Inspector Hobbes and the Curse - a fast-paced comedy crime fantasy (unhuman) (19 page)

Sitting
there, calming myself, I wondered what on earth, or rather, below earth the
tunnels were. I wasn’t aware of any mine workings in the area and wondered if
they could have been smugglers’ tunnels, or part of an elaborate wartime bomb
shelter, or maybe I was in one of those places where dead bodies were stored.
What were they called? Catamarans? Something like that. Catacombs – that was
the word. What a perfect place to hide a body.

I
shouldn’t have gone down there.

Vile
images entered my mind, as bright as if I could really see them, of grinning
skulls and heaps of rotten bones, and Hobbes sitting in the middle, chewing on
some bit of somebody. Yet, I couldn’t smell decay, which was some comfort. All
my nose could detect was damp, soil and my own sweat. I was shivering, goose
pimples erupting on my skin, teeth chattering, so I got to my feet, needing to
keep walking or die of hypothermia. Anyway, I was bound to come across
something eventually.

I
couldn’t stand much more of the darkness and the silence.

In
fact, it wasn’t quite silent. Something was moving, something I hoped wasn’t
rats, because there was nothing worse than rats, except for something bigger
and fiercer. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound as small as a rat: not by a long
way.

Surely
there wasn’t another panther? Was it possible I’d stumbled into their daytime
hideaway? But then, Hobbes would have known about it already, unless they were what
he was hiding. Nothing made sense in that blackness, in my state of rising
terror.

The
noise getting louder, sounding horribly like paws, I held my breath, on the
edge of blind panic, hearing something sniffing, something not far away. My
nerves, or what was left of them, unable to take any more, I turned to flee, knowing
it was hopeless.

‘Stop!
Stop right there!’ said a voice that could not be disobeyed. ‘Do not take
another step. Stay exactly where you are.’

I
stopped, terror giving way to fearful, almost tearful, relief.

‘I’m
lost,’ I said, looking back over my shoulder, a futile thing to do in the
blackness.

‘Of
course you are,’ said Hobbes. ‘Now do as I say, exactly as I say.’

‘Alright.’
My voice was surprising in its pitch, its feeble lack of timbre.

‘Do
not turn around. Take a step backwards … now another … and another … one more ought
to do it. Now you can turn around, and put your right hand against the wall … your
right hand! That’s it. Now walk towards me, and slowly.’

I
turned towards his voice, reassured by its calm authority, though the fear of
whatever was behind goaded me into a scurry.

‘Stop
there,’ he said, ‘do not put your foot down.’

‘Why
not?’ I gulped, keeping it raised.

‘Because
you’ll tread on the dog.’

A
cold nose pressing into my left hand, I stroked Dregs’s head, safe for the
first time since I’d lost my way. Hobbes’s hand touched my shoulder.

‘You
shouldn’t have come down here,’ he said, ‘there are more dangers than you can
possibly imagine.’

‘Like
what?’

‘Now
is not the time for questions,’ he said looping a length of cord around my
neck. ‘Follow me.’

The
cord tightening, I followed, like a small child on a harness and, just like a
child, I felt secure, wondering why, though I feared I was in for a severe
telling off, I had no concerns about my well-being. There’d been no anger in
his voice, only concern, and my suspicion that he’d murdered Henry Bishop and
others no longer mattered; he was still my friend, someone I could rely on. It
wasn’t a ruthless application of logic that led me to this conclusion, it was
just a feeling; sometimes feelings are worth more than logic.

Though
Dregs’s paws pattered quietly as we twisted and turned through the blackness,
my feet scuffed and clattered, as I tripped and stumbled in the rear. Of
Hobbes, other than a light pressure on my neck and the usual faint, feral
odour, I could discern nothing, except on the occasions when he paused to
sniff. I didn’t care, so long as I got out of that horrible place, where the
weight of aeons of darkness was crushing me, the unseen walls squeezing too tightly.

