Scooters Yard

by Clive Mullis

  Both names in one sentence now, she thought. ‘Really, Toby? And why would that be?’

  His nose wrinkled and he tried not to think where the smell had come from. ‘I… er, understood that you were going to leave things to me for the next few days.’

  ‘Circumstances change, Toby. I have something special for our new recruits and I’ll need to borrow them for a day or two. Commander MacGillicudy has sent a note — and no, Toby, the whiff didn’t come from me.’

  She fished around in her pocket and came up with the instructions from the commander. It suggested that he take it easy for a day or so in recognition of all their hard work in setting everything up and instructing the girls.

  Diffin read the note with a puzzled expression. They had only just begun the course, and now the commander has decided to give them a couple of days off — and is she trying to divert the question of the fart? ‘This seems a bit strange; has it got anything to do with that cart? The commander said he thought it interesting.’

  ‘No,’ lied Rose. ‘Nothing came of that. He just wants to see if the girls are up to the job himself. He’s only seen them briefly and he wants to be certain he’s making the right decision. Between you and me, I think he’s a bit jittery about it all. I’ve been telling him there’s no need to worry, but… well; you know what he’s like.’

  Diffin nodded, albeit reluctantly. ‘Two days you say? What about nights?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think we should carry on and keep the ladies and the guards in situ. Our girls might have to spend the nights away, but we’ll cover all our bases.’ She leant forward and touched him lightly on the shoulder before pressing up closer to whisper. ‘We won’t say too much to Briggs and Spooner.’

  Diffin stood silent for a moment as her breath caressed his ear in the most disconcerting way. It took him a moment to regain his senses, as he knew Rose wouldn’t even entertain the thoughts firing through his head and assaulting his nether regions; so why did he always find perspiration breaking out on his forehead and a tingling feeling running right through his body whenever she got close to him? ‘No,’ he managed in the end. ‘I’ll just tell them that the commander has need of their services.’

  ‘Er… Toby, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

  Diffin’s eyes widened. ‘Oh gods, no. I’ll better re-phrase that.’

  The sergeant disappeared back into the classroom while Rose stood and smiled to herself. She shook her head slowly and sighed. One day she hoped to find a man not susceptible to feminine charms, but what she would do if ever she found one, she just didn’t know.

  Shortly the classroom door opened and Diffin walked out with the two constables. The lingering whiff of something not very nice still hovered all over the place, Diffin ignored the smell, but the constables’ noses certainly twitched as they regarded Rose.

  ‘Ladies don’t fart,’ she said assertively. ‘And even if I did, I wouldn’t leave an odour like that. I believe the gentleman who did leave the whiff, is, at present, in your locker room, and I suspect it’s a lot worse in there.’

  Diffin let out a great sigh and turned a shade of red. He cast an apologetic glance in her direction and then quickly looked away.

  ‘Toby! You really thought I did it, didn’t you?’

  ‘No, no. Of course not. Well, maybe. You were the only person here, after all.’

  Rose cast a withering glance. ‘I can assure you gentlemen that if I did do something like that then it would smell a bloody sight sweeter.’

  She turned and strode purposefully towards the classroom.

  Diffin looked at the two constables, daring them to say something. Fortunately, they didn’t, but they did hurry to the locker room — they had their sandwiches in there.

  A yell of disgust echoed through the academy as Briggs and Spooner opened the door and walked in. ‘You dirty disgusting little bastard.’

  Rose could hear the exchange even through two doors and a bit of distance and she couldn’t help but raise a smile.

  The girls were sitting at their tables with their writing implements poised in their hands, tiny droplets of ink dribbling onto the paper beneath. They looked up as she entered.

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ said Rose, walking to the front of the class.

  ‘Good morning, Sergeant,’ echoed the girls.

  Rose regarded them each in turn. ‘You can all put everything away. Today we have something special to do. The commander has ordered that you ladies put your various talents at his disposal.

  A murmur of suppressed excitement ran through the group as the girls digested the information. They all looked at each other with beaming smiles. What the sergeant appeared to be suggesting certainly seemed more interesting than listening to Diffin and having to write it all down verbatim.

