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!! whaddya 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, it’s 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….
Chapter 2 – Poached
eggs
Mrs
Hensworth, known locally as Mrs H., gestured to the agents to take a seat at
the kitchen table, poured some tea from a brass teapot covered in a stripy tea
cosy. Dave looked around the room, taking in the horseshoe display that wrapped
around the fireplace. “Would you like me to take your coat and hat?” asked Mrs
H. “No fanks, I’m fine with ‘em on”. The combination of the hot day and the
open fire on top of Dave’s natural fur, meant he was fast becoming one hot dog.
“So”
began Mrs H. “When I got up this morning and went to check on the chickens, I
found Sharon sobbing inconsolably. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me
that all the chickens had been put under a spell and the eggs had been
mysteriously taken. I didn’t know what to do, so I went round the whole farm to
see if I could find them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Sharon is my
chicken supervisor and has been with me for twelve years, and nothing bad has
ever happened on her shift….”
“So,
when was the last time you saw the eggs?” asked Brian. “Last night at
suppertime, we counted over 100 and when we went in for the collection this
morning – there were none at all!” “We?” asked Brian pointedly. “Yes, Mr
Hensworth and I”. “Where is Mr ‘ensworf now?” asked Dave. “He’s with the
chickens just now” confirmed Mrs H. “And who else would have been on the farm
between suppertime and egg time?” “Well apart from my husband Richard…there are
nine hens, one rooster, eleven sheep, three cows, four pigs, two horses…” “And
a partridge in a pear tree” Dave mumbled under his breath. “…and our dog Colin.
We also have fences to keep out our nuisance neighbour Frank Fox and the
Tumbles” “Sounds like a rock band” Dave quipped. “Much worse than that squawked
Mrs H. Those pesky rabbits are always getting up to mischief and trying to
steal our vegetables, especially the carrots” Dave kept his Sherlock Holmes
thoughts to himself, eager to get to the bottom of the crime.
“We’re
gonna need to interview all the animals on the farm or those that could have
had access to it over the last 24 hours” said Dave with an air of authority. “I
wanna speak to the chickens and the other rooster first, and Agent McClaw will
interview the sheep and the cows”.
Mrs
H. escorted the two agents to the chicken coop and the barn respectively. They
were situated on either side of the farmhouse, about a five-minute walk between
the two. Agent Woolfe entered the coop to be met initially by Sebastian
Shuttlecock. “I think it’s important that you understand how upset the chickens
are” said Sebastian, his bright red crown glistening in the sunlight and his
black tail feathered and fanned like some pretend peacock. “Listen son” said
Dave with his paws in his trench coat pockets, and opening his mouth just
enough to show the young cockerel that he had more teeth than he might want to
see, “I’ll tell you what I think is important. And that is that I get your full
cooperation. There has been a serious crime and I intend to get the bottom of
it”. “Now look here Detective” bristled Sebastian “I just want to make sure you
don’t upset the chickens any more than they have been”.
Agent
Woolfe was about to let out a deep bark, but an unusual amount of
self-restraint took over. “OK, let’s start with you then. Where were you
between 11 o clock last night and 7 am this morning?” Sebastian flapped his
feathers a little and said, “Well I was tucked up in my bed”. “Can anyone vouch
for that?” asked Dave. “I’m sure you could ask any of the chickens, and they
will swear that they didn’t see me from when I left the coop at 5 o clock,
until I heard the screaming just around 7am” “But you’re not sure that anyone actually can vouch for your
whereabouts?” asked Dave pointedly. “No” confirmed Sebastian. “Right Mr
Shuttlecock, I need you to stick around so don’t get any ideas about flying
off”. Dave was quite hot on his ornithological facts. He was pretty sure that
cockerels couldn’t fly – well not without mechanical help!
Dave
then met with Sharon Omelette, the Chicken supervisor. “So, tell me Sharon in your
own words, what happened here last night”. “Well I had just finished supper and
got the girls to bed, ready for the morning shift.” “Sorry to interrupt” Dave
interjected, “But I assume that Sebastian wasn’t in the coop”. “Oh no,
Sebastian is just a bit of eye candy that the Hensworths brought in to make the
hens more productive. He only hangs about until around 5pm and then goes back
to his own bit. It was just me and all the other hens, apart from Sophie, who
was not well and was being looked after in the farmhouse” “Sophie?” asked Dave.
“Yes, Sophie Benedict, one our newer hens, who has had chicken pox and needed
to be kept away from the other hens. Anyway, lights out is at 9.30pm and all us
hens usually sleep right through until Mr Hensworth wakes us up at 6.30am for
breakfast”.
So,
who else was in the coop last night?” Sharon clucked to herself momentarily and
gathered her thoughts, “Well there was Juliet, Sybil, Louise, Joanna, Zara,
Gemma and Michelle” “And can you confirm whether you saw anyone enter or leave
the coop between 11pm and 7am?” enquired Dave. “I’m absolutely sure I would
have known if anyone had entered or left the coop” Sharon was now beginning to
get a little defensive. “If you were asleep, how would you know?” “Because I am
a very light sleeper” Sharon proclaimed. “So, what you’re saying is that you
don’t think anyone could have got into the coop, but you can’t be sure. Well
that’ll be all for now Sharon. I’d be very grateful if you could ask your hens
to come through for a quick chat please”.
One by one Dave met with the other chickens. First, was Zara Boyle, followed by Joanna Fry, then Gemma Sunnyside, Michelle Soufflé, Louise Nogg and finally sisters Juliet and Sybil Wisk. All of them confirmed that they had been in the coop during 11pm to 7am only to have woken to have found that the eggs from the previous day had been taken, and no one had been seen coming in or leaving the coop. “Very interesting” Dave thought to himself. “This is going to be quite a tough one to crack”. He made his way slowly over to the barn to rendezvous with Agent McClaw.
