The Toyminator

  ‘I did,’ said Jack.

  ‘And two burly constables came up afterwards, roughed Jack up a bit and pulled him from the stage.’

  ‘They did,’ said Jack.

  ‘Sadly destroying vital evidence,’ said Eddie.

  Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis shook his head. ‘This is madness,’ he said.

  ‘If you have a better explanation,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Any explanation would be better than yours, which is no explanation at all.’

  ‘Something has come amongst us,’ said Eddie, ‘something evil, something different, the likes of which Toy City has never experienced before. Whatever did this is not of this world.’

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ said Bellis. ‘I’m just going to arrest the two of you and have done with it.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Eddie protested. ‘You know we’re not responsible for any of this.’

  ‘On the grounds,’ said Bellis, ‘that if this were to get out, we’d have panic in the city.’

  ‘No one will hear it from me,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Jack. ‘Will they hear it from you, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘No, they certainly will not.’

  ‘Then let Jack and me go about our business,’ Eddie said. ‘I already have certain leads to follow up. I will keep you informed of our progress – discreetly of course.’

  Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis looked perplexed. Indeed, he was perplexed.

  Jack drove away in Bill Winkie’s splendid automobile. Eddie sat in the back, next to Amelie.

  ‘I suppose we won’t be going on to that other club now,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll drop you home,’ said Jack. ‘I’m sorry the evening didn’t go better.’

  ‘We can make up for that,’ said Amelie.

  Eddie wished that he possessed eyebrows, because if he had he could have raised one now.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ said Jack. ‘Eddie and I have business to attend to.’

  The sulky Amelie was dropped at her door, kissed by Jack and waved goodbye to. Jack and Eddie continued on their way.

  ‘Fine-looking dolly,’ said Eddie. ‘Fine long legs and big—’

  ‘Stop,’ said Jack. ‘And tell me.’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘Whatever it was you were holding back from Bellis. You know more than you’re telling.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Eddie, ‘but I wanted to put the wind up Bellis.’

  ‘You put the wind up me, too. Monsters from outer space, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Eddie. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘So go on, tell me.’

  ‘I don’t know if I should.’

  ‘We’re partners, Eddie. You can trust me, you know you can.’

  Eddie shrugged and sighed. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but this is bad and it really doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Just tell me, Eddie, perhaps I can help.’ Jack swerved violently around a corner, dislodging Eddie from his seat.

  ‘Slow down!’ cried Eddie. ‘Slow down!’

  Jack slowed down. ‘Where are we going anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘Back to Tinto’s,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Of course,’ said Jack. ‘Where else?’

  Eddie sat and tried to fold his arms. As ever, he did so without success.

  ‘Out with it,’ said Jack.

  ‘All right,’ said Eddie. ‘There was other evidence that I didn’t mention to Bellis. I can tell you the height of the murderer. I can tell you his weight. I can tell you his race and his covering.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said Jack.

  ‘My height,’ said Eddie, ‘my weight, my race and my plush covering.’

  ‘A teddy?’ said Jack. ‘A teddy is the murderer?’

  ‘Not just any teddy. An Anders Imperial.’

  ‘Just like you.’

  ‘Not just like me – more than that.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jack, taking yet another corner without much slowing down.

  ‘Paw prints,’ said Eddie. ‘Paw prints are as individual as a meathead’s fingerprints. Even with mass-produced toys, they’re all slightly different. They’re all individual.’

  ‘So you could identify the killer from those paw prints?’

  ‘I already have,’ said Eddie.

  ‘So you know who the murderer is? Eddie, you are a genius.’

  Eddie shook his head. Sadly so, as it happened. ‘I know who the murderer is,’ said he, ‘but I also know that he can’t be the murderer.’

  ‘You’re not making sense.’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie, ‘I recognised your footprints on that stage.’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ said Jack, and he took another corner at speed, just for good measure.

  ‘I know it wasn’t you. But I could recognise your footprints anywhere, as well as I could recognise my own. And that’s the problem.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘You’re really making a meal of this,’ said he. ‘If you recognised the paw prints, who is the murderer?’

