The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

  ‘Have you never heard of energetic engineering?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got that right?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Of course. Well, possibly. Well, probably. It’s something to do with very busy work being done in toy factories.’

  ‘There’s a great deal of that; I can vouch for it,’ said Jack, having a fiddle with the lift buttons.

  ‘Please don’t touch those,’ said Eddie.

  ‘But it’s the first time I’ve ever travelled in a posh lift like this. Can we stop at all the floors?’

  ‘No,’ said Eddie. ‘But, as I was saying, energetic engineering. Busy busy busy. It’s been known to drive men mad. And mad men make mistakes. Rhymey frogs, fluffy trains, grumpy clocks, frank chickens.’

  ‘Don’t they just get scrapped?’

  ‘Not when they amuse Mr Anders.’

  ‘I’d like to meet this Mr Anders.’ The lift came to a standstill. ‘We’re here,’ said Jack.

  ‘No we’re not. You pressed one of the buttons. I told you not to. Press the penthouse one. Let’s see if we can beat that frog.’ *

  They didn’t beat that frog. He was waiting at the penthouse door, a bunch of shiny keys in his froggy fingers. He looked a little puffed, though. But then, frogs often do.

  ‘The policemen stuck all this tape across the door,’ said the frog. ‘They said they’d come back some time soon, to stick on a whole lot more.’

  Jack ran his finger along the strip of brightly coloured tape and licked his fingertip. ‘Yellow berry,’ he said. ‘Very tasty.’

  ‘Doing that’s illegal,’ said the frog.

  ‘It is,’ agreed Eddie. ‘Yellow berry? Are you sure?’

  Jack broke off a strip of the strip and stuck it into his mouth.

  ‘Illegal,’ said the frog once more.

  ‘You’re not rhyming that with anything,’ said Jack, making lip-smacking sounds.

  ‘That’s probably because he lives in mortal dread of the police,’ said Eddie. ‘Them dishing out such vicious on-the-spot punishments to offenders and everything.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Jack, hastily wiping his mouth. ‘So, shall we go inside? Attend to the financial business of the important Mr Anders? Kindly open up the door, Mr Froggie.’

  Mr Froggie handed Jack the keys. ‘I’d rather you did it,’ he said. ‘I’d prefer not to touch the tape.’

  Jack glanced at Eddie.

  Eddie shrugged. ‘We’re here now,’ he said. ‘Might as well do it.’ Jack pulled away the yellow-berry-flavoured tape. ‘Which key?’ he asked the frog.

  ‘Any one of them will do; they’re all the same and none are new.’

  ‘That’s not very secure, is it?’

  ‘No one who’s not official ever gets past me. I’m as vigilant as it’s frog-manly possible to be.’

  ‘You can’t argue with that,’ Eddie said. ‘Open up the door, Bill.’

  ‘I’m in charge here.’ The door to the late Humpty’s apartment was a richly panelled silkwood affair, decorated with all manner of carved reliefs – mostly, it appeared, of fat folk falling from walls. Jack eyed the door appreciatively. This was a proper door. A proper rich person’s door. The kind of door that he’d have for himself as soon as he’d made his fortune.

  Jack turned a key and opened up the door. ‘You wait here,’ he told the frog as he and Eddie slipped into Humpty’s penthouse. ‘We won’t be long.’

  ‘Perhaps I ought to come inside,’ said the frog. ‘It’s best that I, in there, should be. In the interests of security.’

  Jack slammed the door upon him.

  ‘Well, we’re in,’ said Eddie. ‘Although it could have been easier.’

  ‘I thought I did very well. I’m new to this detective game. Remember it was me who got us in. Not you.’

  ‘I seem to recall that you were all for shooting the frog.’

  ‘I was bluffing.’

  ‘Right,’ said Eddie. ‘To work.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll have a look around. See if I can find some clues.’

  ‘No,’ said Eddie, ‘you just sit down quietly and don’t touch anything. I’ll search for clues.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie, ‘I’m the detective. You’re my partner. Junior partner.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Please yourself then.’

  Humpty Dumpty’s penthouse was opulent. It was palatial, it was magniloquent. It was eggy.

