by Laura James
‘Be my guest,’ replied Duff, replacing his pencil behind his ear. ‘If you think you can do a better job.’
‘I know I can,’ replied Fabio. ‘It is all just a matter of logic.’
Fabio returned to the judges’ table. This time, however, it was for the much more serious matter of determining not talent but the truth.
Interviewing the witnesses was made doubly difficult by the simple fact that the crime had happened in the dark. Just as he had suspected, the accounts were varied and confused. Fabio asked the questions while Gilbert took notes.
In the end the list of potential suspects was thin.
Enid
Enid: ‘Well, I’d just completed a sleeve. Sleeves are always my downfall so I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. The hippo was on the stage and then it went dark, and that’s all I can tell you.’
Fabio: ‘I understand your godson is the dancing cheetah called Carl, and that he is the star pupil at your ballet academy. Were you trying to increase his chances of success by getting Julia out of the competition?’
Enid: ‘Of course not! He’s got natural talent, that boy. He’ll go far with or without this two-bit competition.’
Fabio: ‘But a win for him would give your ballet academy much needed publicity, would it not?’
Enid: ‘Maybe.’
George Percy the Third
Fabio: ‘Did I hear you trying to do a deal on a nearly new car with the elephant in the magic act?’
George Percy the Third: ‘You may have done. I do deals all the time.’
Fabio: ‘Did you tell him you’d “get rid of the competition” to increase their chances?’
George Percy the Third: ‘Who told you that?’
Fabio: ‘I can’t reveal my sources.’
George Percy the Third: ‘It’s that bird, Enid, you need to be questioning. I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her, and that’s not very far, ’cos I’ve done my back in.’
Fabio: ‘How do you think Enid could have kidnapped a hippo?’
George Percy the Third: ‘Ballerinas are much stronger than they look. Even retired ones.’
Violet
Fabio: ‘Did you kidnap Julia because you were worried she was better at singing than you are?’
Violet: ‘Of course not. I’m very confident in my abilities as a singer. She’s no competition for me!’
Fabio: ‘You took a long time calling the police. Time enough to hide Julia, perhaps?’
Violet: ‘It wasn’t my fault. The police took a long time to answer their telephone!’
The General
Fabio: ‘What made you turn up at the hotel when you have a cold?’
The General: ‘I heard the siren on the police cars, so I thought I’d check out what was going on.’
Fabio: ‘Is your cold better?’
The General: ‘ACHOOOOO! No, no better. I really ought to be in bed.’
Fabio: ‘Why did Violet select you to be a judge of the contest, do you think?’
The General: ‘I like to follow the arts. I used to take to the stage quite a lot when I was a youngster. You know, pantomime, that sort of thing.’
Ernest
Fabio: ‘Did you kidnap Julia?’
Ernest: ‘No, I didn’t. Why would I kidnap the only contestant who showed any sense of musicality? It would be madness!’
Fabio: ‘Fair point.’
Smith
Fabio: ‘From your vantage point in the wings, did you see anything significant?’
Smith: ‘I couldn’t see anything. The lights went out.’
‘We don’t seem to be getting anywhere,’ said Gilbert, miserably packing away his notebook and disguise. ‘I couldn’t get a word out of Julia’s band. And as for that elephant, he couldn’t remember anything. Shall we go for a lemonade?’
‘Slow down, my friend. I haven’t questioned you yet.’
‘But I didn’t do it!’ said Gilbert. ‘If you thought I’d done it why did you tell Duff to let me go?’
‘I know you didn’t do it,’ said Fabio.
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Gilbert.
‘But you may have noticed something without realising,’ Fabio explained.
‘Oh, right,’ said Gilbert.
‘Tell me what you saw.’
‘Well, Julia was on the stage, with her band, about to sing. You, George Percy the Third and Enid were at your little judging table. Violet was by Ernest the accompanist.’
‘Who else?’
