The Curds and Whey Mystery

I noted the use of the phrase ‘not too many’.

‘Best guy to talk to would be the Frogg Prince. He specialises in reptiles, spiders, that sort of thing. If anyone could do it, he’d be your man – I mean frog. I got my gerbil off him; he’s called Fred.’

I assumed he was talking about his pet and not the owner of the store.

‘And where is this Frogg Prince likely to be found exactly?’

Twenty minutes later I was talking to an enormous frog dressed in a grey pinstripe suit. Had I not been a pig myself it might have been a bizarre experience, but in Grimmtown you tended to meet all shapes and sizes – and creatures.

Theodore Frogg was the owner of Frogg Prince Pets and apart from a tendency to ribbit occasionally when talking, he was relatively normal – or at least as normal as a frog in a suit can be.

‘Ah, yes, Mr Pigg, we did ribbit get an order that exhausted our entire supply of arachnids and we still ribbit had to provide more.’

‘Arachnids?’ He’d lost me.

‘Spiders dear boy, ribbit, spiders. Yes, it presented us with quite a challenge I can ribbit tell you. But we managed it.’ He glowed with pride, but then again it might just have been the natural state of his skin – it was quite shiny.

I was getting that tingly feeling that I usually got when a case finally started to come together.

‘Who ordered the spiders?’ I asked.

‘Well, strange to relate, ribbit, it was a most unpleasant person indeed; very small, very green, extremely smelly and with a large wart on the end of his nose. Spoke in a kind of squeaky voice. He was somewhat bedraggled and quite offensive – but he did pay in advance so I ribbit didn’t ask too many questions. In any event, I didn’t want to refuse as he had two rather large creatures with him and I ribbit found them quite intimidating. I got the distinct impression they weren’t about to take “no” for an answer.’

This was getting stranger by the minute, but the reference to speaking in a squeaky voice hadn’t been lost on me. I’d have laid money that this was the same creature that had offered to buy the B&B from Miss Muffet.

‘Creatures? What kind of creatures?’

‘Large grey creatures dressed in ribbit, well, very little actually. They did ribbit rather frighten me, I must say.’

Large grey creatures; probably Trolls. Someone was certainly making sure the Frogg Prince wasn’t going to renege on this particular deal.

‘And they just instructed you to deliver them to the Curds and Whey B&B?’

‘Good heavens, no. I just had to organise the acquisition of the spiders. They said they’d ribbit collect.’

‘And you didn’t think that this was at all suspicious?’

‘Not at all, no. I just assumed they were scientists and needed them for research.’

That certainly wasn’t likely. One small, green, smelly person and two trolls were about as far from science as you could get. ‘And I assume they paid cash up front?’

Frogg nodded guiltily, knowing he’d been rumbled.

‘So once you had the spiders, how did you contact them?’

Mr Frogg rummaged around in his wallet. ‘They left me a number. Here it is.’

He handed me a piece of paper with some scrawled digits on it. It looked like a mobile phone so probably wouldn’t lead to anything, but I had to follow it up anyway. ‘And how did they collect the merchandise?’

‘They came in a big ribbit truck and loaded everything into it.’

I thanked Mr Frogg and walked back onto the street. As I did, a large transport truck, with an equally large bulldozer on its trailer, passed by. A yellow bulldozer, I noticed idly.

Yellow!

Construction yellow!

My mind began to make the connections and I finally began to do some serious detecting.

Construction workers – or more to the point, construction trolls – like the ones that tended to frequent Stiltskin’s Diner of an evening, and very like the ones I’d seen working near the B&B.

Small, green, smelly person! Could only be an orc. And who employed all the orcs in Grimmtown? Ah, now that wasn’t so good. That was someone I particularly didn’t want to upset if I wanted to keep all my body parts intact.

Things were beginning to make sense. Someone wanted Miss Muffet out of business all right – but that someone wasn’t running a rival hotel; oh no, that someone wanted her out because she was in the way of something much bigger. It was all becoming very clear. Now all I had to do was prove it. I needed to pay a visit to a building site – and make sure I wasn’t caught in the process.

