Up at Toffly Hall the antiques fair was in full swing. Most of the stalls were inside the great marquee. Queues of people were waiting patiently to see if they would make a packet. So far, though, nothing very exciting had happened.
Lord and Lady Toffly were talking to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth by the marquee entrance.
‘So I told Mrs Cheddar to get the men to put it on the south-south-south west-west-west lawn in the end,’ Lady Toffly explained. ‘That way it doesn’t spoil the view from the library or ruin the begonias.’
‘Bravo, Antonia,’ said Lord Toffly. ‘Thank goodness someone’s got some sense around here. That Cheddar woman’s so dippy – like the cheese you get in Switzerland.’
‘And it’s right next to the rose garden, which is where Rupert Rich wants to value my tiara,’ Lady Toffly remarked.
‘It’s worth trillions, you know,’ Lord Toffly boasted. ‘Zillions, probably.’
‘Rupert says he needs natural light,’ Lady Toffly explained, ‘so that he can tell us exactly how many carrots it is.’
‘Carats.’ The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth stifled a yawn. ‘Not carrots. They’re the things rabbits eat.’
‘Rabbits?’ Lord Toffly sounded puzzled. ‘Eating diamonds? What an extraordinary thing. The police should do something about it, Chief Inspector.’
‘Talking of the police, how’s that Gorgonzola fellow?’ Lady Toffly asked. ‘I must say I was pleased when he caught that hedgehog.’
‘It was a cat,’ the Chief Inspector told her. ‘Not a hedgehog.’
‘Really?’ Lord Toffly looked startled. ‘Are you sure? I’ve seen some dodgy-looking hedgehogs in my time. They look pretty tricky to me.’
The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth felt like shouting ‘Don’t be an idiot’ at Lord Toffly, like he did at most of his police officers when they said something stupid. Luckily he remembered just in time that Lord and Lady Toffly were very, very rich and he needed donations for the Police Helmets Fund. He clamped his mouth shut.
Just then a man with big hair, a bright green jacket and an orange suntan rushed over, accompanied by Mrs Cheddar. A crew of cameramen jogged behind them. Inspector Cheddar jogged behind them.
‘Rupert!’ Lady Toffly exclaimed. ‘Are you ready to talk tiara turkey?’
‘Rupe, old man!’ Lord Toffly thumped him on the back. ‘Hope you’ve got your calculator ready with loads of noughts on!’
Rupert Rich flashed his teeth. It wasn’t really a smile. More like a row of piano keys. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing this baby all day. Do you know what a lot of rotten old rubbish people bring in? I had one guy with a teaspoon he’d found on the compost heap. I told him it cost 20p from the Co-op. He seemed really upset. Good TV though. Makes for a great show, especially when you know you’ve got the biggy to look forward to at the end.’ He flashed his teeth at Mrs Cheddar. ‘It’s been brilliantly organised so far, I must say.’
‘Thanks!’ Mrs Cheddar smiled back.
‘Biggy!’ Lord Toffly exclaimed. ‘This is a hugey! It’s an enormousy! It’s the size of a housey!’
Inspector Cheddar tried to squeeze his wife’s hand. ‘Congratulations, darling,’ he whispered. ‘Everything’s going according to plan!’
Mrs Cheddar scowled at him. ‘Your plan, maybe!’ she hissed. ‘To get rid of Atticus.’
Inspector Cheddar sighed. Not that again!
‘But I don’t think it was just Atticus who burgled those houses,’ Mrs Cheddar muttered. ‘You should have listened to what the children said about the magpies …’
‘Yeah, well, I think we should get on with the show.’ Rupert Rich glanced at the sky. ‘A few clouds are gathering. We don’t want to get rained on. It’ll spoil my hair. And I’m keen to do the valuation outside like we agreed. I want a shot of me against the yellow roses – they’ll look good with my jacket. GOT THAT?’ he yelled at the camera crew.
Everyone jumped.
Rupert Rich turned to the Tofflys and rubbed his hands together. ‘Time to “attack the attic and make a packet!”’ He strode off towards the rose garden.
The camera crew picked up their equipment and jogged after him.
‘See you later.’ Mrs Cheddar gave her husband a dirty look and trotted after them.
The Tofflys skipped off in the other direction – hand in hand towards the Hall.
‘Shouldn’t I get some of my officers to go with them?’ Inspector Cheddar asked the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth anxiously.
