege away.’

  ‘Really? He’d be pleased to hear that, however, he hasn’t given it all up; he’s still stinking rich.’

  ‘So am I, but only a whiff, not a stink.’

  They shared a look and then a laugh just as MacGillicudy returned.

  ‘Beer will be over shortly, they’re a bit busy there. You taking advantage of my absence in order to take the piss?’

  ‘As if we would, Jethro,’ said Rose sincerely. ‘We were just talking about social rank.’

  ‘Ah, I haven’t got any. Plain old farming stock I am; by rights, I should have my arm stuck up a cow’s arse; mind, there ain’t much difference being Commander of Police: I’m still up to my neck in cack most of the time.’

  ‘You like that part of the job; you say it keeps you on your toes. But what we were on about is this: who are you now, sitting there?’

  MacGillicudy looked a little confused so Rose expanded.

  ‘Are you Commander MacGillicudy, Mr MacGillicudy or just plain Jethro?’

  ‘Oh, I see, one of them games; depends who I’m with.’

  ‘You’re with us.’

  ‘I know. I’m just getting to that bit; I’m all three.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Rose, surprised.

  ‘Yes, I have to be, whether I like it or not. I think I know why you’re asking the question.’ He looked at Tiffany as he spoke. ‘I want to be Jethro, but Felicity and Dewdrop will be here soon: what will happen if Constable Toopins calls me Jethro? What if he goes back to the Yard and lets slip that he sat in a pub with me and can now call me by my first name? I’ll tell you what; his life wouldn’t be worth living, that’s what. Everybody in that place will make his life a misery. What I want, doesn’t come into it, it’s what’s expected. I can
’t be seen to have favourites.’

  ‘But I just told Tiffany that it’s the uniform that matters, not the person.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true, but I have to wear the uniform all the time now, even when I’m not wearing it. It goes with the job. If I still had my sergeant’s stripes, then things would be different.’

  ‘He’s right,’ agreed Tiffany, butting in. ‘Commander MacGillicudy has to represent the police force all of the time.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Rose indignantly. ‘Anyway, you call me Rose, despite what he says.’

  ‘Unless you’re in uniform,’ added the commander.

  ‘All right, Jethro.’

  MacGillicudy grinned and looked back at Tiffany. ‘M’lady,’ he said as he doffed an imaginary cap.

  ‘Commander,’ replied Tiffany, with a regal inclination of her head.

  Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Now who’s taking the piss?’

  The door flew open and in walked Frankie with Dewdrop and Felicity in tow.

  ‘Three pints, Eddie,’ he bellowed at the heaving bar.

  Eddie raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  ‘You don’t do beer,’ said Dewdrop quietly to Felicity.

  ‘No, but don’t you dare tell him.’

  Frankie sat himself down and grinned at the three already there. ‘You not drinking?’

  ‘We’re waiting,’ replied Rose. ‘Jethro ordered them a couple of minutes ago.’

  ‘Oh, right. Jack not here?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No, but he’ll be back soon, he’s got a little task to do.’

  Felicity and Dewdrop squeezed in with a scraping of chairs.

  ‘What task?’ asked Frankie, bouncing up and down, eager for his pint.

  ‘To find whoever it was who Phimp met.’

  ‘Er, is that a proper sentence?’

  ‘It is now. Phimp met someone and Jack had to wait for darkness so he can put Fluffy on board.’

  ‘On board? On board what?’ asked Frankie bemused.

  ‘The ship.’

  ‘What ship?’

  ‘The ship on the river. Phimp went to this ship, but obviously, we couldn’t. So, we decided that Fluffy might like to be a ships’ cat for a night.’

  ‘Oh, right, I’m with you now. A ship, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, that’s strange.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, Brooksturner went and visited a place… What was it again, Dewdrop?’

  ‘An agent for travellers,’ replied Dewdrop. ‘They sell holidays across the sea.’

  ‘Yeah, one of them. Anyway, there were a guild office above it, and… C’mon, guess which guild.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but knowing you and the way you’re setting it up, it could be anything.’

  No, fairly obvious,’ said Frankie, grinning. ‘Go on, guess.’

  Rose sighed. ‘Fish merchants?’

  ‘Oh, come on, try a bit harder. Why do you say fish merchants?’

  ‘You mentioned an agent for overseas travel. Fish live in the sea, so…’

  ‘Nope. Go on, try again.’

  ‘Can’t be the coach drivers,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘The clue being travel, they’ve got their offices in Peabody Street, over a pawnbroker’s.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Frankie. ‘If you know where it is, why did you say it?’

  ‘Just playing along: coach drivers, travel, you know.’

  Frankie shook his head. ‘Right, I’ll make it easier for you; how do you travel across the sea?’

  ‘Boats,’ answered Rose.

  ‘Nearly,’ said Frankie. ‘Ships. It were the Guild of Ship Masters.’

  ‘Ship Masters?’

  ‘Yeah, said it were strange that you mentioned a ship. Ah, about bloody time,’ he said as a barmaid appeared with a tray of six pints. ‘Thank you, my darling,’ he said as he swiped one off the tray.

  ‘Give her a chance,’ said MacGillicudy as the pints wobbled.

  Frankie grinned. ‘As it’s a bit busy, my darling, could you get us another round, save us dying of thirst. Better get one in for when Jack gets back, and another one in case Isabella pops down and I’m a bit peckish so could you get us a bowl of nibbles too. Better make that two bowls, just to keep us going for a while. Is cheffy still here, because I wouldn’t mind something a bit more substantial?’

