“How can we be sure we will get full disclosure from your team?” Archibald pressed, playing hardball with the man they now knew to be the infamous Secret Santa.
“Because Claudette is already on her way here to be interviewed by your team. Make no mistake Archibald, I know you have a talented team and I respect what you have achieved.”
Archibald ignored the flattery. “Claudette?”
“Yes. She is another of my agents. She is a clandestine cranberry and also Mitchell’s lover. I have told her to answer all of your questions frankly wherever that may lead.”
Archibald considered what he heard, extended his hand, and made the deal with Secret Santa.
“Now, one last thing,” Nicholas said as he picked up his coat. “Can I see Rudolph please?”
As the team filed out of the Food Related Crime office towards the lift in order to take Nicholas Claus to where Rudolph was being held, nobody noticed that sitting on the edge of Wortel’s desk was the long, thin case that Nicholas Claus had placed there just a few minutes earlier.
**********
As they waited for the lift, Lemons tugged at Nicholas Claus big red coat.
“Excuse me Santa, can I ask you something?”
“Of course little fellow. Ask anything you like. Would you like to sit on my knee? Ho, Ho, Ho.”
Lemons eyed Santa suspiciously. “I’ll take a rain check on that thanks,” he said not hiding the nervousness that had appeared in his voice. “No, I wanted to ask whether you can fly anywhere in the world you want?”
“Yes I can.”
“And you can get anything you want, any time?”
Nicholas Claus was becoming a little impatient with Lemons and also the lift which was taking forever to arrive.
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“Why do you have a Widdle store card? I mean, why Widdle? Are you someone who is incontinent?”
Everyone looked at Nicholas Claus while taking a step back and checking the floor.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he cried. “No, I am on an undercover mission myself. I have discovered that some of my staff are moonlighting at Widdle and I have been trying to catch them out.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. No wet feet today.
“Any luck with that?” asked Lemons.
“Yes actually. I’ve found some of my toymakers were working at Widdle and were becoming overzealous in giving out orders.”
“Doing what?” asked Dorothy, intrigued with where this was heading.
“You’ll never guess,” he said as the lift finally arrived and the doors opened.
“No I won’t,” she replied. “What were they doing?”
Nicholas Clause laughed once more as he stepped into the lift with Chief Superintendent Archibald and Detective Inspector Wortel. As the doors began to close he looked at Dorothy and winked.
“Elf and safety.”
**********
Rudolph was sobering up pretty quickly. As he stood in his cell and looked at portly figure that stared back at him he decided that he could still pass off for being drunk for one last song.
“Oh Jingle Bells, Santa smells
Working at Widdle all day
Ankle deep in piss
Life ain’t no bliss
But what can people say, hey…”
10
A clandestine cranberry
With a semi-sober Rudolph escorted from the premises by Nicholas Claus, the head honcho of the Food Sapiens Secret Service and the man now known to be Secret Santa, Wortel and Dorothy sat in a small interview room opposite a young, bright red little cranberry who answered to the name of Claudette.
It was clear Claudette had been crying as juice marks ran all down her shiny peel. Dorothy handed her a tissue and rested her hand on Claudette’s giving it a small squeeze. Not too hard mind as they didn’t want cranberry sauce marks in the interview room, which had just been redecorated a fetching shade of shocking pink. Thinking that it would be rude to interview Claudette in sunglasses, Wortel removed them from his face, squinted at the brightness of the walls and tentatively began his interview.
“I understand Nicholas Claus has explained why you are here?”
Claudette nodded, seemingly too upset to speak at this stage.
“We are truly sorry for your loss. I want to assure you that we will do everything we can to bring whoever did this to justice.”
Another nod.
“You’ve worked for the Food Sapiens Secret Service for how long now?”
“Four years.”
“And you’ve known Mitchell all of that time?”
“No. Just for the last eighteen months.”
“What can you tell us about the work of the Secret Service?”
“Well, we normally wouldn’t discuss specifics but Mr Claus has said on this occasion I can make an exception. What would you like to know?”
“What active cases you are working on. What cases Mitchell was working on. Anything you think might be relevant.”
Claudette took a moment as she thought how best to respond without breaching any national secrets. Wortel studied her face and saw the grief lines etched around her eyes and mouth. He also noticed she had composed herself slightly and that she would be able to give them the information they sought.
“I have been working on two cases recently. One has just ended but the other is ongoing. I had been working with other food sapiens on the apparent disappearance of Hector, some beluga caviar, who we think has defected to Russia. I went undercover with food sapiens agents from the custard division, the sponge finger division and the cream division, but things never worked out how we expected.”
“How come?”
“One thing went wrong after another and we ended up in a trifle difficulty.”
Wortel and Dorothy exchanged looks as Claudette continued.
“My on-going case is working with Morag, a fine strong Dundee cake. She is undercover trying to infiltrate groups who want to create an independent food sapiens state within the UK. She is doing a fine job right now but I can’t see how that is connected to the murder of Mitchell.”
Wortel hated to admit it, but neither could he.
