3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers

by Wilkie Martin

  That I’d almost forgotten him testifies to the change Hobbes had already wrought, and made me wonder whether he might always have been quiet and respectful had it not been for the rottenness of the Paynes.

  ‘OK,’ I said, trying to compute the new data and staring at Kathy. ‘How come you were there?’

  ‘I was getting my head together and I heard a scream.’

  ‘Andy,’ said Hobbes, ‘interesting as your misunderstandings are, can you please let her continue?’

  ‘A few years ago,’ said Kathy, ‘Mom persuaded me to use the few dollars I’d saved and go into business.’

  ‘What sort of business?’ I asked, unable to envisage her as a businesswoman. She didn’t seem the type.

  ‘We opened a shop selling bison products.’ She grimaced.

  ‘Bison?’

  ‘Yeah, we called it Buy Some Bison. Neat, huh?’

  ‘What did you sell?’ I asked, suddenly intrigued.

  ‘Bison leather goods mainly: belts, shoes, coats, trousers, wallets, bags and hats. We also sold fresh and canned bison meat, which is low in fat and cholesterol. The trouble was, when I say sold, I really mean stocked. We never sold too much of anything, but somehow, we kept going for a few years. In the end it became clear, even to Mom, that it was just a matter of time before we went big time bust. It was then she chanced on the video of you on YouTube.’

  ‘So, she still recognised the old fellow,’ said Mrs Goodfellow.

  Kathy nodded. ‘At once and, I tell you, it was one helluva shock for her. I wondered what was wrong and thought she was going to faint, but she showed me and said I was your daughter. Then she took up a bottle of Tequila and drank herself unconscious. She took two days to sober up, which gave me time to think.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘I wanted to see my daddy.’

  ‘And get some money off him?’ asked Mrs Goodfellow with a disapproving sniff.

  With a wry smile, Kathy nodded. ‘I’ll not pretend that it didn’t cross my mind, but I really wanted to meet you … him. Ever since I was a kid, I suppose I’d always had this crazy idea that one day you … he would come along and rescue me, but really, I just wanted to see you and talk and find out something about you. I hoped you’d help me understand something about myself. So, I booked a cheap plane ticket to England and found my way here, hoping you’d welcome me and … and you did. You really did, even though I must have been a shock.’

  Hobbes, frowning, nodded.

  ‘At first, I was totally scared of you. Mom had said you were a big guy, but I hadn’t realised how big. I put on a front and I hope I didn’t offend anyone too much. I guess I might have come across as rude.’

  ‘Perhaps a little,’ said Mrs Goodfellow, her face betraying a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Kathy. ‘I soon came to like you, and then when you caught me that time I fell, it was like I’d really come home. I’d dreamt of living in a place like this and leaving all my problems behind but … but …’

  ‘You worked out that I wasn’t your father,’ said Hobbes.

  ‘You couldn’t be. You’re just too … different. You’re different to everyone, except to Featherlight and Denny. They’re just like you.’

  ‘Indeed, they are not!’ said Mrs Goodfellow, a look of almost comic indignation on her face.

  Hobbes, holding up a hand to quiet her, couldn’t hold back a smile.

  Kathy wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the tissue Mrs Goodfellow offered her. ‘I don’t mean you’re like them in everything, but seeing the three of you together this afternoon made me certain. I don’t know what you are and it doesn’t matter, because you’re a good man anyway, but you are different. D’you know what I mean?’

  ‘I believe I do,’ said Hobbes.

  I was impressed. It had taken me far longer to conclude that Hobbes wasn’t like the rest of us and I was still amazed at my insight, though it puzzled me why more people hadn’t made the jump. Even so, and despite few being as close to him as I was, I often felt I didn’t really know him at all. It was difficult enough to understand another human’s thoughts, and it was almost impossible to know precisely what was going on in an animal’s head. It wasn’t that I considered him an animal, except so far as we were all animals. He was a man, but a non-human one, if that made any sense.

  ‘Mr Hobbes is a Mountain Man, jus’ like me,’ said Denny suddenly, ‘and so is Mr Featherlight. I didn’t think there was any others like me till I came here. They said our kind was evil. I think I was.’