Chapter 3 – The
invest-egg-ation continues…
Agent
McClaw wandered into the barn and was struck by the strong smells coming from
the corner. “Oh, hello sunshine” said a slightly startled cow emerging from
where the unmistakable aroma of cow dung was emanating. “Hello” said Brian “I’m
looking for the Barn sisters”. “Well handsome, you’ve come to the right place…a
barn!” said Cathy Barn, the eldest sister. “I’m Cathy, and this here’s my
sister Daisy, and that there’s my other sister Maisie – they’re twins, and both
as daft as each other” “Oi” mooed Daisy and Maisie in loud unison, “Don’t pay
any attention to her” Daisy went on, “She’s thinks she’s a stand up cowmedienne”. “Listen ladies” Brian
started, “I’m sure you are all very clever and entertaining cows, but right now
we’ve got a robbery on our hands and I need to ask you a few questions as part
of our investigation”
After
a about twenty minutes conversation with the Barn sisters, it became apparent
that they had been asleep at the time of the alleged incident and could be
vouched for by each other as well as by the Stables siblings, Pumpkin and Kye,
the two Clydesdales. Pumpkin and Kye Stables had been at the farm for over
twenty years. “Thanks very much, I’ll be speaking to them later so will let you
know if I need to speak with you again. “No problem, handsome” Cathy added,
“Anytime is fine” as Brian, slightly embarrassed, began to moonwalk his way out
of the barn. Next on Brian’s list were the sheep who were in the field next to
the barn.
“Excuse
me” Brian shouted from the gate. “I’m looking for Serena Shepherd, Edwina
Shepherd, Melinda and Belinda Lamb, Betty, Hettie and Greta Shearer, Alice
Woolsey, Rosie and Posie Barber. I’m also looking for Rachel and Rebecca
Cashmere-Jones”. Brian may as well have been the England football manager (even
with his broad Glaswegian accent), doing a roll call before the start of a
match. Slowly but surely, all eleven sheep wandered over to the gate – and not
a Collie in sight to round them up.
“Afternoon
ladies” Brian addressed the ‘team’, “As I think you’ll be aware, there was a
terrible crime committed here in the early hours. My name is Agent Brian
McClaw, from the Crime Stop Agency, and I need to talk to you all to find out
what you might have seen or heard”. One by one, Agent McClaw interviewed all the
sheep, and the answer he got back from each was the same. No-one had seen or
heard anything…apart from one. “Agent McClaw” said Alice rather sheepishly, “I
did hear a couple of things but thought nothing much about it until now. I
thought I heard the farm van driving away very early, which I thought was a bit
odd, but maybe it was to do a delivery or a pick up or something, but at 4 in
the morning?” “Why do you think it was the farm van?” asked Brian. “Because it
has quite a distinctive engine note”. “That’s very helpful Ms Woolsey”, Brian said,
thinking that with a name like Woolsey she must be a bit of a petrol head. A petrol
head is someone that likes cars not that they literally have petrol in their or
on their head.
At
that moment, Agent Woolfe called over. “Agent McClaw” “Over here Dave”, shouted
Brian. Dave beckoned Brian to join him away from the animals. “So how did yer
get on?” “I’ve just finished interviewing the sheep Dave and nothing apart from
one who heard the farm van leaving the farm at around 4 in the morning.” “Not
much maybe, but it might be a significant clue. Let’s go and see the horses and
the pigs” suggested Dave, and they walked along the field to the pig pen.
On
the way to the stables was the pig pen, where the pig family, the Bacons lived,
Mum – Penny, Dad – Peter and son Bobby. “I better do these ones boss” suggested
Brian, thinking that Agent Woolfe might go native and want to eat the potential
witnesses. “I’ve been a semi-vegetarian for quite some time Brian, so I don’t
plan on eating any of the suspects….unless they’re guilty!” Dave joked. Brian
was quite relieved to hear this, although it occurred to him that just because
they worked together, that it wouldn’t stop him, as a cat, from being chased,
as dogs do this, whatever their dietary preferences.
“Excuse
me, can we have a word?” Dave gestured to Peter Bacon. Penny stood up and said.
“Terrible what happened to the boootiful eggs”.
Penny was originally from Norfolk, and while her accent had softened over the
years, the unmistakeable twang would sometimes surface. Dave and Brian had not
managed to get one question out, before Penny went on, “ We don’t get many
visitors here, so it’s nice to see some new faces, just wish it wish it was
better circumstances”. “We just wanna ask you a few questions if that’s
alright?” Dave started, “Well of course Officers, anything we can to do help” Penny
replied. Peter and Bobby continued to play fight in the corner of the pen,
oblivious to the presence of the agents. “So, tell me Penny, can I call you
Penny?” enquired Dave “What were you doing last night between 11pm and 7am?”
“Bobby was fast asleep, and Pete and I were up talking ‘til about midnight and
then he started snoring. I must have fallen asleep not long after. I didn’t
realise that anything was wrong until Mrs H woke us at about 8 o’ clock asking
if we had seen or heard anything. We hadn’t seen nothing I’m afraid” “ Mr Bacon
– anything you want to add?” interjected Brian, looking over to Peter Bacon who
had Bobby in a headlock and was about to execute a Piledriver followed by a
Boston Crab. Brian and Dave had never seen pig wrestling before (and nor had
anyone else for that matter). Pete and Bobby looked up, snorted and Bobby was
just about to speak when Pete elbowed him in the ribs. “Sorry Officers, we were
all asleep from what I remember. We make too much noise to have heard anything
all the way across the farm” Pete said, getting Bobby in another headlock. “Oh
boys” laughed Penny “Do stop it for a minute. These gentlemen are trying to
solve a serious crime” “It’s alright” confirmed Dave, “We’ve got enough for
now, thanks”. And with that the agents left the pig pen and headed over to the
stables.