‘The magician and his son were backstage, packing up, and the other contestants had sat down to listen to Julia sing. And, of course, Smith was on the other side of the stage to me, in the wings.’
‘Anything else?’ asked Fabio.
Gilbert thought hard. ‘Now you come to mention it, there was something a bit odd. A shadow.’
‘A shadow?’
‘Yes, on the other side of the ballroom, near the doors,’ said Gilbert. ‘I only saw it out of the corner of my eye, before the lights went out.’
‘Mmm,’ mused Fabio. ‘There is always the possibility that Julia wasn’t kidnapped at all.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Gilbert. ‘She has gone missing, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but it could have been staged,’ replied Fabio. ‘With no offence to Julia, you’d have to be very strong to kidnap a hippo.’
‘It was quick too,’ said Gilbert.
‘Yes,’ agreed Fabio, narrowing his eyes. ‘You’d have to be very strong or very clever.’
The following day happened to be the biggest day in the Laloozee athletics calendar: the Gold Cup. Famous athletes from across the land had gathered to compete in track and field. Gilbert was a big fan of the event, and in a moment of weakness Fabio had agreed to attend the meeting with his friend.
Fabio was not a sports fan, but he was someone who always stuck to his word. He reasoned that he could use the time to think about the evidence so far in the case of Julia’s disappearance. And, knowing as he did that his key suspects would themselves be attending the games, he did not count it as wasted time.
Gilbert’s car screeched to a stop outside Fabio’s office on Plume Street. Fabio dusted himself off and cautiously climbed in.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Gilbert cheerily. ‘There’s a real buzz in town today. Everyone’s hoping the record is going to be broken for the 100-metre sprint.’
Fabio was about to respond when Gilbert put his foot on the accelerator and they sped off. By the time they reached the track, Fabio had turned a nice shade of green.
‘Here we are!’ said Gilbert. ‘I’ve got us trackside seats – I’ll show you.’
‘Oh good,’ replied Fabio unconvincingly.
The stadium was already full, and Gilbert took Fabio through all the different events. The long jump was taking place not far from where they were sitting. Two athletes were competing for the gold medal – a gazelle who had excellent technique, and a young lioness who, although scrappy in the air, was doing surprisingly well.
‘The gazelle will win of course,’ said Gilbert knowledgeably. ‘She already has two gold medals to her name.’
‘I disagree,’ replied Fabio.
Sure enough, when the competitors attempted their final two jumps, the gazelle had a ‘no jump’ and the lioness jumped a personal best to take gold.
‘How did you know that was going to happen?’ asked Gilbert.
‘It was just a matter of observation,’ replied Fabio. ‘The gazelle had a very slight limp and kept looking across at her coach, while the lioness seemed to be more self-assured. I knew it was her day.’
It wasn’t only the long jump where Fabio was one step ahead of the crowd. He correctly predicted the winners of the shot-put and pole vault and the winning tug-of-war team.
Gilbert was amazed. ‘You seem to know everything before it happens,’ he said. ‘Still, the winner of the 100-metre sprint is assured. No prizes for guessing that one. See that ostrich over there.’ Fabio
followed his friend’s gaze as the athletes taking part in the final and most celebrated race of the day came on to the track. ‘He’s called …’
‘Jay Jay Swift.’
‘How did you know that?’ asked Gilbert.
‘It’s here in the programme,’ confessed Fabio with a laugh. ‘Did you also know that both George Percy the Third’s garage and Enid’s Ballet Academy are sponsors of the race?’
‘I didn’t,’ replied Gilbert, looking over Fabio’s shoulder at the programme.
‘The prize money is huge too,’ Fabio added, reading on.
Seven athletes were taking their places on the track when the commentator announced a surprise last-minute entry: ‘In lane eight, we have Hugo “the Tank” Atkins.’
There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd as a rather unfit-looking rhino took his place in lane number eight.
