Inspector Rumblepants and the Case of the Golden Haggis

by Mike Blyth

  As the men talked, the Assassin silently drew his dagger, edging slowly toward Sergeant Widebottom. He planned to dispose of the largest man first, before turning his evil attention to the Inspector. He rose up behind the two men, about to strike like a coiled snake, when Sergeant Widebottom turned around suddenly with a sandwich in his hand.

  “Would you care for a sandwich?” he said politely to the Assassin. This motion accidentally knocked the Assassin into the freezing cold lake with a large splash.

  Much splashing and struggling ensued in the rescue. Sergeant Widebottom accidentally hit the Assassin on the head several times with an oar in an effort to help him out of the water. Eventually the half-frozen and semi-conscious man was pulled back into the small boat. He lay on the bottom of the boat, shivering and slightly blue, a large bump rising on his head.

  “You are good,” the Assassin muttered, in awe of Sergeant Widebottom, before he passed out.

  “You are a bit clumsy, that’s what you are,” exclaimed Inspector Rumblepants to Sergeant Widebottom. “The poor man could become ill with you knocking him into the lake like that! Who is going to get us back over the lake tomorrow? Because this unlucky fellow will likely be in bed with a cold,” he said angrily.

  “Sorry, Sir,” nodded the Sergeant. “I will try to be more careful next time.” He kindly wrapped a blanket around the shivering man. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” he said.

  From the other side of the lake, a gypsy band had watched the whole scene, hidden in the forest. These were a group hired by the Thief, Count Tomat Le Ketchoop. They observed Sergeant Widebottom row the boat to the pier. The largest of gypsies, who was the leader, was shaking his head in amazement. He turned to them. “That assassin was the best in Europe!” the gypsy leader exclaimed. “He has never failed before. I cannot believe that the Englishmen have so easy overcome him,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

  Astonished, their leader paced back and forth. Then he said to them, “The Count said that we must capture the policemen if the plan went wrong.” He pulled out a long, evil knife from beneath his jacket. “The Count also said that the Inspector and his Sergeant have an uncanny knack for getting out of trouble.” He sniggered nastily. “But these two men can’t beat twelve of the toughest gypsies in Scotland,” he said.

  The gypsies pulled out thick cudgels of wood and advanced menacingly along the shoreline to the pier and the approaching boat. Inspector Rumblepants looked up at the dozen tough gypsy men who waited on the pier. The small boat pulled up.

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Rumblepants said as he and Sergeant Widebottom stepped on the rickety wooden planks. Widebottom was carrying the sleeping Assassin over his broad shoulders. The gypsies approached the Englishmen. The gypsies brandished their daggers and cudgels.

  “Now look here,” said Inspector Rumblepants with authority, “We are officers of Her Majesty’s police force!” The gypsies were happy to have that fact confirmed and advanced toward them with bad intent.

  “Oh my gosh,” exclaimed Sergeant Widebottom. “I left me special truncheon in the boat!” Widebottom put the sleeping Assassin gently down upon the pier. The Assassin opened one eye and groggily reached into his cloak for a hidden dagger. At that moment, Sergeant Widebottom slipped on some soggy seaweed, causing the Assassin’s head to bounce painfully against a wooden post. The Assassin grunted in pain and passed out again.

  The policemen looked nervously at the approaching gypsies. Suddenly, from behind the gypsies, a dark, ghostly form materialized from the mist. The Newcomer was dressed all in black, with a hood concealing the face. The Newcomer glided as gracefully as a cloud, dancing silently down the pier behind the gypsies. The largest of the gypsies was only a few feet away from assaulting Inspector Rumblepants when the mysterious figure leapt up into the air and, in a blur, delivered a karate chop to the last gypsy, who slipped unconscious to the wooden planks without a sound. With lightning speed, the Newcomer spun around and planted a small foot on the back of another gypsy, who then flew into the air and landed with a loud splash some distance away in the cold lake.

  Spinning, whirling, and flipping, the dark form moved like a striking snake through the gypsies. The Newcomer ducked under their swinging wooden bats and poked by hand into their soft spots (such as their eyes, noses, ears, and throats). The surprised gypsies gasped in pain as they fell into the lake (or were thrown in). They remained in the murky lake water. The Newcomer stood in front of the largest of the gypsies, who was now trembling in utter, frozen fear.

