Wortel closed the main door to the office so they would not be disturbed and settled himself at his desk for what was not going to be an easy conversation. Dorothy found the CCTV footage on her emails, slipped off her shoes, swung her legs up onto her desk and clicked play.
“Ho, Ho, Hullo,” boomed the jolly voice of Nicholas Claus.
“Sir, hello, its Detective Inspector Wortel here.”
“Wortel, good timing. I have just been briefed by Claudette and I have some news I need to share with you urgently.”
“That’s good,” replied Wortel, steadying himself for what he was about to say. “Can I just ask a couple of questions first please?”
“Of course, go ahead.”
“Where were you last night?”
Wortel sensed the change in the tone of Nicholas Claus voice. “I was at home with Mrs Claus trying to sober up Rudolph. What on earth makes you ask?”
Ignoring the question Wortel continued. “And sir, what’s the purpose of the syringe you carry about with you. You know, the one in the case which you left at my office in error.”
“Ah, now I can see what you are getting at Wortel. You wonder if I have anything to do with this affair. You are right, I did leave the case in error, but please do have it checked out. You’ll see that it is insulin. I am a diabetic Wortel, which shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise. Look at the size of me and think about what I have to eat when I do my yearly rounds. Cakes everywhere. Does anybody ever leave me a nice piece of fruit or a salad? No, it’s cakes, cakes and more cakes. Ho, Ho, Ho.”
As Wortel considered what he was hearing, Dorothy had come across the section of the CCTV which Oranges and Lemons had found interesting. Jumping up from her desk, she waved at Wortel to get his attention.
“Boss, get me on speakerphone quickly.”
“Er, Mr Claus, sorry to do this but I need to put you on speakerphone. My sergeant Dorothy Knox has something she needs to share.”
“Go ahead.”
Wortel pressed the telephone button and signalled to Dorothy to speak.
“Hello Mr Claus. We have some interesting CCTV footage. You’ll know that the speed cameras have been reduced to 15mph what with the mobility scooter drag racing.”
“Ah yes,” said Nicholas Claus. “Makes getting to Widdle for my undercover work quite the challenge.”
“Quite. Well, we have CCTV footage from outside of Goodeatery on the day of the murder. There are three people who have set off the speed cameras because they were running at over 20 mph.”
Wortel’s eyes widened. “Who can run that fast?”
It was Nicholas Claus that answered.
“Turkeys. It was Tarquinius Gallopava wasn’t it Dorothy?”
Dorothy looked at Wortel with a stunned look on her face. How did he know?
“Yes. The flash of the camera lit them up wonderfully. Well, it lit him up, the other two it was difficult to say. One has a sombrero and, Wortel, get this; the other had his castanets above his head.”
“I bet that hurt,” said Wortel, pulling a face at Dorothy who did her best not to burst out laughing.
Nicholas Claus continued oblivious to the innuendo happening at the other end of the phone. “I know who they are. They are his turkey henchmen. They do the dirty work. And Wortel, the drug that Dr Richards found, serotonin. That is a natural mind-altering substance found in turkeys that causes contentment and sleepiness. We’ve suspected Tarquinius was up to something as we knew he and Earl Grey had links, but we never knew what the connection was. I sent Mitchell to investigate Earl Grey and it seems he stumbled onto something much bigger. When Dr Richards identified serotonin it fell into place. Tarquinius must be selling serotonin to Earl Grey who has spiced it up and given it to his friends. That will explain why we have drummers drumming, lords a-leaping…”
“Got that bit sir,” said Wortel quickly before the whole thing started once more.
“Jolly good. I will hazard a guess that Earl Grey has not paid on his debts which is why he did a moonlight flit.”
“That makes sense,” Wortel agreed. “We’ll get a call out for his arrest immediately.”
“Not enough evidence Wortel,” said Nicholas Claus. “We need more proof. Look, I’ve some calls I need to make. Keep me informed.”
Dorothy looked at Wortel a concerned look on her face. “Boss, I think there is something else at play here.”
“What’s that Dorothy?”
“The referendum. I think he must have drugged the Minister for DAFaRT into agreeing to it. Do you remember he said on NewsFoodNight that he had a bruised arm.”
“My God, Dorothy you’re right. This whole affair is a sham. And to think, the population of this great country will be eating nut cutlets if we don’t act fast.”
“What do we do next?” she asked.
Wortel smiled at Dorothy. “I just so happen to be cooking up a plan.”
13
Why do you build me up, buttercup?
“Do you think this was a good idea boss?”
Wortel smiled at Dorothy. “What makes you think that I haven’t thought this through?”
They stood outside of Goodeatery waiting for Tarquinius Gallopava to arrive. Wortel had called the Pluck-It office and managed to speak with the Chief Turkey Gobbler in person. What Wortel had said led to Tarquinius gobbling away like a mad thing. This was either going to be a dream or an utter disaster.
“Did you manage to get hold of Oranges or Lemons?”
“No boss,” Dorothy replied looking at the mobile phone which she held in her left hand. “I’ve called and left voice messages for them both but neither one has replied.”
“Well that’s them done for. I want them gone now.”