‘How strange,’ said Gilbert. ‘I’ve never heard of him. He doesn’t look like a sprinter. Still, it won’t affect the outcome. Everyone’s here to see Swift beat his own record.’
Fabio studied the athletes carefully as they were introduced. His eyes narrowed. Though they were waving to the crowd or doing their stretches in preparation for the race, they all seemed unnaturally subdued. One athlete, a panther in lane two, even yawned.
They crouched down at the starter’s orders and on the gun the race began.
First out of the blocks was the Tank. He was huffing and puffing and taking the smallest of steps, but somehow he took the lead.
The panther from lane two was being helped along by a leopard in lane three. A wildebeest in lane six was lying down, snoring. Jay Jay Swift was trying to give chase to the Tank, but he was getting nowhere.
‘They’re all half asleep!’ said Fabio.
It was true. The only competitor even approaching the finishing line was the Tank. After a painfully long time and a lot of puffing and perspiring, Hugo ‘the Tank’ Atkins won the 100-metre sprint in the slowest recorded time ever of one minute thirty-seven seconds.
The onlookers were so confused they forgot to cheer.
Once the other athletes had been helped over the line, the announcer’s voice came over the tannoy.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the presentation podium where Hugo “the Tank” Atkins will receive his gold medal!’
Fabio and Gilbert arrived just in time to see the General barge her way through the crowd and into the prize-giving area.
‘Curious!’ exclaimed Gilbert. ‘What does the General have to do with the Tank?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Fabio. ‘But doesn’t she look well? Her cold seems to have cleared up nicely.’
‘This is an outrage,’ hissed George Percy the Third, slithering his way through the throng towards Fabio. ‘I’m going to request a stewards’ enquiry.’
‘This race has been rigged!’ It was Enid, hot on his tail. For the second time in two days they were in agreement. ‘The Tank has never won a race in his life. It was only because the other athletes were half asleep that he took first place.’
‘The General’s only been training him for a week,’ added George Percy. ‘And now she’s going to take half his prize money. Where has she been hiding him anyway? He didn’t pay to stay at the Athletes’ Village like the other competitors.’
‘This sounds very suspicious,’ said Fabio, tipping his hat to Enid and George Percy the Third. ‘Gilbert, we’ve got work to do.’
‘But shouldn’t we be looking for Julia?’ asked Gilbert, as they walked through the Athletes’ Village.
‘Certainly,’ said Fabio.
‘Oh,’ replied Gilbert, confused. ‘I thought we were trying to find out why the Tank won the 100–metre sprint.’
‘We are doing both,’ replied Fabio.
The accommodation for the athletes was top of the range, but Fabio and Gilbert were not going to get to the VIP residence reserved for the sprinters without a little help. Fabio had arranged for George Percy the Third and Enid to meet them at the entrance. Being sponsors, they had access to this exclusive part of the village.
‘You’re going to solve this mystery, aren’t you, Fabio?’ asked Enid. ‘Sponsoring a rigged race reflects badly on my ballet academy.’
‘And on my garage,’ added George Percy.
‘That’s already got a bad reputation,’ sniped Enid.
George Percy definitely stuck his tongue out at her this time.
Once Fabio and Gilbert were safely inside, George Percy and Enid left them to it.
There were bedrooms off a long corridor and at the far end was a room marked PRESIDENTIAL SUITE. All the rooms had DO NOT DISTURB signs, and Fabio and Gilbert could hear the occupants snoring away.
‘Let’s see who’s in the Presidential Suite,’ suggested Fabio.
Gilbert knocked on the door for him. There was no response.
He knocked again and then tried the door. It was locked.
‘We’re going to have to break the door down,’ said Fabio.
Gilbert picked up a nearby potted plant and was about to launch himself at the door when he was interrupted.
‘What brings you here, gentlemen?’ It was the General.
‘We wanted to see the athletes’ accommodation,’ lied Fabio. ‘We’re thinking of becoming sponsors.’
