Atticus Claw Breaks the Law

by Jennifer Gray

  ‘Make sure you do.’ The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth nodded. He sat back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. He closed his eyes. ‘Then we can close the case.’

  At number 2 Blossom Crescent Michael and Callie were still up. They were sitting in the kitchen with Mrs Tucker. Mrs Cheddar still wasn’t back.

  Atticus’s basket had been taken away for forensic examination but his food and water bowls still stood on the floor beside the back door. The children stared at them gloomily.

  ‘He didn’t steal Mum’s brooch,’ Callie said fiercely. ‘I know he didn’t. He was framed!’

  ‘The question is,’ Michael said, ‘how do we prove it?’

  Mrs Tucker plonked two mugs of hot chocolate down on the table. ‘What we need is evidence,’ she said. She pulled the ironing board out of a tall cupboard and opened it with a clang.

  ‘Maybe the magpies left some clues,’ Michael suggested.

  ‘Good thinking,’ Mrs Tucker agreed. ‘Let’s check the kitchen for feathers.’

  Callie and Michael got down on their hands and knees. ‘I’ve found some!’ Callie cried. ‘Over here by the cat flap!’ She held them out in her hand.

  ‘And there’s some footprints here by his food bowl!’ Michael said, examining the floor carefully.

  ‘And something smelly’s been in my washing machine!’ Mrs Tucker closed it with a bang. She heaved the laundry basket on to the table. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Wait a minute!’ she said, peeling off a pair of pants from the top of the pile. ‘Those beastly birds have been in my clean knickers. There are feathers everywhere!’

  Callie and Michael couldn’t help giggling. Then they remembered Atticus.

  ‘Poor Atticus,’ Callie sighed. ‘He must be feeling really lonely in his cell.’

  ‘I have an idea …’ Mrs Tucker said thoughtfully, picking up a feather and examining it. ‘Tomorrow morning we’re going to set Atticus free.’

  ‘But how can we do that?’ Michael said. ‘Dad will be furious!’

  ‘Not when Atticus helps us catch these meddling magpies red-footed, he won’t,’ Mrs Tucker said grimly.

  ‘You mean you think they’re going to try something else?’ Callie gasped.

  ‘I certainly do.’ Mrs Tucker threw the knickers back into the wash. ‘That’s why they want Atticus out of the way – so he can’t stop them. As I said, magpies are clever. They’re wicked, scheming little weasels.’ She shivered. ‘You can bet your barracudas we haven’t seen the last of them by a long way.’

  ‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’

  Around midnight Atticus was awoken by a familiar cackle.

  ‘Jimmy!’ he hissed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘That’s not a very nice welcome when I’ve flown all the way here specially to visit you.’ The magpie peered down on him from between the bars on the window, his head on one side. ‘Not so superior now, are you, Atticus Claw?’

  Atticus snarled. ‘I’m still better than you. Sneaking about in people’s houses, planting false evidence – I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.’

  ‘Really?’ Jimmy Magpie blinked. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Looks like we’ve overtaken you. We’re the greatest BIRD burglars in the world! You’re the greatest cat BUNGLER! Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka.’

  ‘You won’t get away with it,’ Atticus hissed. ‘The children know you did it.’

  ‘Not the little kiddiewinks.’ Jimmy put on his baby voice. ‘Ooh, I’m scared!’

  ‘Don’t talk about my friends like that.’ Atticus bared his teeth. If only he could get up to the window, he’d wipe that smirk off Jimmy’s beak once and for all. ‘It won’t be long before someone takes a look in that nest of yours and sees what you’ve been up to. You’ll go down for years.’

  ‘That?’ Jimmy boasted. ‘That’s nothing compared to what we’ve got planned for tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Ever heard of the Tofflys’ tiara?’ Jimmy whispered.

  Atticus’s green eyes widened. ‘You’re going to hit the Toffly Hall antiques fair,’ he breathed.

  ‘It was Thug and Slasher’s idea,’ Jimmy said generously. ‘They eavesdropped when your precious Cheddars were having a little chat about it over breakfast. Then they went up to the Hall and cased the joint. I decided not to tell you about it. Just as well, as things turned out. I wasn’t sure we could trust you. And it turns out I was right.’

  ‘You lying cheat!’

  ‘Too bad, pussy cat. Anyway, what about you – sucking up to those cheesy Cheddars? Moving in with them, even. You kept that pretty quiet, didn’t you?’