Pumpkin and Kye Stables lived in the farm stables, having moved from southern Scotland many years before. “I’ll take this one boss” asserted Brian “I speak their language, so will be able to communicate easily” Dave raised one eyebrow trying not to remind his young apprentice that they all spoke the same language, most of the time, and having a similar accent didn’t necessarily guarantee rapport. “Hello Pumpkin, hello Kye” purred Brian confidently. “Listen sunny, we’ve never met before, so if you don’t mind, its Mr Stables and Miss Stables to you”. Brian who was already ginger, went a shade of bright red. “Please excuse my colleague” Dave butted in “He’s new and learning the ropes. But if you don’t mind, we need to ask you a few questions.” At this point Dave was hoping not to get a neigh. “That’s alright” piped up Pumpkin who was a little more friendly than Kye. “All we know is what we told Mrs H this morning. We did hear some voices whispering, but just assumed it was the chickens. When they’re not cooing they’re clucking away.” “When was this?” “Well it must have been around 3 or 4 in the morning. The reason I remember, is that I had to get up to go to the toilet, terrible…” “Do you remember anything else?” interrupted Dave not wanting to hear any more about Miss Stables’ urinary habits. “Well there was one thing. I thought I heard footsteps too, which now makes me think that they must be connected to the stolen eggs.” Both horses nodded, and with that the agents thanked them for their help. “That’s enough for today, Agent McClaw. Let’s head back.”
Chapter 4 – Eggs-amining
the evidence
Back
at CSA, Dave sat down on his reclining office chair and pulled a pack of mints
from the desk drawer. “Right Brian, what do we have so far?” as he skilfully
flicked a mint in the air and caught it in his mouth. “We don’t have very much.
We have a bunch of headless chickens who didn’t notice that a hundred eggs had
been taken right from underneath their beaks; we have all the sheep bar one,
none of the Barn sisters, none of the Bacons and only Pumpkin the pony who
maybe heard the farm van and some footsteps”
“Calm
down Brian” urged Dave. “We’ve made a good start but got plenty more stones to
turn over before we get to the bottom of this one.” Dave went on, sensing that
they still had work to do to solve the case, “I just think we need to take a
step back and work through what we know already”.
Dave
got up from his chair and ambled over to the big white board on the wall. This
is where the agents would display their clues and try to see connections. Dave
picked up the non-permanent marker and began to scribble. “We know that all the
hens except for Sophie Benedict were in the coop between 11pm and 7am. We know
that the eggs were taken between those times, and we know that someone or ones
were near the coop around 3 or 4 am. We don’t have any witnesses, no evidence
of the eggs and at this stage no motive. What do you think Brian?”
“That’s
what I was trying to say. We have nothing…, nada…., zip. I wanna know more
about the movements of those in the farmhouse – the Hensworths, Colin the
Collie and Sophie” said Brian impatiently. “So, you think this might have been
an inside job Brian?” “It’s got to be possible. I mean where were Richard
Hensworth and Colin when we were at the farm earlier. Don’t you think it’s a
bit odd that they were nowhere to be seen?” “We’ll get to them tomorrow”
confirmed Dave assuredly, “No one gets ruled out until they are ruled out”
Brian looked at Dave with a slight air of disbelief that Dave might actually
believe his own rhetoric was some sort of profound philosophy.
“We
need to get a closer look at that van, and check whether the farm had CCTV. I
also wanna know what that cocky young rooster was doing after he left the coop”
snarled Dave. “And we also have to rule in or rule out Frank Fox and the
Tumbles. Foxes and chickens don’t mix”. “I agree Dave, but I would have thought
that if the fox was behind this, he wouldn’t have stopped with the eggs, he
would have taken the chickens too” “Maybe, but also a little too obvious as
well. And as for the rabbits, I think highly unlikely” Dave pondered, “And of
course we have check whether there was a break in. But what would someone want
with 100 eggs? It’s not like the Great Train Robbery where you could live
abroad on the profits. I think there is more to this than meets the eye.”
“Aye,
boss. You’re probably right. All this talk of eggs is making me starving. Can
we go downstairs”? What Brian meant was whether they could go to the Chinese
Restaurant for their dinner. “Come on then, let’s get some scran and some
shut-eye, we’ve more invest-egg-ating tomorrow”. Brian attempted the eyebrow,
and while poorly done, Dave realised that he had cracked a terrible egg yolk
(this is in fact also a terrible pun).
The
restaurant was unusually busy for a Tuesday. They ordered their usual
favourites – sweet and sour prawns for Brian, and deep-fried shredded beef for
Dave – both with fried rice. Suddenly, Dave began to cough, and then choke with
his jaw swelling up. He gestured to Brian to his coat pocket. “Surely a mint
isn’t going to help in this situation” thought Brian, but soon realised that
Dave needed his EpiPen, as he was having an anaphylactic reaction to the food.
But this was the meal that Dave had had hundreds of time before. Dave injected
the pen, and after several minutes, began to recover his normal breathing.
“There must be egg in the rice” he stuttered. He was surprised as the fried
rice was always without egg unless you specifically ordered it. Madame Chu, the
owner, came over to apologise. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Woolfe, we didn’t realise
that you were allergic to egg”. “I’m normally a suspicious dog but assume that
since I wasn’t behind on the rent that you weren’t trying to get rid of me”
Dave joked. “But just out of interest, why the egg?” Madame Chu went on to
explain that they had an unexpected delivery of extra eggs which meant that
they had more eggs for the dishes they were serving than usual.
