Detective Nosegoode and the Music Box Mystery

by Marian Orłoń

Ambrosius pretended not to notice and replied casually, “You’re right. That’s where I heard it.” And before Mr Swallowtail could say anything, he asked, “When were you planning to pick up the music box?”

  The chemist was visibly disappointed by this change of topic.

  “Today,” he said. “Ben told me about half an hour ago that it was ready.”

  “Who’s Ben?”

  “My sister’s son. He’s been living with us for the past two weeks. He dropped out of school, had a quarrel with his father, and has now come to stay with his uncle.”

  Mr Nosegoode nodded sympathetically.

  “Doesn’t he miss home?”

  “I think he does. He was going to go back for a visit today, but he slept in. He said he’ll go the day after to morrow.”

  “Right…” Mr Nosegoode said thoughtfully. “But let’s get back to the music box! Is there anything else you can think of that might be connected to the theft?”

  Mr Swallowtail spread out his arms helplessly.

  “I think I’ve said everything…”

  “You have indeed said a great deal,” the detective acknowledged, rising from the armchair.

  “A great deal?” Mr Swallowtail was surprised.

  “Yes, I’m very grateful, and I expect that you’ll have your music box back before long. See you soon!”

  The chemist thanked Mr Nosegoode for taking on the case and accompanied his guests to the door. On the threshold, he stroked Cody’s back, which confirmed the dog’s conviction that Mr Swallowtail was a very nice person indeed.

  Out on the street, life continued as usual. There were birds singing high up in a lime tree, a young woman was pushing a pram, and on the corner the postman was looking for something in his bulging bag. But the detective and his dog were not taking much notice of these things: all their attention was focused on the bearded man looking at books in a shop window. They exchanged meaningful glances and wordlessly headed towards home. A moment later, Blackbeard followed.

  A TOUGH BONE TO CRACK

  An hour later, Ambrosius Nosegoode and his dog were sitting in their garden in Skylark Lane having an animated conversation. They were discussing the extraordinary events that had taken place that morning.

  “My great friend detective Hippolytus Whiskers,” Mr Nosegoode was saying, “had a golden rule that he always followed in his work. It went something like this: if we don’t know what we want to know, let’s reflect on what we do know, and that will lead us to what we don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cody interrupted him. “Could you repeat that?”

  Ambrosius repeated what he’d just said.

  “Thank you,” the dog replied. “I think I’ve got it now.”

  Ambrosius nodded happily and continued.

  “Let’s apply this golden rule and try to list everything we know about the theft. To begin with, I would say that the theft itself is an indisputable fact.”

  “This discovery does you credit,” Cody remarked.

  Ambrosius thanked him with another quick nod.

  “There is also no doubt,” he resumed, “that the music box was stolen by someone who knew its secret. That’s to say, someone who knew that it would lead to the treasure. Agreed?”

  “No,” the dog contradicted him. “The thief might not have heard about the treasure at all. He might have been a collector of mechanical musical instruments, for instance – someone who decided to steal this box only after he was told that it wasn’t for sale.”

  “That’s not impossible,” Ambrosius admitted, “but I’m not convinced. I don’t think a collector would have committed a break-in. It’s too risky. Besides, they tend to be refined, cultured people, and somehow I just can’t imagine a collector in the role of a burglar.”

  Cody waved the suggestion aside with his tail.

  “Fine. If you don’t want to believe that Blackbeard might be the thief, then suit yourself! I know a few people who didn’t trust their dogs, and things didn’t turn out too well for them.”

  “How curious!” the detective retorted. “Because I know a few dogs who didn’t trust people, and things didn’t turn out too well for them either. But never mind… Let’s get back to Hippolytus Whiskers’s golden rule. My theory is supported by the fact that the music box disappeared straight after being repaired. It would seem that it wasn’t worth anything to the thief while it was broken.”

  “That could have been a coincidence,” Cody muttered.