  There were egg motifs on the richly woven carpets and the elegant silk wallpaper and on the fabrics of the furniture and even on the switches for the lights. Jack tinkered with one of these and lit up a gorgeous chandelier that hung overhead. It was festooned with hundreds of crystal eggs. Jack shook his head and whistled.

  So this was what being rich was all about, was it? Then he’d have some of this. But not exactly like this. There was something all-too-much about this. It was the scale, Jack thought, thoughtfully. Where Tinto’s bar had been too small for him, everything here was much too big.

  Jack sat himself down on a great golden chariot of a chair in the vestibule and stretched his hands to either side of him. He couldn’t even reach to the chair’s arms. This Humpty had evidently been a fellow of considerable substance. Positively gargantuan.

  Jack watched Eddie as he went to work. The bear paced up and down, cocking his head to this side and the other, backing up, throwing himself forward onto his stomach, wriggling about.

  ‘How are you doing?’ called Jack.

  ‘Would you mind opening the doors to the pool area for me?’ said Eddie.

  Jack hastened to oblige. It took considerable effort to heave back the enormous doors, but when this was done, it proved well worthwhile.

  Jack found himself in the pool area. The pool itself was egg-shaped, which came as no surprise to Jack. It was mosaic-tiled all around and about and many of these tiles were elliptical.

  The entire pool area was sheltered by a great stained-glass dome of cathedralesque proportions. Jack gawped up at it in wonder. There were no egg motifs to be found up there; rather, the whole was a profusion of multi-coloured flowers, wrought in thousands of delicate panes of glass. The sunlight, dancing through these many-hued panes, cast wistful patterns over the pool area and Jack was entranced. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful in all of his life.

  The apex of the dome was an enormous stained-glass sunflower, its golden petals radiating out from a clear glass centre. Jack gave another whistle. He’d definitely have one of these roofs when he’d made his fortune.

  Jack pushed back the brim of his fedora. The roof was stunningly beautiful. But there was something … something that jarred with him. Something that didn’t seem entirely right. That appeared to be out of place. But what was it? Jack shrugged. What did he, Jack, know about stained-glass roofs? Nothing, was the answer to that. The roof was beautiful and that was all there was to it.

  The beauty of the roof above, however, was somewhat marred by that which lay directly below it. Specifically, in the pool, or more specifically still, on the surface of the pool’s water: a very nasty crusty-looking scum.

  ‘So how are you doing?’ Jack asked the ursine detective.

  Eddie shook his tatty head. ‘It’s tricky,’ he said. ‘So many policemen’s feet have trampled all around and about the place. But there’s no evidence of a struggle. Humpty was bathing in the pool. The murderer took him by surprise.’

  Jack peered down at the pool with its nasty crusty scum. ‘Boiled him?’ he asked. ‘How?’

  ‘Not sure yet,’ said Eddie. ‘My first thoughts were that the murderer simply turned up the pool’s heating system. But that would have taken time and Humpty would have climbed out when the water got too hot.’

  ‘Perhaps Humpty was drugged or asleep in the pool.’

  ‘That’s not how it was done. I’ll tell you how it was done as soon as I’ve figured it out.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Jack, putting a thumb and forefinger to his
chin and giving it a squeeze.

  Eddie paced around the pool, did some more head cocking, some more backing away and then some more throwing himself down onto his stomach and wriggling about. Then he stood up and began to frantically beat at his head.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Rearranging my brain cells,’ said Eddie. ‘Vigorous beating peps them up no end.’

  ‘Your head’s full of sawdust.’

  ‘I know my own business best.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Jack sat down on a poolside lounger. It was a most substantial poolside lounger, capable of accommodating, at the very least, a fat family. Possibly two. No, that would be silly, one fat family. And no more than that.

  Jack swung to and fro on the lounger and looked all around and about. Around and about and up and down, then up again once more.

  Eddie was down on his belly once again, leaning over the pool.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Come and give me a hand, if you will.’

  Jack swung out of the lounger.

  ‘Take my legs,’ said Eddie. ‘Lower me down. But don’t drop me in the water.’

