One week later …
The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth was cross. He had just read the morning paper. There was a picture of him on the front page. Normally the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth would have been pleased by this, but the picture was not a flattering one. It was a photograph of him looking very fat and puzzled, which someone had taken when he wasn’t looking. A big caption underneath it read BUNGLING BOBBIES BAFFLED BY BURGLARIES.
The thief had struck again.
‘Get Cheddar here,’ he shouted to his secretary. ‘At once!’
‘Yes, Chief Inspector,’ she said calmly, picking up the phone. ‘There are some people waiting outside to see you.’
‘Not more journalists?’ The Chief Inspector complained.
‘No,’ the secretary said. ‘Lord and Lady Toffly. They said it was urgent.’
The Chief Inspector groaned. He took out a spotted handkerchief and mopped his brow. The Tofflys! That was all he needed. He had a headache coming on.
Inspector Cheddar arrived at Bigsworth Police Station half an hour later. He was feeling depressed. He’d been at work since seven o’clock that morning, attending the latest crime scene, and he was no closer to finding the culprit of the burglaries than he had been a week ago when they first started.
On his way in he passed two people he recognised – Lord and Lady Toffly.
‘It’s quite appalling how useless the police are,’ Lady Toffly was saying in a very loud voice. ‘Don’t you agree, Roderick?’
‘I do, Antonia. Perfectly pathetic! Especially that hopeless Gorgonzola fellow!’
Inspector Cheddar pulled his cap down over his eyes.
‘Cheddar, darling.’
‘I don’t care what his name is. He’s in charge, isn’t he? I’d like to take a pop at him with my shotgun.’
Inspector Cheddar hid behind a filing cabinet.
‘Roderick!’
‘Just to give him a fright, Antonia,’ Lord Toffly grumbled. ‘I wouldn’t hurt him.’
Lady Toffly clicked her tongue. ‘The point is, Roderick, my tiara is worth millions …’
‘Billions, darling,’ Lord Toffly reminded her.
‘… and the antiques fair is only two days away. What if the thief strikes there? What if he steals the tiara?’ Lady Toffly sniffed
‘Can’t risk that,’ Lord Toffly agreed.
‘If the police don’t catch the culprit soon, we shall have to call it off,’ Lady Toffly said. She sighed. ‘And after all that trouble we’ve gone to to set up the marquee.’
‘Jolly inconvenient,’ snarled Lord Toffly. ‘I’d like to give that Gorgonzola fellow a piece of my mind.’
They disappeared.
Inspector Cheddar came out from behind the filing cabinet and made his way to the Chief Inspector’s office. He knocked on the door.
‘Come in!’ a voice yelled.
Inspector Cheddar swallowed. He took off his cap and went into the room.
‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Cheddar?’ The Chief Inspector thundered. He slapped the newspaper down on his desk.
Inspector Cheddar winced when he saw the picture.
‘WELL?’
‘I’m doing my best, sir,’ he quavered.
‘YOUR BEST?’ roared the Chief Inspector. ‘That’s clearly not good enough.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Tell me about the latest break-in,’ the Chief Inspector ordered.
Inspector Cheddar drew a notebook from his pocket and consulted it.
‘A Miss Rana, sir. Lives at number 17 Sea Shell Drive. Woke to find her safe open and the contents gone. Windows and doors all locked when she went to bed. No sign of forced entry. No fingerprints. Heard and saw nothing.’
‘That’s it?’ the Chief Inspector shouted.
Inspector Cheddar nodded. ‘I’m afraid so, sir.’
‘No clues?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’
The Chief Inspector poured himself a glass of water. ‘So what you’re telling me, Cheddar, is that this thief, whoever he or she is, can walk through walls?’
‘Possibly, sir,’ Inspector Cheddar said, not wanting to contradict his boss. He had a different theory. He coughed. ‘Or come down the chimney.’
‘Like Santa Claus, you mean?’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
The Chief Inspector banged his glass down on the table. ‘Don’t be an idiot, Cheddar. Santa Claus isn’t a thief.’
‘No, sir.’
‘And there’s no such thing as a burglar who walks through walls.’
‘No, sir.’
‘You’re missing something, Cheddar. That’s the problem. Something obvious. You’re not behaving like a detective.’
