The Toyminator

  ‘I suppose that’s a matter of opinion,’ said Eddie, tasting beer. ‘I’m not so sure that the monkeys would agree with you.’

  ‘Each to his own,’ said the spaceman. ‘It takes all sorts to make a Universe.’

  ‘So it was you who blasted the monkeys?’

  The spaceman shook his helmeted head. The visor of his weather dome snapped down and he snapped it up again. ‘Not me personally,’ said he. ‘I come in peace for all mankind. Or in this case all toykind. It would be the vanguard of the alien strikeforce who did for those monkeys. And I know what I’m talking about when I tell you these things. Trust me, I’m a spaceman.’

  Eddie sighed once more. He really couldn’t be doing with sighing, really. Sighing was not Eddie’s thing.

  ‘Do you know where this vanguard of the alien strike-force might be found at present?’ Eddie asked.

  The spaceman made a thoughtful face, although some of it was lost on Eddie, being hidden by the shadow of his visor.

  ‘Was that a yes or a no?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘It was a thoughtful face,’ the spaceman explained, ‘but you couldn’t see much of it because it was mostly lost in the shadow of my visor.’

  ‘Well, that explains everything.’

  ‘Does it?’ asked the spaceman.

  ‘No,’ said Eddie, ‘it doesn’t. Do you know where they are, or do you not?’

  ‘They could be anywhere.’ The spaceman made expansive gestures. ‘Out there, Beyond The Second Big O. The Universe is a very large place.’

  Eddie sighed once more. Loudly.

  ‘Or they could still be right here. They said they fancied going to a nightclub, to hear some jazz, I think.’

  There was no jazz playing at Old King Cole’s, only that terrible scream and that piercing white light. And then there was a silence and a stillness and even some darkness, too.

  Jack, who was now on his knees holding Amelie to him and shielding them both as best he could, looked up.

  A great many of the light bulbs in Old King Cole’s had blown and the club was now lit mostly by tabletop candles. Which gave it a somewhat romantic ambience, although this was, for the present, lost upon Jack.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Amelie, gaining her feet and patting down her skirt. ‘That screaming, that light – what happened?’

  ‘Something bad,’ said Jack. ‘Be careful, now, there’s broken glass all about.’

  Amelie opened her handbag, pulled out certain girly things and took to fixing her hair and touching up her make-up.

  ‘Nice,’ said Jack, and then he peered all around. They appeared to be alone now, although Jack couldn’t be altogether certain, what with the uncertain light and his lack of certainty and everything.

  The stage was now in darkness; beyond the broken footlights lay a black, forbidding void.

  ‘Dolly?’ called Jack.

  ‘Yes, darling,’ said Amelie.

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Dolly Dumpling. Dolly, are you there?’

  No voice returned to Jack. There was silence, there was blackness, there was nothing more.

  ‘I don’t like it here now,’ said Amelie, tucking away her girly things and closing her handbag. ‘In fact, I didn’t like it here at all before, either. They were horrid, Jack. I’m glad you hit that horrid man.’

  ‘I’m glad you hit his horrid partner,’ said Jack. ‘Perhaps they are still lying on the dancefloor.’ Jack made tentative steps across broken glass, reached the dancefloor and squinted around in the ambient gloom. ‘I think they upped and ran,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s go too, then,’ said Amelie. ‘I know much nicer places than this. We could go to Springfellows, where all the clockworkers hang out. Or the Hippodrome, where all the hippos hang out. Or Barbie’s, where dollies’ bosoms often hang out.’

  ‘No, not yet.’ Jack was squinting hard now into the blackened void beyond the darkened footlights. ‘Do you think you could bring me over one of those candles from the tables, maybe two?’

  ‘Well, I could, but I don’t really want to.’

  ‘Please,’ said Jack.

  ‘Well, as you ask me so nicely. And as I love you so much.’

  Jack did uneasy scuffings with his feet. Amelie crunched through broken glass and brought him a candelabra. Jack held it up before him.

  ‘This is rather romantic,’ said Amelie, as she nuzzled close to Jack. ‘And there’s no one here but us. We could—’

  ‘We could what?’ Jack asked.

