Inspector Rumblepants and the Case of the Golden Haggis (10 page)

“That's a bit sneaky,” he said, indignant. “They are not playing fair! Criminals today have no sense of ethics. What is the world coming to?”

“Yes, criminals do seem to break the rules occasionally,” answered Agent Amber knowingly. “I am sure you will tell them off when we arrest them.”

Their carriage broke from the black forest and bounced into a sunny valley with mountains towering on either side. The valley was dotted with fields of grazing sheep. In its center was a little village. On one side of the valley, the waters of Loch Ness lapped gently on the shore, which was covered with smelly seaweed. The lake, shrouded with mist, exuded mystery. Their carriage sloshed through muddy puddles and finally ended up in the village. Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber quickly found a large, stone building with an old sign stating that the building was the University for Clever(ish) Folks.

The sun was starting to set, so they decided to find a place to stay for the night. Their plan was to visit Professor Aberdeen the next day. They found a modest inn with an ancient, weathered sign saying the Loch Ness Beastie Inn. There they asked the old innkeeper for three rooms, one each for the Inspector, Agent Amber, and Sergeant Widebottom.

“Ye want rooms?” asked the innkeeper, giving a toothless smile. “Certainly!” With incredibly wrinkled hands, he handed over three heavy, iron keys.

With all of their bags, they climbed the narrow stairs to their rooms. Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber quickly unpacked and agreed to meet later that night to wait for Sergeant Widebottom and have dinner. Their rooms were small but cheerful, with tiny windows that let in the last rays of sunshine. Downstairs, the wonderful smell of cooking seeped through the rooms. They could hear mothers outside calling their playing children to come home for supper.

Chapter 10

Professor Aberdeen

L
ater that night, Sergeant Widebottom arrived at the Loch Ness Beastie Inn on the back of a Scottish police pony. He had obtained the steed at the police station to which he had taken the gypsies. The officers had given him the pony on loan so that he didn't have to walk all the way to the village of Firt'a-way'e. When the Scottish police officer had handed over the reins to the pony, Sergeant Widebottom had asked why they had painted the pony's head blue.

“‘Cause that's a police color, don't ye know,” stated the Scottish policeman firmly. “All police property is painted blue.” The officer pointed to a small horn tied to one of the pony's ears. “And that is yer police horn,” he stated. “All folks will leap out of the way when ye blow it!”

Sergeant Widebottom tried the horn, which let out a small squeak. “I guess they hear you coming from miles off,” he deadpanned.

After several hours bouncing up and down on the back of the small pony, he eventually found the inn and boarded the pony in the stable so it could eventually be returned by a local officer. The sun had set several hours previously, and the night was getting cold and damp. Fog was rolling in. Throughout the valley, a strange and eerie bleating noise could be heard echoing off the valley walls. Sergeant Widebottom nervously looked out into the darkness.

“Glad I don't have to go near that mysterious lake at night,” he muttered to himself as he pushed open the inn's creaking door and walked in.

Inspector Rumblepants had waited up for the Sergeant, who was covered in mud and weary from his long trip. He gratefully accepted a plate of food and some cold tea. Agent Amber had headed back to her room, as she had to wash her hair and paint her toenails. Inspector Rumblepants told Sergeant Widebottom of their plans for the next day. Rumblepants divulged his fear that someone was a traitor and may have arranged the ambush. They decided to head to bed and meet up for breakfast the next morning. They made sure to lock their bedroom doors, in case anyone should try to attack them again while they slept.

The sun rose early. The three of them gathered in the inn's kitchen for a breakfast of haggis on toast. But they could only eat the toast. They hid the inedible, rubbery, musty-smelling haggis bits in a small bag so as not to offend the innkeeper.

They headed off down the mud-covered streets to visit Professor Aberdeen at the university. Gangs of children going to school were headed in the same direction. Their bags were hung over their shoulders, stuffed with books. They laughed with each other and played tag. As the three sleuths walked through the archway to the university, a stern teacher asked them what class they were joining.

“We are not here for classes,” stuttered an intimidated Inspector Rumblepants. “We are the police on official business,” he added with more authority.

She did not look impressed and peered down at the Inspector through wire glasses sitting on the end of her hooked nose. “So you are too old to learn anything!” she huffed.

“No,” stammered the uncomfortable Inspector. “We finished schooling some years ago, and we are here simply to see Professor Aberdeen.”

“Have you been placed into detention and have to report to him?” asked the strict teacher. “Been naughty, have we?” She did not seem surprised.

“No, we are grown up and don't go to school anymore,” Inspector Rumblepants explained futilely.

“Truants!” tutted the teacher. “Your story sounds fishy to me. Go that way to Professor Aberdeen, and don't be late for your lessons,” she said briskly, pointing to a door. Then she turned quickly to frighten some students who were laughing without permission.