  ‘But,’ said Hobbes, ‘you aren’t anymore.’

  ‘Whatever you are,’ Kathy continued, ‘I knew you couldn’t be my daddy and, when I called Mom tonight, I finally made her admit it. My real daddy’s some guy she met in Pittsburgh long after you’d left her.’

  ‘The old fellow didn’t leave her,’ said Mrs Goodfellow. ‘She left him when his money ran out. She even took his car.’

  ‘I gave it to her,’ said Hobbes. ‘Her father was ill and she needed it to visit him in Detroit.’

  ‘Her father was killed in Korea in 1952,’ said Kathy, ‘and granny never remarried. Neither of them ever lived in Detroit. Mom lied.’

  ‘She always did,’ said Mrs Goodfellow, smiling at Hobbes, ‘only you were too much of a gentleman to acknowledge it. She would have taken your trousers if she’d thought there was money to be made from them.’

  A tint of red appeared on Hobbes’s cheeks. ‘She did take them, which made things awkward. I had to improvise.’

  ‘Was that when you started wearing that awful tarpaulin caftan?’ asked Mrs Goodfellow. ‘I did wonder.’

  Hobbes nodded.

  ‘So,’ said Kathy, ‘I’m not your daughter, but I didn’t mean to trick you. Mom lied, although tonight she said you were the best man she’d ever known. I think that might have been true.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Hobbes with a sudden grin that was swiftly eclipsed when he saw Kathy’s expression of sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘for everything. I really didn’t know. I’ve packed my bags and I’ll find myself a hotel and get out of your lives.’

  ‘There’s no need to be hasty,’ said Hobbes. ‘You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.’

  ‘But there’s no room,’ she said.

  ‘We can always make room, can’t we, lass?’

  Mrs Goodfellow nodded. So, to my surprise, did I.

  ‘Thank you.’ The relief in Kathy’s voice was echoed in her face.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Hobbes, smiling.

  ‘But, there is one thing,’ said Kathy. ‘How did you know I wasn’t your daughter?’

  ‘I calculated dates and times. I did the math, as you Americans say, and it was impossible.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, surprised, ‘I thought it was because you hadn’t … umm.’

  ‘Hadn’t what?’ asked Hobbes.

  ‘Hadn’t … umm … hadn’t noticed enough similarity.’

  ‘There was that as well,’ said Hobbes. ‘Although I knew, it appeared to me that you genuinely believed it …’

  Mrs Goodfellow shook her head and chuckled.

  ‘… and,’ Hobbes continued, ‘I didn’t want to let you down. Now you’ve discovered the truth, I hope we can still be friends?’

  Getting up, he embraced her in an immense bear hug.

  My eyes moistening, I had to blink until they cleared. Daphne gave my hand a little squeeze.

  Hobbes released Kathy, who was displaying a genuine, all-American smile that lit up her face. I could almost see her from PC Poll’s point of view.

  ‘Well,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, sounding like a carpenter sanding rough wood, ‘I’m glad that’s all sorted because Denny is going to show me where the stolen gold is. Andy, there’ll be room for you, too, but I must warn you, it will be a long night.’

  Although a small part of me would have preferred to stay behind with Daphne, I could not turn down the opportunity to go on a treasure hunt, and within a f
ew minutes I was sandwiched in between Featherlight and Denny in the back of Billy’s hearse. All I could do was to look out through the windscreen between Hobbes and Billy as the headlights lit up the streets of Sorenchester. Soon we were on the dual carriageway, sided by fields, stark and empty, under a moon that was a little past fullness. The halo around it suggested there’d be a frost later.

  ‘Where are we heading to?’ I asked.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Hobbes, looking over his shoulder with an infuriating grin. ‘Eventually.’

  I had to be content with that, and since neither he, nor any of the others seemed in the mood for talking, I tried to relax. It was warm and the drone of the engine and the pulse of the tyres on the road lulled me to sleep.

  When I awoke, the car was stationary, the windows misty with condensation, and I was on my own. Bleary-eyed, feeling a little sick and headachy, I climbed out, shivering as I pulled up my collar and tried to get my bearings. The place looked familiar, yet strange under the moonlight, and it took a moment to realise I was back in the Blacker Mountains and that we were parked beside the derelict manor house, where Billy had dropped us off just over a week earlier. It seemed incredible that so much had happened in such a short period, but that was so often the way with Hobbes.