  Tiffany asked the question they all wanted to know the answer to. ‘What exactly are we meant to do, Sergeant?’

  Rose thought for a moment. ‘You will find that out later, but it is something very important. No one must hear about it, and that includes Sergeant Diffin and all the feelers.’

  The excitement increased, and so did the volume of noise as Rose outlined where they were going.

  CHAPTER 14

  Cornwallis and MacGillicudy were just finalising the plans for the girls when a little rap on the door interrupted their conversation.

  ‘Yes?’ snapped MacGillicudy.

  ‘Mr Kandalwick here to see you, sir.’ A young feeler poked his nose through the small gap, not wanting to venture any further into the room as the commander sounded a little perturbed.

  ‘Well, send him in, lad.’

  Frankie patted the feeler on the shoulder, gave him a grin of sympathy, and walked in.

  He turned and stood a moment, and then opened the door a crack and peeked out, waiting until the young feeler disappeared into the stairwell. ‘Just had a message,’ he said, closing the door. ‘Thought you might like to know that Gerald has requested some company, apparently he’s found the boys who were nicking the gonepowder.’

  Cornwallis sat up in his chair. This was something that could move the investigation forward. ‘Really? At least that’s some good news.’

  ‘He’s got them at his place, and would we be kind enough to bring along his heart’s desire.’

  Cornwallis sniffed. ‘Some hope. Rose has got other things to do, so he’ll just have to make do with you, Frankie.’

  ‘I’m not quite built the same, but lend me a couple of pillows and I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘You’d better get a wig and lose a couple of stone as well,’ added Cornwallis, ‘plus get a personality and pretend to like people.’

  ‘Nah, in that case, I won’t bother — definitely can’t do those last two,’ replied Frankie, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  Cornwallis stood up and brushed himself down. ‘We’d better get going then. Don’t like to keep Gerald waiting, especially as he’s doing us a favour.’

  MacGillicudy and Cornwallis brought Frankie up to date about the button and note as they made their way down and out the back way. Rose they would tell later. Out in the yard they came across Senior Sergeant Wiggins proffering a saucer of milk.

  ‘You’re in charge, Sergeant Wiggins,’ said MacGillicudy, with half an eye on the saucer.

  Wiggins gave an embarrassed cough. ‘It’s for the cat, Commander. It would seem a cat has taken up residence. Some of the lads have quite taken with it, so I thought…’ he trailed off as he saw a look flash across MacGillicudy’s eye. ‘We haven’t had a cat for quite a while now,’ he added apologetically.

  ‘A cat you say? Well, let’s hope it can do something about the rats in the place, then.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Frankie decided to get in on the act. ‘What’s this cat look like, then?’

  ‘A bit scraggy, really,’ answered Wiggins. ‘Its colours seem all over the place; haven’t seen another one like it.’

  ‘Really? Perhaps we should
have a look at this mysterious feline.’

  A scuffling noise came from a stack of crates and rubbish. Frankie walked forward and peered into the depths; a movement caught his eye and he plunged his arm into the mess, rummaging around until he suddenly went still. A stony look flittered across his face and then very slowly he began to raise his arm.

  A couple of young feelers, who were crossing the yard, took a moment to watch proceedings.

  Frankie’s arm broke free from the stack of rubbish with what looked like a ladies fur stole attached to his coat sleeve; Fluffy dangled, tail swishing in the breeze, teeth clamped firmly into the fabric.

  ‘Oh,’ exclaimed Wiggins. ‘There it is.’

  Frankie raised his arm until the cat’s face came to barely an inch from his own. ‘Fluff,’ he whispered menacingly. ‘If you don’t let go this second, I’m going to rip your nadgers off and then give them to Isabella for earrings.’

  ‘Gneu-nah-ickle-ugh-nah,’ replied Fluffy, concentrating hard so as not to let go.

  Frankie brought his free hand up and grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck. ‘Okay, you can let go now.’