The building was old and dusty. By accident, they interrupted several classes trying to locate the professor. They eventually found Professor Aberdeen, who was having a cup of tea in the teachers' lounge. He smiled widely when they entered and offered them tea and crumpets.

They were just settling down to get acquainted when suddenly one of the windows exploded in a great shower of glass. In rolled Inspector Nailard, screaming, “Get down!” while randomly throwing daggers into bookcases and walls.

Behind Nailard, several other tough police officers kicked down doors and ran around shouting, “Don't move . . . Reach for the sky!”

Inspector Nailard jumped over a couch and grabbed Inspector Rumblepants by the arm. Nailard swung Rumblepants over the back of the couch and then landed on top of him.

“Inspector secured!” Nailard screamed heartily as two of the other policemen tried to lift Sergeant Widebottom and throw him behind a bookcase. After working on it a bit, they came to the conclusion that Widebottom was too heavy to be thrown. So instead, they threw themselves on top of him, making him spill his tea down one trouser leg.

“Sergeant secured!” shouted the policemen together. They were puffing and red faced with the effort, but they sported big grins at their success. One of the FART officers picked up a biscuit that had fallen on the floor and popped it into his mouth.

One officer threw a smoke bomb. Another officer came down the chimney and was covered in soot. A tiny officer broke through a wall with a huge bang of explosives—bits of wall went flying in all directions. Everyone coughed on the smoke, and there were loud crashes as bookshelves toppled over.

After much struggling, Inspector Rumblepants convinced Inspector Nailard to get off of him and to let Sergeant Widebottom sit up. Professor Aberdeen was allowed out of a cupboard one of the policemen had locked him in. He had been standing for several minutes in the dark, sipping his tea and nibbling a biscuit calmly, as if this kind of riot happened every day.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” asked Inspector Rumblepants angrily to Nailard, brushing biscuits crumbs and tea droplets from his tweed jacket.

“Your lives are in danger!” Nailard exclaimed breathlessly. We have been sent to protect you,” he stated proudly. His men climbed off Sergeant Widebottom, who proceeded to dust himself off and pour himself another cup of tea.

“How are you protecting us?” Rumblepants inquired. “By breaking through windows and walls, and damaging doors?”

Agent Amber, used to such mayhem, tried to lean a broken door up against a wall. Professor Aberdeen, ever calm, pulled daggers from some of his rare-book collection.

Rumblepants pointed to the officer dressed in soot. “What would have happened if they had lit the fireplace?”

“It was necessary,” Inspector Nailard assured Rumblepants, all the while grinning and looking approvingly around the wrecked room. “Rumblepants, read your official manual. Manual 14, Section 12.4B, says that entering a potentially hostile room with a potential hostage calls for windows and doors to be opened quickly, walls to be breached, and the hostage to be covered by large police officers in order to prevent injury or danger.” He smirked in satisfaction.

“But the doors were already open,” Rumblepants protested. “And you hurt my ankle when you threw me over the chair.” As if to prove the point, he limped to a chair to sit down. “It was pretty dangerous, your throwing those knives all over the place!” he pointed out angrily.

Suddenly a picture fell off of the wall with a crash, glass shattering all over the floor.

“I remember last year at the office Christmas party, when you threw in smoke bombs and arrested Santa,” he added, trying to make his hair more presentable with his hands.

Nailard scoffed. “We had it on good authority that it was not actually Santa, but an imposter.”

His men helped themselves to biscuits and cups of tea.

“A good detective has to be observant,” instructed Nailard. “For example, there was no sledge outside. There wasn't a reindeer in sight. So by deduction, he clearly was not the real Santa.” Nailard smiled smugly at his impeccable reasoning.

“You are right,” said Inspector Rumblepants wearily.

Nailard continued. “In fact, when we searched our prisoner at the station, we discovered that ‘Santa' was really Mr. Jenkins, the headmaster from Wilkin's primary school. I know that he has been rehabilitated as a troublemaker, because he has refused to go anywhere near the police station again.”

Sergeant Widebottom looked up from his cucumber sandwich. “I heard that Mr. Jenkins starts crying every time he sees a policeman and locks himself in his home every Christmas,” he said sadly.

“What about the year before,” Rumblepants asked, “at the police family Easter party? Didn't you arrest three of the children?”

“They were stealing eggs from the police garden,” stated Inspector Nailard, helping Professor Aberdeen pull the last of the knives from the wall.

“But it was an egg hunt!” exclaimed the exasperated Rumblepants.

“I always get my man,” Nailard insisted.

When the teachers' lounge was tidied up and the broken windows had been covered with sheets to stop any rain from coming in, Inspector Nailard told Inspector Rumblepants, Sergeant Widebottom, and Agent Amber about the note reporting on a mole. He explained that the MI six-and-a-half division thought there was a traitor in their midst, and that they might be ambushed at any time.