3

Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Building sites are difficult to find your way around at the best of times. Add in some night, a sprinkling of rain, a generous helping of mud and not only are they difficult, but they become downright unpleasant. The ground that has already been excavated becomes very slippery. Pools of cold, dirty water lie in wait for the unwary pig and, if the pig is very unlucky, there are large holes in the ground just waiting for him to fall into.

This particular building site was about a mile from Miss Muffet’s place. Huge hoardings announced that a new motorway, coming soon, would provide access to Grimmtown for countless commuters, blah de blah de blah. It was the usual PR doubletalk. Of more interest was the name of the construction company involved in this wondrous feat of engineering: The Yellow Brick Road Construction Company looked to be doing this particular job. Then again, as it was owned by Edna, the Wicked Witch of the West Side, an old sparring partner of mine (to put it as euphemistically as I could), the YBRCC did most building jobs around Grimmtown. To an outsider, it probably seemed amazing how they always managed to get the big building deals. As any insider would tell you, they greased politicians’ palms, encouraged planners to ‘share’ any competitive quotes and generally bullied any other prospective contractor out of business. If they were doing this job and Miss Muffet was in the way, then chances were she wouldn’t be in the way long. More to the point, if the spider strategy didn’t work then they’d probably find something a tad more imaginative to encourage her to sell up.

I knew Edna of old and knew she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, especially where money or power was concerned. She was also a woman who didn’t let much get in the way of achieving whatever her current objective was, so I had to tread very carefully indeed if I wasn’t to become a permanent part of the motorway foundations. Not that I wasn’t treading carefully already. Not only was I trying not to ruin my clothes, I was trying to make sure I didn’t break any legs, arms or other vital parts of my body by suddenly falling into one of those previously mentioned large holes.

I figured if there was any information about the building work, like plans or drawings, it’d be in the construction hut. I could just about make it out in the distance, a small, cheap prefab mounted on blocks. I squelched my way towards it, unsure of what was ahead of me. In order not to alert any security I had decided not to use my torch – a decision I was now regretting as it seemed that every large puddle on the site lay between me and my destination and I was stepping into each one in succession.

Eventually – cold, wet and muddy up to my knees – I arrived at the hut. I listened carefully at the door and, when I didn’t hear any obvious sounds from inside, very carefully picked the lock and slid in. Considering my history at picking locks, it was surprisingly easy. Ensuring the window blinds were closed, I was finally able to flick on my torch and a pencil-thin beam of light swept the room.

In fairness, it didn’t take much in the way of detecting skills to figure out what was going on – the plans were in plain sight, tacked to one of the walls. It would have taken a pretty poor detective to miss them. They confirmed the construction of a new ring road around Grimmtown and the road ran straight through where the Curds and Whey B&B currently stood. Was it any wonder someone wanted her out? If they had been foolish enough to start work on the road without ensuring beforehand that all the land could be built on, then I could understand their urgency. Every day that the road couldn’t go through Miss Muffet’s house was another day of unnecessary costs to the construction company and, if I knew Edna, she wouldn’t take too kindly to any unnecessary costs – or indeed any costs at all usually.

Now that I had the information I needed it was time to disappear. Unfortunately, that looked like it was going to be a futile wish as, just when I was getting ready to open the door, I heard noises from outside the hut. I could tell they were gnomes from the growling half-animal sounds they made, so it probably meant that Edna’s security had been doing their rounds and were coming back to base – a base I was currently occupying and didn’t seem to have anything remotely large enough to hide a pig in. I had a quick – and admittedly extremely optimistic – glance at some filing cabinet drawers, but had to concede that I’d barely get my legs into one of them, let alone the rest of my body. Once the gnomes opened the door they could hardly miss me and, stupid though they were, they would certainly have enough sense to realise I wasn’t supposed to be there. Heaving a long and resigned sigh, I knew there was only one thing for it. I braced myself against the wall opposite the door and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

‘Check hut?’ muttered the first gnome.

