Chapter 11: The Arresting Truth
Now that the two detectives had a name to work with they hurried back to the Elf Centre to search the records for how to find the elf. That is never a simple task but in this case was complicated by the total disorder and pandemonium that was the records department.
Books, ledgers, files, papers, were scattered around haphazardly with no attempt at order. The place was a shambles. Joe stood looking around him in bewilderment and gave Tallin a look of total despair.
“What the...” he burst out.
“Ah don’t be saying it, please,” retorted the elf. “Sure you chose me as the best of a bad lot, didn’t ya?”
Joe couldn’t deny it. He had done just that. And just as well, probably. But that didn’t help now.
“Ok.” he said. “What do you suggest? Where do we start?”
“Ah now, we need the ledgers with the elves names, first off.”
The two hunted for ledgers titled “Elves” and, as they found them, made them into a pile on a table in the middle of the room.
Eventually they decided they’d got them all, and started looking for one with names beginning with H. Nothing. There wasn’t one.
“You sure we got them all?” Joe asked.
“Well, I don’t see another,” Tallin answered.
“Darn it. What’s the betting that the Inspector removed it before we got here.”
“Oh very probably, very probably. And you know what that means, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, skulking around in his office again.”
“Come on, then, good job we still have the Veiling we can use. There’s no saying if he’s around or not.”
They made themselves invisible once again and headed for the Inspector’s room as quietly as they could. Once there they found it empty. Totally. The desk was still there, but of the Inspector or any of his books, papers, or other paraphernalia there was no sign.
“Oh-oh. Looks like he’s done a bunk,” Joe whispered.
“It does indeed,” agreed Tallin. “Well would ya believe that!”
Joe believed it only too well. They should have expected it really. He was for the high jump in any case so probably thought he’d better jump before he was pushed.
“So, no ledger then.”
“No indeed.”
Anyone looking in would have been a little surprised to hear talking with no-one around but thankfully no-one looked in.
“I think we need help now,” suggested Tallin.
“I think you’re right, there,” agreed Joe.
With that settled they made their way back to Erin’s house. She should have been back from the games by now, if indeed she’d gone. They hadn’t noticed her anywhere.
Once in the beautiful house that Joe had first woken up in, at the start of this adventure, they had the obligatory cup of tea in the spacious kitchen presided over by Bridget and waited for Erin. Bridget had not gone to the games. She was human and would have stood out like a sore thumb in more ways than one. Far too tall for one thing. She didn’t have the dubious pleasure of shrinking at a moment’s notice, as Joe did. There was, therefore, nothing to discuss, so the two detectives let Bridget read her ever present book in peace. It wasn’t the same one, they noticed, as she’d been reading previously. This one was called, “The Wind in My Sails,” but from the picture on the front it had nothing to do with ships. Something romantic no doubt, Joe assumed, if the couple depicted were anything to go by.
Why Bridget, a human, came to be a housekeeper for Erin, who was half human and half elf, is something that Joe didn’t like to ask so never found out. He just kept his own thoughts to himself on that score and sipped his tea, though he was by now dying for a strong coffee.
Before too long though Erin came into the kitchen and sat down with a sigh and a plea for tea.
“Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” she said.
Joe and Tallin looked at her. “Would that be the games, Miss, or the fun we had after?” asked Tallin.
“Well both. I thought it all went very well. Did you catch your man?”
Joe sighed. “No, I’m afraid we lost him. He vanished, poof! Just like that.”
Erin beckoned them to follow her to her sitting room where they could talk privately. Not that Bridget wasn’t to be trusted, but it would be better not to involve her.
Once settled, Joe proceeded to explain that they’d found out his name, gone to the Elf Centre to find out more about him, including where to find him, and then how the ledger was missing, and so was the Inspector. He felt now there was little choice but to tell her all his suspicions, as it was bound to come out soon anyway, and he needed her help. He knew he could trust her to keep it to herself.
Erin settled back in her chair and nodded. “I thought it must be something of that sort,” she said. “Well now, what we need is to find a way of capturing Septimus Hayseed. Let me give it some thought.”
After some thinking and some more tea, she suggested asking the leprechauns to help again. “After all,” she said, “they found you, didn’t they? All the way over in New York.”
“That’s very true,” replied Joe, “Og may be a pain in the ass but he found me all right.”
Erin cleared her throat to remind Joe to watch his language. Joe blushed.
“Sorry ma’am, forgot where I was for a minute. Which is pretty surprising I suppose. Anyway, can you contact Og? It might be better coming from you. We really didn’t get on too well.”