Inspector Cheddar said nothing.
The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth leaned forward menacingly over the desk. ‘I want this criminal captured.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The Tofflys want this criminal captured.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The people of Littleton-on-Sea want this criminal captured.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And if you don’t arrest whoever it is soon, I’m taking you off the case and putting you back on traffic duty for the rest of your career. Do you understand?’
‘But, sir!’ Inspector Cheddar choked, ‘I don’t like …’
The Chief Inspector raised his hand to silence him. ‘Hard cheese, Cheddar,’ he yelled. ‘Now get out of here and go and do some proper policing.’
Atticus lay on the sofa waiting for Mrs Tucker and the children to get back from school. He was exhausted. It had been a busy week.
After the near disaster at the Pearsons’, things had gone remarkably smoothly. He’d burgled six other houses; two with open windows and four with cat flaps.
Cat flaps might sound easy, especially for a cat burglar, but the problem with them was that sometimes there were actually cats on the other side. If that happened and the cat in question were a lady, Atticus would simply arrange to meet her somewhere and then slip back in when she went out. But if it were a tomcat, that was a different matter. Tomcats defended their territory. Atticus tried to avoid them. He never burgled a house with a dog or a tomcat in it. He touched his chewed ear with his paw and shivered. He didn’t want another fight.
This week, though, he’d been lucky. Of the seven houses he’d hit, only one had had a cat in residence: Mimi, a pretty Burmese. Atticus had invited her to meet up at the beach hut, then hidden in the bushes until he saw her go out. He sighed. There were some aspects of the job he didn’t like – letting down pretty girls like Mimi was one of them.
Atticus yawned loudly. He was glad he was having a night off. The magpies were having a meeting and he wasn’t invited. Atticus didn’t care. They could plot and plan all they liked. As long as he got his sardines, he didn’t want anything else to do with them. He yawned again. Seven burglaries in as many nights! He hoped Inspector Cheddar appreciated his efforts. Atticus had certainly given him plenty of crimes to investigate.
At that moment Michael and Callie rushed into the room. Atticus rolled on to his back obligingly and dangled his paws in the air. Callie tickled his tummy. Michael rubbed his ears. Atticus purred like a tractor.
Mrs Tucker came in and pushed open the window to let in some fresh air. She regarded Atticus closely. ‘That animal’s getting fat!’ she announced.
Atticus was offended. It was true he’d been eating more sardines than he should – six a day from the magpies and whatever Mrs Tucker brought in her basket from the remains of Mr Tucker’s catch – and quite a lot of cat food as well. But FAT! That was just plain rude. Especially coming from Mrs Tucker who looked like she guzzled plenty of sardines herself when no one was looking.
‘No, he’s not,’ Callie said loyally. ‘Are you, Atticus?’
Atticus purred in agreement. At least someone was on his side.
‘Yes, he is!’ Mrs Tucker insisted. ‘Look at the size of his tummy. We shoul
d put him on a diet.’
Atticus’s face fell. Diets meant dusty pellets that looked like mummified rabbit poo. He’d once adopted a matador in Madrid who was obsessed with healthy eating. It had been a bad mistake. Atticus had lost half a kilo in a week.
‘Poor Atticus,’ Michael laughed. ‘Look at his face!’
‘He won’t be able to get in and out of that cat flap soon,’ Mrs Cheddar continued.
The cat flap had been installed, as Atticus predicted, soon after his arrival. Inspector Cheddar had got so cross about being woken up in the middle of the night by Atticus poking his paw in his eye, Mrs Cheddar had ordered it to be put in straight away so that her husband could concentrate on his detective work. Meanwhile Mrs Tucker had asked at the local cats’ home if anyone was missing a cat answering to the description of Atticus and had driven round the area on her motorbike looking for ‘lost cat’ notices. But no one seemed to know anything about a brown-and-black tabby called Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw. So ‘one night’ had led to two and two to four and four to … well: it looked as though Atticus could be staying a while.
Mrs Tucker was still gazing at Atticus’s tummy. ‘I wonder if he’s being fed by someone else,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘That’s the thing with cats; you never know what they get up to when they’re out.’ She gave Atticus an accusing stare. ‘Especially at night.’
Atticus blushed beneath his fur. She didn’t suspect something, did she?