‘Yeah, we check,’ agreed the second.

‘Got key?’

‘No, you got key.’

‘No, me not got key. You got key.’

At which point there was a minor scuffle, during which one or the other (it was hard to tell which) found that they did have the key after all.

Seconds later peace had broken out and the door opened cautiously. Two unkempt gnomes entered, preceded by their smell. As soon as they were in view, I let out a loud roar and rushed straight at them. It was no contest; a fine specimen of prime ham landing on two weedy security guards, who were already terrified at finding a very large and very angry creature in a hut that had most definitely been empty the last time they’d looked.

The impact took all three of us back out through the door and into a pool of mud on the ground beyond. Fortunately, the gnomes broke my fall, so they took the brunt of the landing as well most of the mud. From the cracking noises I heard it was obvious that my fall wasn’t all they’d broken. As I struggled free, one of them sank his teeth into my leg and I roared in pain.

‘Pig,’ howled the gnome to his companion as he recognised the taste. ‘Not monster; pig.’

As I’ve already mentioned, gnomes are quite stupid. In this instance they were stupid enough not to realise they’d been injured, but not so stupid that they didn’t recognise that their attacker was a pig. Figuring I was easier meat (possibly literally) now that they knew I wasn’t a creature of the night, they seemed a bit more positive about chasing me. Staggering to their feet they lurched after me. Although I had the benefit of a fully working body, they had the advantage that they knew the terrain, so while I splashed my way across a sea of mud, they took drier, less slippery paths and slowly began to close in on me.

I have to say I was, by now, getting just a tad concerned as I was totally lost, had no idea where I was going and couldn’t see my way off the building site. Meanwhile, Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber were gradually getting nearer – moving towards me in straight and presumably dry lines while I blundered around in circles getting muddier and wetter.

‘That’s ’im over there,’ shouted one suddenly, and he scuttled in my direction.

I panicked and began to run. Heedless of where I was going, my only thought was to put as much distance between me and them as I possibly could.

Through the darkness I was just able to make out a small mound of earth. Maybe I could hide behind it. Figuring that it was a better option than wandering aimlessly around a building site in the dark, I dived over it. To my horror I found that, rather than landing on the ground beyond...well...remember those large holes I was talking about earlier? That’s what was at the far side of that little mound. Bracing myself for impact, I landed with a resounding splash into a large pool of dirty water that covered me from head to toe in cold, wet mud. No need to worry about keeping clean now, but from what I could hear of my pursuers I was now so well camouflaged that they had problems finding me. They probably figured I was just another heap of mud.

‘Where he go?’ said one.

‘Dunno,’ said the other. ‘Maybe he escape.’

‘No, he still here. Me heard big splash.’

Clearly my new muddy ensemble allowed me to blend in perfectly with my surroundings. It may have been freezing and mucky but at least it was keeping me safe.

After a half-hearted search, the two gnomes gave up looking for me, finished their patrol and headed back to the hut. Rather than continue to wander in confusion around a dark building site, I chose to remain hidden where I was – cold and wet – until daylight. As soon as the skies began to lighten and I could see my way, I sneaked out of the building site and made my way home for a long, warm and much needed shower.

4

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served with Bacon

Later that morning – clean, dry and smelling so much nicer – I considered my options. I knew who was trying to frighten Miss Muffet out of business and I knew why. Now all I had to do was convince one of Grimmtown’s most notorious criminals to back off and leave my client alone. I was more than a bit apprehensive as, even though I had something over Edna, she was a woman who didn’t like to be crossed, especially if it involved her losing money – and I was quite certain that, in this instance, it would.

I required a plan; I needed it to work and, above all, I needed it fast. But I was stumped. Yes, the great detective didn’t know what to do. As I sat at my desk waiting for inspiration, I had a quick read of the front page of our daily newspaper, the Grimmtown Times. The headlines were of the usual type:

Dumpty Wins Citizen of the Year for Third Year Running.

Grimmtown Goblins Reach Regional Finals.

Tuffet’s Historic Status Confirmed by Local Archaeologist.