  “It could have been, but it didn’t have to be,” the detective pointed out. “In general, there are fewer coincidences in life than we imagine.”

  “So whom do you suspect of the theft?” asked Cody, clearly impatient with Ambrosius’s deliberations.

  “One of the people who knew the secret of the music box, who was aware that the box had been repaired and who was also very familiar with the inside of the workshop. You’re wondering why I think that the thief knew the workshop well? I learnt this from the match I discovered there. A single match! If the thief hadn’t been familiar with the workshop, one match wouldn’t have given them enough time to find the music box. It was night after all.”

  “I don’t know whom you have in mind,” Cody said, “but if you’re excluding Blackbeard from your list of suspects, you’re making a mistake. Can’t you see that all the signs point to him? The bearded man visits the clockmaker, he sees the music box and wants to buy it, he’s informed that it can’t be sold, he’s disappointed – and then the music box disappears overnight… Is there any reason for doubt here? Can you truly suspect anyone else?”

  He fell silent and watched the impression his words made on Ambrosius. But the detective shook his head.

  “You may be right,” he said, “but there are more suspects than that. Take Joey Humming, for instance. One can make quite a convincing case against him. Listen to this. Joey lives in the same house as the chemist. He accidentally overhears a conversation about the treasure and learns that a music box is the key to finding it. This is the same music box that’s at Mr Blossom’s workshop. What could be simpler than to walk off with it and claim the treasure for himself? So Joey bides his time until the master manages to fix the box and then steals it. No doubt you’re going to say that this is all just speculation. Agreed! But there are certain facts that are clearly against Joey. Did you notice his behaviour? Did you see how he went bright red when I arrived at the workshop? How uncomfortable he looked when I asked him about the matches? And there’s one more thing: Joey has taken other people’s property before. That has to be kept in mind. So what do you think? Are you still sure that Blackbeard is our only suspect?”

  Cody scratched his head uneasily.

  “You’ve given me a tough bone to crack,” he confessed.

  “Bones are your speciality,” the detective said, smiling.

  Cody wrinkled his nose and batted away a fly buzzing around his ear. He was thinking.

  “I’ve got it!” he cried out, struck by a sudden thought. “Joey didn’t do it!”

  “Why not?”

  “If Joey had wanted to steal the music box, he wouldn’t have had to break the lock. He could have just copied the keys. He had easy access to them.”

  Mr Nosegoode looked at his dog with genuine admiration, but he had to disappoint him again.

  “Perhaps he didn’t have time,” he replied. “Or he didn’t want to copy them…”

  “Didn’t want to? Why wouldn’t he want to?”

  “Because it would look suspicious.”

  Cody didn’t know what to say in response. Feeling helpless, he let his tail drop.

  “In that case, here’s another question. If there are so many suspects, how are you going to prove who the thief is?”

  “Well, I have reasons to focus on one of the suspects more than the others,” Ambrosius replied. “I have paid special attention to this person… and I’m hoping to find the proof right here!”

  Ambrosius slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, pulle
d out the matchbox the thief had left behind in Mr Blossom’s workshop and put it under Cody’s nose.

  “Fingerprints?” the dog said, brightening up.

  “Sadly, no. The thief was wearing gloves.”

  “Gloves? How do you know?”

  “From the black silk thread that I found on the door of the workshop. This kind of thread could only have come from a glove – from a woman’s glove, in fact!”

  “Does this mean that the thief is a woman?”

  “I didn’t say that. Now take a look at these numbers.”

  It was only now that Cody noticed the column of numbers written on the box in ink. It read as follows:

  4.25

  7.15

  21.30

  “It looks as though the thief was noting down expenses,” the dog remarked.

  “Well done!” the detective said with approval. “I thought so too at first. But then another idea came to me.”

  “What was that?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m planning to do a little tour of Lower Limewood, which should clear up a few things in my mind. It’s true I could do it today, but I don’t like too much excitement all at once. We’ve had enough for now.”