  ‘It was an accident. And don’t talk about them like that!’

  ‘Ah, how cute – the kitty’s gone all cuddly!’ Jimmy mocked. ‘Can’t say I blame you, though. Very cosy it is there too. I wouldn’t mind paying them another visit soon.’

  ‘Grrrrr …’ Atticus hated Jimmy crowing about the Cheddars as though he knew them. It made his fur stand on end to think of Thug and Slasher listening in on their family conversations and the three magpies making themselves at home in Mrs Tucker’s tidy kitchen. It was his home, not the magpies’. At least it had been.

  ‘Keep your whiskers on, Claw,’ Jimmy said. ‘We won’t hurt them. It’s the diamonds we’re after. And whatever else we can pick up at the antiques fair. I hear on the bird-vine there’s going to be some nice stuff about.’ He grinned. ‘And now you’re safely tucked up in here, the cops aren’t expecting any trouble.’ He cackled. ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka! I’m afraid your Inspector Cheddar and his missus are in for a nasty surprise. It’s traffic duty he hates, right? Well he’ll be getting plenty of that after tomorrow.’

  ‘You won’t get away with it,’ Atticus said fiercely. ‘Three measly magpies against hundreds of humans? You don’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Who said anything about three of us?’ Jimmy’s eyes shone brilliantly in the moonlight. ‘I’ve asked a few pals along. Thug and Slasher have been spreading the word. It’s going to be quite a party, isn’t it, lads?’ He rattled his beak along the bars and flew off.

  Atticus heard the rush of wings. In the moonlight he saw a flock of birds swoop and dive across the sky. There were hundreds of magpies – thousands possibly. ‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’ The night was alive with the sound of excited chattering.

  Atticus was beside himself. He had to get out of there! He had to warn Inspector Cheddar. He had to tell Mrs Cheddar and Callie and Michael. He threw himself at the cell door, yowling. When that didn’t work he jumped on to the bench and hurled himself at the window. When that didn’t work either, he curled up on the cold floor and pressed his face to the wall. If only Callie and Michael would come. If only he hadn’t been so stupid.

  For the first time in his life, Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw, the world’s greatest cat burglar, was stumped.

  Michael had always wanted a ride on a motorbike. Up until this morning he’d never been allowed. But his parents were at Toffly Hall checking everything was ready for the fair. Mrs Tucker was firm. They were going to rescue Atticus.

  ‘Michael – you’re behind me on the seat. Callie – you’re in the sidecar.’

  Michael pulled his helmet down tight over his ears like he did when he went go-karting and climbed on behind Mrs Tucker. Callie did the same and jumped into the sidecar.

  ‘Hang on!’ Mrs Tucker pressed the throttle. VRROOOMM! The motorbike sped down Blossom Crescent and into Townley Road. It wouldn’t take them long to get to the police station.

  Suddenly Mrs Tucker pulled on the brakes. The tyres squealed as the motorbike skidded to a halt.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Michael demanded. ‘Why have we stopped?’

  ‘Look at that!’ Mrs Tucker pointed to a big poster beside the railway bridge.

  ‘And now look up there.’ Mrs Tucker pointed to the top of the railway bridge. Crowds of magpies jostled for space above the giant poster. Dozens more circled above.

  ‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CH
AKA!’

  ‘What are they doing?’ Callie asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got a bad feeling.’ Mrs Tucker whipped out a pair of binoculars from her basket and gazed into the sky. A dark grey cloud loomed on the horizon. She pointed to it. ‘It looks like they’re moving in the direction of Toffly Hall.’

  ‘You mean that’s a cloud of birds?’ Michael gasped in horror. He grabbed the binoculars. The cloud was moving at speed across the sky, twisting and turning like a tornado. He could just about make out that it was made up of hundreds and hundreds of magpies.

  ‘The antiques fair!’ Callie gasped.

  Mrs Tucker nodded grimly. ‘They’ll be after the jewellery. I suspected as much. We’d better get Atticus quickly. The sight of him will make their wings wiggle!’

  ‘Wait!’ Michael swung the binoculars to the top of the railway bridge. Two magpies stood at the head of the crowd. One of them was thin with a hooked foot. The other was fat with a raggedy tail.

  ‘It’s them!’ he cried, pointing. ‘The magpies who tried to steal Dad’s badge last week.’

