3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers (24 page)

‘Maybe. I say, my head’s spinnin’ and I’m feelin’ all sleepy.’

His eyes closed and his breathing became deep and regular, interspersed by the occasional snort.

‘Well, that was an effort,’ said Hobbes.

‘What just happened?’ asked Kathy, looking at the sleeping Rupert with deep loathing and then at Hobbes with confused admiration.

‘I got him to talk. The gentle touch often works with someone who’s not too bright and is scared even sillier than he is naturally.’

‘It cost you a meal and a bottle of wine,’ said Kathy. ‘Why didn’t you just beat the crap out of him?’

‘I am not in the habit of beating people,’ said Hobbes. ‘Besides, his fear of his father would have stopped him talking until he’d been hurt badly. His brain works too slowly to make sensible decisions in a short time.’

‘Mom told me that you once totally demolished a biker gang. She said there were twelve of them and you beat them all unconscious. Is that true?’

‘No,’ said Hobbes, shaking his head. ‘There were fifteen of them.’

‘Even better,’ said Kathy, with a sudden, proud grin. ‘What happened?’

‘It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’d still like to know.’

Hobbes sighed. ‘The boys were out of their minds on something and completely out of control. Some of them were armed and all of them were dangerous. When I chanced on the scene, they’d already injured several people. All I did was stop their misbehaviour with the minimum amount of force necessary. It so happened on that particular occasion that the minimum amount was considerable.’

‘How did you do it?’

‘As quickly and efficiently as I could.’

‘Mom said you hit them with a chair.’

‘Two chairs, a table and a frozen chicken, if I remember rightly, but it was long ago and best forgotten. What is important now is ensuring the safety of Mrs Daphne Duckworth. I am somewhat concerned.’

I was still feeling protective and worried. ‘What d’you think they’ll do to her?’

‘Nothing,’ said Hobbes, ‘if I have anything to do with it.’

‘And what you gonna do with this creep?’ asked Kathy pointing a plump, manicured finger at Rupert.

‘That’s a good point,’ I said. ‘He can’t sleep here.’

‘He appears to be doing just that,’ said Hobbes.

‘But, where will you sleep? You haven’t had time to tidy the attic yet.’

‘Anyway,’ said Kathy, sounding frightened, ‘when he wakes up, won’t he steal stuff or murder us all in our beds?’

‘There’s no fear of that,’ said Hobbes. ‘I’ll get Dregs to keep an eye on him.’

‘You’re gonna trust a hoodlum to that dumb dog?’

Hobbes nodded. ‘He knows his stuff. Right, anyone fancy helping me clean out the attic?’ He sprang to his feet.

‘Umm … OK, then.’ I said.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Kathy.

Hobbes grinned. ‘Thank you. Come along then. And quickly.’

15

From my first visit, the attic, lit only by a single, low-powered light bulb, had impressed me with a weird sensation of being in a treasure house, a museum, a junk room and Aladdin’s cave all thrown into one. There was a frisson whenever I went up there, for I always imagined I’d discover something exciting. Kathy was still puffing upstairs, as I followed Hobbes up the ladder and past Cuddles the bear, the stuffed guardian of the relics of Hobbes’s past. Although he had occasionally talked about Cuddles, claiming my room had once been his, I’d never got him to explain why there was a stuffed elephant’s trunk up there, nor why he kept the heaps of old clothes and the various bits of penny-farthings that lined the walls. To my eyes, though most of it was probably junk, there were treasures as well, not least the paintings he’d done, which I found strangely beautiful, if deeply disturbing. In addition, this was where I’d found the fading photographs of Hobbes and Froggy, Kathy’s mother. I’d never yet penetrated the darker reaches, where mysterious shapes lay concealed beneath old blankets and rags.

‘The lass was right,’ he said, ‘it is a mess. Where shall we start?’

‘Umm … I don’t really know. It depends on what you want to throw out and what you want to keep.’

He scratched his head, sounding like someone sawing wood. ‘I suppose if we piled things higher, there’d be enough space for a bed.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What the hell is that?’ said Kathy, at the top of the ladder, staring wide-eyed into the bear’s maw, wrinkling her nose.