  “And what if you don’t manage to decode those numbers? What then?”

  “We’ll turn our attention to the other souvenirs which the thief has left behind. They might prove invaluable. Don’t worry, my friend! The thief will not get away with it!”

  Cody grew thoughtful. Much of what Ambrosius had said was unclear. Cody didn’t understand all of it, but he was starting to believe that Ambrosius really would catch the thief. He was even prepared to admit that it might not be Blackbeard.

  Mr Nosegoode’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “And now let’s refresh our minds a little!” the detective exclaimed merrily. “Nothing reinvigorates the mind and restores mental balance like a bit of weeding in the radish patch. Let’s get to work!”

  A few minutes later, Ambrosius and his dog were engaged in a fierce battle with weeds. The detective was pulling them out with his hands, while the dog was using his teeth. It was hard to say which of them was better at this task. Busy with work, they forgot for a while about the treasure, the music box and the thief.

  In fact, they probably wouldn’t have returned to the subject until the following day, had it not been for Mrs Hardtack’s visit that evening.

  The two friends were heartily enjoying their supper of scrambled eggs with fresh chives when their neighbour appeared at the window.

  “I just wanted to pop by to tell you,” she said, out of breath, “that the bearded man was asking about you again, Mr Nosegoode. About you and Cody. He wanted to know if you sleep in the same room or separately. I have no idea what to think any more! I hope nothing bad happens!”

  “Not to worry, Mrs Hardtack,” the detective said gently. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Curiosity is natural – and why not satisfy it. Please tell your tenant that we sleep in one room and that we dream happy dreams. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

  Mrs Hardtack muttered something under her breath and hurried off home. It was impossible to tell whether these words had put her mind at rest or made her even more agitated. What was perfectly clear, however, was that her visit had really rattled Cody. It rekindled all his suspicions about Blackbeard. The worst scenarios were crowding in his head.

  “Ambrosius!” he burst out after the initial shock had worn off a bit. “I almost let you convince me that Blackbeard was innocent! It’s lucky I’ve come to my senses before it’s too late. He’s a dangerous man, believe me! I’m sure he stole the music box and… and he’s capable of anything!”

  These last words sounded ominous but Ambrosius took them calmly. Cody was getting desperate. How can I convince him? he wondered.

  “I’ll find proof that Blackbeard is guilty,” he said with sudden resolution. “Just give me a free hand tomorrow – or free paw, rather – to investigate. I’ll follow his every move and unmask him!”

  Ambrosius was moved by the passion with which Cody had spoken.

  “I’m giving you a free paw to investigate tomorrow,” he said solemnly.

  That night, Cody hardly slept a wink. He was watching over his friend and thinking about the following day. He finally dozed off at dawn, when the stars disappeared from the sky and the birds began singing in the lilacs outside.

  MR NOSEGOODE BEHAVES STRANGELY

  Mr Nosegoode finished shaving. He put the cut-throat razor aside and examined his face in the mirror, noting the white traces of soap. He ran his fingers down his chin and, without taking his eyes off his reflection, asked Cody, “What time are you setting off?”

  “Same time as you. Immediately after breakfast. You’ll go off on your errands, and I’ll wait for Blackbeard at the front. As soon as I see him, I’ll start tracking him. I’ll watch his every move.”

  “You really expect to find proof that the owner of that fake beard is a criminal?”

  “I do. If I didn’t expect it, I wouldn’t traipse after him all over town. I’d lie in the garden, warming my old bones in the sun.”

  Ambrosius rinsed his face, wiped it with a towel and reached for his aftershave.

  “Are you sure you won’t choose the garden after all?”

  Cody gave him an indignant look.

  “How can you say that? You know that I don’t break my resolutions.”

  “Unfortunately, I do know!” the detective sighed.

  “What do you mean, ‘unfortunately’? Maybe you don’t think a dog should keep his resolutions?”

  “Not at all!” Ambrosius protested and began preparing breakfast.

