Inspector Hobbes and the Blood: A Fast-paced Comedy Crime Fantasy (unhuman) (22 page)

'Weird,'
said Wilkes. 'Was he sniffing then?'

'Umm
… it sounded like it.'

'I
don't know what it is but something about him gives me the creeps.'

'I
know what you mean,' I said.

'Yeah.'
Wilkes grimaced. 'I know he's a copper, and a good one, and there's less crime
on his patch than most others and a better clean up rate, but there's something
unnatural about him. No … not unnatural; if anything he's too natural. Unhuman,
is that the right word?'

'Inhuman?'
I suggested.

Wilkes
pondered. 'Maybe not – inhuman sounds like he's cruel or something and he isn't.
Well, not really.'

I
agreed. 'I see what you're getting at.' I thought for a moment about all his
oddities. 'Unhuman sums him up rather well.'

'Still,'
said Wilkes, 'he's a feature of Sorenchester Police. All the regional coppers
know him by reputation at least. I guess he must be about due for retirement.
Mind you, that's what I thought when I transferred here, nearly twenty years
ago. What's your connection with him?'

'I'm
staying with him temporarily, because my flat burned down last week. By the
way, my name's Andy. Andy Caplet.'

'George
Wilkes.' He nodded, his broad, slow face brightening with a smile of
recognition. 'You're the journalist aren't you? The bloke from the
Bugle
?
I've heard about you. What on earth did you do to get saddled with the
Inspector?'

'I
don't know.' I frowned. 'I've left the
Bugle
now. I'm freelance.'

'Yeah,
I heard you'd got the boot. And aren't you the guy that got his ear chomped at
the pet show?'

I
acknowledged the fact.

He
laughed. 'I can still remember your photo in the paper: what an expression!
Yeah, that's it, you're doing it again.' He continued to laugh, leaning against
the police car, until a taxi turned into the drive, scattering gravel. Then wiping
his eyes, grinning, he stood upright, patted me on the back and stepped towards
the taxi.

Rage
and fury built within me and, though I wanted to say something fine and biting,
a retort to cut him down to size, I couldn't think of anything. 'Hah!' I said,
frustrated, turning away, wishing I had something to kick. Anything.

Then
I had a brilliant idea. Walking towards the door of the house, my hand casually
thrust into my jacket pocket, climbing up the steps, I peeked into the entrance
hall, seeing no sign of Hobbes. Casually, removing my hand from the pocket, letting
one of Phil's cards flutter to the dark, parquet floor, I used my foot to push
it partly under the rug.

It
was a lovely rug with a startling pattern of flowers, trees and birds woven
amid brilliant colours and I guessed it was very old. My parents' friends, the
Moffatts, used to have one a bit like it, which they'd picked up in Turkey,
having beaten a desperate peasant down to a ludicrously low price. I'd heard
them boast about it many times, yet this was far finer than theirs.

I
heard a clatter from within. 'Mr Barrington-Oddy's returned,' I shouted.

'Thanks.'
Hobbes's voice replied from behind a tall, dark dresser, glittering with
expensive looking knick-knacks. 'I'll just be a minute.'

I
went back down the steps, strolling towards the cars, my heart thumping,
knowing I'd dropped Phil right in it, convinced Hobbes would now see him for
what he was. Yet, I already felt guilty, and might have turned back and retrieved
the card had Hobbes not appeared in the doorway, flattening my good intentions
under his heavy boots. I'd really done it, for good or ill; I half hoped he
wouldn't notice it.

Wilkes
was assisting Mr Barrington-Oddy from the taxi as Hobbes came alongside and
introduced himself. Barrington-Oddy shook his hand without even flinching,
obviously a man with great stiffness in his upper lip. He was very tall, very
thin and very grey, wore a heavy, dark suit with a waistcoat and regimental tie
and I wasn't at all surprised to learn he was a retired barrister, though
barristers are rarely portrayed with angry-looking blisters around their mouths
and noses.

 When
Hobbes introduced me, I didn't warrant a handshake, just a curt nod.

