God Rob Ye Merry Gentleman (3 page)

Lady Amanda's face fell at this negative reaction, but as the two Beauchamps grabbed a sheet each and twitched them off the machines, Hugo was checked in his disappointment, and his face actually lit up with joy. ‘A
mobility scooter
! My good Lord, it's a mobility scooter: one each. I presume the blue's one's mine. Oh, Manda, I do believe I love you – in the most platonic way, of course.'

‘We'll have great fun together, Hugo, and we'll start today round by the stables where there's no gravel.'

‘Why the rush? Why today?' Hugo didn't see the need for any precipitate action with these new and probably quite lively machines.

‘Because we're going detecting tomorrow.' Lady Amanda stood four-square in front of him, with arms akimbo and that familiar determined expression, which brooked no argument or opposition, on her face.

‘Detecting?' Hugo looked nonplussed. ‘But we don't have a case on at the moment, do we, or am I completely losing my mind?'

‘Yes we do, and no you're not.' Lady A answered both of his questions as efficiently as possible.

‘What? What the devil are you talking about? What or whom are we investigating?' asked Hugo, feeling kinda left out.

‘It's a secret,' came the cryptic reply.

‘What? Even from me? And I'm supposed to be helping you carry out this mystery investigation?'

‘Hugo, if I told you, things would work nowhere near so well. It's absolutely necessary that you have no clue as to what I'm up to. Come along now, and the Beauchamps will show us how to ride these babies round to the stable yard, so that we can get used to the controls for tomorrow.'

‘Do we have to?'

‘
Yes
! Now, get a move on, slowcoach.'

‘Hugo, mind the hitching post!'

‘Hugo, watch the stable door! Not so fast!'

‘Hugo, these are not dodgem cars. Absolutely no bumping. I don't fancy being, literally, bumped off by you, Chummy,' this last, in quite a high-pitched voice, as Hugo's scooter ran into the back of hers for the third time, unexpectedly jolting the use of his old nickname out of her.

‘Hugo, where are you? How on earth did you get in there? Turn off the ignition and dismount, and I'll summon Beauchamp to come and get your machine out.' Hugo had driven into one of the stables, to which the door had been left open many years after the last horse had bolted. ‘And get the straw out of your hair. How you could just drive into a space like that I've no idea. They may be kept in there out of the weather, but we are certainly not training them in stable etiquette today.'

Hugo staggered somewhat shakily out of the wooden building brushing at his trousers, which had got a bit covered in ages-old straw, his face a predictable strawberry red.

‘Sorry, Manda. Got a bit mixed up with the rudders, and turned the wrong way, then couldn't remember how to stop the blasted thing.'

‘No worries, as they say Down Under, Hugo.'

‘Do they?'

‘Believe me, they could say a lot worse. Now remember how to steer and stop, and let's give it another go. Thank you so much, Beauchamp,' she concluded, as her butler parked the infernal machine back in the middle of the stable yard.

Hugo had to go upstairs for a lie down with a headache – perchance to nap – after lunch, but Lady Amanda, ever intrepid, had carried on with her driving practice. Hugo could follow in her wake tomorrow, but she'd have to be spot on to see what she wanted to try to locate.

Hugo reappeared for afternoon tea carrying two painkillers, a glass of water and with bleary eyes. ‘And where might we be going to carry out this secret investigation tomorrow?' he asked, without preamble.

‘In Belchester,' she clipped.

‘Why can't Beauchamp just take us in in the Rolls, like always?'

‘Because we'll be undercover. We'll need to wear scarves pulled up over our faces and hats pulled well down over our foreheads – for once I'm glad the wind is so biting. We don't want to be recognised, and the new scooters will aid the plan admirably. No one outside this household knows we have them, yet.'

‘Don't want to be recognised by whom?' asked Hugo doggedly.

‘Never you mind. Anybody. If everything goes according to plan, all will be revealed shortly.' And, with this, he had to be content for the time being, whilst Beauchamp entered with the tea tray, a conspiratorial wink in his eye for his mistress, just out of the elderly man's line of vision.

‘Hmph!' sounded Hugo in a disgruntled manner, definitely feeling excluded from certain things which he simply could not fathom.

