The Curds and Whey Mystery. Bob Burke
they’ve shown no indication of wanting to leave because of your infestation?’
‘No, not at all. In fact, I haven’t received a single complaint,’ she said proudly.
Now that struck me as more than a tad suspicious. For someone to want to stay in a house infested with spiders, they’d need a particularly good reason – a reason that might just be connected with the case – especially when there were so many other places to stay.
‘Can I have a list of your current guests and all your employees?’ I asked.
‘Of course, but surely you don’t believe any of them are involved,’ Miss Muffet replied, a bit naively I thought.
‘At the moment I’m not ruling anything out,’ I said, grabbing for the usual clichés as she reached behind the reception desk and opened the register.
‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘Nine guests: Mr and Mrs Jack Spratt, Queenie Harte, John B. Nimble, Licken and Lurkey, William Winkie, Pietro Nocchio and, lastly, Thomas Piper.’
‘I’ll have to speak to all of them; can you arrange that?’ I said, then I focused on what she’d actually told me. ‘Did you say Licken and Lurkey?’
‘Oh, yes, indeed, they’re a rather entertaining team.’
She might have been a savvy businesswoman but her taste in entertainment was clearly lacking. Licken and Lurkey were a cabaret act that had been run out of every theatre in town – and in most other towns in the county as well. They marketed themselves as the WORLD’S most renowned and entertaining comedy DUO (their capitals, not mine, I hasten to add), but they were about as entertaining as having boils lanced. I also had history with them. Back in the days before becoming the WORLD’S most renowned and entertaining comedy DUO, they had toured the country as the WORLD’S MOST ASTOUNDING MAGIC ACT – which had been neither magic nor astounding. I’d been asked to investigate a series of dove disappearances and had discovered that they all coincided with a performance by the despicable duo. As their act included the standard ‘dove from a hat’ trick and as the dove escaped during each performance, never to be recaptured, they had to find new ones for every show. Did I mention they weren’t too bright? I hadn’t realised they were still in town, but they’d be first on my list of interviewees as, from past experience, they were a pair who weren’t too worried about getting their talons dirty.
Having assured Miss Muffet that I was on the case and following a specific line of enquiry (yes I know, it wasn’t exactly true, but it got me out of spider central), I called for a taxi and made my way back into town. As we drove past the giant Shoe Hotel I asked the driver to pull in for a moment. No harm in asking a few questions, I thought.
Inside, the hotel was sparkling clean and, thankfully, there wasn’t a cobweb to be seen. I approached reception and asked to speak to the manager. The receptionist looked at me strangely – I suppose they didn’t get pigs in every day – but when I showed her my ID, she relaxed a little and ushered me into a small office. Behind a large desk sat a tiny old lady composed, it seemed, entirely of wrinkles. She looked like an elephant’s knee. As I entered she stood up and pottered around to me. She was so decrepit it seemed to take her hours.
‘Mr Pigg,’ she said in a wavering voice, ‘I’m Mrs Sole. How may I be of assistance?’ She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her. With what seemed like an enormous effort, she waved me to a chair and, several lifetimes later, pottered back to her seat once more.
‘Mrs Sole, I’m hoping you can help me. I’m investigating an infestation of spiders in the Curds and Whey B&B down the road, so I’m speaking to all other hoteliers in the area to see if they’ve been having similar problems.’ It wasn’t the most original of approaches and her reply confirmed that she’d seen through it straight away.
‘And you’re wondering if I may have something to do with it as I’m the only competition in the vicinity,’ she whispered, some of the wrinkles forming what might have been a smile. ‘Well, Mr Pigg, let me tell you about this hotel. We may not have too many cars in our car-park but you’ve probably noticed, being a detective, that they are all very expensive cars.’ I hadn’t, in fact, but nodded my head in agreement so as not to give the game away. ‘You see we cater for the more…ah…discerning client at the upper end of the market. At the present time, Mr Humpty Dumpty, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of, occupies the penthouse suite and some business partners of Aladdin’s have taken over the entire second floor. So, you see, that old building at the other end of the street really doesn’t offer anything in the way of competition.’
She was certainly making a convincing argument. If Grimmtown big-shots like Dumpty and Aladdin used this hotel, then Mrs Sole wasn’t going to worry too much about putting Miss Muffet out of business. Besides, she seemed like a sweet, kind old lady. Surely she wouldn’t have been spiteful enough?
‘Well, anyway, thank you for your time. You’ve been most helpful.’ As I stood to leave, the phone rang.
‘Excuse me a moment, won’t you,’ said Mrs Sole and lifted the receiver. It was like watching a weightlifter doing the clean and jerk. She was having so much difficulty I was almost tempted to hold it for her when she finally managed to get it to her ear. ‘Yes, this is she,’ she whispered into the mouthpiece. There was a brief silence, then Mrs Sole exploded.
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’LL BE LATE?’ Suddenly she wasn’t such a retiring old lady any more. ‘IF THOSE FLOWERS AREN’T DELIVERED IN THE NEXT HOUR, YOU WON’T HAVE A JOB. UNDERSTAND?’ There was a brief pause. ‘AND YOUR BOSS TOO.’ Her voice rose a few more decibels. ‘AND I’LL HAVE YOU RUN OUT OF TOWN; YOU’LL NEVER DO BUSINESS IN GRIMMTOWN AGAIN. UNDERSTAND?’ Another pause then she changed back into ‘nice old lady’ again, as if by magic. It was terrifying to watch. ‘They’ll be here in ten minutes? Why, that’s wonderful. Thank you so much.’
She heaved the phone back in its cradle and turned to me, smiling sweetly once more.
‘You just can’t get good staff any more,’ she said.
I just nodded. I was shell-shocked and wanted to be out of the hotel before she lost her cool again – perhaps with me – and it wasn’t something I thought I’d particularly enjoy. Backing away towards the door I waved faintly at her and thanked her again.
‘Not at all,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve quite enjoyed our little chat. We must do it again sometime.’
Not in a million years, I thought, as I raced across the lobby and back into the taxi. Instructing the driver to get us out of there as fast as he could, I slumped down in the back seat and considered what I’d seen. Clearly, Mrs Sole wasn’t quite the demure lady she appeared. That having been said, she was probably right about not caring about Miss Muffet’s business. She may have been as nuts as a squirrel’s winter store, but I didn’t see her as the primary suspect in this particular case. It really didn’t make any business sense for her to see the Curds and Whey B&B as a threat.
I needed to do some further investigating and the spiders seemed like the next best thing to follow up on. Who could have supplied them? It’s not as if they were something you’d order every day. I could even envisage the conversation in the pet shop:
‘Do you sell spiders?’
‘Yes, sir. We do most species. Would you like one or a pair?’
‘Well, I’d like ten thousand actually.’
‘Well, I can manage about twenty – maybe thirty at a pinch.’
Eventually