“And what about any cases Mitchell was working on?”
“Ah yes, now this is where I think we may have a lead,” she said, becoming more animated than she had at any time during the interview. “Mitchell was investigating Earl Grey, the tea baron.”
“The Earl Grey!” exclaimed Dorothy.
“The very one.”
Dorothy suddenly looked slightly flushed.
“What’s up with you?” asked Wortel.
“Nothing, nothing,” she replied rather too quickly. “Just that I was reading a book of his recently.”
“Fifty Shades of Earl Grey?” asked Claudette.
Dorothy blushed.
“Don’t worry. It’s doing the rounds at the Secret Service now. What number are you up?”
“Forty-two.”
Wortel hadn’t heard of this book at all and while the ladies were talking he had quickly scanned the internet for information. He found the page he was seeking.
“Says here it is an erotic book,” he said.
“Not your sort of thing,” Dorothy replied.
“Come on, I’m no prude. What’s number forty-two when it’s at home?”
“The shade of Earl Grey number forty-two is Gnat’s Piss.”
“And what’s so erotic about that?” said Wortel looking increasingly confused.
Dorothy and Claudette exchanged a look before Wortel’s human colleague answered.
“Number forty-two, Gnat’s Piss. What looks uninspiring and weak on the outside might be different when you get it in your mouth.”
As Wortel blushed yellow, the colour carrots turn when embarrassed, there was a knock at the door and Dr Richards entered.
“Wortel, I’ve found something. May I have a word please?
Wortel quickly waved Dr Richards into th
e interview room and encouraged her to sit down.
“Dr Richards, this is Claudette who works at the Food Sapiens Secret Service. She is helping us with our enquiries into Mitchell’s death. We’ve agreed with Nicholas Claus that there will be full disclosure, so anything you’ve found we can share.”
Wortel turned to Claudette. “Would you mind reporting this information to Nicholas Claus?”
“Of course,” she said, taking out a small notepad and pen.
Dr Richards nodded and opened her folder.
“I was conducted my preliminary autopsy report when I found a strange mark on the back of Mitchell’s neck. It seemed to be a small scratch to his shortcrust skin and on further examination I found it was a needle mark.”
Wortel held up his hand to stop Dr Richards.
“How on earth did you see that? I mean he was quite badly burnt.”
Claudette let out a gasp, her hand trembling at what Wortel had said. Feeling his stomach knot at his own insensitivity, Wortel mumbled an apology before turning back to Dr Richards.
“The griddle to which Mitchell was tied meant that not all of his shortcrust pastry was as damaged as the rest of him. We caught a break in that the needle mark was on a part of his neck that ended up protected to some degree by the griddle. Anyway, that’s not all.”
Dr Richards broke out into a large smile, which she often had to do in order to fill her overly large face. Against the backdrop of the shocking pink wall she was quite the sight.
“When I found the needle mark I immediately stopped the autopsy and tried to find out if he was drugged. So I took a sample of his mincemeat to toxicology and asked them to fast track the results. And he was drugged. Serotonin.”
“And what’s that?” asked Wortel.
“No idea. I’ve never heard of it before. Toxicology is going to try and get to the bottom of it but they are pretty snowed under at the moment.”
Claudette sat forward. “I’ve heard of Serotonin but I can’t remember why. Wortel, can I head back to my department please and I will call you as soon as I have some news?”
“Yes, good idea.”
After Claudette and Dr Richards had left the interview room Wortel and Dorothy sat looking at each other.
“Dorothy,” he said quietly. “I haven’t a clue what’s going on here.”
“I know the feeling,” she replied. “What do you think we should do next?”
“Tea,” he replied.
“Good idea. I’ll have an extra scoop of sugar in mine.”
“No, don’t be daft. I mean tea. Earl Grey. I think we should pay him a visit.”
Dorothy sat upright in her seat and started running her hand through her hair getting it into place.
“Now you’re talking Wortel. Now you’re talking.”
**********
Wortel and Dorothy walked back into the Food Related Crime offices to find them completely empty. Oranges and Lemons were nowhere to be seen.
“Have they left for good do you think?” Wortel asked hopefully as he sat himself back down at his desk.
Dorothy had herself walked across to the team whiteboard and had removed a note which they had left for her.
“No such luck,” she replied. “They’ve left a note to say that they were reviewing the CCTV and have stopped it an interesting point which they think we should look at. They said they will be back later but they got a call from the head of auditioning at Jack and the Baked Bean Stalker. He wanted to see them so they have rushed off.”
Wortel sat back in his seat and shook his head. In the middle of a murder investigation his two fruit officers had rushed off to a pantomime audition. Shocking. And yet more shocking was that for some reason it didn’t surprise him as much it probably should have done.
11
Earl Grey has gone away
“Shall we check the CCTV now or when we come back from Earl Grey’s?” Dorothy asked.
“The last time they wanted us to look at something interesting they found on CCTV, it turned out to be a dog and his owner who looked alike. They found that funny for days,” replied Wortel, the tone of his voice already answering Dorothy’s question.