THE NEXT DAY…

They had breakfasted early and were now wrapping up for their jaunt into Belchester. ‘Scarf, Hugo, well wrapped around your lower face. Don't want you getting toothache, do we? And hat pulled down a bit so that the sun doesn't dazzle you. Oh, and I'd suggest you wore your leather gloves instead of your woollen mittens; more grip, you see, on the handlebars.'

‘Are there any other sartorial requirements from her ladyship?' asked Hugo in exasperation. She usually wasn't that fussy about his appearance in public. ‘Still, at least we won't have to pedal.'

‘I suggest you take a cane, just in case we have to ward off any stray pedestrians, children, or dogs.' She didn't usually make a distinction between the latter two categories.

‘Do you propose to hit them to get them out of the way, then?'

‘No, just a little tootle on my horn, and maybe a prod for the less alert ones.'

Hugo thought about this for a moment, and the word ‘massacre' crossed his mind. ‘You'll get yourself arrested if you show any tendencies towards violence.'

‘Don't be so outrageous. Me? Violent? Why, I'm the most peaceable of denizens in Belchester,' Lady A replied, while Hugo thought about the bruise on his right ankle which he had obtained when he had said something which particularly irked her at dinner a few evenings ago and had resulted in a sharp kick.

‘Just stay calm, Manda. Even if there are difficulties, don't let your temper get the better of you.' For this, he received a look that would have shrivelled many others.

‘Come along and let us mount our noble steeds. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Hugo. I hope you have many hours of fun on your scooter. What are you going to call her?'

‘Eh?'

‘A name for her?'

Hugo did not answer directly, but muttered that he'd never heard anything so ridiculous in his life as naming an inanimate everyday object, but he expected he'd oblige, and sooner rather than later, just to keep the peace.

‘I'm going to call mine Red Rum because the original was such a successful racehorse,' Lady A crowed.

‘And it's also ‘murder' spelt backwards, which is probably what this will all end in.' Hugo had taken to muttering under his breath when he was particularly tried by his old friend.

The drive into Belchester was quite uneventful with the exception of Hugo rear-ending his leader a couple of times, but nothing serious. It really was still quite early, and Lady A kept what cars there were well away from them, through the liberal use of her horn, and waving her stick around on the right-hand side of her scooter. Hugo thought it was a miracle that they reached the city centre without mishap: her stick still in one piece, all her fingers intact, and her hand not torn from her wrist.

‘What's this all about, Manda?' pleaded Hugo, happy to be pressed into service for the purposes of investigation, but not at all happy about not knowing what it was they were actually investigating.

‘Oh, just some last-minute Christmas shopping,' chirruped his companion.

‘But … but … you said …' Hugo felt terribly cheated.

Lady Amanda, not to be thwarted, held out her stout walking stick, waved it in the air, and called, ‘Wagons, ho!' as she turned her ignition key, although proceeding at a very slow pace so that she had a chance to survey the seasonal temptations of the shop windows. As other, more legitimate customers blocked her progress, she brandished her stick, beeped her horn and shouted, ‘Make way!' Hugo, following as closely as he dared, felt mortified.

At one point they were side by side, examining the offerings of a particularly upmarket jeweller, and Hugo managed to slide in a question. ‘What exactly are you looking for, Manda. How will I know if I see what you're after, but can't identify it because I don't know exactly what it is that you want?'

It was a fair question, and Lady A made a fair fist of answering it without giving away too much information. This was to be her party trick.

They took only one break, at a café where the proprietor was willing to bring two cups of coffee outside, as he wasn't really geared up for apparently disabled visitors. The other alternative was that they could have left their scooters parked outside, but Lady A was having rather a lot of fun, so she played the not-very-mobile customer with unexpected enthusiasm.

With a large and quite frightening grin as she handed back her cup, she wondered if she had a future as a ‘secret shopper', testing out the disabled facilities of various retail and hospitality businesses. Hugo caught a glimpse of her face and shuddered. The old duck was planning something else as well. Heaven help him!

Their next pause to peruse was outside a couple of shops that had stood cheek by jowl for some years now, and still not come to terms with their diversity and the fact that they, in some categories, served the same market. One was a Cash Converters, the other a rather downmarket jeweller's that also acted as a pawnbroker when hard times dictated; now was one of those times, as the three balls suspended from the metal rod above the door bore adequate testament

With their blankets over their knees, they looked as if they were about to enter the Derby and Joan Cup race, but younger people were heard to say, ‘Aah!' as they passed by.