  ‘Okay. What have you seen?’ Jack lowered Eddie over the edge.

  ‘Eleven, twelve, thirteen,’ said Eddie. ‘Interesting. Pull me up, please.’ Jack pulled Eddie up.

  ‘See it?’ said Eddie, pointing with a paw. ‘The scum on the side of the pool. The pool water’s lower than it should be. The scum has left traces, like beer does on the inside of a glass as you drink from it. There’re thirteen separate lines going down. And it’s thirteen days since Humpty was boiled. What do you make of that?’

  ‘The pool water has dropped a little each day. Perhaps there’s a leak.’

  ‘The water would drain away steadily if there was a leak; there wouldn’t be any lines.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Evaporation,’ he said. ‘It’s warm enough in here.’

  ‘Not that warm. The stained-glass roof keeps direct sunlight out, as you can see.’

  Jack looked up again. The roof looked the same as it had done before: stunningly beautiful, but not entirely right.

  ‘Get me that rubber ring,’ said Eddie. ‘I want to get an overview from the middle of the pool.’

  ‘You’re going to float about in that scummy water?’

  ‘On, not in.’

  Jack brought over the rubber ring, put it into the pool and lifted Eddie onto it. ‘Push me out,’ said Eddie. Jack pushed him out.

  ‘It’s something very clever,’ said Eddie, ‘whatever it is.’

  ‘Eddie,’ said Jack, ‘what was the exact time of death? Does anybody know?’

  ‘Midday,’ said Eddie. ‘Mr Froggie was doing his rounds; he heard the scream.’

  ‘Midday,’ said Jack, thoughtfully. ‘What’s the time now, do you think?’

  ‘I don’t have a watch. Around that time, I suppose.’

  ‘Eddie,’ cried Jack, ‘get out of the pool.’

  ‘What?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Get out of the pool, quickly.’

  ‘Look,’ said Eddie, ‘I’m the detective and although I appreciate you trying to help – no, strike that, actually I don’t. I think that the best thing you could do is—’

  ‘Bong!’ went a clock, somewhere in the late Humpty’s apartment.

  ‘Eddie, get out of the pool. Row or something.’

  ‘I’m not putting a paw in that scum.’

  ‘Get out of the pool.’

  BONG.

  ‘What are you going on about?’

  BONG.

  ‘Eddie, quickly.’

  ‘What?’

  BONG.

  ‘Hurry.’

  ‘What?’

  BONG

  ‘Waaaaaaaaaaah!’ Jack dived into the pool.

  BONG.

  ‘Have you gone completely insane?’ called Eddie.

  Jack struck out with a will.

  BONG.

  Jack floundered in the scummy water and grabbed the rubber ring.

  BONG.

  Jack floundered further and grabbed Eddie.

  BONG.

  Jack snatched Eddie from the ring.

  BONG.

  Jack swam fiercely and dragged Eddie to the edge of the pool.

  BONG.

  Jack hauled himself and Eddie out of the horrible water.

  BONG.

  A shaft of light swept down through the central portion of the stained-glass window. Through the eye of the great sunflower. Through the huge, clear lens. The magnified concentrated sunlight struck the water, causing an all-but-instantaneous effect. The water boiled and frothed. Viciously. Brutally. In a deadly, all-consuming maelstrom.

  ‘Stone me,’ said Eddie, from the safety of the poolside.

  Jack spat Humpty scum, but didn’t have much to say.

  *

  ‘Clever,’ said Eddie, squeezing himself and oozing scum water from his seams. ‘I did say clever. And that was clever. Clever and fiendish.’

  The two were now in Humpty’s kitchen; Jack was swathed in towels. Eddie ceased his squeezings and struggled to pour hot black coffee. ‘I’d have been a goner there,’ he said. ‘I’d have cooked. I don’t know what the effects would have been, but I’d bet I wouldn’t have been Eddie Bear any more. Horrible thought. Thanks for saving me, Jack. You’re as brave as.’

  ‘No problems,’ said Jack. ‘Although I don’t feel altogether too well. I think I swallowed some Dumpty.’

  ‘It’s been repeatedly boiled. It should be free of any contamination.’