“Brian,
are you thinking what I’m thinking? Brian couldn’t be absolutely sure, but to
be on the safe side assumed that Dave was making a connection between the extra
eggs and the theft. “I’m not assuming it was the Chu’s but we need to know if
these are the eggs” Dave went on to
explain, “but I think we might have found some of our evidence. Go and see if
she has any of the eggs left and we’ll get forensics to take a look at whether
these are a match for the Foghorn hens”. Brian hadn’t ruled out the possibility
that the Chu’s were worried that Agent Dave might be on to them and so
deliberately spiked his rice with eggs. On second thoughts, even he had to
admit to himself that this was a little farfetched. “You were right Dave”, as
Brian returned with an egg, “Madame Chu, said that they were going cheap”.
“Brian, I’m not in the mood for one of your bad jokes”, said Dave chastising
his apprentice. “No joke intended Dave – it’s what she told me, she said that
they had had an unexpected delivery earlier and the price was too good to be
true”. “Did she say who had sold her the eggs?” “She said it was one of Frank
Fox’s staff, but she didn’t notice what they were driving”. “Sounds like we
have a suspect Brian. Well done.” smiled Dave.
“Right tomorrow Brian, let’s see if we can trace down that van, and follow up our interviews with all those that we missed today. I think that’s enough excitement for one day”. Dave bid Brian good night and went back up to CSA (which also converted into a studio apartment at night-time). “Night Dave” said Brian “and try not to ingest any more eggy products”. He laughed to himself as he ran back to his flat. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.
Chapter 5 – A series of
eggs-traordinary events
Brian
arrived at CSA HQ, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at about 8 AM. Dave had been
up for a while having walked about town trying to figure out how Frank Fox had
managed to come by the eggs without anyone seeing or hearing anything. And why
would he just want to sell them quickly and cheaply to the nearest Chinese
restaurant. Dave smelled a rat. Not the ‘delegate to Brian to catch type rat’
but something not right with their main suspect.
“Right
Brian, Let’s get down to the farm, and speak to those we missed yesterday, and
we need a little chat with Mr Fox too”. “How are you feeling today?” asked Brian.
“Much better thanks Brian, but I’m staying well away from anything egg related.
Talking of which, we better drop the egg off at the lab on the way”.
When
they arrived at the farm, Mr Hensworth was outside in the yard, taking rubbish
into an outhouse. “Mr ‘ensworf?” shouted Dave. “That’s me” crowed Richard “You
must be the detectives solving the mystery of our missing eggs?” “That’s right”
said Dave. “We’d like a word with yourself, your wife, and everyone else who
was in the farmhouse yesterday”. “Well, of course. Let’s go in and see Mrs H.
Colin will be with the sheep I suspect”
They
went in the farmhouse and sure enough Mrs H was in the kitchen. “Oh, hello
again gentlemen, how goes the investigation?” “Well we haven’t talked to
everybody yet, but it seems like the eggs were taken early in the morning, but
no material witnesses to anything. It would be really helpful if you could both
outline what you were doing between 11pm and 7am on the night in question”.
Richard Hensworth was a rather large and foreboding rooster and had ruled the
roost for many years. “So, you must be quite annoyed that someone could slip in
and steal your chickens’ eggs so easily? goaded Dave. “Listen, Agent Woolfe,
running a busy farm is a tough job…” Dave interrupted “So can you tell us where
you were between 11pm and 7am?” “I was tucked up in bed” Richard said with a
slight air of indignation. “That’s right detective, both my husband and I were
in bed. In fact, we slept in, normally Richard is up at the crack of dawn
sounding the farm alarm clock,” added Mrs H.
“And
you heard nothing unusual during the night?” said Agent Woolfe. “I didn’t hear
anything” said Mrs H. “Did you dear?” signalling to Richard. “Nor me. Not a
dickie bird” said Richard. Agent Woolfe thought for moment. “They must by very
heavy sleepers”. “Do either of you have any idea who this might have been?”
“We’re as baffled as you are Agent Woolfe” said Mrs H. “Nothing like this has
ever happened before. We occasionally get the Tumbles climbing over or digging
under the fences, but only the odd carrot and cauliflower go missing”
“We
would like to speak to Sophie Benedict and Colin the Collie too please while
we’re here”. Mrs H explained that Sophie had been very unwell with chicken pox
and wouldn’t be up to being questioned. Then Richard suggested, “We’ll give her
your number and ask her to get in touch when she’s feeling a bit better. In the
meantime, I’ll see if I can find Colin so you can speak to him. Follow me
gentlemen.”
Richard
Hensworth and the two agents then left the farmhouse and walked over to the
field where Colin was supposed to be looking after the sheep but was nowhere to
be seen. Richard shouted over to Rachel and Rebecca who were closest to the
gate. “Have you seen Colin, girls?” “He was here a moment ago, but I saw him
running to the fence at the edge of the farm” Said Rachel Cashmere-Jones. “Will
I go and fetch him Mr Hensworth?” She offered dutifully. Dave felt this was a
little ironic since it was surely Colin’s job to do the fetching and not the
other way around. “No don’t worry Rachel, we’ll take a wander and see if we can
find him”
Richard
led them towards the edge of his farm, and in the distance, they could see
Colin barking for Mr Hensworth’s attention. “Boss, boss!” barked Colin “Come
here and see what I found”. At the corner of the sheep’s field and the fence
with the neighbour’s land, Colin was standing next to a hole in the fence.