  ‘I recognised the paw prints of the murderer,’ said Eddie, ‘because they are my paw prints. But I’m not the murderer!’

  Presently, Jack screeched to a halt before Tinto’s Bar and the two alighted from the car.

  ‘I hope he’s still here,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Tinto rarely recognises licensing hours,’ said Jack.

  ‘Not Tinto, the spaceman.’

  ‘What spaceman? There’s a spaceman in Tinto’s Bar?’

  ‘I spoke with him earlier. He told me that it was a member of the vanguard of the alien strikeforce who had blasted the monkeys.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jack. ‘You had been drinking at the time, hadn’t you?’

  ‘I’d had one or two,’ said Eddie, ‘but I know what he told me. And he told me that these aliens fancied a visit to a jazz club.’

  ‘Old King Cole’s,’ said Jack.

  ‘Precisely,’ said Eddie.

  ‘But an alien teddy bear, who is your doppelgänger?’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Name one,’ said Jack.

  ‘Let’s go in,’ said Eddie.

  Tinto’s Bar was rather crowded now. In fact, it was rather crowded with a lot of swells that Jack recognised as former patrons of Old King Cole’s.

  Jack swore beneath his breath.

  Eddie, whose hearing was acute, chuckled.

  ‘We don’t want their type in here,’ said Jack.

  ‘And whose type would that be?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Jack elbowed his way towards the bar and Eddie followed on in Jack’s wake.

  Tinto was serving drinks every which way. Jack located an empty barstool and hoisted Eddie onto it. ‘Drinks over here, Tinto,’ he called.

  ‘You’ll have to wait your turn,’ called Tinto. ‘I have posh clientele to serve here.’

  Jack ground his teeth.

  Eddie said, ‘The spaceman was over there in the far corner, Jack – can you see if he’s still there?’

  Jack did head-swerves and peepings. ‘I can’t see any spaceman,’ he said. ‘A couple of gollies playing dominoes, but no spaceman.’

  ‘Tinto,’ called Eddie to the barman, ‘if you can tear yourself away from your new best friends …’

  Tinto trundled up the bar. ‘Did you hear what happened at Old King Cole’s?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Eddie. ‘But tell me this – where did the spaceman go?’

  ‘Is that a trick question?’ Tinto asked.

  ‘No,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Shame,’ said Tinto.

  ‘So, do you know where the spaceman went?’

  Tinto scratched at the top of his head. ‘Space?’ he suggested. ‘Is that the right answer? Do I get a prize?’

  ‘You do,’ said Eddie. ‘You win the chance to pour Jack and me fourteen beers.’

  ‘Fourteen?’ said Tinto, and he whistled. ‘Was that the star prize?’ r />
  Tinto wheeled off to do the business.

  Jack said, ‘Eddie, did you really meet a real spaceman?’

  ‘It all depends what you mean by “real”.’

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ said Jack, elbowing a swell who really didn’t need elbowing.

  ‘He was a clockwork spaceman,’ said Eddie. ‘But who is to say whether all spacemen are clockwork?’

  ‘He was a toy spaceman?’

  ‘And who is to say that all spacemen aren’t toy spacemen?’

  ‘I’d be prepared to say it, but as I don’t believe in spacemen, it hardly matters whether I say it or not.’

  ‘So you don’t believe in the concept that there might be other worlds like ours out there somewhere and that there might be life on them?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Back in the town where I was brought up, there was a lot of talk about that sort of thing. Alien abductions, they were called. People would be driving their cars at night, down some deserted country road, then there’d be a really bright light and then they’d be driving their cars again, but a couple of hours would have passed and they’d have no memory of what had happened. Then this fellow started hypnotising these people and all sorts of strange stories came out about what had happened during the missing hours. That they’d been taken up into space by space aliens and experimented upon, had things poked up their bums.’

  ‘Up their bums?’

  ‘Apparently the space aliens do a lot of that kind of thing.’