Erin agreed and told Joe he’d best get some sleep now. It was getting late and he’d need to be rested in the morning if he had to deal with Og.
The following morning followed the usual routine. Joe woke in the ritzy bedroom, showered in the immaculate bathroom, dressed in the clean clothes ready and waiting, and went to the kitchen for some breakfast. It had never been questioned that Joe would stay in this amazing house and be looked after, presumably by the ever present and indomitable Bridget.
Joe reminded himself that he must thank her for all her ministrations before he went home. Not that he would have used the word ministrations. He’d never used it before and probably never would, having no idea what it meant.
By the time he’d had breakfast Tallin had arrived, and so had Og. They all retired to the sitting room once more where Erin was waiting.
Og agreed to get his leprechaun buddies on the job of finding this Septimus Hayseed. “How hard can it be?” he enquired of nobody in particular. “Sure we do this koind of thing all the toime.”
“Can I do anything to help?” Joe asked, hoping against hope that the answer would be no.
“Oh begorrah, don’t you be worrying yerself. We can manage just foin.”
Joe was relieved but tried not to show it.
“We’ll let you know when we’ve found him, and you can do the arrestin’. Ok?”
“That’s great, really great.Thanks.”
Joe and Tallin had time now to think about the inspector who had absconded with the ledger. Should they be looking for him or just let it go?
“I guess if we apprehend the suspect and bring him to justice, that’s our job done, right?”
“Right,” agreed Tallin.
“What will happen to him then?”
“Ah well now. That would normally be up to the likes of the Florendels to decide but as they’re in it up to their necks, well, it’s hard to say.”
Joe blew out his cheeks as he pondered this latest development. Talk about complications. Once again he saw that corruption happened everywhere, even here.
“Is there a hierarchy here, a top man - or woman, begging your pardon, Erin, - who would decide what to do?”
“Sure I wouldn’t know, Joe, this has never happened before. We never imagined such a thing. Murder, corruption, I don’t know, it’s a terrible thing. Terrible.”
“You’re right there, and I can see why I was involved. The inspector wanted a scapegoat, and others wanted it sorted.”
“You’re right, Joe,” said Tallin. “Sure and aren’t you the fella to fix it.”
Joe could have felt flattered at that but, instead, just felt a bit helpless.
Erin was leafing through some large books, looking for the answers to these new questions.
“I don’t suppose...”Tallin hesitantly murmured.
“What don’t you suppose?” Joe interrupted, suspiciously.
“Well, I was just thinking, as we don’t have an Inspector of Police now, and you being so ...”
He didn’t have to complete the sentence as Joe almost exploded.
“Oh no! Oooooh no. Don’t go thinkin’ any such thing.”
“What thing would that be, then?” Tallin asked. attempting to look innocent.
“I know what you’re thinkin’. It doesn’t take a mind reader to see what’s goin’ on in your head this time. I have a wife and a home to go back to. Somewhere. And I intend goin’ there as soon as possible,” he almost yelled.
“Ok, ok, I just wondered,” the elf said, crestfallen.
“I know. You didn’t think,” said Joe. “But it’s not on, ok? As much as I’ve grown used to your ways and all of you people, it’s not home. And you know what they say, East, West, Home’s Best.”
“Do they now? I haven’t heard that before. But it’s true enough.”
There was an exclamation at that point from Erin. She carried the book she had been delving through over to where the others were sitting, and sat down beside them.
“It seems that there is an old law which says that in matters which can’t be solved locally, the Elf King can be called upon to intervene,” she told them. “I think that this is one such case, wouldn’t you agree?”
They did agree, so Erin was prevailed upon to write a letter to the King explaining the situation and asking that he might bring his superior mind to bear upon it.
She used very flowery language, as befits such a letter, and made it just a little bit grovelling. Not too much, mind, she didn’t believe in grovelling really but they did need his help so it was worth a little bit. It’s what you do with royalty. They expect it. She also pointed out, as diplomatically as she could, that the whole of Elfdom would be so grateful and indeed, made aware of the importance of honesty and right living. In case they needed a reminder. And getting this sorted would raise the status of elves in the community.
She signed it with a flourish: Yours most humbly, Erin Halfelven.
Joe and Tallin were very impressed by the letter which Joe described as ‘real fancy’.
So, now all they had to do was wait for the leprechauns to find ‘the perp, that Hayseed guy’ and for the king to respond to their application for help.