‘We are?’ beamed Gilbert, nonchalantly putting the plant down.
Fabio kicked his ankle.
‘We are,’ Gilbert agreed.
‘That’s very interesting,’ said the General. ‘You couldn’t ask for better, and now that dear Tankie has won a medal he can afford to stay here too. But I must ask you to leave. This area is for authorised persons only.’
The General turned and strode purposefully down the corridor, fully expecting Fabio and Gilbert to follow her.
‘I’ve spilled some soil on the carpet,’ said Gilbert anxiously. ‘I’d better clear it up.’
‘Leave it, Gilbert. You’ve given me an idea.’
As they followed the General back down the corridor, Fabio spotted a plate outside one of the rooms.
‘Pick that up,’ he whispered to Gilbert.
‘Oh, cake!’ said Gilbert. ‘My favourite.’
‘Don’t eat it!’ Fabio grabbed the cake from Gilbert, noticing as he did so the distinctive gold emblem of the Hotel Royale on the china. ‘That’s evidence.’
Fabio and Gilbert returned to the ballroom at the Hotel Royale. Fabio wanted to test a theory he’d come up with on the way back from the Gold Cup and he needed Gilbert’s help.
‘Why are we here?’ asked Gilbert suspiciously. ‘Are you hoping to find more clues about Julia’s disappearance? Do you know where she is yet?’
‘You are full of questions,’ said Fabio, leading Gilbert on to the stage. ‘Stand there for me and pretend you’re Julia.’
Gilbert stood where he was told, wriggled his bottom and pouted his lips a little.
‘It’s OK,’ said Fabio, from the wings, ‘I meant just stand there. That’s it, take one step forward …’
‘Aaaaargh!’ Gilbert yelled as he fell through a trapdoor on the stage.
‘Sorry!’ said Fabio. ‘Wrong lever.’
Gilbert’s head was now poking out of a hole in the floor.
Fabio pulled the lever next to it and raised Gilbert back to the level of the stage.
‘There are levers in the wings which operate a false floor,’ Fabio explained. ‘You often have them in theatres, so characters can disappear dramatically.’
‘So that’s how Julia was kidnapped. She fell through the floor!’
‘Precisely. But we’re not going to tell anyone about this yet. We still have to find Julia, and whoever did it might move her if they think we’re on to them.’
‘Right,’ said Gilbert.
‘Now, I need to make a phone call to Chief Inspector Duff.’
As night fell, Chief Inspector Duff and his team, on Fabio’s instructions, staked out the VIP area of the Athlete’s Vi
llage.
Out of the darkness came an unusual noise.
It was accompanied by a light and was heading towards them.
‘Stop right there!’ ordered Chief Inspector Duff.
The squeaking stopped and the light fell to the ground.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ shouted Duff to his fellow warthogs.
‘Guv,’ said the newest recruit, ‘we can’t see! We forgot our torches.’
‘You idiots,’ said Duff. ‘You’ve let them get away!’
He approached the torch. There on the floor, in the soil Gilbert had spilled, was a footprint. And next to it was a dining cart full of delicious food – all on Hotel Royale china.
And the footprint in the soil belonged to a bird.
The following morning Gilbert came to collect Fabio from his Plume Street office. Fabio was on the phone.
‘So, you’ve found her?’ asked Fabio. ‘Good ... And she’s safe and well? Good ... What’s that? You’ve made an arrest? You’ve done what ... ? I’m coming down to the police station. In the meantime, ask everyone to gather at the hotel. I’ll explain everything when we get there.’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Gilbert.
‘They’ve arrested Penelope.’
‘But what I don’t understand,’ said Gilbert as he drove them through Laloozee towards the Hotel Royale, ‘is why anyone would want to kidnap Julia.’
‘I will explain all when we get to the hotel,’ said Fabio.
Duff had arranged for Fabio’s suspects to gather on the stage: the General, Smith, Enid, George Percy the Third and Violet.