  Fluffy struggled to get his teeth disentangled from the fabric of the coat. Eventually he managed to open his jaw wide enough and his mouth came free.

  ‘I said,’ he said quietly. ‘Youse told me I had to be mean and nasty.’

  ‘Not with me. You found anything out?’

  ‘Nuffing yet. They ain’t let me into the place.’

  ‘Then start being nice to them.’

  Eyeball to eyeball they stared each other out.

  ‘Okay,’ said Fluffy eventually.

  Cornwallis, MacGillicudy and Wiggins looked on from a distance as the apparent battle of wills between cat and human played out. Wiggins, not being in on the secret, stood very nervously waiting — he had become quite fond of the thing. A few moments later Frankie just let go of his grip and Fluffy hung in the air for a second before plummeting to the ground; twisting in descent, he managed to land delicately on his paws. He shook himself then eyed the two young feelers looking on. With a hiss, he bounded towards them, forcing them to turn and run.

  Wiggins stood there, still with the saucer of milk in his hand.

  ‘Never mind, Horace,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘I’m sure you’ll win it over in the end.

  Cornwallis and MacGillicudy jumped onto a hurry-up while Frankie grabbed a horse and hitched it up. Shortly they left the Yard and headed out towards the Brews and the meeting with Gerald.

  The conversation, as they made their way through the streets of Gornstock and down towards the River Sterkle, concerned Fluffy and his lack of getting any tangible evidence so far. They were disappointed, as Fluffy had always delivered in the past.

  They left the wagon close to the bridge at a feeler friendly tavern, then made their way into the Brews, the stinking cesspit of a slum, home to most of the undesirables in the city. Entering the place could be a gamble for most people, whether they would leave standing up or nailed into a box. Crime was the norm, and the unwary and the naive always paid the price.

  Most of the Brews residents knew Cornwallis, Frankie and MacGillicudy, so they made their way through the narrow streets with barely a passing interest. The maze of streets and alleys, which were full of dilapidated houses and shops, wound their way into the depths, where light decided its options were better spent elsewhere; a dark and dank place with a whiff that wrinkled the nostrils. Open sewers ran down the centre of the streets taking the effluent down to the Sterkle which swallowed it up with a glug.

  Gerald lived in a tall four story house which backed onto the river. From the outside, it looked as if it would fall down at any moment, but inside, it was as plush as a madam’s boudoir. It was clean and comfortable, with the decorations going somewhat over the top, as if someone with no taste decided that they did have taste after all and were going to make the most of it. It hurt the eyes in a way that seared an impression into the back of the mind.

  The three heavies guarding the place stepped out of the way and allowed Cornwallis to open the door. Another heavy waited inside with a range of weapons designed to do some serious damage to anyone unfortunate enough to gain access without an invitation.

  Frankie grinned at the man and then played the sergeant major, inspecting his weapons for dirt and rust. ‘You got a mark on this one, needs a bit of a polish.’

  The man fixed Frankie with a stare. ‘Blood,’ he responded. ‘Feel free to add some of yours.’

  ‘I’d love to oblige, my friend, but alas I’m otherwise engaged. You’re new here aren’t you? Come from out of town? Brother got you a job?’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘You don’t know us?’

  ‘I know that you were allowed in, that’s why you ain’t dead.’

  Frankie nodded and then patted him on the head. ‘Good boy. Do you want a biscuit?’

  The heavy bridled, and then as the brain cell began to fire he reached for his knife.

  Gerald’s assistant appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Ah, there you are. Mr Gerald has been getting quite restless.’ He looked at the guard. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Mr Gerald wouldn’t look kindly on someone who skewered one of his friends.’

  The guard hesitated a moment and then loosened his grip on the knife.

  Frankie patted him again as Cornwallis and MacGillicudy rolled their eyes.

  ‘Never dull coming here,’ opined MacGillicudy, as they climbed the stairs.

  Gerald waited for them in his plush looking meeting room, dressed casually with an off-white collarless shirt and black trousers with braces that pulled the strides up into his chest, leaving a good two inches clearance down below where his shoes were. He wore no socks and his ankles gleamed bright and white.

