Introducing Woolfe and McClaw...

Right, let's get cracking. Some of you may have noticed our domain name is Woolfe and McClaw. Long story short, youngest child and I invented Woolfe and McClaw, the eponymous crimefighting duo whose first adventure we unveil in a short story called The Great Eggscape. It is a pun filled adventure in which Dave Woolfe, a veteran Alsatian detective and his new apprentice, Brian McClaw, a ginger Tomcat are brought in to solve an eggsplosively charged egg robbery.

The Great Eggscape has 8 Chapters and we are going to release a chapter a week (unless you pay the ransom to stop crimes against literature). We have an idea what Dave and Brian might look like but we would really love bored or budding illustrators to come up with possible drawings for the characters and the story as they develop and the story unfolds. Post your drawings in the comments on this blog or email them to WoolfeandMcClaw@outlook.com We can't promise you Grayson Perry Art Club fame......yet. We will, of course, attribute all pictures we use and give you a shout out on Twitter.

Here we go. This is the first chapter.  

Woolfe & McClaw:

The Great Eggscape











WARNING: This story contains eggs-crutiating egg puns!



Chapter 1 – Agents scramble to the rescue



The phone rang. In his eagerness, Trainee Agent McClaw raised his paw to lift the receiver.



“Stop”, barked Agent Woolfe. “Let it ring a few more times – we don’t want customers thinking that we have too much time on our ‘ands”. Agent Dave Woolfe had been around the block a few times; he was an ex-police dog known for sniffing out the truth. A few years ago he set up the Crime Stop Agency (CSA for short) and had recently taken on a younger apprentice so that one day he could retire, and put his paws up.



This young apprentice was surprisingly a young cat called Brian McClaw. It was surprising because Dave did not like cats, he never had. Too twitchy, fussy, and always whining he felt. Dave was a dog’s dog, all bark but these days with less bite. However, he still got a lot of respect in the neighbourhood. Brian was the only one that responded to the small advert: “Looking for crime fighting adventure? Scaredy cats need not apply”. Dave had probably not realised that this could mean that a brave cat might apply. Brian was a brave cat – well he must have been to take up with a cat-hating, ageing grumpy hound.



“Hello” miaowed McClaw, “Crime Stop Agency, Can I help you?”. Dave raised one eyebrow in disbelief, he had never answered the phone with very much more than a “yes” or “Dave Woolfe speaking”. He was not about to have this young upstart teaching him new telephone techniques.



“Oh yes, hello” came the rather shy and timid voice on the other end of the phone. “My name is Henrietta Hensworth and I want to report a robbery”.



“Well you’ve come to the right place”, purred Brian, barely able to contain his excitement. At this point Dave signalled to Brian to pass him the phone. “Just a second” Brian continued, “I think my boss would like a word”.



“Agent Woolfe, how can we help?” “Well as I was saying to your colleague, we have been burgled, robbed…” Before Mrs Hensworth could finish her sentence, Agent Woolfe was on the scent. “So burgled you say…” Dave knew that the only things that chickens would call up the CSA for, would be if someone had stolen their eggs or….. murder. “Eggs, I take it?” “Well, yes Agent Woolfe, but how did you know that?” exclaimed Mrs Hensworth sounding a little taken aback. “I’ve been in this game a long time Mrs ‘ensworf, and I know a bad egg when I smell one. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Myself and Agent McClaw will be over this afternoon”. Dave didn’t let clients know that Brian was an apprentice – he wanted to give the impression that he had a thriving, bustling business. Just the sort of impression that many businesses portray on their websites, when in reality, they are really sole traders. Nothing wrong with sole traders, it’s just that Dave was not the best advert for one.



The CSA office was a small room above the local Chinese restaurant. The restaurant was quite happy to let the room for a peppercorn rent, so long as any mice or rats were kept away from the property. This part of the job description was one of Trainee Agent McClaw’s responsibilities. It was becoming clear to Brian that this might be the real reason that he had been taken on by the gruff old dog.



Woolfe and McClaw went downstairs where Agent Woolfe’s rather beaten up old blue Jaguar was parked. “Slightly ironic”, Brian thought to himself, “that Dave doesn’t like cats, when he hires me and drives around in a car that is clearly for cat lovers!” “Get in” shouted Dave, breaking Brian’s train of thought, “We need to get down to Foghorn Farm toots”. Toots was one of Dave’s many foibles – eccentricities in his character, that made Dave uniquely Dave. Toots was not meant as a term of affection but merely shorthand for ‘Tout de suite’ which as you know is French for ASAP, which you also know means ‘as soon as possible’. Brian assumed that it must be a throwback to Dave’s family heritage, a long line of Alsations from the French town of Alsace on the French German border, where there is no hard border, but seemed like Dave was more Alsation than German Shepherd.



It was a lovely warm sunny afternoon, sweltering in fact. Some of the standard features in many modern cars – like air conditioning had long since stopped working in Dave’s car. For him air con was just a case of opening the window. Unfortunately, as Brian was soon to find out, private detective work paid very poorly, so they had to make do with limited resources and rely on their guts and their noses to solve crimes.

“Open the glove box Brian, and pass me a mint”. Brian opened it tentatively. There were two tins. One large one, and one small one. Brian reached in and pulled out the large one. “ Whoa, whatdya think yer doing?” barked Dave. “You must never touch the large tin” “Why not?” enquired Brian. “You don’t need to know” said Dave rather cryptically. “What has the small tin got on the lid?” Brian pulled out the small tin, and sure enough there was a picture of a polar bear standing on what looked like all that remained of the polar ice caps. “A bear on a mint” said Brian quizzically. “There was nothing on the large tin, so I didn’t realise”. “The first lesson in good detective work is to smell the clues” exclaimed Dave in what he thought was a wise tone, but could have easily been mistaken for being slightly patronising. “I’m a mint fan – and I’m sure you are too, but I’m never going to have a tin of mints that size” Dave explained pointedly, gesturing to the large tin. “I wondered why you would use gun oil to disguise the smell” Brian chuckled. Dave was both annoyed and pleased with his young apprentice. Annoyed with his cheek, but pleased that he was on the scent. “Just promise me you won’t touch the large tin again, its my personal stuff”



They travelled through the twisting back roads, and arrived at Foghorn Farm about thirty minutes later. The agents got out of the car and went up to the farmhouse door. Before they could knock, Mrs Hensworth opened the door and with a relieved sigh, “Oh hello, you must be Agent Woolfe” shaking Dave’s paw. “Hello, Mrs ‘ensworth. This is my colleague Agent Brian McClaw. Why don’t you start at the beginning…..”