“OMG!” shouted Richard, realising that this was a children’s book and blasphemy
is generally frowned upon. “My fence, my fence, some blighter has taken a pair
of bolt-cutters to my property, the little rat! ‘why who do you think is
responsible for the damage?’’ Dave asked ‘I bet it’s that rogue Frank Fox”
fumed Mr Hensworth. Brian wandered over to the fence while Dave questioned
Colin the Collie. “Hi Colin. You’ll be aware of the egg robbery, I take it?”.
“Oh yes, and I feel really bad about it. Although I am trained as a herder, the
Hensworths also see me as a bit of a guard dog. But I didn’t see or hear anyfink”
whimpered Colin, feeling very sorry for himself. “Don’t worry” reassured Dave,
“Our job is not to pass judgement. We just want to find the facts and bring the
culprits to justice. So where were you between 11pm and 7am on Monday
night/Tuesday morning?” “I was curled up in bed from about 9pm to 7am, when Mrs
Hensworth came in’t kitchen and woke me up,” added Colin.
Dave
beckoned over Brian and they began walking back to the farmhouse with Richard
and Colin. “We’ll be sure to be speaking to Frank Fox after our visit here”
Dave said purposefully, “I think he has some explaining to do” gesturing to the
hole in the fence. “Frank and I have known each other a long time, and if he’s
behind this I’ll know. If either of you remember anything, anything at all,
then please give Agent McClaw or myself a ring”
“I’m
no’ being funny” said Brian in an uneasy voice, “But what’s that smoke?”
Richard looked up and in a state of distress began to sound the alarm “Fire,
fire!” and began to run towards the farmhouse. Just shortly afterwards, there
were two fire engines speeding down the farm drive, heading towards the
spiralling black smoke that was beginning to occlude the bright blue sky above
the farmhouse. Richard, Colin, Dave and Brian arrived at the farmhouse. “Oh
thank goodness you’re here Richard, the Outhouse went on fire, but luckily no
one has been hurt.” Screamed Mrs H. “Thank Goodness” sighed Richard, looking
distressed at the destruction of the outhouse building.
“We’ll
get oeuf and out of your way” said Dave, making yet another bad egg joke. “And
follow up with your next-door neighbours”. On the way to the car, Dave had a
quick word with one of the fire fighters. “What was that about Dave?” enquired
Brian. “Just making sure, we don’t miss any evidence. We want to find out how
the fire started and whether it was deliberate or not. I’ve got my suspicions.
Buckle up; there’s a certain fox we need to talk to, toots.” With that, Dave
sped down the farm drive and headed over to Frank Fox’s place.
Chapter 6 – Fifteen
years ago eggs-actly (The Flashback Chapter)
Dave
and Frank were not exactly friends, nor were they enemies. They just happened
to go back a long way, but through a number of circumstances had ended up on
different sides of the law. Dave and Frank met while they were in the S A S
(Special Animal Service), serving together in Afghanistan and Iraq. When Dave
left the military and retuned to Civvy street, he was able join the police,
while Frank had suffered post-traumatic stress disorder, and wasn’t able to
adjust to life after forces, despite a lot of help from Veterans support
groups. Inevitably, after some time sleeping rough and becoming drug dependent,
Frank turned to a life of crime. Eventually, he worked his way up the ranks and
was now able to live a comfortable life from ill-gotten gains. Frank maintains
a very different story where he now has a lot of different businesses and they
are all legit. Dave and Frank had not seen each other for twenty years – almost
to the day. The last time they saw each other had been in very different
circumstances……
(Sound of
bombs falling and machine gun fire).
It
was hot. Really hot, Lieutenant Woolfe and Corporal Fox were stationed in
Basra, Iraq, defending the city from rebel invasion. They were coming under
enemy fire, when Dave gave the order to retreat. Frank refused saying that
would all be killed, if they left their post. “They’re using cluster bombs, and
we’ll be collateral damage” shouted Frank, urging Dave to change his order.
“Alright alright” shouted Dave back, “Prepare to dig in. Today is not the day
we get killed by friendly fire”. The bombs continued to fall, and then suddenly
it went quiet. “They must be moving back their positions” Dave commented to
Frank, and ordered his unit to stay down, while he looked out from his lookout.
Without warning a single shot whistled past Dave’s ears. He was inches from
being a dead dog. Not giving a second thought for his own safety, Frank stood
up and fired two shots in the direction that the bullet had come from and took
out the sniper that had trained its sights on Dave. “Wow, that was close,
thanks mate”. Dave put his paw on Frank’s shoulder, acknowledging that the fast
fox had just saved his life. “No worries mate, I know you’d have done the same
for me”.
Dave
had never thought of himself as brave and wondered whether he would have put
his life on the line for his colleague. Dave and Frank fought in the S A S
until 2007 when British forces withdrew from Basra. Having completed their
tour, both went back home where Dave left and joined the Police, and Frank was
discharged on health grounds. The next time they saw each other was ten years
later…
Frank
ran a warehouse distribution service and was one of the first to develop his
on-line sales service called “AMAZING”. It was amazing because you could get
absolutely anything, anytime anywhere. In fact the marketing blurb was
“Anything you want, anywhere you want it, anytime you want, AMAZING!”, It was often raided by the police, because
much of the merchandise had been come from the back of lorries. Although you
might expect goods from a warehouse distribution company to come from the back
of a lorry, you wouldn’t if it wasn’t legit. Dave knew full well that Frank’s
business was a little dodgy, but Frank always seemed to be able to keep one
step ahead of the law. That was until one winter evening five years ago. Dave
was in his police car when he received a 999 call. There had been a robbery at
the white goods factory. White goods are things like washing machines and
dishwashers and usually come in white, although other colours are available
(well, mainly silver).
