“Shall we check the CCTV now or when we come back from Earl Grey’s?” Dorothy asked.
“The last time they wanted us to look at something interesting they found on CCTV, it turned out to be a dog and his owner who looked alike. They found that funny for days,” replied Wortel, the tone of his voice already answering Dorothy’s question.
Dorothy pulled a pained expression remembering the incident only too well.
“Later it is then,” she said as she picked up her handbag and headed for the exit.
Wortel stood from his desk and was about to follow his colleague when he saw the small, thin box that had been left on the edge of his desk. Adorning the case, in gold lettering, were the initials N.C.
“What’s that?” Dorothy queried heading over to Wortel who was looking all around the casing.
“Not a foggiest, but it seems it belongs to Nicholas Claus.”
“Are you going to open it?”
“Dorothy Knox! Do you think I am going to open the personal belongings of the head of the Food Sapiens Secret Service?”
Dorothy’s jaw set and she fixed Wortel with a glowering look.
“Okay,” he replied. “Of course I am going to open it.”
Unhooking the lock, Wortel lifted the lid and saw inside a long, sharp syringe and a small bottle which contained what appeared to be a white, yellowy substance.
**********
The short drive to Earl Grey’s home was conducted in silence. Dorothy drove while Wortel stared out of the window thinking about the syringe that remained on the edge of his desk.
Was Nicholas Claus somehow involved in this affair?
**********
As they approached the large town house belonging to Earl Grey, Wortel and Dorothy noticed the street had been blocked off by a string of police cars. Just beyond the cordon were a number of large police vans, normally reserved for incidents involving large crowds.
Dorothy parked the car and walked with Wortel towards the scene. Wortel took out his identification and flashed it at the officer who was preventing passers-by from walking through.
“You get a kick out of that don’t you?”
“Might,” said Wortel a definite spring in his step.
“Power corrupts you know.”
As the food sapiens detective and his homo sapiens sergeant arrived outside of Earl Grey’s home the police were carting off twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping and nine ladies dancing. Of those, Wortel noticed that they were carrying seven swans a-swimming, albeit without water so it was quite difficult, six geese a-laying, some of the ladies – five in fact – had gold rings. Wortel also thought he saw four calling birds, three French hens and two turtle doves.
He turned to Dorothy. “Thank God there wasn’t a partridge in a pear tree,” he said. “That would’ve conjured up memories of ‘Addicted to Death’ – our last story which was published.”
“Wouldn’t it just,” said Dorothy. “And to think, that’s another reference to our debut book that’s been made in this short story. Do you think we could get in any more references?”
“I think that’s pushing it,” replied Wortel. “Don’t want to upset the readers too much.”
“Fair point,” she acknowledged. “Back to this story.”
Wortel called across to the lead police officer. “Have you got everybody out?”
“Everyone that we could find,” he replied. “There was one group that got away. Around eight females. If you see them do let us know as soon as possible.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Wortel asked signalling to the drummers drumming, the pipers piping, the lords a-leaping, the ladies dancing who were carrying swans a-swimming, geese a-laying, while wearing gold rings, as well as holding calling birds, French hens and turtle doves. But for the record, not a partridge in a pear tree.
“To be frank, they are smacked off their faces. Drugs of some kind, not sure what though. We’ve never seen behaviour like this. The neighbour called it in.” The police office nodded to the building next door where the curtain flicked closed as Dorothy looked in that direction.
“He said he was fed up with the noise since Earl Grey rushed off abroad.”
“Abroad?” asked Wortel.
“Yes. He is a frequent visitor to China apparently and he rushed off early hours this morning. The neighbour said there was a little bit of disturbance last night. Seems someone was trying to get into the flats to speak to Earl Grey but he wouldn’t answer. Then first thing this morning, Earl Grey has rushed off to China. We’ve checked immigration and they have confirmed his departure on a private jet.”
“Did the neighbour get a description by any chance?”
“Not a good one. Said he saw a lot of white, but couldn’t see too much more. He said he thought he heard a soft rustling noise though, he thought maybe even castanets.”
“Castanets? Really?”
The police officer looked at Wortel. “Yes that’s what he said but I wouldn’t rely on it too much. I mean after all, how could you distinguish castanets over the sound of the twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping and nine ladies dancing. And of those…”
“Yes, yes,” said Wortel turning on his heel quickly. “I think we know how that one ends.”