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.’ Jack sipped at the coffee. ‘And look at my trenchcoat and my fedora, ruined.’

  ‘I’ll see to it that you get brand-new ones, made to measure. Somehow. You saved my life. How did you work it out?’

  ‘The stained-glass roof just didn’t look right. I didn’t see what it was at first. Then I realised that the centre of the sunflower at the very top of the dome was clear glass, and convex. A huge lens. And sun flower. And midday sun. It all sort of fell into place. I told you how I worked in the factory and the sun used to beat in through the glass roof and there was this one bit like a convex lens and how it used to burn me at midday.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Eddie. ‘We’ll make a detective out of you yet. So old Humpty was taking his regular midday dip and … whoosh.’

  ‘What I don’t get,’ said Jack, ‘is why the murderer didn’t return and remove the lens?’

  ‘Why should he bother? The job was done.’

  ‘Because it’s evidence. The police could surely trace the maker of the lens. We could, couldn’t we? Do you want me to climb up there and get it down?’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that? We’re twenty-three storeys up and I can’t see how you’d get to it from the inside. That dome is huge.’

  ‘We’ll leave it then,’ said Jack.

  ‘This is no ordinary murderer we’re dealing with,’ said Eddie. ‘Mind you, it’s the bunny that intrigues me the most.’

  ‘Bunny?’ said Jack. ‘What bunny?’

  ‘This bunny,’ said Eddie. ‘This bunny here.’ Eddie fumbled open the door of Humpty’s fridge. It was a fridge of considerable dimensions. ‘Mr Dumpty was a notable gourmand. That fat boy knew how to eat, believe me. Yet his fridge is completely empty, but for this. A single hollow chocolate bunny.’

  Eddie took the dear little fellow up in his paws and gave it a shake. ‘What do you make of that then, Jack?’

  ‘Let’s eat it,’ said Jack. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘I think it’s probably evidence.’

  ‘Let’s eat it anyway. We can remember what it looked like.’

  There came now a sudden beating at the apartment door. This beating was accompanied by shouts. These shouts were the shouts of policemen. ‘Open up,’ shouted these shouts. ‘This is the police.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Eddie. ‘I think Mr Froggie has done us wrong.’
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  ‘You talk to the policemen,’ said Jack. ‘I’m in a towel.’

  ‘I think we should run, Jack. We’re not supposed to be here. Gather up your wet clothes.’

  ‘Yes, but.’ Jack gathered up his wet clothes and his sodden fedora.

  ‘Put on your wet clothes and hurry.’

  ‘Yes, but.’

  ‘Believe me, Jack, you really don’t want to get involved with policemen.’

  ‘All right,’ said Jack, trying to struggle into his soggy trousers.

  ‘Hurry,’ counselled Eddie.

  Policemen put their shoulders to the door.

  And Jack took frantically to hurrying.

  7

  It is a fact well known to those who know it well that we can only truly know what we personally experience. Above and beyond that, it’s all just guesswork and conjecture.

  Of course, there are those who will take issue with this evident profundity. They will say, ‘Ah, but what do we really understand by truly know and personally experience?’ But to these issue takers we must say, ‘Get a life and get a girlfriend.’

  We really can only truly know what we personally experience. And when we experience something entirely new, something that we have never experienced before, it can come as something of a shock. And it can be hard at first to fully comprehend.

  Jack, for instance, had never before heard a really big, expensive silkwood apartment door being smashed from its hinges. And so the sounds of its smashing were alien to his ears.

  The fraboius grametting of the lock against its keep was positively malagrous in its percundity. The greebing and snattering was starkly blark.

  And as for the spondabulous carapany that the broken door made as it struck the vestibule floor …

  … the word phnargacious is hardly sufficient.

  Rapantaderely phnargacious would be more accurate.

  And as to what happened after this, it is probably all for the best that Jack neither heard nor saw any of it.

  Laughing policemen bounced into the late Humpty’s vestibule. They fairly bounced, and they ‘ho ho ho’d’ as they did so.

  They were all jolly-jolly and all-over blue,

  With big jolly bellies, a jollysome crew.

  Their faces were jolly,

  Their eyes jolly too.