  ‘You know what.’

  ‘What, here?’

  ‘We could,’ said Amelie. ‘And I might let you do that thing that you’ve always been wanting to do, but I haven’t let you do yet because you haven’t told me you love me.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jack. ‘That thing.’

  Amelie blew Jack kisses.

  ‘Tempting though that is,’ said Jack, ‘and believe me, it’s very tempting, I don’t think it would be a very good idea right at this moment.’

  ‘Huh,’ huffed Amelie. ‘Perhaps you can’t do it anyway.’

  Jack put a finger to his lips. ‘Just a moment,’ he said, in the tone known as hushed. ‘I think something very bad has happened here. I want to look on the stage.’

  ‘Shall I wait here and take off all my clothes while you have a look?’

  ‘Just wait here.’ Jack kissed Amelie’s upturned face. It was such a beautiful face. It was just like a re—

  Amelie grasped Jack by the arm. ‘Is there going to be danger?’ she asked.

  ‘I hope not,’ said Jack.

  ‘Shame,’ said Amelie. ‘I really love danger.’

  ‘Just wait here. And if I shout “run”, just run – will you do that for me?’

  ‘I will, my love.’

  Jack gave a sigh that would have done credit to Eddie* and haltingly approached the blacked-out stage. Certain sounds now came to Jack, but not from the stage before him. These sounds were of distant bells. The bells that topped police cars. These sounds were growing louder.

  Jack climbed up onto the stage, holding the candelabra before him. Its wan light shone upon more broken glass and then upon the piano. And as Jack moved gingerly forward, more there was to be seen, and to this more that was to be seen Jack took no liking whatsoever.

  Candlelight fell upon the face of the clockwork pianist. It was a face incapable of expression, and yet as Jack peered, he could see it, see it in the eyes, eyes now lifeless, eyes now dead – that look of absolute fear.

  Jack held out the candelabra and moved forward once more.

  The saxophonist lay on his side. The drummer did likewise. The pianist was flat on his back.

  Jack knelt and touched the pianist’s tin-plate chest. And watched in horror as it sank beneath his touch, dissolved and crumbled into dust.

  Jack stood and Jack trembled. What had done this? He’d been aware of nothing but a blinding light. Seen no one. No thing.

  Now trembling somewhat and wary that whoever or whatever had done this might not yet have departed the scene of the crime, Jack took a step or two further.

  And then took no more and gasped.

  By the light of the candelabra he saw her. Her head lolled at an unnatural angle, the neck with its many chins broken, the show clearly over. The fat lady would sing no more.

  And …

  ‘Hold it right there and put up your hands.’

  Torchlights shone through the now not so ambiently candlelit Old King Cole’s. Many torchlights held by many policemen. Laughing policemen, all of them, with names such as Chortle and Chuckles.

  ‘Hands you, up villain,’ came shouts, and Jack raised his hands.

  And then they were on him and Jack went down beneath the force of truncheons.

  ‘The force,’ said the spaceman to Eddie, ‘it’s either with you, or it’s not.’

  ‘And it’s with you, is it?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said the spaceman. ‘I was thinking of going over to the Dark Side just for the thrill of it,
you know. We all have a dark side, don’t we?’

  ‘Only if I sit down in a dirty puddle,’ said Eddie. ‘Whose round is it?’

  ‘Yours,’ said the spaceman. And he waggled his rubber hands at Eddie. ‘It’s your round, so go and get the drinks.’

  ‘It’s not my round,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Damn,’ said the spaceman. ‘That never works. I should have gone over to the Dark Side. They have better uniforms and everything.’

  ‘Well,’ said Eddie, ‘I’d like to say that it’s been fascinating talking to you.’

  The spaceman raised a thumb.

  ‘I’d like to,’ said Eddie, ‘but—’

  ‘Eddie,’ called Tinto, ‘there’s a telephone call for you.’

  ‘A call for me?’ called Eddie. ‘I wonder who that might be?’

  ‘Chief Inspector Bellis,’ called Tinto in reply. ‘Jack’s just been … Now, what would that be?’