Later in the day Og arrived, looking very pleased with himself.
“Haven’t we found him,” he announced grandly. “Sure Oi knew we would! We have him pinned down in his home, surrounded. So if you just come along with me, you can arrest him.”
Joe and his elf policeman friend wasted no time in doing just that. They got to the cottage of the suspect and walked boldly in. They had no fear that he would attack them in any way and indeed he didn’t. Elves don’t carry handcuffs of course, but they found a length of twine in his kitchen, and bound his arms to his body. They then persuaded a nearby spider to spin its sticky silk around and around him until he had no chance of wriggling free, and marched him outside.
A huge roar of excitement went up from the leprechauns at the sight of an elf trussed up that way. Most of the little people get along ok, except for the goblins of course, but it’s always a little bit pleasing to see someone caught for wrongdoing, especially if it’s not one of your own kind.
The ‘perp’ was taken to the Elf Centre and locked in a cell there. He couldn’t escape and magic wouldn’t have helped either, as there was a spell placed on it to prevent such a thing. It wasn’t normally necessary but on this occasion seemed the wisest thing to do. Joe just hoped the elves would remember to feed him. They weren’t the most organised of what might be termed policemen, for want of a better word, and possibly would forget about him. He was fairly certain that it would just be that and not malice, if the guy starved.
Back at Erin’s home Joe relaxed and enjoyed a good meal. Now he could sit back, or so he assumed, and await the King’s decision.
*****
In the glitzy home of the Florendels, if any woodland elven home can be considered glitzy, things were not going well. Idris Florendel paced the floor wringing his hands. The plan his ex-wife had come up with to make sure her son won his race had worked of course, up to a point, but that wretched gnome had really messed it up by dying that way, he thought. Most inconvenient. And now he had his ex-wife insisting he sort it out, his present wife insisting he keep out of it, and the Elf Inspector on the run with the evidence. Why couldn’t life just be simple?
As he was contemplating his dilemma a message came by pigeon post. It was from the Elf King, asking for an explanation and suggested that he do something to sort this out before he brought disgrace on the whole elf kingdom.
Idris sighed. He didn’t see immediately what could be done. After all, the boy himself was in no trouble, he’d had no idea what his mother had done. The woman, Idris’s ex-wife, would be seen as guilty of course for coming up with the idea in the first place. The main culprit was this Hayseed character, the one who administered the stuff. And of course the Inspector, who had run away, which only made things look worse.
Florendel sighed. Why to goodness did he have to be connected with that accursed woman. It meant nothing that he now had a different wife. Family is family and they had their good name to consider. It was her wretched vanity and desire for fame and glory for her son that had done this. And now look at the mess they were in!
He didn’t for one minute consider that his collusion in persuading the Inspector to hide the evidence of how the gnome died could be important. That sort of person never imagines that they can do wrong. They seem to imagine they stand above the law. But this was to be put to the test before long. He was to find out just how important he was. Or wasn’t.
*****
The King of the Elves, Elrond the third, was not a king in the human sense. It was not a hereditary position, despite the name. When a king was chosen, by popular consent, he decided upon a name which he felt befitted his character. This one was simply the third king who had chosen the name Elrond. Elf kings did not lead their people into wars, or preside over some form of government. Those are very human inventions.
He was the top man, however, acting as a judge when necessary, and he had his queen of course, Melisandra, who ruled beside him. They were worthy of their positions in Elfdom, being honest and fair in their judgements, generous and kindly to all.
This shameful event had disturbed them greatly. The Lunasadh Games were an ancient Celtic tradition, never before subjected to cheating and dishonour, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, in the Faery realms at least. It had to be dealt with, and speedily, to bring about the peace of Faery once more. The different species, apart from the goblins, mostly lived in peace and harmony and now there was suspicion and mistrust threatening that harmony, which must be restored. And of course the widow of the gnome who had died must be recompensed in some way.
That would depend to some degree on where the blame for his death lay. It may have been unavoidable, in which case the original plotters would be responsible. But if the gnome had brought it about by his own actions then he must bear at least some of the responsibility.
The king pondered these things and decided he must talk to the human detective at the soonest opportunity. Not that he thought humans more honest or trustworthy than the little people, far from it, but the man’s evidence must be heard and taken into account at the very least. It was only right and proper procedure.