Barrington-Oddy,
possessing a clipped, posh voice, the sort rarely heard except in parody,
addressed Hobbes. 'I trust you will brook no delay in apprehending the
miscreants. In the meantime, shall we go inside? I find the clammy chill this
time of year to be exceedingly bad for my constitution.'

Hobbes
and I followed him inside, Wilkes taking up his position by the car. He grinned
sarcastically, while I smirked, glad he was being left outside in the cold. As
Hobbes shut the front door behind us, I was astonished how gloomy it became.

'Take
a seat,' said Barrington-Oddy, entering a room, turning on the lights.

It
was, I guessed, a drawing room, impressive in an oppressive way. Everything
looked heavy and fussy. Dark panelling lined the walls, on which hung dark
portraits of stern, humourless individuals in rich, dark clothing. An old black
clock, intricately carved with grotesque demon shapes ticked on the mantelpiece,
looking both fascinating and repulsive. The only thing in the room I could
admire without condition was the carpet, similar to the rug in the entrance
hall, though even richer and heavier. A sad fire glowed in the grate and I was
grateful when Barrington-Oddy stirred it with a poker and placed a couple of
chunky logs on top; the place certainly needed some heat. Shivering, I almost
envied Wilkes who was, no doubt, lounging comfortably in his police car. I sat
next to Hobbes on a solid, leather-backed chair in front of a solid,
leather-covered table. Nothing in the room looked even vaguely Roman, with the
exception of Barrington-Oddy's nose.

'I
apologise. My man, Errol, would normally have attended to the fire but he's
been called away on urgent family business.' Barrington-Oddy, straightening up,
shut the drawing room door and relaxed into a deep, dark armchair.

I
wished I'd positioned myself a little closer to the heat as I had to keep
clamping my jaws together to stop my teeth rattling. Hobbes never appeared to
notice the cold.

'Right,
Inspector,' Barrington-Oddy began, his tone suggesting he was in charge, 'I
suppose I ought to inform you of what happened. I might as well, as I'm sure
I've already told most of your colleagues.'

'If
you would be so good, sir,' said Hobbes.

'Let
me begin. I intend residing in Sorenchester until the New Year while researching
a book concerning the influence of Roman law on aspects of modern English
jurisprudence.'

Jumping
at the mention of Roman law, I glanced significantly at Hobbes, who ignored me.

'I
chose this place,' Barrington-Oddy continued, 'because the local museum has a
number of fascinating artefacts and documents that are proving exceedingly
valuable.'

The
museum connection had reappeared and I wasted another significant glance on
Hobbes. Somehow, I felt as if I was trying to build a jigsaw puzzle from a
handful of pieces and no idea of the overall picture. Yet, everything had to
fit together.

'I
was transcribing some notes I'd made last week and was indexing the details
when the doorbell rang,' said Barrington-Oddy. 'I waited, expecting Errol to
answer and when it rang again I recalled he was absent. I was somewhat annoyed
as I dislike being interrupted when at work, yet I thought I ought to go. I
rather wish I hadn't.'

'I'm
not surprised, sir,' Hobbes said, 'you've had a most unpleasant experience.'

'Most
unpleasant indeed. When I opened the door, two masked figures were standing
there and before I could react they sprang on me. A pad impregnated, so I am
informed, with chloroform was clamped over my face, the world began spinning
and that is all I can remember until I awoke in the entrance hall. As soon as I
felt able, I contacted the police and made a quick surveillance of the house. I
am not aware of anything being taken. However, that cabinet,' he pointed
towards a mahogany and glass monstrosity in the corner, 'has been broken into.
As far as I can tell, nothing else was touched. The two men had gone.'

'Thank
you, sir,' Hobbes said gravely. 'A most succinct account. Now, sir, could you
describe your attackers?'

'Well,'
said Barrington-Oddy with a frown, 'I didn't have long enough to form anything
other than the slightest impression of them. As I said, they wore masks, or
rather, one wore something like a balaclava with eyeholes and the other had a brown
scarf around his face and a trilby hat pulled down low. I can't recall anything
further.'

'Any
idea of their sizes or ages?' Hobbes asked.

