The Big Over Easy

Jack sighed audibly. “No way. No way on God’s own earth, sir. NCD is my jurisdiction. Humpty is my jurisdiction. This is what I do.” He felt his voice rising.

“I know that,” said Briggs, trying to be conciliatory and authoritarian at the same time, “I just wanted you to reconsider. Chymes is Guild and high-profile. If you let him take over the Humpty investigation, it might bode well for the division.”

“No, sir. I’ve been shafted once too often by Friedland. You’d have to suspend me before I’d let go.”

Briggs took a deep breath and stared at him for a moment.

“Jack, please! Don’t piss Chymes off. If the Guild of Detectives gets involved, it could all get really messy.”

“Then,” said Jack, “it’s going to get messy. Are we done, sir?”

Briggs glared at him, then nodded, and Jack departed. He loosened his collar and felt his heart thump inside his chest. Humpty. Something told him it was going to be a tricky one.

As he walked back in, Tibbit and Mary were waiting for him with a hefty volume of Reading Who’s What? Mary looked at him quizzically, but Jack didn’t say anything.

“Pewter,” said Tibbit, “Charles Walter. He’s a commodities broker. Has been partnered to Mr. Perkupp at Perkupp and Partners since 1986. Active on the charity scene, married, with one son. Special interests: Victoriana, walking. Lives and works from Brickfield Terrace.”

Jack picked up the phone and dialed Pewter’s number.

After only two rings, a woman with a cultured voice answered the phone. “Perkupp and Partners. May I help you?”

“Yes,” he replied, “this is Detective Inspector Spratt, Nursery Crime Division. I wonder if I might speak to Mr. Pewter?”

“Certainly, sir. Please wait a moment.”

She put him on hold, and a rather poor recording of Vivaldi came down the line. A moment later she was back.

“I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Pewter is in a meeting. Can he call you back?”

Jack knew when he was being fobbed off.

“Tell him I’m investigating Humpty Dumpty’s death.”

There was a short pause, and then a man’s voice came on the line.

“DI Spratt? My name is Charles Pewter. Perhaps you’d better come around.”

10. Charles peWter

DANGEROUS PSYCHOPATH CAPTURED

The incredibly dangerous homicidal maniac known as “the Gingerbreadman” was captured almost single-handedly by Friedland Chymes last night. The cakey lunatic, whose reign of terror has kept Reading in a state of constant fear for the past six months, was brought to book by DI Chymes and some other unnamed officers in a textbook case of inspired investigation. “It really wasn’t that hard,” declared Chymes modestly. “Myself and some colleagues just did what was expected of any member of the police force.” The flour, butter, ginger and sugar psychopath, whose penchant for literally pulling his victims apart, is currently in a secure wing of St. Cerebellum’s, where he will doubtless remain for the rest of his life.

—From The Toad, March 23, 1984

Brickfield Terrace was a tree-lined avenue of houses built in the late 1890s and was situated only a few miles from the town center. Mr. Pewter’s house, Jack discovered, was the last one in the street and also seemed to be the only house not dissected into undistinguished flats. As he tugged on the bellpull, he noted an ugly hole where the boot scraper should have been. After a moment, the door opened, and a tall man with Victorian clothes, a large beard and a face like a bloodhound stood on the threshold.

“If you’re from The Owl,” began Mr. Pewter without waiting to see who either Jack or Mary was, “you spelt my name wrong on the guest list for the Spongg Footcare Charity Benefit. It’s not Pooter but Pewter, as in tankard.”

His deep voice showed little emotion and was about as salubrious as his features.

Jack held up his ID card. “Detective Inspector Jack Spratt, Nursery Crime Division. This is Detective Sergeant Mary Mary.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Dumpty. You’d better come in.”