Dorothy pulled a pained expression remembering the incident only too well.
“Later it is then,” she said as she picked up her handbag and headed for the exit.
Wortel stood from his desk and was about to follow his colleague when he saw the small, thin box that had been left on the edge of his desk. Adorning the case, in gold lettering, were the initials N.C.
“What’s that?” Dorothy queried heading over to Wortel who was looking all around the casing.
“Not a foggiest, but it seems it belongs to Nicholas Claus.”
“Are you going to open it?”
“Dorothy Knox! Do you think I am going to open the personal belongings of the head of the Food Sapiens Secret Service?”
Dorothy’s jaw set and she fixed Wortel with a glowering look.
“Okay,” he replied. “Of course I am going to open it.”
Unhooking the lock, Wortel lifted the lid and saw inside a long, sharp syringe and a small bottle which contained what appeared to be a white, yellowy substance.
**********
The short drive to Earl Grey’s home was conducted in silence. Dorothy drove while Wortel stared out of the window thinking about the syringe that remained on the edge of his desk.
Was Nicholas Claus somehow involved in this affair?
**********
As they approached the large town house belonging to Earl Grey, Wortel and Dorothy noticed the street had been blocked off by a string of police cars. Just beyond the cordon were a number of large police vans, normally reserved for incidents involving large crowds.
Dorothy parked the car and walked with Wortel towards the scene. Wortel took out his identification and flashed it at the officer who was preventing passers-by from walking through.
“You get a kick out of that don’t you?”
“Might,” said Wortel a definite spring in his step.
“Power corrupts you know.”
As the food sapiens detective and his homo sapiens sergeant arrived outside of Earl Grey’s home the police were carting off twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping and nine ladies dancing. Of those, Wortel noticed that they were carrying seven swans a-swimming, albeit without water so it was quite difficult, six geese a-laying, some of the ladies – five in fact – had gold rings. Wortel also thought he saw four calling birds, three French hens and two turtle doves.
He turned to Dorothy. “Thank God there wasn’t a partridge in a pear tree,” he said. “That would’ve conjured up memories of ‘Addicted to Death’ – our last story which was published.”
“Wouldn’t it just,” said Dorothy. “And to think, that’s another reference to our debut book that’s been made in this short story. Do you think we could get in any more references?”
“I think that’s pushing it,” replied Wortel. “Don’t want to upset the readers too much.”
“Fair point,” she acknowledged. “Back to this story.”
Wortel called across to the lead police officer. “Have you got everybody out?”
“Everyone that we could find,” he replied. “There was one group that got away. Around eight females. If you see them do let us know as soon as possible.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Wortel asked signalling to the drummers drumming, the pipers piping, the lords a-leaping, the ladies dancing who were carrying swans a-swimming, geese a-laying, while wearing gold rings, as well as holding calling birds, French hens and turtle doves. But for the record, not a partridge in a pear tree.
“To be frank, they are smacked off their faces. Drugs of some kind, not sure what though. We’ve never seen behaviour like this. The neighbour called it in.” The police office nodded to the building next door where the curtain flicked closed as Dorothy looked in that direction.
“He said he was fed u
p with the noise since Earl Grey rushed off abroad.”
“Abroad?” asked Wortel.
“Yes. He is a frequent visitor to China apparently and he rushed off early hours this morning. The neighbour said there was a little bit of disturbance last night. Seems someone was trying to get into the flats to speak to Earl Grey but he wouldn’t answer. Then first thing this morning, Earl Grey has rushed off to China. We’ve checked immigration and they have confirmed his departure on a private jet.”
“Did the neighbour get a description by any chance?”
“Not a good one. Said he saw a lot of white, but couldn’t see too much more. He said he thought he heard a soft rustling noise though, he thought maybe even castanets.”
“Castanets? Really?”
The police officer looked at Wortel. “Yes that’s what he said but I wouldn’t rely on it too much. I mean after all, how could you distinguish castanets over the sound of the twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping and nine ladies dancing. And of those…”
“Yes, yes,” said Wortel turning on his heel quickly. “I think we know how that one ends.”
12
Flash bang wallop, oh what a picture
“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Dorothy asked as she pulled the car away from Earl Grey’s home.
“That you want to put the Engleburger Humperdinck CD on the radio again?”
“No,” she replied, although she never admitted that the thought had crossed her mind. “I was thinking about what the neighbour saw. Lots of white at Earl Grey’s door. Could be a long beard you know. And we found the syringe in the office. Wortel. It’s all pointing towards Nicholas Claus, you know that don’t you?”
Wortel did know that. And he had no good response so left the question hanging in the air like a bad smell. The kind you get when cauliflower has been stewed. Or just cooked actually.
**********
Arriving back at the office they found Oranges and Lemons still absent. Neither Wortel nor Dorothy was complaining.
“Look. I’m going to call Nicholas Claus,” Wortel said. “You check the CCTV.”
Who Killed the Mince Spy? Page 5