*****
So it was that, the day after the games, Joe received a message by pigeon post and opened it with some trepidation. He was surprised to see that it was from the king of the elves, requesting him to attend at his earliest convenience. A request from a king was the same as a demand from anyone else, he assumed, so he quickly made himself presentable and asked the way to the king’s palace, presuming that he lived in a palace, if not a castle.
Erin explained that a small palace was indeed the home of the king, and gave him general directions. Joe didn’t think he should take Tallin with him as he wasn’t invited but agreed to be accompanied as far as the outer walls of the palace and see how things went.
Once again Joe was determined to get there on his own two feet. All that whizzing about magically was too much for him and he wanted to just enjoy the walk, seeing as he didn’t expect to be here much longer. So the two of them set off in the direction that Erin had shown them, taking their time.
It was a rather nerve-wracking thing to be doing, visiting a king, when all’s said and done. In Joe’s mind it was like being told to appear before the president with no real idea of what for.
The path they took led them through the village of the brownies, so they stopped to ask a brownie by the roadside if they were on the right track. They didn’t want to say exactly where they were going, so made it a more general enquiry.
“Hi there, would you know the way to Castletown, sir?”
The brownie scratched his head. “Castletown you say? Hmm. I don’t think so.”
“Ok, thanks anyway,” Joe replied, and turned to move on.
“Hold on now,” said the brownie, “Don’t be in going off in such a hurry.’
Joe stopped and turned back to the brownie. Maybe he could help after all.
The brownie cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Would you be wanting to go to Ballyboggan?” he asked.
“Why, is that near Castletown?” asked Joe.
“Hmm I wouldn’t be knowing that. No, I couldn’t say.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Ah well, I know the way to Ballyboggan,” the brownie assured him.
“Well, that’s great but doesn’t help us much.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Ballyboggan?”
Joe sighed. “No, quite sure, but thanks anyway.”
“Oh, that’s a real shame, so it is.”
“Yeah, a real shame,” agreed the detective.
“It’s very nice in Ballyboggan,” the brownie continued. “Really. Are you certain you wouldn’t want to go there?”
“Absolutely positive,” Joe assured him thought gritted teeth. “Though I’m sure it’s very nice.”
And with that Joe and Tallin continued along the road, glad to get away and just hoping that they were heading in the right direction.
Further along the road they met a gnome, resting on the roadside.
Joe cleared his throat and asked, “Excuse me sir, are we on the right road for Castletown?”
The gnome looked up. “Castletown you say? Would that be anywhere near Badgers Bottom?”
Joe looked at Tallin, wondering if this was going to be another prolonged discussion. “What do you reckon?” he asked the elf.
Tallin paused, scratched his head, hmm’d a bit then said, “D’you know, I believe it is. In the same general direction anyway.”
“In that case,” said the gnome, “You are indeed going the right way. Keep on as you are, there’ll be a signpost at some point. There always is.”
The two thanked the gnome and walked a bit further before Tallin spoke again. “Sure I hope he’s right,” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen many signposts around at all!”
Joe made a hummph kind of sound but said nothing. What would be, would be.
“Is there really a place called Badgers Bottom?” he asked the elf. “It sounds darned unlikely to me.”
Tallin giggled. “Ah well now, to be totally accurate it’s called Badger’s End but, what with the humans hereabout seeming determined to do away with the poor creatures, the faery folk around here don’t like to think of the end of them, so they call it Badgers Bottom instead. And it amuses them.”
“I see,” said Joe. Though he wasn’t too sure he did see.
They carried on walking. The road seem interminable. It stretched on and on, between hedges and flower strewn verges, with the occasional bend and twist to break the monotony. There were no dwellings along the road, just fields on either side growing various crops or inhabited by cows, sheep, or horses.
Birds could be heard in the tree tops and insects buzzed and chittered in the long grass of the verges. It would have been a very pleasant walk had it not been for the uncertainty of what would happen when they reached their destination.
The day was hot and sunny, with little in the way of shade apart from an occasional tree overhanging the road. The pair hadn’t thought to bring anything to drink so they were becoming more and more thirsty as they walked.
After a little while they saw a small inn on the roadside and decided that a drink would be in order. After all, they wanted to be able to talk when they eventually met the king and with mouths this dry it would be almost impossible.
The inn was cool and dark inside and two small cold beers were ordered, paid for, received and drunk most appreciatively. Joe did wonder about the whole business of buildings and people and size and visibility but on the whole he’d stopped asking about such things. The explanations were beyond him anyway.
After the one drink Joe dragged Tallin away from the inn, determined to make as good an impression as possible at the palace. And so they continued on down the road.