  I was annoyed and a little worried that the others had deserted me, until voices from the ruins suggested they were not far away. It was almost as bright as daytime and, as I walked towards the voices, my moon shadow flickered before me over the rocky ground.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, with no response.

  As I reached the house, I touched its cold, grey, stone wall and called out again, a little louder than before.

  ‘Andy?’

  Hobbes’s disembodied voice, deep and sepulchral, made me start: ‘Did you have a good sleep?’

  ‘Yes … thanks.’

  ‘Good. Are you going to join us?’

  ‘I would if I knew where you were.’

  His hand grabbed my ankle and would have made me jump into orbit had its grip not been so strong.

  ‘We,’ said Hobbes, ‘are in the cellars.’

  All I could see of him was his hand and his big, yellow teeth, glinting in the moonlight, grinning from the bottom of a steeply sloping shaft. He released me.

  ‘How do I get down?’ I asked, my poor heart pounding.

  ‘Just slide down this here coal chute and I’ll catch you at the bottom.’

  Sitting down, slotting my bottom half into the tight, damp, steep chute, I braced myself for action, but just before I let go I had a thought. The chute was not wide enough for him, or for Denny and definitely not for Featherlight.

  ‘How,’ I asked, ‘did you get down there?’

  ‘We used the steps.’

  As I tried to extricate myself, he gave a tug and, with a little shriek, I slid into the darkness, where, to give him his due, he did catch me and set me down on an uneven floor. There was a stink of mildew and age and, when my eyes had adjusted, I saw I was in a long, low room with a crumbling, dripping, brick ceiling festooned with a crop of what appeared to be small stalactites. Around the chute, everything was mossy, with pale ferns and spiders’ webs. In the further reaches I could make out a mess of rusting junk, crumbled rock, and rotting leaves.

  ‘Take care,’ said Hobbes, ‘it’s slippery in places.’

  ‘Where are the others?

  ‘In the wine cellar.’

  ‘So, what’s this?’

  ‘The coal cellar.’

  ‘Ah … that would explain the coal chute.’

  ‘I’ll make a detective of you yet,’ said Hobbes, leading me to the far end, where half a dozen cracked steps led down into another brick chamber. I could barely see him so, reaching out, I gripped the edge of his jacket.

  ‘There are more steps,’ he warned after a few paces across the lumpy floor, ‘and they are worn and broken in places. Take care.’

  At least twenty steps took us down to an echoing chamber where it was noticeably colder and damper, but where a faint light meant I could make out that we were in a wide space that, to judge by its ceiling, had been hacked from the bedrock. I followed Hobbes, walking briskly as he turned into yet another large chamber, one lined with rotting wine racks. It was a little disappointing as a generous gulp of wine would have fortified me nicely.

  At the far end, Featherlight and Billy were holding torches as Denny shoved one of the racks aside.

  ‘This is the door,’ he said, putting his shoulder against a section of what I’d taken to be solid brickwork. With a creak it swung open to reveal a small vault.

  As Featherlight aimed his torch, my eyes were caught by the pale gleam of metal. Rushing forward impulsively, intending to be first in, I was shocked when Denny shoved me roughly aside. As I fell and sprawled on the cold, wet ground, a rock, bigger than Hobbes’s head, crashed down just where I would have been standing.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, getting back to my feet.

  ‘You must always wait. Master Gerald said Mr Duckworth di’n’t wait and the rock cracked his bonce, so I had to hide him on Blacker Knob. Master Gerald said it served him right for poking his nose in where it weren’t wanted. It’s alright to go in now.’

  Instead of being first, I was left outside, peering in, looking round Featherlight’s back, while Billy opened two solid-looking steel boxes. The first one contained hundreds, maybe thousands of gold coins: the second, gold bars and papers.

  Hobbes smiled. ‘Well done, Denny. Thank you.’

  ‘Pleased to help, Mr Hobbes.’

  ‘I take it,’ I said, peering in, ‘that those are Colonel Squire’s gold sovereigns?’

  ‘Correct,’ said Hobbes.

  ‘And the other box?’