  ‘Sorry, Frankie,’ said the barmaid. ‘Chef buggered off as someone asked for a steak, well-done. He hit the roof and stormed out. He’ll probably be back tomorrow, though.’

  ‘That’s annoying, I fancied a kebab; now I’ll have to go and queue up out there with the rest of the drunkards.’

  ‘So what happened?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Chef walked out, didn’t you hear?’

  ‘No, not that. I mean the Ship Masters Guild.’

  ‘Oh, that? Nothing.’

  Felicity cast a withering glance at Frankie. ‘Except that Brooksturner went into that shop specifically. He went upstairs to meet someone from the guild and then went back to the Assembly. We couldn’t get access to the door at the back of the shop as the agent wouldn’t leave us alone.’

  ‘No, he were too busy trying to sell us a trip to Merca,’ added Dewdrop. ‘We must have been convincing because he kept shoving all these woodcuts of the place at us, saying we had to visit this place and that. Did you know they got this big statue stuck on an island in the port? Got its arm up, holding a big ice-cream cone; dunno why, it seems a strange thing to hold up, it’d melt in the sun, would an ice-cream cone.’

  ‘The agent said it represents freedom,’ added Felicity, with a sharp look at Dewdrop.

  ‘Yeah, he did; but what’s it got to do with a banana?’

  ‘Banana?’ asked MacGillicudy.

  ‘That’s what they call the city. The Big Banana. It looked more like an ice-cream cone to me.’

  ‘No, they don’t,’ said Felicity. ‘And it was a torch, Cecil. The Big Banana is a nickname for the city which is really called New Tork.’

  ‘Then why do they call it the Big Banana?’ asked MacGillicudy.

  ‘No one really knows,’ answered Felicity. ‘The agent said it had something to do with horse racing: could have been the shape of the track or a prize. Anyway, the name stuck, so now everyone calls it the Big Banana.’

  ‘Bloody expensive to get there,’ said Dewdrop. Weeks on a ship, apparently.’

  ‘Wouldn’t fancy that,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘Stuck on a ship with nothing to do but wait for the bloody thing to sink.’

  ‘I think it could be quite exciting,’ ventured Rose. ‘A new land to see and experience.’

  ‘That’s all right for you,’ replied MacGillicudy. ‘You can afford it.’

  ‘I can’t, but Jack could.’

  ‘Frankie did,’ said Dewdrop.

  ‘Sorry?’ exclaimed Frankie, his head whipping around. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You told us to behave as if we were buying a trip, so we did. Bought two tickets in your name.’

  ‘You did what?’ exploded Frankie, eyes out on stalks.

  ‘Yep, three thousand dollars, but you need to pay the deposit for us.’

  ‘You little bastard. You’d better start praying now, ‘cause you’re about to meet your gods,’ said Frankie, standing up with a face turning crimson.

  ‘He’s joking,’ interjected Felicity with her palms up in supplication. ‘We didn’t really.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  Frankie eyed Dewdrop menacingly. ‘That ain’t gonna stop me knocking seven shades o’ shit outa you, Cecil bloody Toopins.’

  ‘Sit down, Frankie,’ said Rose laughing along with everyone else. ‘He’s having a bit of fun.’

  ‘Fun? That’s not what I call fun.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘You should have seen the look on your face.’

  Frankie shot him a venomous look.

  ‘Puce, nice colour,’ observed Rose.<
br />
  ‘All right, all right, I’ll take the joke,’ said Frankie in the end. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can’t get my own back at some point. You have been warned, Toopins,’ he added, pointing a wagging finger. ‘This is war.’

  Dewdrop just grinned at his success in winding up Frankie, it had been a long time coming and the promised retribution would happen in the future, so he’d worry about that another time.

  Cornwallis appeared as if from nowhere, stood behind Rose then rested his hands on her shoulders before bending down and planting a kiss on top of her head.

  ‘I hope that’s who I think it is,’ she said, tilting her head back.

  ‘No, it’s his younger, better-looking brother,’ said Cornwallis. ‘Nice to see everyone here.’

  ‘What’ve you been up to, Jack?’ asked Frankie. ‘I asked earlier but Rose decided to be oblique; just said you had a task and something about Fluffy and a ship.’

  ‘Exactly, now is there a pint for me?’

  ‘Coming,’ replied Frankie.

  ‘Oh good: us seafarers need our tot.’

  ‘Seafaring?’

  ‘Sort of: Fluffy is now a ships’ cat. Took him over in a boat and chucked him on board: we’ll pick him up in the morning; unless he decides to stay.’

  ‘Ah, right.’

  ‘I told you all this,’ said Rose, looking pointedly at Frankie.

  ‘No, you didn’t. You didn’t say we had to pick him up in the morning,’ replied Frankie grinning. Anyway,’ he added turning back to Cornwallis. ‘Brooksturner went and saw the Guild of Ship Masters. Reckon the two are connected?’

  Cornwallis hardly hesitated. ‘They’ve got to be. I have a feeling we’re getting close to things now.’

  Chapter 31

  Cornwallis settled himself on the back thwart and held on to the rope with a half-smile on his lips, watching Frankie as he stepped into the wherry. Last night’s escapade flailing around with a couple of sticks showed he has severe limitations with regards to rowing and once or twice it had been a close call as he nearly pitched the whole thing over, cat and all, into the deep, dark and very unpleasant waters of the Sterkle. He had no intention of repeating the performance, especially in front of his friend.