The Big Over Easy

“Don’t bother. You’ve more than made up for it, whatever it was.”

“No, I really want to tell you.”

“And I really don’t want to hear it. If you were at the Guild bar the night before last or speaking to Flotsam at Platters Coffeehouse, I really don’t want to know about it—you probably have your reasons. Did they do the old ‘Barnes is retiring, we need a replacement’ routine on you?”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say something?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. It was your decision. I kind of felt you’d do the right thing, though.”

Mary couldn’t think of anything to say. He had trusted her to do the right thing, and she had almost stabbed him in the back.

“I’ve… I’ve underestimated you, sir—badly.”

“Well, I shouldn’t worry about it. I’ve been underestimated before.”

She felt anger rise inside her. Anger at herself for being such a fool, and anger at Chymes for taking advantage of her.

“Sir,” she said, “Chymes wants the Humpty investigation for the Amazing Crime Summer Special—he knew the night before we did about Humpty’s murder and has known about Spatchcock from about the same time. We can lodge a complaint about serious professional misconduct!”

“Mary,” said Jack quietly, “calm down. Think you’re the first person this has happened to? I told you before: He’s a complete shit. Don’t waste your breath. Gretel’s career is almost finished, and all she did was call him an arsehole. Have you any idea what a formal complaint would do to you? We concentrate on Humpty. Nothing else matters. Okay?”

She took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir. But I think I’ve made a lifelong enemy of Chymes.”

“You and me both. Did I ever tell you why?”

“No.”

“His fiancée left him when he pinched the credit for the Gingerbreadman capture.”

“So?”

“She left him for me. She was my first wife.”

“The one who passed away?”

“Right. Ben and Pandora’s mother.”

“Chymes got the Guild, and you got the girl.”

Jack smiled. “In one. I got the better part of the bargain, and he knew it.”

Mary looked up at Jack, but this time in a different light.

“Why have you stayed at the NCD so long, sir?”

He shrugged. “It needs me. And I need it. Can’t explain. Just the way it is. Make any sense?”

“Kind of. Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled the buff envelope from out of her jacket. “I was asked to give you these by someone who doesn’t want to be identified.”

“Skinner?’

“Yes.”

“Usually him. Let’s have a look.”

He opened the envelope and flicked through the pictures, rubbed his forehead and put them back.

“Don’t show these to anyone, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. What is it?”

“Something bigger than any of us. Just forget about them.”

“Sir!” said Baker as they approached the NCD offices. “Just got a message from Ops. It’s Willie Winkie.”

“Asleep again?”

“Permanently. Over in Palmer Park. Mrs. Singh is already in attendance. Is the Humpty investigation finished?”

“Far from it!” yelled Jack over his shoulder as they hurriedly retraced their steps down the corridor. “It’s back on with a vengeance. As you were. I want some answers by the time I get back. TIBBIT!”

25. Good Night, Wee Willie Winkie

PRINCE SOUGHT AFTER SLAYING

Police were called to Elsinore Castle yesterday to investigate the unnatural death of one of the King’s closest advisers. Married, a father of two, Mr. Polonius was discovered stabbed and his body hidden under the stairs to the lobby, although fibers recovered from his wound match a wall hanging in the Queen’s bedroom. DI Dogberry, fresh from his successful solving of the Desdemona murder, told us, “We are eager to integrate a Prince who was absurd in the area shortly after.” Sources close to the King tell us that Prince Hamlet has been acting erratically ever since the unexpected yet entirely natural and unsuspicious death of his father eight weeks before.

—Extract from the Elsinore Tatler, June 16, 1408