  ‘Why?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jack. ‘Perhaps they have a really weird sense of humour, or they are a bit pervy – who can tell with spacemen?’

  ‘And these people were telling the truth?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Who can say? In my humble opinion they were all mentals.’

  ‘So you’re not a believer?’

  ‘No,’ said Jack, ‘I’m not. I know what I believe in and I know what I don’t. And I don’t believe in spacemen.’

  ‘I seem to recall,’ said Eddie, ‘when I first met you on the first night that you arrived in Toy City, that you didn’t believe toys could walk and talk and think and live.’

  ‘I still find that hard to believe,’ said Jack.

  Eddie made exasperated noises. Tinto arrived with the drinks on a tray. There were many drinks. Many more than fourteen.

  ‘We’re three drinks short here,’ said Jack.

  Tinto trundled away to make up the shortfall.

  Eddie chuckled once more. ‘You fit in quite nicely here now though, don’t you, Jack?’ he said.

  ‘I still find it hard to believe. But I know it’s true.’

  ‘Then maybe we’ll have you believing in spacemen before it’s too late.’

  ‘Too late?’ said Jack. ‘Too late for what?’

  ‘Too late to stop them,’ said Eddie. ‘Too late for us all.’

  ‘You’re serious about this, aren’t you?’

  ‘As I said to Bellis, “If you have a better explanation.” ’

  Jack tucked into his share of the beers. ‘Spacemen,’ he said and he shook his head.

  ‘There’s no telling what’s out there,’ said Eddie, ‘Beyond The Second Big O.’

  ‘I’ve heard that expression used before,’ said Jack. ‘What exactly does it mean?’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘It’s just an expression, I suppose. I don’t know where I heard it first. It means beyond, beyond what we know, someplace other that’s different. Really different.’

  ‘But why The Second Big O? Why not The First Big O? Why an O at all?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Eddie, tasting beer. ‘I know most things, but I don’t know that.’

  ‘Perhaps the Toymaker would know.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I have no inclination to ask him.’ Eddie regarded his paws. ‘Taking my hands away. That was really mean.’

  ‘They were rather creepy,’ said Jack.

  ‘They were not creepy! They were wonderful, Jack. I loved those hands.’

  ‘Perhaps if you save Toy City from the alien invasion he’ll fit you with another pair.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Anything’s possible.’

  ‘You believe that, do you?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Jack, raising his glass to Eddie.

  ‘Then let’s drink to the fact that anything’s possible,’ said Eddie, raising his glass between his paws. ‘Let’s have a toast to that anything.’

  ‘Let’s have,’ said Jack, raising his glass, too.

  ‘To spacemen,’ said Eddie. ‘As possible as.’

  ‘Did I hear someone say “spacemen”?’ said Tinto.

  ‘Jack’s a big believer,’ said Eddie.

  ‘There was one in here earlier,’ said Tinto.

  ‘Really?’ said Eddie. ‘How interesting.’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t that interesting. He spent most of his time cadging drinks. But he did leave something for you.’

  Eddie shook his head sadly. ‘You didn’t think to mention this before?’ he said. ‘It might be important.’

  ‘You said it was,’ said Tinto.

  ‘I just said it might be,’ said Eddie.

  ‘No,’ said Tinto, ‘you said it might be important. And then you said it was and then you left with it.’

  ‘Curiously,’ said Eddie, ‘you aren’t making any sense at all.’

  ‘When I gave it to you,’ said Tinto, ‘you thanked me for it and you tipped me for giving it to you.’

  Eddie shook his head once more. ‘And when did I do this?’ he said.

  ‘A few minutes ago, when you came in here before.’

  ‘What?’ said Eddie.

  And Jack looked at Eddie. ‘A few minutes ago?’ said Jack, now looking at Tinto.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tinto, now looking at Eddie. ‘You took the message he left for you, then you left. Then you came back in again, and here you are.’

  ‘Message?’ said Jack. ‘The spaceman gave Eddie a message?’

  ‘No, he left it with me and I gave it to Eddie. Do try to pay attention.’

