"I don't believe in love." Redeye said over a
glass of Sherry and rhubarb pie. He stirred the gooey pie on the plate before
him, shaping it thoughtfully as he sipped occasionally from his crystal
Merryweather Glass, imported from Gloucester.
Chittles eyed him sternly. "You've been in love more
times than grass grows in the Spring."
"We have no grass." Redeye replied frothily, a
touch of rhubarb on his nose.
Chittles pointed to his own nose.
Redeye grabbed his napkin and swabbed at Chittle's nose.
"Not mine, you idiot! Yours!"
"Oh." Chittles responded weakly, then dabbed the
pie from the tip of his beaky nose.
Chittles reached towards the center of the short dining
table they use when it was just them and moved his pawn forward diagonally
opposite Redeye's queen.
"That's unusual." Redeye noted.
"Checkmate."
"Hardly." Redeye replied, moving his Queen
diagonally until it was directly in line with Chittles' King, who had no exit
in any direction but towards the King.
"Good move."
"I rather think so." Redeye said, squinting at his
pie.
"What's with the pie search?" Chittles demanded,
his temper rising as he felt more and more ignored by his good friend and
detective companion.
"It resembles the kidneys that were taken from Lord
Peterbrooke's body and placed on his wife's boudoir."
Chittles had been raising his own pie to his mouth,
grimaced, then placed his pie back on its plate, and shoved it away.
"You know how to ruin everything."
"I'm an expert at it, you know."
"Do I ever." Chittles replied.
"No, not that, this."
Redeye shoved his plate closer to Chittles to see. Chittles
stopped fuming and his eyes widened.
"I'll get the car!"
"Righto!" Redeye replied. "I'll get the
guns."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They met out front of the rather sumptuous two story
Elizabethan Mansion that Redeye maintained with the wealth of his inheritance
from his late father, Lord Redeye of Thumberland. The Tesla made a light
purring sound as its electric engine sucked in the purple and blue energies of
the Tesla battery.
Redeye hopped into the front seat next to Chittles, who
floored the power pedal, and sent them squealing off into the center of the
road, leaving a smoking trail of rubber behind them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lady Peterbrooke sat on her fan porch, where twin fans,
mounted with Tesla engines purred quietly, keeping the air stirred above
her Pompidou hairdo, which was the rage
of Parisian ladies at that time. She sipped at a glass of lemonade that her
maid had just placed on the antique Edwardian foot table with its ornate King
and Queen legs with raised gold bars. The leggings of the porch railings were
also embossed with gold leafs and roses of a ruby gold metal, creating an
artificial look of a garden bordering her porch and enclosing it in a warmth of
nature.
In a neatly embroidered bag hanging from the side of her
chair were darning needles and yarn of a colorful nature. Several of the
needles seemed a bit rusty.
She eyed the New London Brazier, a rather radical newspaper
that demanded freedom for women, and was co-sponsored by Lady Shareen, the fiancée
of Lord Graystone, also known as the Jungle Lord. She gave herself permission
to hold the paper lightly on her lap, where a gold chemise napkin laid lightly
to catch any crumbs or liquid that might decide to play there.
She looked at the picture of a man standing next to Lord
Graystone, which was the trademark logo of the paper. Man and woman united in
power. Equal in abilities. It was New Age according to all the occultists and a
sign of the coming of the New Christ who would lift up the masses and bring
them on the golden trail to Heaven, where they would all live forever and ever
with their accumulated wealth and power.
She thrilled at that prospect. Her late husband had as well
before he...
"Lady Peterbrooke, there are two gentlemen here to see
you." Maid Margaret's said to her from the screened door, her form
invisible behind it.
"Oh?"
"Lord Thumberland's son and Chittles, I believe his
name was or is, I should say. Rather remarkable men too. Very strange, but
different. Shall I bring them to you?"
Lady Peterbrooke rose carefully and set the paper and her
lemonade down. "Please do. But ask them to wait five minutes for me to
freshen before they come back here."
"Yes, Madam." Maid Margaret replied.
But instead of preparing herself as she had promised and
indicated, Lady Peterbrooke did a very remarkable thing. She hiked her bloomers
so that her stockinged legs were visible and leaped the porch railing and ran
as nimbly as a rabbit for the backyard fence, where there was a ladder against
it. She reached the ladder, and began rapidly climbing it.
As she reached the top, an ugly, grinning face smiled into
her startled one.
Chittles touched his hat in a gentlemanly fashion.
"Good day to you, Lady Peterbrooke. I have the pleasure of escorting you
to your new home."
She looked down and saw Redeye standing next to a gentleman
with a severe scowl on his face.
He turned to Redeye. "Exactly as you indicated she
would be and do."
Redeye nodded, as Chittles helped Lady Peterbrooke down the
ladder on the other side of the wall, then guided her to the back of a
constable wagon, where Constable Evans touched his cap, then gently, but firmly
escorted her into the back, and placed handcuffs on her.
"But what I don't understand is how you determined she
would flee like this?"
"Rhubarb pie. You see." Redeye leaned close to the
Inspector and smiled. "When we found her husband, as she claims he had
been discovered, his kidneys and intestines had been wrapped about each other
like a slice of pie ready to be eaten."
Inspector Bloodstone made a face like he was going to be
sick, then stiffened. "I see. But how does this relate to the death?"
Chittles explained. "In order to wrap the intestines
and kidneys about each other, one would need the correct kind of darning tools.
And..."
Redeye finished. "Lady Peterbrooke is the only one
within fifty square kilometers of London that has such tools." He held up
her darning bag, and thrust out the needles with the rusty stains on them.
"I think once we put these stains under the proper eyes, we will discover
Lord Peterbrooke's kidneys..."
"And intestines..."
"On them." Redeye finished.
"Thus." Chittles went on. "Redeye's rhubarb
pie and Lord Peterbrooke's kidneys and intestines neatly wrapped up the
case."
This was the final tipping point for Inspector Bloodstone.
He rushed to the street and heaved his guts. After a few
more moments of emptying his late breakfast, he turned to them. "Excuse my
poor manners, but I didn't eat too well earlier."
"What did you have?" Redeye inquired.
"Rhubarb Pie."