Dave
intercepted the lorry that was being driven by Frank Fox. “Right sunshine”
barked Dave. “You’re nicked”. Dave pulled off Frank’s balaclava. (A Balaclava
is not a type of sweet dish that you might find in Basra. That’s a baklava.
It’s a type of mask worn under a helmet – often worn by armed robbers and
forces personnel….). Dave realised that he had apprehended Frank.
“Right
Frank, what do ya think ya doin’?” asked Dave, looking both cross and
disappointed that Frank was driving the lorry. “I was just on my way back from
doing a pick up” explained Frank trying to sound innocent. “So why the
balaclava?” “Well…” Frank thought for a moment, “It’s just that it is so cold
that I needed to use my ski mask to keep me warm”. “That might make sense
Frank, except it’s the same as the ones we had in Iraq. Open the back”. Frank
went round to back of the lorry and opened the louvre style door. Behind the
door was floor to ceiling boxes containing dishwashers, washing machines,
tumble driers, fridges freezers and so on.
Frank
though he might try his luck. “Look Dave, I’ll level with you. Not all the
paperwork might be in order. What do you say, if a new fridge freezer was to
find its way to your gaff” smiled Frank (Gaff is a term for house or flat – the
residence of the person or animal in question. “Listen Frank, I don’t want any
of your nonsense or any of your knock off gear.” Dave thought about what to do
next. “I’ve got a job to do Frank and you should really be doing a stretch for
this” (stretch means a custodial sentence at Her Majesty’s pleasure – i.e.
prison).
“I’m
not gonna arrest you today. You’re gonna run off and I’m gonna confiscate your
lorry with all this stuff” explained Dave, knowing that he was bending the law
to let the fox who had once save his life, make a getaway. “Next time…..” They
looked at each knowingly. Frank knew that Dave knew, and Dave knew that Frank
knew. They both knew.
Frank scurried away into the bushes just as two other police cars pulled up. “You alright Dave?” asked one of the police officers. “Yeh, I’m fine” Dave said. “The driver got away but at least I’ve managed to get the lorry” “Which way did he go?” he asked. “I’m not sure. It was too dark to see”. This time Frank had managed to get away.
Chapter 7 – Strange
eggs-planations
Dave
pulled up outside Frank Fox’s house, a rather large new build. What it had
lacked in taste it made up for in size. They got out of the car and marched up
to the front door. Brian rang the bell. The bell was a carved dragon from
marble, with the dragon’s eye being the doorbell. “That’s rank” shrieked Brian.
As he did so, the door opened, and Frank walked out on to the porch. “Afternoon
gentlemen, I see you’ve met Delia” signalling to the Dragon doorbell, “How can
I help?” “I take it you know why we’re here?”, said Dave. “Well long time no
see Lieutenant Woolfe”. “Lieutenant? Asked Brian quizzically. “Yeh, Frank and I
served together in Iraq, but we’re not exactly on each other’s Christmas card
list”.
“I take it you’re here about the goings on at
the Hensworth’s farm?” suggested Frank. “That’s right” said Brian, “What do you
know about it?” “Only what Tom Tumble told me” remarked Frank. Brian and Dave
remained quiet so that Frank could fill the silence and hopefully incriminate
himself. “Yes, Tom said that a bunch of eggs had been stolen and
fingers were being pointed in my direction”.
“So where were you between 11pm and 7am on Monday night/Tuesday morning”
demanded Brian. “Well the lads and I had been out at the casino until around 1
am and then I got a taxi home and straight to bed”. “Can anyone vouch for you?”
asked Brian even more aggressively now. Frank remained calm, although he was
probably tempted to give the young apprentice a good clip around the ear. “Felicity!” he shouted inside the
house. Soon afterwards, came the unmistakable click, click, click, click of a
pair of high heel shoes on a hard wood floor. “Hello boys” smiled Felicity,
“What seems to be the trouble?” “This is Dave, Felicity, he’s an ex-copper,
working on that egg robbery case”. “The
Dave?” she asked excitedly. “That’s right, this is the muppet who nearly got me
killed in Basra”. Felicity was smiling. “Oh, you mean the Dave that saved all
of your lives in Basra” she said.
“Enough
of the pleasantries” interrupted Dave, “We’re not here for a trip down memory
lane- except for your movements over the last 48 hours, that is”. “Not very
exciting detective, but I’ve only been out to do some shopping yesterday and
nothing else” smouldered Felicity. “As for this one” pointing to her husband, “who
knows where he’s been? Just kidding Dave, he was out until about midnight/1 am
and then cuddling up with me in bed.” “Will there be anything else mate?” asked
Frank “It’s just I’ve got rather a lot on this afternoon.” Dave thought that
this must be a stitch up. “Can anyone else verify your movements?” “You can ask
the Casino or take a look on their CCTV – I’m sure you’ll see me on it”
suggested Frank. “We may well do Frank, but we don’t know for sure – apart from
your stories – where you were between 1am and 7am – you could have easily
slipped through the fence and stolen the eggs”.
Dave
felt that he was closing in on Frank – and this time, no second chances. He
would have to do time, this time. ‘Time’ is also another term for doing a
stretch. But before Dave could begin to get his phone to ring the police, Frank
threw an almighty spanner in the works. A spanner in the works is quite
literally a very unhelpful thing, when you are working on a case and trying to
wrap it up by dinnertime. “Listen Dave” said Frank, deliberately ignoring
Brian, “You’re not going to believe this, and I can’t prove it, but I was given
a hundred eggs by a chicken”. “You’re right Frank, that is completely
unbelievable” said Dave “Why on earth would a chicken give you any eggs unless
you were extorting them” although Dave was a bit rough around the edges, he did
like the use of words that made him sound clever. Extort, by the way, is when
you, well you know, extort something from someone. “Eggs-tortion” laughed Frank
“Now that’s good, very very good” barely able to contain a giggle. “Listen, one
of the chickens came round on Monday, quite early with a big basket of eggs.