  ‘I give up,’ called Eddie. ‘What would it be?’

  ‘It’s a five,’ called Tinto. ‘Like two is a double and three is a treble and four is a quadriplegic.’

  ‘Four is quadruple,’ called Eddie.

  ‘Well, it’s whatever five is,’ called Tinto.

  ‘Quintuple,’ said Eddie.

  ‘That’s it,’ called Tinto. ‘He’s just been arrested for quintuple murder.’

  7

  Night-time is the right time, when it comes to crime.

  Obviously it’s the right time for criminals, because they can skulk about in shadows and perform their heinous acts under the cover of darkness. But it is also the right time for policemen, because the flashing lights atop their squad cars look so much more impressive at night, and it is to be noticed that once they have reached a crime scene and blocked off the surrounding roads with that special tape that we’d all like to own a roll of,* they never switch off those flashing lights, even though they must be running the cars’ batteries down, because those flashing lights just look so good. They give the crime scene that extra something. They are a must. They are.

  ‘Switch off those damn lights,’ shouted Chief Inspector Bellis, stepping from his special police car – the one with the double set of flashing lights and four big bells on the top – and striking the nearest laughing policeman about the helmet. ‘They give me a headache.’

  ‘Aw, Chief,’ went several laughing ones, though these were out of striking distance.

  ‘Just do it,’ roared Bellis, ‘and do it now.’ And he crunched over broken glass and approached the ruination that had so recently been Old King Cole’s.

  Jack stood in the doorway, flanked by two burly constables. Jack was in handcuffs.

  ‘And take those off !’ bawled Bellis.

  ‘Aw,’ went one of the burly officers of the law. ‘But Chief—’

  ‘But me no buts. And where’s that bear?’

  Bellis had actually picked Eddie up from Tinto’s. Which had come as quite a surprise to the bear. Eddie was now asleep in Bellis’s car. The driver, a special constable with the name ‘Yuk-Yuk’ printed on his back, leaned over the back of his seat and poked the sleeper with the business end of his truncheon.

  Eddie awoke in some confusion, tried to rise, but failed dismally. He had been sleeping on his left side, with the result that his left arm and leg were now drunk, whilst the rest of him was sober.

  ‘Out!’ urged the driver, prodding Eddie once more.

  Eddie tumbled from the car, fought his way into the vertical plane and then shambled in a most curious manner towards the fractured front doors of Old King Cole’s.

  ‘Hurry up,’ urged Bellis, ‘or I will be forced to arrest you on trumped-up charges and bang you away for an indefinite period.’

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ Eddie said.

  And, ‘It wasn’t me,’ said Jack. ‘Hi, Eddie.’

  ‘Hello, Jack.’ Eddie’s left leg gave way beneath him and Eddie sank down on his bum.

  ‘I’m not impressed,’ said Bellis. ‘Not impressed at all.’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ Jack said once more, ‘in case you didn’t hear me the first time.’

  Bellis did glarings at Jack and then dragged Eddie to his feet. ‘How many of you officers have been inside this building corrupting the crime scene?’ he asked.

  Numerous officers – all of the officers, in fact – made guilty faces. But one of them said, ‘We all had to go in, Chief – this mass-murderer put up quite a struggle.’

  ‘Oh no I didn’t,’ said Jack.

  ‘Oh yes you did,’ said officers all, laughing as they did so.

  ‘Well, stay out now. Come on, you two.’ Bellis dragged Eddie and prodded Jack.

  ‘But sir,’ said one of the burly policemen who had been guarding Jack, ‘this meathead is a mad’n, sir. He’ll do for you soon as give you a look.

  ‘Stand aside, you gormster.’

  Now, it had to be said that at least the policemen had set up some lights, and the interior of Old King Cole’s was now well lit throughout.

  And what with the devastation and the flashing of the police car warning lights, none of which had actually been switched off, it was a pretty impressive crime scene.

  Eddie leaned his drunken parts against a fluted column and surveyed the wreckage. ‘The last time I was here,’ he said, ‘was on the night I was elected mayor. Remember that, Jack? What a night that was, eh?’

  ‘Silence,’ said Bellis.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ said Jack.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Bellis, and Jack shut up.

  Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis puffed up his chest and then blew out a mighty breath. ‘Right,’ said he, ‘we are all alone now. Examine the crime scene. Do whatever it is that you do. Find me clues. Go on, now.’

  ‘Then I’m not under arrest for quadruple murder?’* said Jack.

  ‘Did you do it?’ asked Bellis.

  ‘No,’ said Jack.

  ‘Then get to work.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Eddie?’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Let’s go to work,’ said he.

  ‘Right,’ said Jack, rubbing his palms together. ‘Well, already I deduce—’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Eddie?’ said Jack.

  ‘Jack, I am the detective. You’re my sidekick, remember?’

  ‘I thought we were partners,’ said Jack.

  ‘Oh, we are,’ Eddie said, ‘and in partnership you do what you do best and I do what I do best.’

  ‘So what do I do best?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Well,’ said Eddie, ‘you might start by trying to find three unbroken glasses and an unbroken bottle of something nice.’

  ‘I never drink on duty,’ said Bellis.

  ‘Naturally not,’ said Eddie. ‘The three glasses are for me – it’s thirsty work, this detective game.’

  Bellis made a certain face. Eddie got to work.

  Jack sought bottle and glasses. Bellis watched Eddie work. He watched as the little bear climbed carefully onto the stage, dropped carefully to his belly and did peerings all about. Did risings up and chin-cuppings with paws. Did standings back with head cocked on one side. Did pickings up of somethings and sniffings of same. Did careful steppings amidst broken footlight glass. Did clamberings up onto Dolly Dumpling and peepings here and there.

  Presently Bellis tired of all this.

  ‘What do you think?’ he called to Eddie. ‘What do you think happened here?’

  ‘Same as the monkeys,’ said Eddie. ‘Their inside workings are gone. Nothing left but shells.’

  ‘And Dolly Dumpling?’ Bellis asked.

  ‘Neck broken,’ said Eddie. ‘One big twist. And that’s one big neck to twist.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Bellis. ‘I’ve freed your chum here. I picked you up in my car. I can put you in the frame for the cigar heist any time I wish. Give me something I can use. This is serious now.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s serious now that a meath
ead’s been murdered. Was it not serious before then?’

  ‘I put you on the case,’ said Bellis. ‘You know that I thought it was serious.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Eddie. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what I have, although it isn’t much and it doesn’t make a lot of sense.’

  Bellis said, ‘Go on.’ And Eddie did so.

  ‘Firstly,’ said Eddie, ‘I have to ask Jack a question.’

  Jack’s head popped up from behind the bar counter where he had been searching for glasses.

  ‘You were here when this happened?’ Eddie asked.

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Then how come you didn’t see it happen? I can tell by the way the broken footlight glass lies that the band members fell before the footlights blew. Surely everyone in this room saw the murders occur.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘There was a really bright light,’ he said. ‘It swallowed up the stage and Dolly screamed and her scream shattered all the glass.’

  ‘Can you describe this bright light to me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘It was a light and it was bright.’

  ‘Would you like me to strike him about the head a bit?’ Bellis asked Eddie.

  ‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it myself later.’

  ‘Oi!’ said Jack.

  Eddie grinned and said, ‘I’ll tell you what this crime scene tells me. Someone or something appeared upon this stage. It didn’t come up either of the side steps, nor did it come from backstage, nor did it spring up out of a trap door, because there is none. It simply appeared.’

  ‘Things can’t simply appear,’ said Bellis. ‘That defies all the rules of everything. Perhaps whatever it was came down from above.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ said Eddie. ‘It appeared, and with the aid of some kind of hideous weaponry it literally sucked out the inner workings of the band, their very substance.’

  ‘But not those of Dolly Dumpling,’ said Jack.

  ‘It wasn’t after her,’ said Eddie, ‘but she was close enough to see what happened, so she had to be silenced.’

  ‘Things don’t just appear out of nowhere,’ said Bellis.

  ‘This did,’ said Eddie. ‘I can see all the evidence. After the slaughter, when the lights were out, Jack came up onto this stage alone, holding a candelabra.’