  “Put these on,” said the small, delicate voice of the Newcomer to the gypsy leader, as handcuffs were thrown with a clank to his feet. The cuffs were covered in pink fur and had tiny golden horses jingling on them. The gypsy leader nodded in submission and quickly put the handcuffs on.

  Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom watched in open-mouthed amazement as the Newcomer pulled the black hood off to reveal Agent Amber, her long hair billowing in the breeze. “Sorry I’m late. I saw a dress that I just had to try on,” she apologized.

  The gypsy looked at the young girl in amazement. “Who are you?” he gasped as she smiled serenely at him. He was amazed that a small girl had defeated all of the gypsies so easily.

  Agent Amber would not tell the gypsy who she was. “Sorry,” she replied. “That’s top-secret information, and I am not allowed to tell you.”

  Chapter 9

  The Mole

  Chief Inspector Grumpibugger looked up with worry in his eyes after reading the secret note that he had just been handed by a special courier from the secret agency, MI six-and-a-half. “Dash it all!” he muttered as he ran for the door, looking for the leader of the Fast Armed Response Team.

  After much shouting by Grumpibugger to find the leader, a tough-looking policeman with short, blond hair walked into the office. He had a no-nonsense smile that implied that he was very successful at spy work.

  “A job for the FART team, Sir?” asked the leader hopefully. His name was Inspector Christopher Nailard. He excitedly cracked his scarred knuckles, anticipating a great case. His steely eyes looked down at the Chief Inspector, showing that he hoped the job would start immediately. His biceps strained against his tight, black, jumpsuit uniform, as he pulled out a notebook to take serious notes. A long, white scar ran down the side of his face. No one knew how he had gotten the scar, but it danced when he smiled eagerly at the Chief Inspector.

  “Yes, Inspector Nailard,” said the Chief Inspector, handing over the secret note. “I have just discovered that we have a traitor in our midst and that Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom are in great danger.”

  Nailard ran his hands worriedly through his hair. He summarized the trouble bluntly, “One of the Scottish policemen assisting them is a traitor.”

  “Yes,” Grumpibugger said grumpily. “Our agents are working in Scotland on a top-secret mission, and they may be led into a trap. Unfortunately, we don’t know the identity of the traitor yet.”

  Inspector Nailard gave the note back to the Chief Inspector and flicked his wrist. A dagger appeared like magic and spun in a blur through the air, striking a map posted on the wall, the blade sticking out of Scotland.

  “My FART team will be there by tomorrow!” he promised with a snarl. “No harm will come to the Inspector and Sergeant when my team is there to protect them, because no one beats our British FART! We will help get to the bottom of this case.” With that oath, he twirled around and swaggered from the Chief Inspector’s office.

  Chief Inspector Grumpibugger walked over to the map, noticing that a dribble of water was running from where the blade had struck it.

  “Silly Nailard,” Grumpibugger said. “He has hit a water pipe again. I wish he would stop doing that.”

  In Scotland, Agent Amber had been thinking about what to do with the huge gypsy leader. She decided to swing him upside down from a large tree.

  The gypsy leader had fear in his eyes, because he’d seen w
hat she was capable of. Sweat sprang up on his forehead and ran down into his wide eyes. The rest of his gang were still unconscious and tied to trees, some of them slowly starting to wake up.

  “Are you sure this is legal?” asked Inspector Rumblepants, looking at the red-faced man swinging upside down. “I have read nothing about this technique in the police training manual,” he added.

  Sergeant Widebottom said, “Yes, but the police team in London sometimes used this method after you had gone home, Sir. That’s why whenever you questioned the criminals the next day, they would quickly tell you where they had stashed the stolen loot.”

  The Inspector looked at the Sergeant angrily. “No, I don’t believe you. It was my interrogation techniques, Sergeant—not your hanging them upside down all night—that made them confess.”

  Agent Amber chirped happily. “It is an approved practice where I’m from within the secret service. It’s detailed on page twelve in the secret service booklet, How to Persuade People to be Truthful.” She turned to her captive.

