With a semi-sober Rudolph escorted from the premises by Nicholas Claus, the head honcho of the Food Sapiens Secret Service and the man now known to be Secret Santa, Wortel and Dorothy sat in a small interview room opposite a young, bright red little cranberry who answered to the name of Claudette.
It was clear Claudette had been crying as juice marks ran all down her shiny peel. Dorothy handed her a tissue and rested her hand on Claudette’s giving it a small squeeze. Not too hard mind as they didn’t want cranberry sauce marks in the interview room, which had just been redecorated a fetching shade of shocking pink. Thinking that it would be rude to interview Claudette in sunglasses, Wortel removed them from his face, squinted at the brightness of the walls and tentatively began his interview.
“I understand Nicholas Claus has explained why you are here?”
Claudette nodded, seemingly too upset to speak at this stage.
“We are truly sorry for your loss. I want to assure you that we will do everything we can to bring whoever did this to justice.”
Another nod.
“You’ve worked for the Food Sapiens Secret Service for how long now?”
“Four years.”
“And you’ve known Mitchell all of that time?”
“No. Just for the last eighteen months.”
“What can you tell us about the work of the Secret Service?”
“Well, we normally wouldn’t discuss specifics but Mr Claus has said on this occasion I can make an exception. What would you like to know?”
“What active cases you are working on. What cases Mitchell was working on. Anything you think might be relevant.”
Claudette took a moment as she thought how best to respond without breaching any national secrets. Wortel studied her face and saw the grief lines etched around her eyes and mouth. He also noticed she had composed herself slightly and that she would be able to give them the information they sought.
“I have been working on two cases recently. One has just ended but the other is ongoing. I had been working with other food sapiens on the apparent disappearance of Hector, some beluga caviar, who we think has defected to Russia. I went undercover with food sapiens agents from the custard division, the sponge finger division and the cream division, but things never worked out how we expected.”
“How come?”
“One thing went wrong after another and we ended up in a trifle difficulty.”
Wortel and Dorothy exchanged looks as Claudette continued.
“My on-going case is working with Morag, a fine strong Dundee cake. She is undercover trying to infiltrate groups who want to create an independent food sapiens state within the UK. She is doing a fine job right now but I can’t see how that is connected to the murder of Mitchell.”
Wortel hated to admit it, but neither could he.
“And what about any cases Mitchell was working on?”
“Ah yes, now this is where I think we may have a lead,” she said, becoming more animated than she had at any time during the interview. “Mitchell was investigating Earl Grey, the tea baron.”
“The Earl Grey!” exclaimed Dorothy.
“The very one.”
Dorothy suddenly looked slightly flushed.
“What’s up with you?” asked Wortel.
“Nothing, nothing,” she replied rather too quickly. “Just that I was reading a book of his recently.”
“Fifty Shades of Earl Grey?” asked Claudette.
Dorothy blushed.
“Don’t worry. It’s doing the rounds at the Secret Service now. What number are you up?”
“Forty-two.”
Wortel hadn’t heard of this book at all and while the ladies were talking he had quickly scanned the internet for information. He found the page he was seeking.
“Says here it is an erotic book,” he said.
“Not your sort of thing,” Dorothy replied.
“Come on, I’m no prude. What’s number forty-two when it’s at home?”
“The shade of Earl Grey number forty-two is Gnat’s Piss.”
“And what’s so erotic about that?” said Wortel looking increasingly confused.
Dorothy and Claudette exchanged a look before Wortel’s human colleague answered.
“Number forty-two, Gnat’s Piss. What looks uninspiring and weak on the outside might be different when you get it in your mouth.”
As Wortel blushed yellow, the colour carrots turn when embarrassed, there was a knock at the door and Dr Richards entered.
“Wortel, I’ve found something. May I have a word please?
Wortel quickly waved Dr Richards into the interview room and encouraged her to sit down.
“Dr Richards, this is Claudette who works at the Food Sapiens Secret Service. She is helping us with our enquiries into Mitchell’s death. We’ve agreed with Nicholas Claus that there will be full disclosure, so anything you’ve found we can share.”
Wortel turned to Claudette. “Would you mind reporting this information to Nicholas Claus?”
“Of course,” she said, taking out a small notepad and pen.
Dr Richards nodded and opened her folder.
“I was conducted my preliminary autopsy report when I found a strange mark on the back of Mitchell’s neck. It seemed to be a small scratch to his shortcrust skin and on further examination I found it was a needle mark.”
Wortel held up his hand to stop Dr Richards.
“How on earth did you see that? I mean he was quite badly burnt.”
Claudette let out a gasp, her hand trembling at what Wortel had said. Feeling his stomach knot at his own insensitivity, Wortel mumbled an apology before turning back to Dr Richards.
“The griddle to which Mitchell was tied meant that not all of his shortcrust pastry was as damaged as the rest of him. We caught a break in that the needle mark was on a part of his neck that ended up protected to some degree by the griddle. Anyway, that’s not all.”
Dr Richards broke out into a large smile, which she often had to do in order to fill her overly large face. Against the backdrop of the shocking pink wall she was quite the sight.
“When I found the needle mark I immediately stopped the autopsy and tried to find out if he was drugged. So I took a sample of his mincemeat to toxicology and asked them to fast track the results. And he was drugged. Serotonin.”
“And what’s that?” asked Wortel.
“No idea. I’ve never heard of it before. Toxicology is going to try and get to the bottom of it but they are pretty snowed under at the moment.”
Claudette sat forward. “I’ve heard of Serotonin but I can’t remember why. Wortel, can I head back to my department please and I will call you as soon as I have some news?”
After Claudette and Dr Richards had left the interview room Wortel and Dorothy sat looking at each other.
“Dorothy,” he said quietly. “I haven’t a clue what’s going on here.”
“I know the feeling,” she replied. “What do you think we should do next?”
“Tea,” he replied.
“Good idea. I’ll have an extra scoop of sugar in mine.”
“No, don’t be daft. I mean tea. Earl Grey. I think we should pay him a visit.”
Dorothy sat upright in her seat and started running her hand through her hair getting it into place.
“Now you’re talking Wortel. Now you’re talking.”
**********
Wortel and Dorothy walked back into the Food Related Crime offices to find them completely empty. Oranges and Lemons were nowhere to be seen.
“Have they left for good do you think?” Wortel asked hopefully as he sat himself back down at his desk.
Dorothy had herself walked across to the team whiteboard and had removed a note which they had left for her.
“No such luck,” she replied. “They’ve left a note to say that they were reviewing the CCTV and have stopped it an interesting point which they think we should look at. They said they will be back later but they got a call from the head of auditioning at Jack and the Baked Bean Stalker. He wanted to see them so they have rushed off.”
Wortel sat back in his seat and shook his head. In the middle of a murder investigation his two fruit officers had rushed off to a pantomime audition. Shocking. And yet more shocking was that for some reason it didn’t surprise him as much it probably should have done.