‘Atticus doesn’t do anything,’ Michael said. ‘He’s too lazy.’
Atticus raised a whiskery eyebrow. If only he knew.
They heard the key turn in the lock.
Mrs Tucker frowned. ‘Who’s that?’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s only quarter to four.’
Callie ran to the door. ‘It’s Dad!’ she cried.
Inspector Cheddar came into the room. He threw a newspaper on to the coffee table and sat down heavily beside Atticus.
Mind out! Atticus thought, flicking his tail out of the way just in time.
‘Dad!’ Michael said. ‘You’re early.’
‘Yes,’ said Inspector Cheddar, stroking Atticus absently.
Atticus was startled. Inspector Cheddar had never stroked him before. Normally he ignored him or said things like ‘you still here?’ or ‘get off the bed, you lazy lump’. Atticus began to purr quietly.
‘Did you catch the burglar?’ Callie asked excitedly.
‘No,’ Inspector Cheddar shook his head. ‘I just came home for a break. It’s hopeless. This criminal’s a pro. He comes and goes without a trace. He can walk through walls. He can slip through closed windows. He can slide under locked doors. I just don’t see how he does it. It’s like magic.’ He scratched Atticus’s ears.
Atticus glowed. It was nice to hear Inspector Cheddar talk about him like that. Maybe he did appreciate him, after all. He purred more loudly.
‘I’ll never catch him,’ Inspector Cheddar commented.
Atticus nodded in agreement. It was true. He never would.
Suddenly Inspector Cheddar made a choking sound.
Atticus looked up, astonished. What was the matter now?
‘I’m the worst detective in the world!’ Inspector Cheddar sobbed. ‘I’m awful. Rubbish. A waste of space. I’m rotten, like a mouldy bit of mousetrap.’
Atticus was amazed. Wasn’t Inspector Cheddar happy he had crimes to investigate?
‘No, you’re not, Dad!’ Michael cried. ‘You’re the best detective in the world!’
Inspector Cheddar shook his head. ‘The Tofflys think I stink. So does the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth,’ he howled. ‘He’s threatened to put me back on traffic duty if I don’t catch whoever it is soon!’
Atticus was flabbergasted. This was the first time it had occurred to him that Inspector Cheddar actually expected to catch someone for the burglaries, or that he might be upset if he didn’t.
‘Don’t listen to those people,’ Callie cried, throwing her arms round Inspector Cheddar’s neck. ‘They don’t know anything.’
‘Really?’ Inspector Cheddar sniffed.
‘Definitely,’ Michael agreed. ‘You’ll catch the villain, Dad. Don’t worry. We know you will.’
Atticus was listening closely. He’d got it all mixed up! Now he understood. Michael only wanted there to be burglaries so that his dad would look good when he solved them!
‘How?’ Inspector Cheddar tried to smile. ‘He doesn’t leave any clues.’
‘He’ll make a mistake,’ Michael said. ‘Criminals always do, don’t they, Atticus?’
Atticus purred weakly. Most criminals might make mistakes. But he never did. Inspector Cheddar didn’t stand a chance against him and Jimmy Magpie’s gang. He’d never solve the crimes. The Tofflys would call him mean names. People would laugh at him in the street. The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth would put him on traffic duty. Worst of all, Michael would be disappointed and Callie would be sad.
Mrs Tucker came in with a steaming cup of fish tea. ‘Here, this will put hairs on your chest,’ she beamed. ‘I always give it to Mr Tucker before he sets sail in case he meets a you-know-what.’
Inspector Cheddar sniffed it suspiciously. His eyes watered.
‘Any chance of a biscuit?’ he asked.
‘I might have some plankton-and-cod cookies.’ Mrs Cheddar went off to look for them.
Inspector Cheddar took a sip of tea. ‘YUK!’ he spluttered. He poured it out of the window.
Atticus thought he heard a faint squawk but the children were giggling and he couldn’t be sure. Besides, his mind was on other things.
‘Don’t tell Mrs Tucker I did that,’ Inspector Cheddar whispered.
Mrs Tucker came back with some green-looking biscuits. She eyed the empty cup. ‘You’ll be running around like one of those superheroes in a minute – Crabman, or whatever his name is,’ she said, looking pleased.
Michael stifled a laugh.