Lady A hissed furiously to her companion. ‘They must either think we're in our dotage, or looking for some cheap baubles for Christmas presents, as we're hard up. If only they knew.'

‘Knew what?' hissed back Hugo.

‘That we're private detectives currently engaged on a very mystifying case.'

‘Are we?' As Hugo still didn't have any idea what was going on, he was just going along with it as he usually did with his madcap friend's schemes. He was suddenly galvanised by something that caught his eye, and nearly overturned his mobility scooter in his surprise and excitement, trying to stand up at the same time as he pointed with his stick. ‘There, there!' he cried out, pointing with his cane.

Lady Amanda made a grab for him and managed to get him seated again, with a, ‘Yes, dear. Of course, darling,' and a rather unconvincing smile to those who had been attracted by Hugo's yell. ‘It's alright,' she assured those who were staring. ‘I think my husband has seen something he would like me to purchase for him, and he's a bit gaga, you know. Nothing to make a fuss about. I know how to handle him.'

Determined that there should not be a public scene, while she had been speaking, Lady A had wrapped the end of her scarf around her stick handle, and was now thrusting its woollen contents over Hugo's mouth. ‘Least said, soonest mended,' she intoned, then growled, ‘If you don't shut up this minute, I shall brain you, and, be warned, this is Great-Uncle Sylvester's stick which has a lead-loaded handle.'

‘But I just caught sight of my gold lighter in that window,' he struggled through his woollen gag.

She leaned over her scooter to get near his ear, and he winced and leaned away from her, convinced that she was going to bite him. ‘Hugo, just can it. I've seen my bridge pencils and Great-Aunt Jemima's baton. Let's make our way to the police station, which is, after all, only a stone's throw from here, and see if DS Glenister is on duty.

They were lucky; the DS was in the CID room and, therefore, able to come to the front desk to speak to them. ‘The compliments of the season to you both,' he carolled. ‘How are you both, and how can I be of assistance?'

‘Actually, it's a bit delicate,' explained Lady Amanda, in a stage whisper which could probably be heard in the street outside.

‘Shall we go into an interview room where it's more private?'

‘Lead the way, young man.'

They had left their mobility scooters in the carpark, suitably padlocked, and trusted to luck that they would be safe, thus secured and so close to the forces of law and order that prevailed in the small city of Belchester.

When the social niceties had been observed, Lady Amanda made her dramatic accusation. ‘There is a group of people going round casing joints and returning later to rob the properties of small and easily fenced items of value. We have located some of these objects, and no doubt your excellent PC Baldwin will be able to trace and recover any others. Beauchamp is sure that he recognised the head of the gang, and I would suggest that you give this your immediate attention, as most of the items will have been repurchased from their illegal possessors before Christmas Day.'

Hugo nodded, there being nothing of value to add except to enumerate the items that they already knew about for the purposes of recovery.

‘That's quite an accusation, Lady Amanda. Do you think you could start at the beginning, and go through events as you know them to have occurred, and I will then have a better idea of what you are talking about.' Adrian Glenister knew that the elderly spinster was rarely wrong about her hunches, and had no reason to doubt her now: he just needed things to be explained with a little – actually, a lot – more detail.

‘Let me record this so that I have a concrete source of reference. We'll treat this as a statement.'

‘Absolutely smashing!' exclaimed Lady A.

‘Ooh-er!' added Hugo.

DS Glenister pressed the requisite buttons to set the tape reels in motion and began to recite the time and place of the interview, and the names of those present. When he finally pressed the stop button, he let out a sigh of disbelief. ‘We'll get that typed up and you can sign it. What a filthy little scam. I'll get the necessary paperwork for the objects to be removed from the shop displays, and I'll provide a list of the items that you have told me about, to be touted around by the uniforms that we send out on this mission. You were quite right to come straight here. At this mad consumer season of the year, we will have to remove them from open sale as quickly as possible. If you'd be kind enough to let me have the contact details of the friends that you know have “lost” small items of value, I shall have them contacted.'