  ‘That’s mine.’

  ‘That’s a lot of gold,’ I said, wide-eyed.

  ‘It was a gift from a lady. I’ve never been sure what to do with it.’

  ‘For a gift,’ said Billy, ‘that’s not bad. The last one I got was a tie which was too long.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Featherlight, ‘but it was too tight on me.’

  At the very end of the vault, in the corner, lay a small, worm-eaten, wooden chest. Billy opened it. It contained a few pieces of jewellery.

  ‘Denzil,’ asked Hobbes, ‘do you know anything about this?’

  ‘It was here when I first come down here with Master Gerald. He said it was very old.’

  ‘How did he know?’ I asked.

  ‘It was written about in a mouldy old book Master Gerald found in the attic. He said Sir Greville had wrote it, but I don’t know Sir Greville.’

  ‘I know about him,’ said Hobbes, ‘because he was in Roger Jolly’s Pirate Miscellany, which claimed that he sailed with Blackbeard, though the Payne family denied it and used their influence and money to suppress the book. Few copies still exist, but I have one. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that box is the last of Sir Greville’s ill-gotten treasure.’

  ‘You could well be right,’ said Billy, who’d been rummaging through the contents. ‘This stuff would appear to date from the late seventeenth century and contains some exquisite examples of Spanish workmanship. We’ll have to tell someone.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Hobbes.

  ‘But what are we going to do now?’ I asked, suddenly aware of the lateness of the hour.

  ‘Load it into the car and return to Sorenchester,’ said Hobbes. ‘Sid will be delighted to get his gold back. The robbery upset him far more than he lets on and Colonel Squire will no longer have anything to rant about.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ I said, squeezing past Featherlight and attempting to pick up one of the metal boxes. I couldn’t move it, couldn’t even shake the coins.

  Featherlight guffawed. ‘Put your back into it, Caplet.’

  ‘He’ll put his back out if he strains anymore,’ said Billy.

  It was left to Featherlight and Denny to lift the boxes and to carry them to the hearse. Afterwards, Ho
bbes removed a few souvenirs from Featherlight’s pockets.

  ‘How did they get in there?’ asked Featherlight, attempting a look of wide-eyed innocence that suited him as well as lipstick suits a fish.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Hobbes, taking his mobile from his pocket. ‘I’d better inform the local boys and then it’ll be time to head back.’

  As soon as he’d finished speaking to Sergeant Beer we started for home and, although it must have been a long, tiring drive for Billy, I slept most of the way.

  I was woken by Featherlight nudging me in the ribs.

  ‘Wake up, Caplet, you lazy git,’ he said.

  I rubbed my neck and blinked. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘We’re back.’

  We were outside Grossman’s Bank, where a tired-looking, but beaming Sid, wrapped in his cloak, his breath steaming in the grey, dawn air, was waiting. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering how much of his smile was down to getting his gold back and how much to having spent the night with Pinky. As I yawned and shivered, Hobbes and Denny carried the gold inside, where Siegfried was waiting.

  Then we said our goodbyes and went home. I was barely awake enough to drink a cup of tea while Hobbes explained to the others what we’d been up to. Then, to my delight, Daphne kissed me, led me to my own bed and tucked me in. The sheets still retained some warmth from her body as well as a comforting hint of her scent. I slept until lunch time.

  Hobbes must have been the only reason that Denny Barker was never arrested or even charged with any crime, and, despite everything he’d done, it felt like justice had been served. Without Sir Gerald’s malign influence, he was a friendly, if rather dim, sort of soul, who was eager to please and help out. He stayed with us while Hobbes was tying up the last strings of the case and number 13 Blackdog Street, with Daphne and Kathy still in residence, was consequently very crowded. Despite having to sleep on the sofa, I found it a happy time. The only real problem was that Hobbes and Denny had contrived to sling hammocks in the attic and, most nights, Denny fell out with a frightful crash.

  After a week, Kathy, who turned out to be quite likeable, returned to America. We all went to wave her off at the airport with promises to keep in touch, and I knew I was going to miss her. A week after that, Daphne moved back into her flat, which had been restored and was even better than before. I used to go round to see her every evening and we’d meet at lunch times too, when she could make it.