  For a little while, Cody pretended to be offended, but when milk, cottage cheese and fresh buns appeared on the table, there was no trace of resentment remaining.

  At eight o’clock, the two friends left the house. A bright morning greeted them outside. The sky was cloudless, and the garden resounded with birdsong. Ambrosius inhaled the brisk air and asked his dog, “Where are you going to wait for Blackbeard?”

  Cody looked around for a hiding place. “Behind that wild rose bush. There’s a good view of Mrs Hardtack’s house from there.”

  Ambrosius complimented him on his choice and then gave him a gentle flick on the nose.

  “Well, take care!” he said.

  Cody suddenly realized that he’d soon be alone, without his friend, left to his own devices. For a moment, his resolve wavered. Maybe I should back out? he thought. Maybe I should tuck in my tail and let Blackbeard be? Why risk an encounter with a criminal? But his hesitation didn’t last long. No, he wouldn’t abandon his plan. He would prove to Ambrosius that the owner of the black beard wasn’t an innocent collector of music boxes. He’d open his eyes to the danger. He had to do it!

  Ambrosius was already by the gate. He was struggling with the latch.

  “Ambrosius!” the dog called wistfully. “If something happens to me, remember that I’ve always…”

  The detective waved goodbye.

  “Tail up! Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  Cody didn’t reply. He took cover behind the rose bush and from his hiding place watched his friend get further and further away.

  *

  Mr Nosegoode walks at an unhurried pace, strolling towards the newsagent’s stand, as he does every morning. Passing Mrs Hardtack’s house, he glances casually at the window, but there’s nobody there. The net curtain doesn’t budge. Mr Nosegoode starts whistling to himself.

  He slowly approaches the news-stand. He stops in front of it, asks for his daily batch of newspapers, pays for them and continues on his way. He walks through the square, says hello to the baker and turns into Barrel-Organ Street. It looks as though he’s going to visit Mr Blossom.

  It’s not far to the workshop now. But what’s this? Mr Nosegoode suddenly crosses the street and quickens his steps. Evidently, he wants to avoid meeting the clockmaker. So where is he going?
If he turns left, it means he’s heading towards the train station; if he turns right, it’s towards the chemist’s.

  He turns right. That means he must have something to discuss with Mr Swallowtail. But that’s not it either – he slows down again, looking all around him. There is a clump of bushes, some newspapers strewn on the ground, a few empty beer bottles… Mr Nosegoode goes over to the bushes, leans down and pulls something out from under a branch. A pair of black silk gloves!

  He lifts the gloves up to examine the initials embroidered on them before putting them in his pocket and continuing to look around the bushes. He’s found something else! It’s a length of iron bar. He inspects it and removes a sliver of wood from its end. He puts the splinter in a little box and wraps the bar in a newspaper. Now he’s probably going to head for the pharmacy. But no. He’s backtracking to the intersection and going to the train station.

  A locomotive is puffing on the track, pigeons are cooing on the roof and a coachman is dozing in his horse-drawn carriage at the entrance to the station.

  Mr Nosegoode takes it all in at a glance and goes up to the timetable posted on a board. He studies it with great interest. Seconds pass: one, two, three… There it is! It’s clear from the detective’s expression that he has found what he was looking for.

  Unable to contain himself, he mutters, “It all adds up. I was right!”

  These words attract the curiosity of the young woman at the ticket office, who raises her head from her paperwork to give Mr Nosegoode a concerned look.

  Mr Nosegoode also startles the coachman when he rouses him out of his nap by asking to be driven to Barrel-Organ Street.

  “Inspector! At this hour? Without any luggage? What a nice surprise! Would you like a blanket for your legs? No? Gee-up, lad, let’s go!”

  The horse’s hooves clip-clop on the cobblestones and the carriage jolts up and down. Mr Nosegoode smiles to himself, while the coachman clicks his tongue at the horse. A turn to the right and they’re in Barrel-Organ Street.