She wasn’t selling them but giving them away – which I thought was a bit odd –
but mine not to reason why. Never look a gift chicken in the mouth I always
say” Frank was making a rather bad reference to a ‘gift horse’ which means that you don’t turn away a good thing when
it comes your way. “Do me a favour, Frank, what chicken in their right mind is
going to give you a bunch of eggs – for free!?” “I told you might not believe
me” said Frank. “That’s an understatement” confirmed Dave, “And how do you
explain the hole in the fence?” enquired Dave. “Well I can only assume that the
chicken came from Foghorn Farm and had come though the fence as a shortcut”
justified Frank. “We’ve still got some interviews to do, but I have to tell you
Frank that unless we can get some corroborating evidence, it’s not looking good
for you.” Explained Dave disbelievingly.
“Right
Brian, back to the farm” as Dave got into the Jag. “What about the Tumbles,
Dave?” asked Brian getting in to the passenger seat as they drove away. “I
don’t think we’re going to get anything useful from them either. In any case they
are all in Frank Fox’s pocket”. The Tumbles weren’t actually in Frank’s pocket,
although small enough, but they were pals of the Fox family and unlikely to do
or say anything that contradicted what Frank was saying. “One thing that is a
bit odd” said Brian with a furrowed brow, “When I was examining the fence
earlier, it was clearly cut from the Foghorn side” “So do you think Frank might
have been telling the truth?” asked Dave. “I’m beginning to think that he might
be” shrugged Brian. “What I’m pretty sure of, is that, he didn’t start the fire”.
“Oh great Brian, now I’ve got Billy Joel playing in my head” “Don’t worry boss,
I’m sure if I switch the radio on in the Jag, we’ll no doubt get Lewis
Catpaldi, and that’ll really get in ya heid!”
Dave
and Brian arrived back at Foghorn Farm, to find that the fire had been
egg-stinguished (sorry) and the fire engines were away. “Bit of a mess Mr ‘ensworf”
offered Dave, more as an observation than anything of real meaning. “Yes, Agent
Woolfe, it has been a very bad week. We hope that you can apprehend the
perpetrator quickly and give us some small consolation for our considerable
loss.” “We’re doing our best, but to be honest this fire hasn’t helped. But
don’t worry as soon as we know anything, you will too”. “Before we go, do you
mind if we have a look at your van?”
“Help
yourself” offered Richard throwing Dave the keys. “Cheers” said Dave
appreciatively. Agent Woolfe had a look inside the van and then in the back.
Nothing untoward. No real evidence of chickens, eggs, or recent tracks in the
mud. This wasn’t the van that Alice Woolsey had heard. Dave handed back the
keys, thanked Richard for his cooperation and reminded him to ask Sophie
Benedict to get in touch when she was able.
Dave
and Brian then walked back to the car and headed back to town. “Don’t know
about you Brian, but I could really use a mint”. Brian dutifully pulled out the
small tin and passed a mint to Dave. “Don’t know about you, boss, but I could
really use the big tin right now” said Brian increasingly frustrated. “Calm
down, Brian, at the moment we don’t know who to shoot!”
Chapter 8 – Eggs-posed.
The agents close in.
Back
at CSA, Dave and Brian grabbed a beer and sat in front of the white board
piecing together the evidence and the clues so far. Moments later the phone
rang. “Hello, is that Dave Woolfe” said the voice at the other end. “Yeh, who’s
this?” said Dave a little gruffly. “Never mind who I am, do you want some intel
on the robbery?” (Intel is short for intelligence – not the good at maths and
reading kind, but the information kind). “I’m all ears” smiled Dave as he
flicked his Panama hat off by raising his ears up. “I think I saw what
happened.” “Have we spoken before?” asked Dave, “your voice is familiar?” “We
have met before, but I am nothing to do with the farm, if that’s what you’re
thinking”. Dave was puzzled, as this was not Sophie Benedict – this was a male
voice. The voice then went on to explain what he had seen. It was plausible and
accurate enough to convince Dave that this was not a time waster. “Thanks very
much” said Dave, “If I promise you witness protection, will you testify to what
you have just told me? The voice went quiet, but after a few moments… “alright,
but I can’t have anyone knowing that I’m a grass” (not the green stuff your
lawn is mad of but a nickname for a tell-tale-tit). “You have my word”
confirmed Dave.
“So
come on Dave, who was that?” asked Brian eagerly. “I think we have all the
pieces of the puzzle. That was Clive Crowe, who had been resting on the
farmhouse roof at the time and saw a chicken taking eggs to the edge of the
farm where the fence was cut”. “So, we have our robber then” proclaimed Brian
“Well not quite, he wasn’t able to identify which chicken. Although I have my
suspicions now” mused Dave. “Me too” Brian added “It also ties in with Frank
Fox’s story”.
“
I don’t think everyone has been telling us the whole truth, and of course, we
still have to speak with Sophie Benedict. Tomorrow Brian, I want you to speak
to the Hensworfs and tell them that we plan to have all the farm residents, the
Foxes and the Tumbles in the farmhouse at 3pm. I also want Sophie Benedict
there”. “Right Boss, I’ll get on to it first thing. We should also have the
forensic report by then too”
The
next day Brian met Dave at CSA around 10am, having managed to secure
cooperation of the Foghorn Farm Community and neighbours. “Everything in place
Brian?” “Yes boss, and I’ve also arranged for Clive to join anonymously by
video link through their TV with face and voice distortion”. At 2.30pm Dave and
Brian jumped in the Jag and headed to Foghorn Farm. “Turn on the radio, I just
want to relax for now.” As Brian tuned in to Radio 1, sure enough Lewis
Catpaldi’s number 1 was playing. “On second thoughts, turn it off”. At the
stroke of 3pm, the Jag pulled up outside the farmhouse. As they entered, there
was an eery silence, (apart from the Grandfather clock in the hall that rang
out, Dong! – Dong! –Dong!) which was amazing considering the number of animals
in the living room.