‘Relax, Cheddar,’ the Chief Inspector snapped. ‘You worry too much. The cat’s behind bars. Nothing can go wrong now.’
‘Inspector Cheddar?’ A young woman rushed up to him. She had beautiful long dark hair and a flowery top. ‘I’ve got something important to tell you.’
‘Miss Rana!’ Inspector Cheddar greeted her with a cheerful smile. ‘We hope to have some news on your missing emeralds soon.’
The woman shook her head impatiently. ‘No, you don’t understand. I found them! They turned up in my handbag. I honestly don’t know how they got there. I was sure they were in the safe.’ She went off to join a friend.
Inspector Cheddar stared after her. It was then that he heard a strange noise.
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA.’
He glanced up sharply. It was coming from somewhere in the rose garden where Rupert Rich was heading with Mrs Cheddar and the TV team. He listened closely.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
The noise came again, quieter this time. It was followed by a thump and a loud SQUAWK.
Inspector Cheddar frowned. What a weird sound! Chatter-chatter-chatter! It was as though someone was laughing at them.
Suddenly Inspector Cheddar’s eyes started popping. His face went red. Chattering?! Laughing?!! Emeralds in handbags?!!!
Atticus wasn’t the burglar. At least not the only one! Everything Callie and Michael had said was true. Atticus had been trying to say sorry. He had put the emeralds back. The magpies had framed him. Now they were after the Tofflys’ tiara! His wife had been right!
He glanced up at the sky. The clouds were moving quickly towards the Hall. They swirled and swished around. He peered closer.
‘Oh my giddy aunt!’ he said. His face went from red to purple. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
‘What’s the matter, Cheddar?’ The Chief Inspector was looking at him with concern. ‘You look like you’ve swallowed a noodle the wrong way.’
Inspector Cheddar’s teeth chattered. ‘I …I … I … think we’re in for a storm, sir.’
He galloped off towards the Hall.
‘Where are you going now?’ the Chief Inspector yelled.
‘I’m going to check on the Tofflys,’ Inspector Cheddar yelled back. ‘Just in case.’
Just at that moment the Tuckers zoomed into the car park in a cloud of dust. Atticus squeezed out of the sidecar where he’d been riding with Callie. Mrs Tucker had wrapped him in an old apron to keep him clean. He examined his legs and tummy and back – the bits that he could see by twisting his head. They were all still dazzlingly white. He’d pass for Persian for the time being anyway. As long as the dye didn’t rub off before he found Jimmy.
Mr Tucker rolled off the trailer and hoisted the fishing nets over his shoulder. ‘Take these.’ He gave a lobster pot each to Callie and Michael and grabbed the rope and bucket.
‘Let’s go!’ Mrs Tucker took off her helmet and straightened her wig. ‘Come on, Atticus … I mean Claude.’
Claude?! Atticus looked at her incredulously. Couldn’t she come up with a better name than Claude?
‘He doesn’t like it,’ Callie said.
‘How about Henry?’ Michael suggested. ‘After Henry VIII?’
‘He’s certainly fat enough,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘After all those sardines. Come along, Henry.’ She scooped him up and glanced at the sky. The sound of chattering birds was getting closer. So were the clouds. ‘Let’s get this antiques show on the road.’
They hurried along the path towards the marquee, Mr Tucker clunking along at the rear.
‘ATTENTION, ATTENTION! WOULD EVERYONE WHO WISHES TO VIEW THE TOFFLYS’ TIARA, PLEASE MOVE TOWARDS THE ROSE GARDEN.’
‘It’s Mum!’ cried Callie.
‘Quick!’ Michael yelled. ‘It’s nearly time.’
‘I can’t go any faster!’ Mr Tucker grumbled. ‘Me leg’ll fall off.’
‘ATTENTION, ATTENTION, WOULD EVERYONE WHO WANTS TO SEE ME LOOKING HANDSOME AND MAYBE GET ON THE TELLY PLEASE GET A MOVE ON.’
‘It’s Rupert Rich!’ Mrs Tucker gasped. ‘He’s about to do the valuation. Sorry, Herman, but you’ll have to catch us up.’ She chased along the path clutching Atticus, Callie and Michael in hot pursuit.
They reached the entrance to the rose garden. Hundreds of people were pushing and shoving their way forwards. They were all carrying the things they had brought to be valued. Some people were wearing jewellery; others had watches and trinkets stuffed into bags. The duty sergeant pushed past with a teaspoon protruding from his pocket. No one was paying much attention to their own antiques because they were all in such a rush to see Rupert Rich and the Tofflys’ tiara.