  Mrs Tucker narrowed her eyes. ‘What about that one?’ She jabbed a finger towards a huge magpie with glossy blue and green feathers that swooped and dived in front of the others, chattering wildly at the top of its voice.

  Michael gazed at the bird through the binoculars. Its eyes glittered.

  ‘That’s the one who was fighting with Atticus at the pier!’ he gasped.

  ‘He’s the ringleader,’ Mrs Tucker yelled. ‘He’s the one we’ve got to watch! I think he’s stirring them up to something big. We’d better get Atticus,’ she said again. ‘That bird looks tricky. Atticus is the only one who’ll be able to catch him. Quick!’ She snapped her visor shut. They zoomed off again on the motorbike.

  At the police station, the duty sergeant was glued to the TV. He was feeling left out. All his police friends were up at Toffly Hall for the filming of Get Rich Quick! while he was stuck here guarding the cat burglar. And from the looks of it, they were having a whale of a time stuffing themselves with sausage rolls and nosying about in front of the TV cameras to see if anyone would hit the jackpot. It wasn’t fair. The duty sergeant really wanted to go. He’d found an old metal teaspoon under the compost heap last weekend and he was sure it was worth a fortune. He sighed. He’d never be rich at this rate.

  BASH! BANG! THUMP! The duty sergeant looked up in surprise. A big lady in biking leathers and two children had burst through the door of the police station. They were all wearing crash helmets.

  ‘We’re here for the cat.’ Mrs Tucker flicked up her visor and thumped her basket down on the counter. ‘He’s wanted in connection with er …’

  ‘Sardine smuggling,’ Michael said quickly. ‘We’re from the SAS.’

  ‘The SAS?’ The duty sergeant gulped. He’d heard of them. They were a type of special soldier who could skin rabbits with their toenails. He scratched his head and peered at the children. Either he was getting old or they were recruiting them young these days.

  ‘The Sardine Army Squadron,’ Mrs Tucker snapped. ‘We’ve come to interrogate Claw.’

  The duty sergeant frowned. ‘Inspector Cheddar didn’t say anything about that,’ he muttered, checking his logbook.

  ‘Inspector Cheddar doesn’t know.’ Mrs Tucker leaned over the counter. ‘This came right from the top,’ she hissed. ‘Our instructions come from er …’

  ‘The Prime Minister!’ said Callie in a muffled voice. Her helmet was stuck.

  ‘Yeah, him,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘He’s very concerned about sardines, in case you didn’t know. They could be in danger, thanks to Atticus Claw and his friends.’

  ‘It’s vital that we see the prisoner,’ Michael said. ‘Or they might become extinct.’

  ‘And then you’d be held responsible,’ Mrs Tucker added. She shook her head. ‘Fish murderer is not a name I’d want.’

  ‘Well, in that case.’ The duty sergeant wavered. He felt about in his pocket for the teaspoon. He’d brought it along anyway, just in case. ‘Would you mind if I popped out for a minute and left you to it?’

  ‘Good idea.’ Mrs Tucker held the door open for him. ‘And don’t tell a dover sole! It’s HUSH HUSH.’

  The duty sergeant jumped in a squad car and disappeared.

  ‘Michael, get the keys,’ Mrs Tucker ordered.

  Michael grabbed the bunch of keys from a hook on the wall.

  They raced to the cells.

  A pitiful meowing could be heard coming from one of them.

  ‘That’s him!’ Callie yelled. ‘Hang on, Atticus, we’re coming!’

  Michael tried several keys. Finally he found one that fitted. He turned the big iron key in the lock. The cell door swung open with a creak.

  ‘Oh, Atticus,’ the children cried, tumbling inside. ‘We’re so glad to see you!’

  Atticus looked up in amazement. He’d hardly dared hope this would happen. Yet here they were! And Mrs Tucker too – with a basket of sardines if he wasn’t very much mistaken! Atticus could have cried for joy, except cats don’t cry, so instead he leapt into Michael’s arms and lay on his back with his paws dangling in the air so that Callie could give him a tickle. He purred throatily.

  The children laughed. Even Mrs Tucker seemed pleased to see him. ‘You’ve lost a bit of weight,’ she said, fishing in her basket and producing a sardine. ‘They haven’t been feeding you properly. Here!’

  Atticus gulped down the sardine in one. He didn’t think he could ever be this happy again.

