They Made Their Mark: Chapter 5

The telephone on Fatty's desk gave a sudden ring and Fatty went over to answer it. Larry couldn't help hearing snippets of his conversation with the caller. "...On the Heath at nine... fate... knife to belly... I'll handle..." Fatty put down the receiver and swung round in the swivel chair to face Larry.

"You didn't hear too much of that conversation, did you, Larry? Some rather sensitive messages find their way into this office."

Larry felt a little embarrassed and made an involuntary movement with his hand as if brushing away anything he'd heard.

"Well, just a couple of words, Fatty. Don't worry, I'll cast them from my mind."

"Sorry, I should have been more careful – did you hear the gist.. any particular words?"

Well... yes I did, Fatty... I heard you mention a heath, and I think nine o'clock linked up with fate and a knife to someone's belly, but I'm sure it's none of my business."

Fatty took a paper from a lower drawer and beckoned. "Hope you don't mind Larry, but I'll have to get you to sign this Government form purely for legal purposes. If a court case comes up you can account for your status as an utterly innocent bystander who accidentally overheard classified data."

Larry hesitated, then said, "Yeah, sure, Fatty. Sorry, I guess I should have blocked my ears or something. I didn't realize quite what a nerve-centre this place must be."

Fatty opened the lid of an inked stamp-pad and said, "I'll also have to get you to place your right index finger on the pad and then press it down on the bottom of the form."

"Finger-print as well, eh?" Larry got up and, holding his pen, he approached the desk and went to place his finger on the pad but Fatty stopped him,

"Better read the form first, Larry, so that you understand what it's all about."

Larry picked up the paper. It was blank. Feeling puzzled he looked across at Fatty, who had his head down as if reading something. Larry noticed his shoulders were shaking slightly and he felt even more puzzled. He swung him around and received a shock – Fatty had collapsed into helpless laughter and was almost falling out of his chair.

"Fatty, what is it?" asked Larry looking at him with such concern that Fatty laughed even more loudly. He got up and slapped his friend on the shoulder,

"I needed that. Nothing like a good guffaw over the Law."

"FATTY! WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Fatty wiped his eyes and resumed his seat. "Honestly, when I saw that look on your face," he began to laugh again. "Oh my!" He subsided and looked at Larry,

"Sorry, old thing, I just felt like a laugh – they say it's good for you. The person I was talking to is the Pastor over at Chapel Road. They're holding a fete on the Heath at nine o'clock next Sunday week and I'm donating a very collectible Italian crafted knife that I picked up some years ago. The pastor's assistant is Billy... are you following the thread?"

Larry ran the words over in his mind, "Heath at nine... knife to Belly... Billy... I'll..." He jumped up and hit Fatty with a cushion from the couch. "YOU'RE IN– YOU'RE IN–" He leaned over and pushed down the intercom button. "DOT! You're absolutely right. He's INCORRIGIBLE!"

A peal of laughter came from Reception and they heard Dot's voice through the office door, "What's he been up to now? I warned you didn't I?" followed by more laughter.

"Honestly, Fatty... you're the absolute limit! How did your mother put up with you all those years?"

Fatty stood up and struck a pose very similar to that of their poet friend Ern Goon:

"She didn't, pore woman,
though she loved me to bits,
but seriously, Larry,
I had her in fits"

Larry began to laugh as he thought of himself getting ready to ink his finger. "Legal Reasons. Government form. Fatty, you're a total rascal. I hate to think what poor Dot goes through if this is the way you..."

They both had another good laugh as the intercom pinged. "Is Mr. Larry all right in there, or does he need me?" Dot enquired.

"No Madam – we're in the midst of Happy-Hour at present and it's totally stag. I'll explain to you later why there's a slight degree of merriment in here."

"Oh! Hoity-Toity!" Dot went off air.

Larry looked over at Fatty. "That was clever – typical of Fred Algernon. I'd forgotten your sick sense of humour Fatty, so thanks for the re-introduction and I might add that compared to any normal office, yours seems to be a real fun place."

"Larry, you're a good sport – I needed a laugh because it's very... thera-something or other."

"Therapeutic!" suggested Larry.

"I know the word – just testing you. RIGHT, now where were we at?"

Larry sat up and looked at his pad. "Holland. What happened to Mr. Holland of Harry's Folly? I think he had a garage or something over in Marlow if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, said Fatty. "His legitimate businesses were on the point of collapse just before the place in Bourne Wood was raided because they were fronts for his illegal goings-on. He had another smaller garage in Danesfield and advertised quite extensively making all kinds of claims such as "Quality Service" and "Genuine Parts Used" and his prices were lower than the competitors. He wanted plenty of patronage because many of the parts he used to beef up the stolen cars came off those clients' vehicles which were brought in for servicing."

"Cool customer," remarked Larry.

"Very cool. He'd remove items to order and replace them with old ones that might break down a few weeks later, and in many cases the cars would be brought back to his place for servicing again with the owners not having the faintest idea that the cause of the trouble was the inferior part. Very few people know what has been taken out and replaced when they reclaim their car after a service, but a couple of complaints had come in and they were the precursor of a serious look at the garages and the maintenance offered."