  ‘What did this message say?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Well, you read it,’ said Tinto. ‘You must know what it said.’

  ‘I did not read it,’ said Eddie, ‘because I was not in here a few minutes ago.’

  ‘It was you,’ said Tinto. ‘I’d know a scruffbag like you anywhere.’

  ‘Tinto,’ said Jack, ‘Tinto, this is very important. What did this message say?’

  Tinto fluttered his fingers about. ‘As if I would look at the contents of a secret message,’ he said.

  ‘Secret message?’ said Eddie.

  ‘That’s what it said,’ said Tinto. ‘Top-secret message for your mismatched eyes only.’

  ‘What did it say?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I have customers to serve,’ said Tinto. ‘Posh customers. I have no time to shilly-shally with hobbledehoys like you.’

  ‘What did it say, Tinto? This is very, very important.’

  ‘It didn’t say much,’ said Tinto. ‘Just the location, that’s all.’

  Eddie threw up his paws and shouted, ‘What location, Tinto?’

  ‘No need to shout,’ said the barman. ‘Just the location of where the spaceship had landed, that’s all.’

  8

  ‘Toy Town?’ said Jack as he drove along with Eddie at his side.

  Eddie cowered in the passenger seat. ‘Please slow down,’ he said.

  Jack slowed down, but said, ‘Toy Town,’ once more. ‘The supposed location of the supposedly landed spaceship. Supposedly. But I thought that Toy City is Toy Town, just grown bigger.’

  ‘What a lovely way you have with words,’ Eddie said. ‘Toy City is Toy Town grown bigger. But not quite in the same location. From what I’ve heard of the original Toy Town, it was an idyllic, paradisical sort of place, nestling against a sunny hillside – always sunny, of course, I don’t think it ever rained there.’

  ‘I’m sure it must have,’
said Jack, taking another corner in a dangerous fashion and sending Eddie sprawling.

  ‘Seat belts,’ Eddie said as he climbed once more onto his seat and glared a glare at Jack.

  ‘What would those be?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Something I’ve just invented, for strapping yourself into your seat in a car.’

  ‘Sounds dangerous,’ said Jack. ‘You might get trapped or something, say if the car were to go over a cliff and into a river, or something. Am I going the right way? And tell me more about Toy Town.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a way yet, and you are going the right way and the car will need a few more windings-up before we get there. But, as I say, it was the original town built for toys and P.P.P.s, from the original kit, if you believe what the followers of the Big Box Fella, He Come, Jack-in-the-box cult do. Toys lived there in harmony and happiness. Then there were more toys and suburbs were built and then places for the toys to work in were built beyond these, and then homes for the rich who made money out of these enterprises beyond this. And so on and so forth and eventually up grew Toy City, of evil reputation. Folk sort of moved away from Toy Town – it fell out of favour, reminded them of their humble beginnings. The desire for progress and evolution forced them out of their simple paradise to search for a more sophisticated lifestyle, so they came to live and work in Toy City.’

  ‘I don’t quite follow the logic of all that.’ Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘But it’s still there, is it? The original Toy Town? Who lives there now?’

  ‘I think it’s a bit of a ghost town now.’ And Eddie shivered. ‘You hear stories about odd folk who live there. Outcasts. I thought of going there myself after I lost my job as mayor. They make movies there, I believe.’

  ‘Movies?’ said Jack, and he grinned towards Eddie. ‘I’ve always wanted to be in a movie.’

  ‘Since when?’ Eddie raised an imaginary eyebrow. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing.’

  ‘You mean you’ve never wanted to be in a movie?’

  ‘Have you ever seen a Toy City movie, Jack?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I haven’t,’ he said, ‘but I’ll bet they’re much the same as the movies I watched in the town where I grew up. Action and adventure.’

  Eddie laughed. Loudly. ‘Action and Adventure?’ he managed to say. ‘Not a bit of it – they are as dull as. Biopics, they’re called. Always about prominent P.P.P.s, with constant remakes. If I watch that Jack and Jill go up that damned hill one more time, I’ll puke.’