  “Are you doing okay hanging there, Mr. Gypsy?” she politely inquired with concern. “Your face has a bit of color this way,” she said sweetly.

  She looked over to the two policemen and said, “Perhaps you’re right, Inspector Rumblepants. Maybe we should let him down for a minute before we start to ask him questions. He looks a tad unhappy up there.”

  The gypsy looked at Agent Amber in fear. “This is a trick!” he cried out. “One minute, you are fighting my men and hanging me upside down from a tree. The next minute, you are pretending to be kind.” He looked desperately around for help. “You are utterly mad, completely bonkers. I give up. What do you want to know? I will tell you everything,” he croaked in panic.

  “Gosh, it does work,” said Agent Amber, surprised. “And we haven’t even got to the tickling stage, which is the best part! I am disappointed. Well, I suppose I do want to know who sent you, where the Golden Haggis is, and why it was stolen,” she stated firmly, peering into the gypsy’s eyes as she spoke. “In addition, can you tell me if there are any good shoe stores around here? I seem to have gotten mine a bit muddy,” she asked.

  A few moments later, Agent Amber, the Inspector, and Sergeant Widebottom were huddled some distance from the tree in which the gypsy was still swinging slowly in the breeze. Agent Amber’s notebook was full of details that the gypsy had spilled in his fear. They had discovered that the evil Count Tomat Le Ketchoop had joined forces with Bonnie Prince Currie to gain Currie the crown of Scotland and overthrow Queen Victoria of England. The dastardly plan of the Count and the Prince was to use the revered symbol of the Golden Haggis to unite the Scottish clans and convince them to attack England. The gypsy had also told Agent Amber that the evil Prince eventually intended to send the Scottish and English armies to invade Europe—and then take over the rest of the world.

  Her captive also told her where he had hidden his own money, the fact that he had not worked hard enough in school, and that he had once borrowed someone’s bicycle without their permission when he was eleven years old. He was also able to tell her where to get some great deals on shoes.

  Inspector Rumblepants gravely summarized what they had learned so far and what they must do next. “It is great that we now know who has the Golden Haggis and what their plans are,” he said solemnly. “Sergeant,” he ordered, “you let the gypsy down and take him and his friends to the nearest police station. Then meet us at the University of Loch Ness. We can visit with Professor Aberdeen, catch up with Inspector Thistle McDonald, and decide where the Count and the Prince might be hiding out.”

  He smiled at Agent Amber. “Perhaps you can speak to the Scottish secret agents, if they are working today. Please ask them if they can find out where Bonnie Prince Currie may be hiding and how we can stop his reprehensible plot to take over the world.”

  They all agreed to the Rumblepants’s plan. Sergeant Widebottom carefully got the relieved gypsy leader down from the tree. Agent Amber had spotted a small village several miles from the edge of the lake, and so Sergeant Widebottom led the trembling gypsy and his friends down the muddy track toward the village, tied together in a line using his own invention: extendable handcuffs.

  When the Sergeant arrived at the village an hour later, some of the local policemen arrived on donkeys to arrest the gypsies. The local police looked first at the large, frightened men who were cowering by the police station. Next they looked at Sergeant Widebottom. The success of the capture didn’t make logical sense to them.

  “Ye did this yerself, did ye?” asked one diminutive, ginger-haired policeman in amazement.

  Sergeant Widebottom admitted honestly, “No, it was a young lady who made the arrest, actually. I just brought them here.”

  “A girlie?” exclaimed another local officer in disbelief. “But don’t you realize that you have arrested Tough Tim and Brutal Bob?” he stammered in astonishment, looking at Tim and Bob. The two scarred and tattooed tough guys were now trembling.

  “Yup, I also see Kick-Em-in-the-Teeth Keith,” said another police officer with surprise.

  “And there’s Knuckles Nathan!” said another, shaking his head in wonder.

  “Well, as I said,” repeated Sergeant Widebottom, “I can’t take the credit. It was a young girl who arrested them. She’s highly skilled with her weapons, which include a hairbrush and her shoes.”

  “A devil in a dress!” advised one of the defeated, nasty-looking gypsies. “So please lock us up so we can be safe from her.”