Dorothy was on the verge of answering when a black limousine drove up, stopped and from the driver’s seat out stepped Tarquinius Gallopava. He strutted around in a circle, locked the car and head bobbing backwards and forwards headed towards the two officers from the Food Crime team.
“Your call was most unpleasant DI Wortel. And frankly, an outright lie.”
Wortel noticed how Tarquinius had kept his distance and was looking all around surveying the scene. Wortel had also noticed that he was alone and his two turkey henchmen were nowhere to be seen. He hoped the backup that Chief Superintendent Archibald had arranged had already picked them up.
“Chief Gobbler Gallopava, we have just a few questions to ask you about the murder of Mitchell the Mince Spy. We have evidence, which we stored behind us in Goodeatery which ties you to the scene.”
“What evidence?”
“Why don’t we go inside? Would you like to go first?”
“Unless you tell me what evidence you have, this meeting is over DI Wortel.”
Wortel set out his lie once more.
“We found feathers. Long white downy feathers all over the oven in which Mitchell was overbaked. We are confident that we can match those feathers to your coat.”
“Liar!” screamed Tarquinius, his temper flaring. “I never put that Mince Spy into the oven. That was done by men.”
“Thank you for the confession,” smiled Wortel. “Did you get that Dorothy?”
Dorothy held up the mobile phone in her hand which had recorded the conversation from the moment Tarquinius had arrived at Goodeatery. “Every word.”
Wortel looked at the great figure of Tarquinius Gallopava who had started to expand his wings to their full capacity.
“And yes sir, for the record you are correct. We do not have feathers in Goodeatery, but we have your confession which will be much firmer evidence than the CCTV of you running away from the crime scene on the day of the murder.”
Dorothy looked at Tarquinius who despite having just made a confession to the two police officers seemed to suddenly relax. In fact, it wasn’t just a smile that was developing on his face, but it was becoming full blown laughter. She looked at Wortel who also seemed to be distracted by the strange turn of events. And then, sound
ing distant to begin with, but getting ever nearer, was the distinct sound of someone shaking their castanets.
Wortel was the first to spin around finding himself face to face with a sombrero wearing turkey brandishing a syringe. Alongside him stood another turkey, not quite as tall, but shaking his castanets as though his life depended on it. Dorothy had also turned around and realising the danger they were in quickly typed a short text message.
Tarquinius Gallopava moved close and placed a soft, feathery arm on the shoulders of Wortel and Dorothy.
“Can I take it that the back up is no more?”
The turkey henchmen nodded.
“Excellent. Shall we dine?” he asked and directed the two Food Related Crime officers towards Goodeatery.
**********
Lemons nudged Oranges sharply in the rear. “We’ve got a text from Dorothy. It says: ‘IN TROUBLE. GOODEATERY. URGENT’.
“Right, we best go, besides this audition has gone on forever,” said Oranges, who trotted off stage quickly with Lemons right behind him.
“Should we change first?” Lemons queried.
“Dorothy said urgent. I don’t think there’s time.”
*********
The turkey henchmen prised open the door to Goodeatery and pushed Wortel and Dorothy inside.
“This way,” smiled Tarquinius. “I know just where I want you.”
**********
Oranges ran from the theatre audition and stopped sharply on the pavement. Lemons, who was just behind, ran straight into the back of him.
“Watch where you are going,” cried Oranges.
“How can I?” Lemons wailed. “I can’t see a thing in this outfit.”
**********
Tarquinius Gallopava stood in front on a large door sealed shut with a long bolt handle.
Detective Inspector Willie Wortel, for the first time in his life, said a silent goodbye to his loved ones.
**********
A group of eight female fugitives sat huddled in the corner of a small cafe, when passing by right in front of them, ran a cow called Buttercup heading in the direction of Scottie Rodgers restaurant Goodeatery.
They paid their bill and headed out onto the street.
**********
The door was unbolted and DI Wortel forced inside.
“And you can stand here and watch your boss freeze to death,” whispered Tarquinius into the ear of Dorothy Knox, who stood, turkey henchmen on either side of her, powerless to help.
**********
“Will you get your hands off my udders?” cried a somewhat pained Lemons.
“Eight maids a-milking,” sang the eight maids a-milking.
**********
The cold from the freezer room pierced Wortel’s peel almost immediately.
He looked around to see if he could find anything to help keep him warm.
Nothing.
**********
The chase was on.
The cow with the painful udders, played so admirably by Oranges and Lemons, had freed itself from the eight maids a-milking, and was sprinting towards Goodeatery.
The maids a-milking still felt they had some work to do and were in hot pursuit.
**********
Brussels sprouts on a stick. Peas in pods. Mini sausage rolls.
All useless.
Wortel opened another crate and jumped back in horror.
Frozen carrots.
**********
Dorothy began looking around hoping to find a way of helping Wortel.
Tarquinius pressed the syringe to her neck so she felt its point.
“Your time will come my dear.”
‘Where the hell are Oranges and Lemons?’ she wondered to herself.
**********
“Lemons, I can see Goodeatery. We’re almost there.”
“What about the maids a-milking?”
Oranges glanced over his shoulder. The eight maids who wanted to milk were making up ground.
