The Big Over Easy

“At the bookies’. Tybalt, never a strong favorite, had been pegged at sixty to one, and someone pulled in an estimated three hundred grand. We were informed, but it seemed as though the bookies were just complaining that they had to pay out. It wasn’t until a matinee performance of Macbeth three weeks later that the gang struck again. At the final big fight, Macduff was the clear favorite at even money. The bookies, now more vigilant, had placed Macbeth at three to one. It seemed a foregone conclusion; Macduff had fifty-eight pounds and eight years on Macbeth, not to mention some crafty footwork and a literary precedent that stretched back four hundred years.”

“So Macbeth won?” asked Jack.

Mary shook her head. “No. It was smarter than that: Banquo did.”

“Banquo?” echoed Jack in surprise. “Doesn’t he get killed off earlier in the play?”

“Usually,” replied Mary, “but this time he returned to the stage and made a brief speech explaining why he faked his own death, then slew Macbeth.”

“I bet the bookies weren’t pleased,” observed Jack.

“You could say that. They hadn’t suffered such a devastating loss since David beat Goliath. A rash of late bets had dropped Banquo’s odds from five hundred to one down to a hundred to one, but it wasn’t enough.”

“How much did the gang make?”

“Ten million.”

Jack whistled softly, and Mary continued: “This time there could be no mistake; someone was rigging the fights. Flowwe was put in command, and I went undercover as Lady Anne in their upcoming production of Richard III. It didn’t take long before we caught them in the final act. After a matinee performance, I saw the theater director giving out script revisions. I alerted Flowwe, and that evening we had eight undercover officers hidden in the audience, disguised variously as popcorn salesmen, tourists from the Midlands and critics from the Basingstoke Bugle. I had sneaked a look at the ‘revisions’ and knew what they were up to. At a suitable moment, we pounced, halted the Battle of Bosworth Field and arrested not only Richard III, but Lords Richmond and Stanley as well. Plots had been laid to call the battle a draw and then form a governmental coalition, a surprise result that would have netted the perpetrators over three million quid. It led directly to Flowwe gaining an extra twelve places on his Amazing Crime ranking to a creditable twenty-fifth. No Basingstoke officer had ever been higher.”

“And a commendation for you?”

She blushed and tossed her head modestly. “That, too.”

Jack remembered now where he had seen her name before. She had been commended not only for her sterling police work but also for her memorable performance as Lady Anne.

“Impressive. Is there anything you want to know about me apart from the fact that I’m not Guild?”

“Yes,” replied Mary. “What happened to your last DS?”

“His name was Alan Butcher. A good man. He died in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I was; I was the one that ran over him in my wife’s Volvo. But it wasn’t my fault—he stepped out in front of me.”

“Was he… tall?” asked Mary a bit recklessly.

Jack shook his head sadly. “You’ve heard about the giant killing already? Sometimes I think the station talks of almost nothing else. Well, hear it from the horse’s mouth: Aside from Butcher, they were all self-defense. When someone that big comes at you with a knife, you don’t stop to worry about using lethal force. It was him or me. Same as the other two. Mind you, only one of them was technically a giant—the rest were just tall. But you know what really annoys me?”

“No, what really annoys you?”

“Well, did you hear about the time I saved Hansel and Gretel from being eaten alive by a witch?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Or the time I rescued a hundred children from the Pied Piper of Hamelin?”

“Don’t… think so.”

“What about dealing with serial wife killer Bluebeard?”

“Only when Briggs mentioned it yesterday.”

“How about the time I closed down the illegal straw-into-gold den?”

“Not really.”

“Convicted Jill of aggravated assault against Jack?”

“Nope.”

“Stopped Mr. Punch throwing the baby downstairs?”

“Must have missed that one.”

“This is my point. I’ve worked hard at the NCD for twenty-six years, trying to bring justice to everyone within my jurisdiction. I deal with most things within the NCD, and I like to think I make a difference. Is any of that remembered? Not a bit of it. I kill a few tall guys and all of a sudden I’m nothing but a giant killer.”

They reached Mrs. Dumpty’s house a few minutes later. It was named, ironically, the Cheery Egg.

6. Mrs. Laura dumpty