Inspector Hobbes and the Curse - a fast-paced comedy crime fantasy (unhuman) by Wilkie Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

the kids keep well
away from him.’
    ‘That’s
right,’ said Les. ‘The nippers can go where they like on the farm, except near
that old bugger’s place. It’s best for everyone. He’s not the easiest of
neighbours.’ He grinned. ‘Mind you, he might say the same about us when we hold
our festival.’
    Only
then did the recognition circuits in my brain connect. ‘I know you!’ I said, ‘I
saw you talking to that twerp on the telly last night before I set f …’ I
glanced at Hobbes. ‘That is … umm … before I … umm… set the table for my tea.’
    Bernie
took a bow. ‘That’s right. Me and Les are celebrities now. You can have our
autographs for a fiver.’
    I
smiled. ‘I’ll remember that when I’ve got one. I would like to see the festival
though. Unfortunately, I’m skint.’
    ‘Quiet,
Andy,’ said Hobbes. ‘We’re here on police business, if you remember?’
    ‘Sorry.’
I shut up.
    The
festival’s appeal was growing, though money would be a problem. Since losing my
job at the Bugle , I’d been unemployed, except for a disastrous two weeks
as stand-in waiter at the Black Dog Café. They gave me a uniform but the
trousers, being very much on the tight side, I’d had to wear them with caution
and much stomach sucking. Though the memory was as painful as the trouser
squeeze, by the end of the second week, I’d believed I was getting the hang of
things. Then, one busy lunchtime, came a moment of explosive release, a feeling
of freedom, which lasted until a lady started making a fuss about flies in her
soup. Since the teeth of my zip were grinning up from her bowl and my
predicament was obvious, there’d been no point in denying ownership. I hadn’t
regarded it as my fault but the manager, taking a different view, had sent me
on my way.
    I could perhaps have got another job since
then, but Hobbes seemed to need my help and, despite everything, I enjoyed
being out with him and Dregs. It was far more exciting than working as a not-very-good
journalist or as a waiter and, thanks entirely to Hobbes’s and Mrs Goodfellow’s
generosity, I lived better and healthier than ever before. I just wished I had
some money.
    Hobbes
and the farmers were now discussing the forthcoming event. ‘So,’ he said, ‘it’s
all happening over the last weekend in July? What’s your security like?’
    ‘It
should be fine,’ said Bernie. ‘It’s not as if we’re trying to compete with
Glastonbury or anything, we’re just getting in a bunch of local acts and the
Kung Fu club are willing to act as stewards. We were willing to pay normal
rates but the lady I spoke to didn’t want paying, so long as we allowed her to
keep any teeth she found.’
    Hobbes
nodded with a grin that almost made him look human. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I
think I know the lady.’
    Of
course he knew her. Mrs Goodfellow, besides looking after us and collecting
teeth, taught Kung Fu and gave instruction (as a result of a printing error) in
the marital arts.
    ‘It
sounds like you’ve got it sorted,’ said Hobbes, ‘but I think it would be a good
idea for me to be here, in an unofficial capacity. It’s not the big cat that
worries me so much as Henry Bishop’s short temper and shotgun.’
    Bernie
smiled. ‘I really don’t think it’s necessary but we’d be happy to have you
here.’
    ‘I’ll
want Andy and the dog with me, if that’s alright,’ said Hobbes.
    ‘Fine
by us, Inspector,’ Les said. ‘He’s a fine dog.’
    ‘We’ll
bring a tent,’ said Hobbes, ‘mingle with the crowd and I’ll keep myself
inconspicuous.’
    I
suppressed a grin. Hobbes in a crowd was about as inconspicuous as a gorilla in
the ballet. Still, he had solved my problem of how to get in, though he was not
a regular fairy godmother.
    ‘That’s
sorted then,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Will I know anyone taking
part?’
    ‘We’re
expecting No One You Ever Heard Of,’ said Les.
    ‘Excellent.
I read about the jig they did at