The Third Pig Detective Agency: The Complete Casebook. Bob Burke
knew exactly which buttons to press.
‘I’m looking for some assistance please, Mr … ah … it’s Dopey, isn’t it?’ I replied, knowing full well how much it would aggravate him.
His nose turned even redder and the flush spread to the rest of his face. He glowered at me. ‘It’s Grumpy,’ he said. ‘G-R-U-M-P-Y!’
‘By name and by nature,’ I said under my breath to Jack. He looked down and I could see his cheeks bulge as he tried not to laugh. It’s tough being a detective’s assistant; you must maintain a calm demeanour at all times, especially when confronted with stressful situations.
He took up the magazine I’d been reading and developed an intense interest in an article on new methods of extracting metals from abandoned mines.
‘Apologies, Mr Grumpy. I tend to confuse you and your brothers,’ I lied. ‘I’m looking for information about tunnels and those who dig them. As you have an undoubted expertise in this area, I figure that if anyone can help me it will be you.’
Flattery will obviously get you everywhere as Grumpy positively preened when he heard me compliment him. He puffed up his chest and strutted across the room. I could see his face gradually assume a less aggressive shade of red as he came towards me.
‘What kind of information?’ he asked.
I gave him the details of the tunnel I’d found without revealing where it had been dug or why. He considered what I’d said.
‘Definitely made by experts from the sound of it, which does narrow it down. The best in the business are Little People. It’s almost genetic with us. We have an affinity with stone; we love being underground and have an innate skill in burrowing, digging and making holes.’
‘What kind of Little People are we talking about?’ I asked.
‘Well, apart from my brothers and me – and you know it isn’t us,’ he said, ‘you’ve got other dwarves, who usually dig in rock; Halflings, who are good with earth, and fairies, good for small and very basic holes only and purely for sleeping in.’
I wasn’t aware of any of these operating illegally in or around Grimmtown and neither was Mr Grumpy. As his company tended to employ all the expert diggers in the region, he would know of any newcomers – particularly as he would probably end up giving them a job, especially if they showed any kind of talent for tunnelling.
‘Anyone else?’ I asked.
‘There are a few others that have shown tunnelling tendencies in the past. Kobolds, leprechauns, gnomes, the occasional Orc and, on very rare occasions, elves, although they’ve got soft hands so they tend to lotion a lot afterwards.’
I could tell he didn’t hold elves in high esteem. I shared his opinion. They tended to stand around looking mysteriously into the middle distance declaiming loudly and pompously such phrases as ‘The saucer is broken; milk will be spilled this night.’ They never got invited to parties as they usually drank all the beer and, most annoyingly, never seemed to get drunk – apart from a tingling sensation in their fingers.
I figured that this was about as much information as I was going to get. It wasn’t a lot but it did give me an inkling of where I should go next. I thanked Grumpy, dragged Jack away from his magazine and headed back to the car.
If You Go Down to the Woods Today
As I drove back through the forest I kept going over the events of the past two days. Things were starting to make a little sense – although not much. As I mulled over the case Jack nudged me in the side with a very bony elbow.
‘Mr Pigg,’ he said, ‘don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed.’
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.
‘Well, the car behind us doesn’t appear to have a driver and it’s been tailing us since we left the dwarves’ place.’
I looked in the mirror. He was right. Directly behind us was a very large, very black and very battered car with no driver obviously behind the wheel. As I looked it began to speed up. I could see the steering wheel rotate but it seemed to be doing so of its own accord. Maybe the Invisible Man was driving the car but, frankly, I doubted it – he had been advised to take taxis, as, every time he got behind the wheel, he tended to cause a small panic.
This was now getting beyond a joke and I wasn’t the one who was laughing. Suddenly, the car accelerated again and rammed us from behind. The impact jolted us forward. Fortunately, apart from being winded, we didn’t suffer any injuries, our seatbelts preventing any major harm.
‘Whee!’ shouted Jack. ‘This is just like a roller coaster. Does this always happen when you drive?’
‘No,’ I said, trying to keep one eye on the road ahead and one on the car behind (not an easy task). ‘Only on good days.’
Of course, car chases never take place on straight wide roads that run for miles with no sharp turns or oncoming traffic. Oh no, apparently convention dictates that they must take place through a busy metropolis with lots of hills, a narrow dirt track running along a sheer drop into the ocean or, as in my case, through a dark forest with a twisty road, lots of sharp bends and (being an enchanted forest) trees that might take exception to being woken up and take a swipe at whatever vehicle had done the waking. The bigger the tree, the more likely your car was to suddenly develop the art of flight when one of its branches made contact. Typically it wasn’t the flying that one needed to be worried about; usually it was the landing – which tended to be uncontrolled, totally lacking in technique and, almost inevitably, resulted in your vehicle being embedded up to its rear doors in the ground. Most cars tended never to get back on the road after contact with one of our magic trees.
As I swerved to avoid hitting one of these trees and to try to ensure that my pursuer didn’t, I had another of my really bright ideas.
‘Hold tight,’ I roared at Jack as I pressed hard on the accelerator. ‘This could get scary.’
‘You mean it gets better?’ he shouted back, grinning from ear to ear. ‘This is the coolest ride I’ve ever been on. Go Harry!’ He stretched both arms up over his head, as people do just as they get their photograph taken on the scary part of a roller coaster ride, and yelled at the top of his voice. Truly this child had no fear.
The sudden burst of acceleration had, for a few seconds, taken me away from my pursuer. Rather than head towards the forest’s edge, however, I took one of the trails deeper into the trees. I had a very specific destination in mind and one that might, if my timing was right, get this particular pursuer permanently off our backs.
As we drove further into the forest, the trees grew closer together and, eventually, their branches became so entwined over the road they formed a natural tunnel, shutting out daylight completely. I flicked on the headlights and they gave just enough illumination to prevent me driving off the road. On either side, gnarled branches were trying to grab at the car as we passed but I was going so fast they only scraped off the sides. They might be ruining the bodywork, but at least the bodies inside the car were undamaged – for now.
I recklessly navigated turn after turn (by the skin of my teeth in most cases), the road getting narrower and windier as we drove. I wasn’t particularly scared of the forest; being chased by an invisible maniac tended to force all other thoughts of being frightened from one’s mind. Our pursuer wasn’t quite as reckless though, preferring to drive fast enough to keep us in his sights but not so fast as to spin off the road. We would hardly have been that lucky but that wasn’t my main objective. It would, however, have made what I was about to do much less of a risk – especially to Jack and me – if he’d managed to hit something other than us in the interim.
A fork in the road came up so fast