Mother Goose Wins Libel Case. Ugly Duckling Must Pay Damages.

Troll Finally Evicted from under Bridge. No More Tolls for Locals.

As I scanned them, the germ of a plan began to formulate. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I might just be able to pull this one out of the hat after all. I could even see my own headline: ‘Third Pig Saves the Day – Miss Muffet Stays.’ I grinned to myself and called Miss Muffet. It was time to swing into action.

An hour later Miss Muffet and I were standing outside the front door of Edna’s massive mansion. It was a very impressive house indeed – more like a palace. Built completely out of white marble, it stood at the top of a hill overlooking the rest of Grimmtown. If I were rich, it was just the kind of house I’d like to have. Unfortunately, I had to make do with a grotty flat that gave a great view of the local abattoir. It didn’t really compare.

The massive door in front of us swung inwards and one of Edna’s personal bodyguards, a large silverback gorilla in a tuxedo, stuck his head out for a look. There was a short pause while it tried to figure out where it had seen me before, followed by a spark of recognition and a very impressive accelerated leap backwards, his eyes bulging in fear. Miss Muffet was visibly impressed. If I could scare a gorilla like that, I was clearly the right man for the job. I neglected to tell her that, as a result of my last encounter with Edna and her goons, I had a protective spell placed on me. Any time one of the gorillas approached me, it began to shrink. By the time it reached me it was usually the size of a puppy and not in a position to do much by way of damage. It was a kind of magical restraining order and was the only thing that was allowing me to brazenly confront Edna in her lair. Well, would you want to take on two fully grown gorillas with bad attitude, bad breath, bad posture and bad dress sense – and that’s on top of all the other representatives of the criminal brotherhood that hung around in Edna’s? I’d met some of them before, during my last visit here, and it hadn’t ended well for quite a few of them. I’m sure they’d relish the prospect of another visit from me.

While the gorilla disappeared – presumably to announce my arrival – another, less impressive denizen of the house came out to see who was at the door. There was a short pause while it too tried to figure out where it had seen me before, followed, eventually, by another spark of recognition. It seemed to be the day for them.

‘Pig here,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

‘Pig from last night?’ came a reply from inside.

‘Yeah. Maybe now we sort him out,’

The first gnome rushed at me and then goggled in surprise as he was suddenly grabbed by the neck and swung sideways. As his colleague ran out after him, he suffered the same fate. Both had failed to notice the two rather large creatures that stood on either side of the door. We hadn’t come unprepared.

‘Ah, you haven’t met my associates, Mr Lewis and Mr Carroll,’ I said, indicating the two massive ogres each of whom was dangling a gnome by the neck. Well, did you really think I was just going to walk into Edna’s unprepared – magic restraining order or not? I’m not that stupid.

Both gnomes gurgled something which might have been, ‘Please let us go, we are in considerable discomfort,’ or might just as easily have been, ‘We are delighted to make the acquaintance of these two large gentlemen you cleverly brought with you as protection.’ It was hard to tell, but one thing was for sure, they weren’t in a position to do anything threatening to either Miss Muffet or me. Mr Lewis and Mr Carroll had that kind of effect. Each was over eight feet tall and, when squeezed into a black tuxedo, looked very intimidating indeed. I had brought them with me exactly for this kind of situation.

‘Gentlemen, I think you can put them down. I don’t believe they will be too much trouble from now on.’

Both gnomes tried to nod their agreement – but it’s difficult to nod when your neck is being tightly clenched by a hand the size of a beach ball.

At my signal, both of them were dumped unceremoniously on the ground, where they lay in a gnomish heap, blubbering and trying to skulk away. I almost felt sorry for them – almost.

‘Okay chaps, let’s go find Edna.’ The ogres squeezed through the door after us as we entered the house. As we made our away across the wide lobby, gnomes and orcs scattered in all directions, clearly not wanting to engage our group in any form of physical contact. I can’t say I blamed them; my minders had that effect on people.