  Agent Amber had brought a horse and carriage to the lake. Inspector Rumblepants loaded his luggage on, as well as the Sergeant’s. The old policeman and the young secret agent then clambered on top and started toward the University of Loch Ness, fifteen miles away in the village of Firt’a-way’e.

  As the carriage bounced down the muddy track, Inspector Rumblepants was thinking hard. He looked at Agent Amber and asked, “Have you wondered how the gypsies knew we were going to travel across that lake?”

  Agent Amber looked over at the Inspector. “I believe there is a traitor passing on information,” she stated without hesitation. “It could be a solider from Castle Stirling or perhaps someone within our team,” she added. “That is why I met you at the other side of the lake. I suspected that there is a traitor, and I came to warn you.”

  Inspector Rumblepants was very annoyed that there might be a spy among them, called a “mole.”

  “That’s a bit sneaky,” he said, indignant. “They are not playing fair! Criminals today have no sense of ethics. What is the world coming to?”

  “Yes, criminals do seem to break the rules occasionally,” answered Agent Amber knowingly. “I am sure you will tell them off when we arrest them.”

  Their carriage broke from the black forest and bounced into a sunny valley with mountains towering on either side. The valley was dotted with fields of grazing sheep. In its center was a little village. On one side of the valley, the waters of Loch Ness lapped gently on the shore, which was covered with smelly seaweed. The lake, shrouded with mist, exuded mystery. Their carriage sloshed through muddy puddles and finally ended up in the village. Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber quickly found a large, stone building with an old sign stating that the building was the University for Clever(ish) Folks.

  The sun was starting to set, so they decided to find a place to stay for the night. Their plan was to visit Professor Aberdeen the next day. They found a modest inn with an ancient, weathered sign saying the Loch Ness Beastie Inn. There they asked the old innkeeper for three rooms, one each for the Inspector, Agent Amber, and Sergeant Widebottom.

  “Ye want rooms?” asked the innkeeper, giving a toothless smile. “Certainly!” With incredibly wrinkled hands, he handed over three heavy, iron keys.

  With all of their bags, they climbed the narrow stairs to their rooms. Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber quickly unpacked and agreed to meet later that night to wait for Sergeant Widebottom and have dinner. Their r
ooms were small but cheerful, with tiny windows that let in the last rays of sunshine. Downstairs, the wonderful smell of cooking seeped through the rooms. They could hear mothers outside calling their playing children to come home for supper.

  Chapter 10

  Professor Aberdeen

  Later that night, Sergeant Widebottom arrived at the Loch Ness Beastie Inn on the back of a Scottish police pony. He had obtained the steed at the police station to which he had taken the gypsies. The officers had given him the pony on loan so that he didn’t have to walk all the way to the village of Firt’a-way’e. When the Scottish police officer had handed over the reins to the pony, Sergeant Widebottom had asked why they had painted the pony’s head blue.

  “‘Cause that’s a police color, don’t ye know,” stated the Scottish policeman firmly. “All police property is painted blue.” The officer pointed to a small horn tied to one of the pony’s ears. “And that is yer police horn,” he stated. “All folks will leap out of the way when ye blow it!”

  Sergeant Widebottom tried the horn, which let out a small squeak. “I guess they hear you coming from miles off,” he deadpanned.

  After several hours bouncing up and down on the back of the small pony, he eventually found the inn and boarded the pony in the stable so it could eventually be returned by a local officer. The sun had set several hours previously, and the night was getting cold and damp. Fog was rolling in. Throughout the valley, a strange and eerie bleating noise could be heard echoing off the valley walls. Sergeant Widebottom nervously looked out into the darkness.

  “Glad I don’t have to go near that mysterious lake at night,” he muttered to himself as he pushed open the inn’s creaking door and walked in.

  Inspector Rumblepants had waited up for the Sergeant, who was covered in mud and weary from his long trip. He gratefully accepted a plate of food and some cold tea. Agent Amber had headed back to her room, as she had to wash her hair and paint her toenails. Inspector Rumblepants told Sergeant Widebottom of their plans for the next day. Rumblepants divulged his fear that someone was a traitor and may have arranged the ambush. They decided to head to bed and meet up for breakfast the next morning. They made sure to lock their bedroom doors, in case anyone should try to attack them again while they slept.