  For a moment everyone forgot about the magpies.

  Then the sky went dark.

  ‘It’s the cloud of birds!’ Michael cried. ‘It’s even bigger than before!’

  Atticus growled. He could see the magpies swirling about beyond the bars of the window. The sound of chattering filled the air. They were getting ready to swoop.

  Mrs Tucker glanced at her watch. It was twelve-thirty. ‘We haven’t a moment to lose!’ she cried. ‘The Tofflys’ tiara is being unveiled at two. She closed her basket with a snap. ‘Come on, Atticus, we’ve got some magpies to catch.’ Suddenly her eyes twinkled. ‘And I know just the man to help us.’

  Mr and Mrs Tucker lived in a row of brightly painted cottages on the seafront about half a mile from the pier. It was easy enough to guess which one was the Tuckers’ because there was a rowing boat in the garden.

  Mr Tucker answered the door. He was a small man with a long beard and a smelly jumper. Either that or he was a small man with a long jumper and a smelly beard. The two had somehow got mixed together as though someone had used his beard to knit his jumper. Or vice versa.

  ‘Aha, me hearties,’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve been expecting yooze. I knew yooze was coming. I could feel it in me wooden leg!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I told you we’d be here before lunch. It’s nothing to do with your wooden leg.’ She pushed past him into the house. Atticus squeezed after her. Callie and Michael hovered on the doorstep.

  ‘No need to be shy!’ Mr Tucker bellowed. ‘Come on inside.’

  They followed Mr Tucker as he clunked into the house.

  Mrs Tucker shooed them into the sitting room. To the children’s astonishment the walls were covered with pictures of Mr Tucker wrestling with fierce-looking sea monsters. There was even one of him fighting off a giant lobster with his wooden leg.

  ‘I keeps a camera on board me boat,’ Mr Tucker explained modestly, ‘to get a few snaps for me album.’

  ‘We should show these to Dad!’ Callie whispered.

  ‘Did I ever tell you the story about how I lost me leg?’ Mr Tucker unscrewed it and fell backwards into an armchair.

  ‘No!’ said Michael. ‘We’ve never met you before.’

  ‘Aarrhhhh, that’ll be why.’ Mr Tucker took his teeth out and sucked his gums. ‘Let me see now. It was a dark and stormy night …’

  ‘Not now, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We haven’t got much time. We nee
d to go over the plan.’

  The children sat forward on the sofa.

  Mr Tucker put his teeth back in.

  Atticus hopped up on to Mr Tucker’s lap. He wasn’t put off by the smell coming from Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thought there might be a few tasty morsels lurking around in there somewhere. He started picking at it with his claws.

  ‘Pay attention, Atticus!’ Mrs Tucker snapped.

  Atticus’s good ear drooped. He turned round.

  ‘The first thing we need to do is to make Atticus a disguise,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Toffly Hall will be crawling with cops.’

  ‘Like crabs in a bucket,’ Mr Tucker agreed.

  ‘… If anyone sees him he’ll be arrested again. Atticus, your job will be to go after the ringleader and his two sidekicks. They’re our main target. Is that okay?’

  ‘Grrrrr,’ Atticus growled. It would be his pleasure.

  ‘Good.’ Mrs Tucker pursed her lips. ‘Once we’ve caught them, with any luck the rest of those bothersome birds will take off. If they don’t, that’s where Michael and Callie come in. And you, Herman. Did you get everything ready like I told you?’

  ‘I’s got me nets …’ Mr Tucker lit a pipe. The room filled with blue smoke.

  Michael and Callie started coughing.

  ‘… And me lobster pots. And me lines. And me hooks. And me bucket. And me rope. They’re all strapped on to me trailer.’

  Mrs Tucker nodded approvingly. ‘What about the worms?’

  Mr Tucker patted his pockets. ‘In me trousers,’ he confirmed. ‘Hundreds of them, all wriggling around like eels.’ He took a quick puff on his pipe.

  ‘I’m guessing the boss magpie and his mates will go for the Tofflys’ tiara and the rest of them will grab what they can,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Atticus, you and I will take out the BIG THREE and get them into pots. Michael and Callie, you wait with Mr Tucker until we give the signal. If the rest don’t fly away, the plan is to capture the birds when they swoop on the other antiques. Mr Tucker will throw down some worms for good measure and – BHAM! – you move in with the nets. Got it?’