At
last, so faint at first I doubted my own eyes, I began to see Hobbes’s
silhouette. As the outline sharpened, I could make out Dregs, padding to heel,
two steps in front. Eventually, I could see my own hands, and then, a moment of
bliss, the doorway. Though I longed to rush up the steps, to put the dark
behind me, I had to climb up at Hobbes’s steady, deliberate pace, until, at
last, I was blinking in the dim light of the cellar. The dog yawned and shook
himself, apparently sharing my feelings of relief as Hobbes shut and locked the
door, pocketing the key.

‘Thank
you for getting me out of there,’ I said, as a thought struck. ‘Umm … how would
you have opened the door if I hadn’t already moved the coal?’

‘Quite
easily. Now, you’d best get upstairs, get washed and make yourself respectable.
We need to have a little chat, but it can wait till we’ve had some grub.’

Looking
at myself, I was staggered how black, streaked and filthy I was.

As
he picked up the shovel, shifting the coal back, I climbed the stairs to the
kitchen, a flutter of butterflies taking wing in my stomach at the prospect of
the little chat. Dregs bounded after me, pushing past at the top.

‘Have
you been having fun, dear?’ asked Mrs Goodfellow, who was slicing bread at the
table, apparently unsurprised by my appearance.

‘It
wasn’t fun. I got lost.’

‘Well,
at least you didn’t tumble into the bottomless pit of doom, or worse. Never
mind, dear, you’ll find clean clothes in your room.’

‘Thank
you,’ I said, turning towards the stairs.

‘But
you’d better take those filthy things off first. I’m not having you messing up
anywhere else. Anyone would think you’ve been rolling around in the coal.’

‘But
…’

‘But
nothing. Hurry up.’ She gave me what passed for her stern look.

Hobbes
emerged from the cellar without a speck of dirt on him, having taken all of two
minutes to put the coal back.

‘C’mon,
Andy,’ he said, ‘clean yourself up, and quickly. I’m famished.’

Giving
up, I stripped to my underpants, which apparently passed muster for she nodded.
‘Now hurry up. Dinner will be ready when you are.’

‘Just
one thing,’ she said as I turned away, ‘that young lady of yours called round
when you were out.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,
really. Now move yourself.’

Although
I hesitated, wanting to find out more, Hobbes’s expression moved me on. My insides
had been twisting themselves into knots at the prospect of the impending little
chat, yet the mere thought of Violet blew away my immediate fears, as I tried
to work out why she’d come round. It was hardly likely she wanted to see more
of me, unless I’d misjudged everything. As hope sprouted, so did a sudden
horror, for the old girl had said she’d called round, but hadn’t actually said
she’d left and the idea of her seeing me streaked with dirt and sweat, wearing
only a pair of Y-fronts, made me cringe. Adopting stealth mode, creeping like a
cat, I peeped nervously into the sitting room, as Dregs pushed past, making a
circle of the room, sniffing and acting in an unusually manic way, before
rushing back into the kitchen. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was relieved or
disappointed to find her gone.

I
went upstairs and ran a bath. I was amazed how much black muck sloughed off me
as I scrubbed away, using Mrs Goodfellow’s long-handled back scrubber and a bar
of soap. I had to change the water twice before it stayed reasonably clear.
Afterwards, having dried myself and made some sort of effort to clean the bath,
without completely removing the dark ring, I dressed and went downstairs.

For
once, I didn’t pay much attention to my lunch, though the crusty ham sandwiches
didn’t deserve such negligence. The problem was that, as the time for my little
chat with Hobbes grew closer, my mouth was becoming as dry as talcum powder,
despite the sluicing of a couple of pints of ginger beer down my throat. I
wanted it to be all over, even if I really didn’t want it to start, and he
seemed to be lingering over his meal, as if he had all day. Though part of me
wanted to urge him to hurry up, I suspected the waiting wouldn’t be the worst
part. At last, dabbing his lips with a napkin, he rose to his feet.

‘Let’s
go through to the sitting room,’ he said. ‘I think some explanation is in
order.’

I
followed him, quaking. He appeared calm, but that meant little.