“Ladies
and gentlemen” began Dave. “I’ve gathered you here because Agent McClaw and are
very close to finding the thief, but we just want to check a few more facts
before we lift ‘em” (lifting is a police term for arrest rather than actually
lifting them up).
“So,
it is now becoming much clearer what happened the other night. Sharon Omlette
and the other chickens apart from Sophie Benedict were asleep in the chicken
coup. Sophie had chicken pox and was quarantined in the farmhouse, except that
Sophie doesn’t have chicken pox, do you Sophie?” Looking even redder than her
chicken pox spots, Sophie began to cry. “Sophie was seen taking a bag of eggs
towards the edge of the farm at about 3.30am.” Brian then switched on the TV,
and a voice came through confirming that someone matching Sophie’s description
was seen walking towards Frank Fox’s boundary with the farm.
“Sophie
was then seen giving the eggs to Frank Fox. Receiving stolen goods Frank – not
too clever. It was actually Frank’s van that you heard Alice not the farm van –
which hadn’t been driven recently. Frank went on to sell the eggs cheap (sorry)
to the Chinese Restaurant for a small profit” explained Dave presiding over
matters, a bit like a combination of Hercule Poirot and Columbo. (These are
famous detectives in other stories) “Isn’t that right Sophie?” accused Dave.
Sophie nodded and by this time was sobbing.
Dave
looked around the room, slowly and deliberately. “While these are the
undisputed facts, I’m still struggling to understand why. Why would Sophie go
to all the trouble to steal these eggs and give them to the rogue next door?,
questioned Dave, “what was to be gained? Was this a feud with the other
chickens, did she have anything to gain? It has been really puzzling me, that
is until the fire.” Dave then lent against the mantle piece positioning himself
for some further revelation.
“So
we have a thief and a fence (not like the one between the Hensworths and the Foxes but the one that
passes on stolen goods on the quiet), but what’s still missing is the why”. He
went on “After Sharon Omlette and the hens went to bed, Sophie entered the coop
around 2 am while everyone was asleep and applied a small amount of chloroform
to each of the chickens so she wouldn’t be heard. She then took the eggs and went
over to the fence, as we know. We also know that Frank was an obvious place to
offload the eggs because it would make sense for a known villain to be framed
for the crime. But I still struggle with the why? Who would gain from this? And
how did the fire start? Pete whispered to Penny “This is so exciting Pen”
“Please don’t interrupt Mr Bacon- I’m nearly at the climax!”
“When
I saw Mr Hensworf take rubbish to the outhouse, I realised that this was a
little odd when your eggs had been stolen. It wasn’t Mr Hensworth that started
the fire” There were sharp intakes of breath as many in the room – opened
mouthed, thought that Dave was about to reveal that Mrs H was the arsonist.
“Nor was it Mrs H. It had to be Sophie. She was the only one that had access to
a lighter from the kitchen and was able to act when the Hensworfs were
elsewhere”
“You’re
an evil chicken, Sophie” shouted Sharon “and after all the love and support we
have given you” added Mrs H. “Why, why?” she went on. “I’ll tell you why” said
Dave. Sophie was not acting alone and in fact was the accomplice rather than
the one hatching and orchestrating this plot – wasn’t she Mr Hensworth?” “Uh…uh”
Richard began to stutter and spread his feathers. “Let me finish” Dave insisted
“Richard had been jealous of Sebastian’s popularity with the chickens – as a
threat to his alpha male status (this is the law of the jungle where the number
one male gets to rule the roost) that he decided to undermine him by taking the
eggs, or rather conspiring with Sophie to steal them; and in return Sophie who
was blindly in love with you, was promised to become the new Mrs H. That fire
was intended for roast chicken, but Sophie wasn’t able to apply the chloroform
in time, and Mrs H. inadvertently escaped. It could have been murder. It was
Sophie’s choice to do your bidding, but it was your plan, your manipulation of
an innocent vulnerable chicken. Anything you want to add Richard?”
Richard
looked at Henrietta and whimpered, “I’m sorry darling. I didn’t mean it. She
was the one who manipulated me, I was an old fool and fell for her charms.” Sophie
sobbed even more, and Mrs H stood up and in a fit of pique (that’s very angry
by the way) screamed, “Save your breath Richard, I never want to speak to you
again. I hope that you get what you deserve – and that isn’t me or the support
of others on this farm that have worked for your loyally for years. I don’t
blame Sophie for being a stupid young chicken. I blame you”
“Brian,
call it in please” said Dave and within seconds the farm was surrounded by
police officers who then arrested Richard, Sophie and Frank. “I’m sorry Mrs H”
said Dave. “Oh, don’t be Agent Woolfe. If it hadn’t been for you and Agent
McClaw, it might have been much worse. Time for me to move on to the next
chapter in my life”
Dave nodded and with a brief wave to the gathered bid goodbye. “A good day’s work Brian” Dave philosophised, “But how did you work out it was Richard” Brian asked. “I had a hunch, laid a trap,
and
he fell right into it. I don’t know about you but I’m eggs-hausted and think we
deserve a stiff drink and a good feed”
The
Jag pulled away and headed into town, with Lewis Catpaldi blaring out.
The End
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