  ‘Welcome, m’boys. Park yer arses dahn there fer a few minutes. Crinning will get us sum tea.’

  There were a few chairs placed in front of a dais, upon which, stood a big, posh and definitely throne like chair. Gerald ignored this, as he only used that one when he had a point to make to some miscreant, or wanted to create an impression. This was an informal formal meeting.

  The three detectives dutifully sat down and waited while Crinning hurried off to get the bevy.

  ‘An’ don’t ferget the biscuits,’ yelled Gerald, at his retreating back.

  Frankie said you have some news about the gonepowder,’ began Cornwallis. ‘You found the lads that were pilfering the stuff?’

  Gerald turned, sat down and smiled. ‘Didn’t take too long neither. Got a couple of scruffs banged up downstairs, and they’re gonna tell you all abaht it; but that can wait a while, ‘cause you can tell me why my darling little sweetheart is missing from this visitation.’

  Crinning returned with the tea and biscuits, together with some delicate little cakes, exactly like the ones that Rose said she loved. Gerald waved Crinning away, and with a sly look at Cornwallis, ordered him to take the cakes as well. Frankie looked on with dismay; they were his favourites too.

  ‘They ain’t fer the likes o’you, young Frankie,’ said Gerald, slightly miffed at Cornwallis’ explanation of why Rose wasn’t there. ‘Them’s fer me favourite guests only. You can ‘ave the ‘ard tack.’

  Cornwallis laughed. ‘Gerald, you should know by now that Rose will always try and see her favourite criminal. It’s just that today—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I know,’ replied Gerald, now grinning and back to his normal jolly self. ‘She just don’t know what she’s missing, tagging along wiv you lot and not wiv me.’

  ‘I promise you’ll see Rose soon. Now, are you going to show us these lads?’

  When they finished the tea, they went out and down the stairs, Frankie still chewing on a particularly tough bit of baking. The guard who had given Frankie a bit of lip stood with his back to the stairs as Gerald bounded down. With the mischief that was always just a second away, Gerald turned, winked and then sort of merged into the guard, passing straight through
him and out the other side. The guard shook, shuddered and cringed, then let out a wail as if his soul had been ripped out and replaced with a wet kipper. Gerald turned and looked up, waggling his finger under the guard’s nose. ‘You pull a knife on another of me friends, sonny boy, then you’ll ‘ave that knife shoved so far up yer arse that you could use it as a tooth pick.’

  The guard’s eyes widened and the colour drained from his face. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he apologised. ‘I won’t do it again.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ Gerald stared at him for a few more seconds and then turned and headed off down the corridor, the three detectives hot on his tail.

  The young felons were kept in a room at the back of the house, the door being barred with two solid oak beams and the lock of one of Gornstock’s finest locksmiths, impossible to pick and expensive with it: a cell with no hope of escape — Gerald wasn’t taking any chances with these two. He rummaged in his pocket and eventually found the key. Inserting it into the lock, he gave a quick twist, resulting in a satisfying click. He lifted the two beams on their pivot and they rose to click into their place.

  Gerald turned and looked at MacGillicudy. ‘I told ‘em that they won’t get nicked, so whatever they tell yer, it goes no further. Promise?’

  MacGillicudy nodded. ‘If they tell me what I need to know, then they can pretty much get away with murder.’

  Gerald swung the door wide and strode in. Inside, sitting in the middle of the floor, were two scruffy street urchins. They were dressed in rags and presently engaged in playing with two wooden miniature carts and a few battered toy soldiers. A wizened grey haired old woman sat in a corner, watching them from a flea-ridden deeply-upholstered chair, clacking away with a pair of knitting needles, appearing to be knitting some socks.

  ‘You lot ‘ave never met me mum, ‘ave you?’ said Gerald. ‘She’s a good old gal is her, nearly ninety an’ she still ‘as all her marbles. Ain’t that right, mum?’

  Gerald’s mum looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, dear,’ she acknowledged without a pause in her knitting. ‘Unlike you, dear.’