Callie pretended to cough.
Inspector Cheddar sprang off the sofa. The fish tea seemed to have worked. Suddenly he did feel much better. ‘Thank you, kids. Thank you, Mrs Tucker. Thank you, Atticus.’
‘Where are you going?’ the children wanted to know.
‘I’m going back to the station.’ Inspector Cheddar stuck his cap on jauntily. ‘To catch a burglar.’
‘Good luck, Dad!’ Callie shouted after him.
‘Yeah, go get him, Dad!’ Michael yelled. He picked up Atticus lumpily and waved one of his paws towards Inspector Cheddar. ‘Atticus says good luck too!’
The door slammed.
Feeling miserable, Atticus meowed to get down.
‘What’s wrong, Atticus?’ Michael sounded concerned. ‘You normally love being picked up.’
‘Tummy-ache, probably.’ Mrs Tucker said briskly. ‘Now let’s get your reading done.’ She took the children into the kitchen.
Atticus slunk upstairs. He wriggled under the bed, wondering what on earth he was going to do.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
Thug and Slasher were having fun. Jimmy was out and they were trying on some of the stolen jewellery. The sunlight, which came in bright stripes through the wooden planks of the old pier, made the precious stones sparkle like fireworks.
‘What do you think?’ Thug chattered, parading up and down the metal beams with a bracelet over one wing. ‘Do emeralds suit me?’
‘Without a doubt, Thug,’ Slasher said. ‘They go with your plumage.’
‘I like you in rubies,’ Thug returned the compliment. ‘They suit your complexion.’
‘Nah … you’re just being polite.’ Slasher grinned. ‘You know what they say, Thug …’ He threw the ruby necklace carelessly on to the brimming nest and picked out a ring with his beak. ‘… Diamonds are a bird’s best friend.’
‘You crack me up, Slasher!’ Thug nearly fell off the beam with laughing.
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’ There was a rush of wings.
Thug froze.
Slasher
blinked nervously.
It was Jimmy Magpie.
‘Jimmy!’ Slasher tried to hide the diamond ring under his wing. ‘We was just … er … checking things.’
‘Put the stuff back.’ Jimmy glared at the two magpies coldly. ‘Do you want the fuzz to see you?’
‘The fuzz?’ Thug repeated.
‘The cops. The heat. The bill.’
Thug and Slasher looked blank.
‘The police, you idiots!’ Jimmy squawked. ‘They’re out on patrol. Looking for the burglar.’
‘The police!’ gasped Thug.
‘Yeah. I’ve been keeping an eye on them all day while you two have been playing at dressing up.’ His eyes glittered brightly. ‘Inspector Cheddar. He’s in charge.’
‘Cheddar?’ gasped Slasher. ‘Isn’t that the name of the lady who’s organising the Toffly Hall antiques fair? The one who lives at number 2 Blossom Crescent.’
‘Her husband,’ Jimmy confirmed. ‘I followed him back home this afternoon and listened at the window.’ Jimmy glanced behind him and fanned his luminous-green tail feathers. ‘I nearly got my tail scalded by some foul-smelling brew in the process.’
Thug looked nervous. ‘You don’t think he’s on to us, do you?’
‘Why would he be?’ Jimmy demanded. ‘What have you done?’
‘Slasher tried to steal his badge.’ Thug confessed.
‘YOU DID WHAT?’ Jimmy grabbed the diamond ring off Slasher and whacked him over the head with it. ‘YOU BIRD BRAIN!’
‘It wasn’t me, it was him!’ Slasher pushed Thug violently.
Thug fell off his perch, fluttered unsteadily, then landed on Slasher’s back. ‘No, it wasn’t, it was you!’
Slasher pushed him off.
Thug shoved him back.
‘Cut it out!’ Jimmy snapped. ‘Luckily, Inspector Cheddar’s even more stupid than you two. He’s no threat. Not yet, anyway. He hasn’t got a clue about the burglaries. He’s stumped.’
‘Phew!’ Thug put his wing round Slasher and hugged him. ‘That’s all right, then.’
‘I did learn something interesting though,’ Jimmy went on carefully, examining his tail in the glittering diamond, ‘about our so-called friend, Atticus Claw.’
Atticus Claw Breaks the Law Page 5