'Sorry,
not much. Though I believe neither was as tall as I, the taller of the two, the
one wearing the scarf, appeared somewhat skinny. That's really your lot,
except, yes, there was a faint smell like flowers before they got the pad over
my nose. They took me entirely by surprise, I regret to say.'

'Any
idea how long you were unconscious, sir?'

'No,
though it can't have been long because I'd just prepared a pot of coffee and it
was still warm when I came back in here. I took a sip because of an unpleasant
taste in my mouth, which felt as dry as water biscuits.'

'Do
you have any idea what was taken, sir?'

'Not
really. There are a number of antiques in the cabinet but I'm not so familiar
with them that I can identify what has been removed, though there may be a
space where there wasn't one before. Errol could probably tell you, because he
dusted in here. Unfortunately he's in Jamaica.'

'What
about the house's owner?'

'She
would probably know,' said Barrington-Oddy. 'Unfortunately, she's in
Switzerland, I believe.'

'That
is unfortunate,' said Hobbes. 'Do you happen to know how I can contact her? And
what her name might be?'

'It's
Mrs Jane Ilionescu. I don't know the woman – I'm renting through an agent. The
number's on this.' Mr Barrington-Oddy reached into a drawer and handed a card
to Hobbes.

All
through the interview I'd kept quiet but I ventured a question. 'Is the owner a
foreigner then? I mean with a surname like that?'

'I
believe she is English,' said Barrington-Oddy. 'She married a foreign
gentleman, now unfortunately deceased. If you require any further information,
I would advise contacting the agent.'

'Thank
you, sir.' Hobbes nodded, rising to his feet. 'Now, would you mind if I take a
closer look at the cabinet?'

'Please
do,' said Barrington-Oddy. 'My daily routine has been entirely disrupted
already. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. I doubt, though,
that I will be of much help. I am not, I regret, an observant man. I focus only
on what is important to my work.'

'Very
good, sir,' Hobbes said, approaching the display cabinet as if stalking a deer.
He squatted onto his haunches, creeping forward, examining the carpet, sniffing
the air and apparently listening.

I
sat still, glad the fire had begun to compete with the damp chill. Brancastle
was a grand old house in its way, yet I hated it and couldn't blame Mrs
Whatsaname for going away. Mr Barrington-Oddy, lighting a pipe, sank back into
his armchair, eyes closed, hands folded over his stomach, almost as if he'd
fallen asleep. A heavy cloud billowed about him, curling tendrils reaching out
into the room.

Hobbes,
unfolding into his usual hunched stance as he reached the cabinet, opened its
door, peering at the damaged lock. 'This was forced using a knife with a broad
blade. I can't see any sign of fingerprints. Your man Errol obviously dusts
well and the burglars wore gloves, which isn't surprising, as it's winter.
Hallo, hallo, hallo. What's this?'

Frowning
with concentration, leaning forward, he plucked at the cabinet, close to where
the knife had been forced in. I was astonished how delicate and precise he
could be, although, when he raised his fingers to the light, I could see
nothing.

'What
is it?'

'Some
fibres were caught where the wood's splintered. I'll bet they came off a glove.
A black one: woollen.' Dropping them into a polythene bag, he sniffed. 'Hmm.
There's a faint hint of flowers.'

I
couldn't smell anything other than Barrington-Oddy's suffocating pipe smoke
that, having formed a dense layer at head height, was stinging my eyes and
making my nose run.

'Two
people,' said Hobbes, staring at the carpet, 'one tall, wearing shoes with a
smooth sole and a bit of a heel. He was light of build, soft treading, and wore
black woollen gloves smelling of flowers, a scarf and a trilby. The other one was
of medium build, wearing new trainers and a balaclava with eyeholes. Well, if I
see anyone fitting those descriptions, I'll be sure to arrest them.'

The
doorbell rang. Barrington-Oddy's eyes opened, holding a momentary look of concern,
unsurprising in the circumstances. 'I wonder who it could be.'

'Could
you get it, Andy?' asked Hobbes.

PC
Wilkes stood at the door. 'Sir!' he called across the hall. 'I've been ordered
back to the station and thought I'd better tell you. Hallo.' He glanced down by
his feet. 'What's this?' Stooping, he picked up Phil's card.