They would make easy pickings for the magpies.
‘This way!’ Mrs Tucker raced round the outside of the walled garden.
Careful! Atticus bounced up and down in her arms. He was beginning to feel quite sick. It was like being on Mr Tucker’s boat in a hurricane!
Luckily there was another gate and it was unlocked. Mrs Tucker lifted the latch and peered in. The gate opened on to an area of the rose garden that had been cordoned off from the crowds. Rupert Rich was sitting at a table on a stage in front of a bed of yellow roses. Before him was a bank of cameras and behind them, on the lawn, was the crowd. Next to Rupert Rich sat the Tofflys with Mrs Cheddar. A little way away, on the path, Inspector Cheddar paced up and down practising karate chops.
‘There it is!’ Michael whispered. The table was covered with a red velvet cloth. Propped up on the cloth was a battered leather jewellery case marked TOFFLYS’ TIARA – KEEP OFF.
‘Are we rolling?’ Rupert Rich asked the camera crew.
Someone answered by snapping a clapperboard.
Rupert Rich flashed his teeth at the crowd. ‘Welcome again to Get Rich Quick!,’ he cried.
Everyone cheered.
‘There hasn’t been much to shout about so far today, but we’ve had a few nice things to look at, so well done everyone who didn’t bring in mouldy teaspoons from the compost heap!’
The duty sergeant blushed.
‘Now for the part you’ve all been waiting for.’ Rupert Rich paused. ‘The Tofflys’ tiara.’
‘Attack the attic and make a packet!’ The crowd chanted.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
‘It’s the magpies!’ Michael whispered.
Mrs Tucker was still trying to get her breath back. ‘I feel like a cod on a fish hook,’ she complained. ‘And my wig’s slipped. But I’ll just have to do. Callie and Michael: you wait here for Mr Tucker. We’ll try and hold them off until he gets here. Come on, Atticus.’ She strolled into the garden.
Atticus lay snugly in her arms, trying to look regal and Henry the Eighth-ish.
‘May I?’ Rupert Rich produced an eyeglass from his pocket and squeezed it into his right eye. He reached for the Tofflys’ leather jewellery case and opened it.
‘Ooooohhhhh!’ The crowd gasped.
The fabulous tiara glittered and shone.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
‘Oh no!’ Michael glanced round. ‘We need to hurry. Where’s Mr Tucker?’
‘Oi! Hang on a minute!’
Rupert Rich looked up. A large lady with lopsided blonde hair and a puffy purple dress was making her way on to the stage carrying a large white cat.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘I, my good man, am Countess Salmonella Von Troutperch,’ Mrs Tucker said haughtily, remembering just in time to put on her posh American voice.
‘You’re not invited,’ agreed Lord Toffly.
Mrs Tucker ignored them. ‘I have about my cat’s person something very valuable that I’d like you to take a look at.’ She stroked Atticus around the neck. ‘My dear grandmother’s ruby necklace.’
‘Aaaahhhh,’ the crowd gasped as the cameras panned in on Atticus.
‘Who was your grandmother?’ Lady Toffly asked suspiciously.
‘I’ve never heard of the Von Troutperches,’ Lord Toffly complained.
‘She was the Duchess of Seabass,’ Mrs Tucker said without hesitation. ‘It’s a small island off Cornwall. She lost all her money in the great herring famine of 1920 and sailed to Cape Cod in a tin bath.’
‘Let’s have a look then.’ Rupert Rich was enjoying himself. This was going to make great TV. His ratings would go through the roof. ‘Get ’em off the cat.’
‘Certainly not!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Henry never goes anywhere without his ruby collar, do you, Henry?’
Atticus purred complacently. It was fun pretending to be a posh Persian.
‘Put him down next to the tiara, then,’ Rupert Rich said, ‘so I can take a look at them both.’
Mrs Tucker placed Atticus on the table and stepped away from the stage. She winked at him. He was in a perfect position now for when the magpies struck.
Rupert Rich squinted through his eyeglass at the fake rubies. Then he squinted at the Tofflys’ tiara. Then he did the same again.
The crowd held its breath.
‘It’s getting awfully dark,’ Rupert Rich complained. ‘I can hardly see a thing.’
Clouds were gathering in the sky.
Mrs Tucker had joined the children at the gate.
‘The magpies!’ whispered Callie. ‘They’re here.’