“Keep running Lemons, I’ll see if I can find an opening.”
“You ought to be where I am,” said Lemons, the back-end of the cow.
**********
Wortel looked through the small window and saw the face of Dorothy Knox staring back at him.
She was crying.
“Goodbye,” Wortel said, and sat down on the floor, the coldness having chilled him so much that he just wanted to sleep.
**********
Oranges spotted the door which the turkey henchmen had forced open and he veered towards it.
Lemons felt his partner change direction and did his best to keep up, although it had slowed him down without a doubt.
As they entered Goodeatery, the maids a-milking pounced.
**********
Dorothy Knox watched her boss, her friend, her confidant, Detective Inspector Willie Wortel mouth goodbye and sit down out of view. Her tears became sobs drowning out the sound of the castanets being played by the turkey henchmen to her right.
But her sobs did not drown out the commotion from further down the kitchen.
**********
“For the last time Madam, get your hands off my udders. I am a fruit police officer, not a cow.”
“Oh isn’t she amusing,” said one of the maids a-milking, yanking at the pantomime cow for all she was worth. “You are a lovely cow.”
“Bullocks,” replied Lemons.
“No a cow, really,” the maid a-milking retorted.
**********
Tarquinius Gallopava had to admit it. Never in all of his years had he stood in a restaurant kitchen with two other turkeys, one playing the castanets, one wearing a sombrero while a carrot detective was freezing to death in the store. And certainly never with a pantomime cow, being milked by eight maids, running straight for him.
**********
The collision was epic.
Not only did feathers fly, but the head of the cow flew off Oranges and went straight up in the air. Lemons pulled himself out from his part of the costume and stood, half Lemon, half cow.
The maids a-milking, fearing the drugs given to them by Earl Grey had gone dangerously wrong, screamed and ran from Goodeatery as fast as their legs would carry them.
With the turkeys scrambling to their feet, Dorothy sensed her opportunity, ran forwards and grabbed the bolt which sealed the freezing cold store room. She pulled the door open and saw Wortel lying on the floor in a state of unconsciousness. She could only hope any warmth from the kitchen would be enough to bring him around.
**********
Tarquinius was first to his feet and he swung his winged arms towards Oranges who managed to duck out of the way. Tarquinius gobbled, and stalked after the food sapiens officer. Lemons, watching his fellow fruit officer did what any half-dressed lemon-cum-cow would do and mooed.
It was enough to make Tarquinius stop and turn around giving Oranges the chance to escape.
**********
The turkey henchman with the castanets was next to his feet. Well for as long as it took for Dorothy to land a firm right hook to his jaw, sending him sprawling to floor.
God those castanets had annoyed her since they were first mentioned in Chapter One.
**********
The turkey henchman with the sombrero did not last too much longer after that, for Oranges and Lemons grabbed a large roasting pan and together swung it with all of their might onto the top of his head as he was trying to gather his whereabouts.
He slumped back to the floor.
**********
Tarquinius on the other hand was a much different proposition. He was taller, faster, and much more dangerous than the other two. And although Dorothy, Oranges and Lemons outnumbered him, they were in some danger.
Tarquinius battered away the roasting tin which Oranges and Lemons wielded and edged the three Food Related Crime officers towards a dark corner of the Goodeatery kitchen.
**********
A strange sensation was coming over him.
And his legs.
He was alive.
**********
Dorothy pushed Oranges and Lemons behind her.
“The protective mother until the last,” Tarquinius mocked. “But you are no match for me, the last bastion of freedom for the Turkey population.”
**********
‘This will have to do’ he thought to himself as he stepped back into the world.
‘Now or never.’
**********
Tarquinius had raised himself to his full height. With just a few blows from his wings and Dorothy, Oranges and Lemons would be no more.
“Can we just have one final comment?” Dorothy asked of Tarquinius.
“Go ahead.”
Dorothy looked at Oranges and Lemons and nodded. Although no words had been spoken between them, they all knew what to do.
“He’s behind you!” they cried.
“Oh no he’s not,” he cried back dismissively.
“Oh yes I am,” said a thawing Detective Inspector Wortel.
**********
Tarquinius Gallopava spun on the spot and saw Wortel standing positioned, Brussels sprouts on a stick in hand, ready for action. Wielding it like a kendo stick, battle ensued.
**********
Tarquinius began using his wings like chopping machines while Wortel matched his every move with the Brussels sprouts on a stick. And yet while Wortel was matching Tarquinius blow for blow, he seemed to be deliberately walking back from where he had just come.
**********
Dorothy, Oranges and Lemons followed the battle as it moved back towards the freezer store room.
What on earth was Wortel up to?
And then she saw what he had left on the kitchen side for her.
**********
As they approached the freezer room, Tarquinius noticed that his two turkey henchmen were missing.
He looked at Wortel, a flash of confusion crossing his face for the first time.
Wortel nodded towards the freezer room where on the floor lay the two unconscious turkey henchmen that Wortel had dragged in moments before.
An enraged Tarquinius roared and ran forwards, wings beating a path towards Wortel.
Who Killed the Mince Spy? Page 6