‘Take
a seat,’ he said, indicating the near end of the sofa, planting his big
backside on the far end. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

Nodding,
I attempted a smile as, sighing, he rested his feet on the coffee table, just as
Mrs Goodfellow came in with the tea. As she tutted, he shifted his feet onto
the carpet with a sheepish grin.

‘Thanks,
lass,’ he said as she returned to the kitchen.

‘Now,
then, Andy,’ he said turning towards me, piling sugar into his mug, ‘a few
months ago, I told you not to use that door and I believe I suggested you would
do better to forget all about it. Is that correct?’

I
gulped, nodding.

Having
stirred his tea with his finger, he took a long slurp and continued. ‘Since it
is often dangerous to seek out secrets, my intention was to instil such fear
into you that you wouldn’t dream of going in there. I thought, as the months
went by, that it had worked.’

‘It
had,’ I said, my voice a croak. ‘Nearly.’

‘I
had good reasons, for there are untold dangers down there, dangers it would
have been better for you to remain ignorant of. Unfortunately, I failed to take
into account human curiosity. It was remiss of me and I apologise.’

I
grunted, the little chat failing to live up to expectations.

‘It
must have been difficult to restrain yourself for so long. Was there something
in particular that made you look?’

It
was a tricky question and I squirmed before answering. ‘Well, it was like this
… umm … it was last night.’

‘I
see. Anything in particular?’

I
was too bewildered to lie. ‘The body you brought in.’

‘I’d
hoped I’d concealed it.’

‘I
saw the reflection.’

‘I
expect,’ he said, ‘that you want to know why I brought it back here?’

‘Yes.’
I nodded. ‘Who was it and why?’

‘You
didn’t recognise him?’

I
shook my head. ‘I only caught a glimpse.’

‘It
was the late-lamented Henry Bishop.’

‘Oh
… but why?’

‘Because
I needed a really close look at the body before the pathologist mucked it up
and it was easier to fetch him back here than to conceal myself in the morgue.’

‘But
how did you get him out of the morgue?’

‘The
tunnels run right across town and beyond. One of them goes by the morgue and
there’s a very useful manhole cover in the basement that allows access. Since
hardly anyone even knows about the tunnels, I sometimes use them to move about
without being observed, something I think is essential at the present.’ Finishing
his tea in one draught, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

‘What’s
so special about the present?’ I asked.

‘I’ve
sensed someone watching me. I don’t know who yet, or why.’

‘I
see but … umm … why did you want to examine Henry Bishop’s body?’

‘I
wanted to know what killed him.’

‘Why
didn’t you have a look when you were at the restaurant?’

I
experienced the rare pleasure of making Hobbes start. ‘You saw me?’

‘Yes
and there was blood all over you and … and when you disappeared, I thought you’d
… well, I didn’t know what to think.’ I still didn’t and my nervousness returned.

‘Ah!’
he said. ‘That explains it; I thought something was bothering you. Alright, I’ll
tell you what happened. If you recall, I was looking for Henry, following the
incident with the Bashem’s lad. It turned out he was a surprisingly good
woodsman but I got onto his trail in the end and was only a few minutes behind
when something crossed his path.’

‘What?’

‘A
big cat that got to Henry before I could. Though he fired both barrels of his
shotgun, it was to no avail and it attacked him. Managing to break away,
bleeding badly, he made a run for the restaurant. I got some of his blood on me
as I followed through the bushes.’

His
explanation relaxed me enough that I was able to take a sip of tea. ‘Umm … why
didn’t you help him?’

‘Because
I hoped he’d be safe in the restaurant and believed it would be better to
apprehend the cat before it caused any more trouble.’

‘Shouldn’t
you have waited for backup? It might have been dangerous. And what happened?’

He
frowned. ‘Unfortunately, it gave me the slip, almost as if it had vanished. It
was most peculiar and, since then, I’ve been aware of being watched from time
to time. Since I’d venture to suggest such behaviour is unusual for a cat, it
must be a person.’