Edna’s office wasn’t too difficult to find simply because it was the room that the loud voice screaming, ‘Who the blazes is interrupting my telephone call?’ was emanating from. Looking a lot braver than I actually was, I took a deep breath and swung open the office door.

Edna sat behind an ornate desk with a phone to her ear. As soon as she saw me she told whoever was on the other end of the line that she’d call them back and hung up.

‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t Harry Pigg, the world’s greatest detective,’ she sneered. Then she saw Miss Muffet. ‘And look who’s with him: Little Miss Muffet. Hey darling, seen any spiders lately?’

I decided that cutting to the chase was the best option. ‘Okay Edna, we know what you’re at,’ I said. ‘And just so as you know, Miss Muffet isn’t selling, regardless of how you try to intimidate her.’

‘Why, Harry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I want to buy that tatty B&B? Tourist accommodation isn’t really my style.’

‘No, but building roads is,’ I replied. ‘I’ve seen the plans. Without Miss Muffet’s house, your construction company can’t complete that new motorway. It’ll be very bad for your reputation if you don’t; not to mention all the money you’ll lose if the work doesn’t finish on time. Maybe that’s why you’re trying to encourage her to sell up.’

To my surprise, Edna didn’t seem at all worried that she’d been rumbled; in fact, she seemed unusually calm. An uneasy feeling started to gnaw at my stomach – and it wasn’t because of what I’d had for breakfast. Something was very wrong here.

‘From what I hear, things aren’t too good in the local B&B trade. Strikes me that an infestation of spiders would be really bad for business,’ she said. ‘I could even see the health inspectors closing the premises down. Now that would be unfortunate. But if it did happen, I’d certainly feel for the owner. Losing your business is a terrible thing.’

‘Indeed, but, of course, if it did close and you did buy it, you couldn’t knock it down so your motorway could go through.’

‘Sorry, Pigg, I have no idea what you mean.’

‘Come on Edna, cut the nonsense. This is me, Harry Pigg, you’re talking to. I know exactly what you’re at.’

‘No, I don’t think you do,’ Edna said, with the faintest of smiles beginning to smear her singularly unattractive features.

I decided to play my trump card so as to avoid an unnecessary ‘oh yes I do’, ‘oh no you don’t’ conversation.

‘Look, let’s not play around any more. You want Miss Muffet out so you can build your road; she’s not moving, so you’re trying to scare her, but I’ve discovered that no matter what you do, you won’t be able to demolish her house because…’ – I whipped a copy of the day’s newspaper out of my pocket like a cheap magician pulling a rabbit from his hat – ‘tuffets are protected under Grimmtown bye-laws. They won’t let you touch that house.’ I was almost tempted to follow it with a ta-dah and a cheesy bow, but I figured Edna mightn’t take too kindly to my theatricals.

To be honest, her reaction left a lot to be desired. Instead of gnashing her teeth and raging around the room in frustration at her scheme being thwarted, she sat at her desk looking at me as if I was a particularly interesting specimen of insect. The feeling that she knew something I didn’t grew stronger.

‘Tuffets, eh? Now that’s a bit of a nuisance and no mistake,’ she said. ‘What specific tuffet are you talking about?’

‘The tuffet in the back garden of the B&B; the one that Miss Muffet’s family have been sitting on to eat their curds and whey for generations. Surely you’ve heard the song ‘Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet...’ and so on. Tuffets are considered to be of immense historic importance, so they cannot be dug up, built over or altered in any way. It was in the paper. So even if you get the building, you still won’t be able to build your road through it. Or if you do, I suspect you’ll be neck deep in lawyers, archaeologists, environmentalists and politicians, all of whom will tie you up in enough red-tape to stall the building work for years.’

Edna grinned – the ‘I have you now and you’re not going to like it’ grin. She slumped back into her chair and pressed a button on the desk. Seconds later a well-dressed and superior-looking gentleman entered the room carrying a folder. He had bureaucrat written all over him. ‘You rang, ma’am,’ he said, nose in the air.

‘Tuffets, Laurence. They are protected, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied. He was very well spoken.