‘That,’ said Hobbes, ‘is Cuddles. He won’t hurt you, he’s stuffed.’

‘You gotta get rid of it! All that fluff is coming out of it and it stinks of old socks and who knows what.’

He nodded, a little shamefaced.

She stepped up, looking around with amazement. ‘You’re not really gonna sleep up here?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘But it’s cold and it doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in a century.’

‘I replaced the floor boards not long ago,’ he said.

‘Jeez! What a mess. Doesn’t your housekeeper ever tidy up?’

‘This is my space. She leaves it alone, unless I ask.’

‘This whole house is your space.’

‘Yes, but I like up here as it is. All I need to do is make sufficient floor space for a bed.’

‘How you going to get a bed up here?’

‘There’s one under this.’ Kicking aside a spiked German helmet, he pulled back a blanket with a magician’s flourish.

The air was suddenly full of mice, spinning and squeaking, and Kathy, with a squeal, covering her head with her hands, turned and ran in a blind panic, straight towards the hatch. Before the last mouse had even landed, Hobbes, diving full length, caught her around the waist with one long arm, but her momentum dragged them both through. There was a scream, a crash, and a groan as, horrified, I rushed to see what had happened, fearing he must have crushed her like an elephant falling on a kitten, albeit a rather overgrown kitten, but he was lying on his back with Kathy cradled to his chest, amid the junk his trailing foot had hooked out.

‘Are you alright?’ I asked, scrambling down.

Kathy looked up and nodded, her face a mix of relief, shock and amazement.

‘Oof!’ said Hobbes, opening his eyes.

As I helped her back to her feet, not an easy task, Hobbes sat up with a groan, rubbing his side. Dregs bounded up the stairs followed by Mrs Goodfellow, who, keeping pace, was panting like the dog.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

‘I fell, but Daddy caught me,’ said Kathy in a weak voice. She looked down. ‘I’m OK, I think. Are you hurt?’

Hobbes pushed himself to his feet, still rubbing his side. ‘I reckon I’ve bust a rib.’ Holding onto the balustrade, he grinned. ‘Still, mustn’t grumble, it could have been worse.’

‘We’d better get you to the emergency room,’ said Kathy.

‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.’

‘But …’ said Kathy and stopped, staring at a photograph that had come down with the mess. Bending, she picked it up and gasped. ‘It’s … Mom and you, but … you look just the same!’

‘Hardly,’ said Hobbes, taking a glance. ‘Look at those trousers! And I wouldn’t wear my hair that long these days.’

‘I don’t mean the clothes, I mean you. You don’t really look any different now and this must have been taken in the sixties. I don’t get it. How come you haven’t grown older?’

‘I have grown older, just like everyone.’

‘You don’t look any older,’ she said, staring.

‘Put it down to healthy living,’ I said.

‘And good food,’ added Mrs Goodfellow.

‘And good genes,’ I continued.

‘No,’ said Kathy, screwing up her face. ‘Mom looks like an old lady and you don’t.’

‘That’s because he’s not a lady,’ I said, helpfully.

She glared.

‘I suppose I’ve just been lucky,’ said Hobbes. ‘Who’s going to help me get a bed ready?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I need to know, because there’s an even older photograph in the museum and one of the guys in it looks just like you. Andy sort of convinced me it was just a coincidence, but it really was you, wasn’t it?’

He shrugged, looking nervous.

‘And,’ said Kathy, her voice rising in pitch and volume, ‘you fall through the goddam hatch and catch me and then get straight back up? You should be dead. What are you?’

‘I,’ said Hobbes, ‘am a police officer.’

‘Mom warned me you were a weird kinda guy, but she put that down to you being English. That’s not the reason is it? You’re not normal. You’re not right. And what does that make
me?’

