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liked to unravel. Mr. Christian had been murdered along with his wife eighteen
months earlier in Andersen s Wood, a large forest to the west ofReading . The
only possible motive was connected to the substantial amount of cash that had
been found at their humble dwelling on the edge of the forest. Mr. Christian
was a poor woodcutter, yet close to seven thousand pounds was found in their
house, and no clue as to how they came by it. Friedland, in a typical display
of bravado, had uncovered a sinuous trail of money laundering that led from
East Malvonia and involved several hitherto unheard-of and only marginally
plausible secret societies and ended up implicating theVatican . During a
daring raid on an address in Cleethorpes, the two prime suspects were killed
and a large quantity of arms and cash recovered. The investigation was so
complex that it had to be published as an annotated two-parter inAmazing Crime
Stories . The only survivor of the raid confessed a few weeks later and was
currently doing time in Reading Gaol.
 This gun was used to kill the Christians?
 No, this gunbelonged to the woodcutter. I can tell you if it was the one
used to kill them by comparing the two spent cartridges they found at the
scene. Who had it?
 Humpty Dumpty.
 As in  sat on a wall ?
 No, as in  had a great fall. He was found dead this morning.
 Ah, replied Skinner knowingly.  I thought murdered woodcutters were NCD
jurisdiction?
 Friedland insisted they werereal woodcutters, and Briggs agreed with him. As
it turned out, he was right. Thanks, Skinner, you ve been a lot of help.
Jack walked back into the station, stepped into the lift and pressed the
button to go down to the basement. The lift, however, was already programmed
to go up, so he went on an excursion to the seventh floor. The shotgun puzzled
him. Humpty was undeniably shady, but he d never beenviolent.
The lift stopped at the sixth floor, where Jack s least favorite person at
Reading Central walked in: Friedland Chymes. They had once been partners
together at the NCD until Friedland thought it was beneath him and jumped into
the fast lane of the Guild of Detectives on the back of two cases that were
more to do with Spratt. It had been Jack and Wilmot Snaarb who caught the
Gingerbreadman that night, not Friedland, as he liked to claim. So it was no
surprise that they didn t even look at each other. Friedland pressed the
first-floor button and then stared at the indicator lights above the door.
After a twenty-year enmity, the best either of them could manage was a
single-word greeting.
 Jack.
 Friedland.
But, Friedland being Friedland, he couldn t resist a small dig.
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 I knew the pigs would walk, old sport, he said loftily.  I didn t think the
premeditation argument solid enough.
 Itwas solid, retorted Jack.  The defense had the jury loaded with other
pigs. I wanted a wolf in the box, but you know how busy they are.
 You can t play the speciesist card every time you lose a case, Jack.
They were silent for a moment as the lift passed the fourth floor.
 I understand you ve applied to join the Guild, remarked Chymes with a small
and patronizing chuckle.
 Any officer canapply, Friedland.
 No need to get defensive, old boy.
 I m not getting defensive.
 What will be your figurehead case? Finding sheep for Bo-peep? A failed
conviction of three pigs?
 I ll think of something.
 Of course you will. I hear Humpty took a nosedive. Suicide?
 It s early days, replied Jack quickly, not wanting to relinquish any
details, no matter how trivial.
 Humpty& wall& suicide& murder, muttered Chymes thoughtfully.  Sounds like it
could be a corker. Want me to take over?
 No.
 I ll swap it for a strangling over in Arborfield.
 I said no, Friedland.
 Okay, the strangling in Arborfieldplus a botulism poisoning by a vicar with
potential sexual intrigue thrown in. Proper stuff, Jack. None of your dozy
nurseries.
 The answer s still no. You couldn t wait to get out of the NCD. Where were
the offers of help when Mr. Punch was beating his wife? What about Bluebeard?
I could have done with some assistancethen. 
 Listen, said Chymes as the friendly horse-trading banter vanished abruptly,
 let s cut the crap. I want this investigation and Iwill have it.
 Which part of  no don t you understand?
 Is that your final word?
 You don t want to hear my final word.
 Well, said Chymes with a condescending smile,  I hope you won t regret your
decision.
The lift stopped at the first floor. Friedland walked out, turned to Jack and
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said,  Just a spot of advice from an old soldier don t build the case up. Word
in the station says they should have left some room in Mr. Wolff s coffin for
the NCD.
He started to walk away, but Jack wasn t done.
 I found the woodcutter s shotgun, he said in a low voice.  I want to check
to see if it was the murder weapon in the woodcutter case.
Friedland halted abruptly, pressed the  door-hold button and stared at Jack.
 I don t think that s very likely. Haven t you read the write-up inAmazing
Crime ? It was theKiev mafia trying to muscle in on theReading drug trade via
Cleethorpes with the help of several all-powerful and unfeasibly ancient
secret societies. It s a done deal, Jack Max Zotkin is doing time as we
speak.
Jack was unfazed.  Even so, I d like to check. Do you have the cartridges
from the murder scene? Skinner can check them against the gun we found.
Chymes stared at him for a moment, then appeared to soften.  I ll have them
sent down. Good-bye, Jack.
The doors slid shut. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly,
he remembered why he had never really wanted to be in the Guild.
9. Back at the office
van Dumpty, Humperdinck (Humpty) Jehoshaphat Aloysius Stuyvesant.Businessman, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]