Detecting the onset of hysteria, I considered slapping her. The trouble was, I wasn’t sure it would work. Furthermore, I feared she’d slap me back with interest, and, if she’d inherited only half of Hobbes’s power, she’d knock me into the middle of next week. Before I’d made up my mind she stopped talking, turned pale, and swayed. Hobbes, leaping towards her, held her as she collapsed, and grimaced as he took her dead weight.

‘Is she alright?’ I asked.

‘I think she’s fainted,’ said Hobbes.

He carried Kathy’s limp body into his room and laid her gently on the bed.

‘Should we get a doctor?’ I asked, worried, for it had been a spectacular collapse, and far more convincing than the one at the museum.

‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ said Mrs Goodfellow, who claimed to have once been a nurse, checking her pulse and looking into her eyes. ‘He’s right. It is just a faint. It’ll be from emotional stress. I’ll keep an eye on her, but she’ll be alright in a few minutes.’ Taking the pillows, she placed them under Kathy’s legs.

Hobbes sent me for a moist flannel and applied it to her face.

After a minute, she opened her eyes and gulped. ‘What happened?’

‘You fainted,’ said Hobbes. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Bad.’

Mrs Goodfellow checked her pulse again. ‘Do you faint often?’

She shook her head and groaned. ‘I want to sleep now. Please leave me alone.’

We walked away. Then Mrs Goodfellow turned around, went back in and prised Dregs from under the bed. Hobbes winced as he bent to pick up some of the junk that had fallen through the hatch.

Mrs Goodfellow noticed and gave him her sternest frown. ‘Don’t even think of trying to clear out that attic now. You’d better rest.’

‘But where?’ I asked.

‘You’d best take Andy’s room. Lie down and I’ll bring up some of my cordial.’

‘Thanks, lass, but where’s he going to sleep?’

She thought for a moment. ‘I’ll call Sydney.’

So it was that an hour or so later, clutching a small overnight bag, I found myself back at the old vampire’s house, this time having arrived conventionally.

‘Come in,’ said Sid, beaming a sharp-toothed smile. ‘How the Dickens are you?’

‘I’m fine, but Hobbes thinks he’s bust a rib.’

As the front door closed behind me, it struck me that I was about to spend the night under a vampire’s roof. I felt very brave.

‘A bust rib?’ said Sid. ‘I expect that’ll slow him down for a day or two. Come on into the kitchen. Have you eaten? I’ve got some soup in the fridge if you’re hungry.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘A drink? I usually have a mug of hot milk before I turn in.’

‘Can I just have water?’

‘I gather,’ he said, pouring me a glass, ‘that Wilber’s long-lost daughter has turned up.’

‘Yes,’ I said and explained the situation with Kathy while he heated up his milk.

‘Who’d have thought it?’ he said, with a strange smile. ‘I hope, though, that with the excitement of a new daughter, plus an injured rib, he won’t forget about solving the robbery. I’ve had Colonel Squire threatening to sue me unless I retrieve his gold.’

‘He can’t do that can he?’

‘I don’t know, young man. We’ve never before had a successful robbery at the bank. With Wilber on the case, I’m hoping the situation will be resolved soon, before too much harm is done.’

‘I hope so,’ I said, ‘but he may also be distracted by Rupert.’ I filled in the details, glossing over the tin of beans incident.

Sid didn’t seem surprised.

‘Hobbes,’ I said, ‘is going to help him to do a job for his father, but I don’t really understand what he’s up to.’

The old vampire looked rather down in the mouth and I wasn’t sure how to cheer him up, for I couldn’t help wondering whether Kathy’s arrival had unhinged Hobbes. She certainly had me worried and I was sure Mrs Goodfellow wasn’t happy. Only Dregs, after a suspicious start, seemed pleased to have her in the house. Perhaps the beef wellington had something to do with it.

‘The odd thing is,’ I continued, ‘that I encountered Rupert’s father, Sir Gerald, when we were camping. Although it was only for a couple of minutes, I could understand why the lad might be scared of him. He was really arrogant and rude.’

Sid’s eyebrows rose. ‘I was introduced to Sir Gerald a few months ago at Colonel Squire’s Summer Ball. He was a real Payne in the … well, you get my drift.’