Larry interjected with, "The beginning of the fall."

"Exactly," replied Fatty. "He'd been making good money from that angle as well as from his car-stealing racket and very few of his workers were versed as to what their boss was doing because the foreman, Williams, made sure they were kept at arm's length. Holland and Kenton both drew nine year stretches, Williams got five and the lesser minions got their due as well. Holland and his crowd were a couple of classes above the normal Peterswood riff-raff and they'd been in the racket for about eighteen months before the Find-Outers nailed them. Incidentally Larry, Holland's aunt claimed no knowledge of her nephew's misdeeds."

"Really? I'd wonder about that, wouldn't you? Why did the two ring-leaders get such long sentences, Fatty?"

"They'd been busted before and their records demanded it."

"So they're out now."

Yes. Last I heard of Mr. Holland was that he was somewhere in Chelmsford and no doubt the police are keeping a close eye on him, or else on the Essex car-count."

"Yes, indeed. Fatty, it's an education to learn about the various crooks that we ran to earth and it's surprising to look back and realise how young we were and yet we were able to come out ahead of the Official Force every time."

"Yeah, well... it was the Official Force in name, but when you consider what it was made up of, perhaps it's not all that surprising we were so successful. After all, you had me with you."

"I'm not allowing that one, Fatty!"

"Sorry, I'll rescind!"

"Thank you sir. Now, going back to Dick Whittington – I want to know what happened to Pippin... P.C. Pippin."

"He's over in the white waters and getting on just fine."

"Wendover?"

"Yes. He was promoted when he handled another case a short while after the Little Theatre affair and there's no doubt about it, Pippin is advancing in his chosen career."

"That's interesting, Fatty. I didn't think he was all that wonderful when we worked with him although you had more contact and a little more perception, I suppose."

"Well, I felt a bit the same, but he uses his brains, and he loves his job and, as you probably know, an attitude like that means you can't help but be an achiever."

"Yes. You know, Fatty, it's quite extraordinary that you were only a lad when we met first Pippin and yet you've probably got more experience than him now – having worked at Scotland Yard, and you're already a boss with your own business."

"We all have different hopes and motivations, Larry. Some people like sticking to a certain field of employment and are quite happy to carry on, do their level best, and hope to rise further in their confines. Pippin is doing that and doing it very well. He's a good, all round policeman, but he's got a boy now so he's enjoying being a family man while the child's young. In my particular case I did the groundwork and then followed a path I've always known I was going to take. It's a big advantage to know that because all your energy can be used from a very early age to achieve the goal which is like a tiny spark in the centre of your forehead. You aim for it and keep heading forward until you meet it dead centre instead of detouring and taking up something which may be related yet isn't right inside the spark itself. I gained knowledge which related directly to my goal and I specialized. Pippin isn't taking that route – he's doing what he wants to do at present and I believe that once his family is established a little more he'll move into detecting and progress that way. He's careful though and I think he knows that when you've been in a certain job for a time, branching out without taking everything into consideration involves risk – even if it's related work."

"I think you're right, Fatty. In my case if I branch out into writing for myself it'll entail a degree of risk but I'm fortunate in that I can take that risk and still hold on as long as I like to the safety of my current employment. Pippin's another person I'd like to visit sometime, and now I want to ask you about somebody we didn't know all that well but she was a suspect in one of our early investigations and after that, I want to know about someone who's much closer to us. Feel like using you powers to figure out who and who?"

"Larry, I'm receiving messages from beyond... the crystal is brightening. Yes, I see Mrs. Moon, and I also see Mr. Goon's nephews."

Larry sprang out of his chair and made for the door. "I'm off! You're scaring me silly with your supernatural stuff." He returned and sat down again with a broad grin. "How did you perform that one, Fatty?"

Fatty chuckled, "Larry, you said she. What females were in our early investigations?"

Larry thought for a moment, and saw the light. "You make it seem so easy, Fatty. Minestrone... Minnie... I'm associating... Minn. Yes, Mrs. Minns and there was Miggle and, well, Harmer, and Mrs. Jolly and a few others."

"Yes, I ran them through as well but I thought that Mrs. Moon would be more prominent in your mind because she was, of course, a major player."

"O.K. Fatty, you're right but how did you get Ern? You could make a fortune on the stage with this talent of yours – incidentally, are you still into disguising yourself?"

"You bet, Larry. Think of the part disguises played when we solved our mysteries. I'm still into it – not only because it can help with my work, but also because I enjoy being able, for example, to sit in a bus dressed as a woman and strike up a conversation with another female. There's often a completely different angle of view on a subject when discussed between women as opposed to a man and a woman. I almost gave Dot a heart attack once when I disguised myself as a policeman and entered the foyer demanding one – Frederick Trotteville because he was wanted for a burglary. I spent a very entertaining five minutes arguing the toss with my loyal secretary who defended me to the death."

Larry chuckled. "Golly, I wish I could have been a fly on the wall."

"You'd have enjoyed it. She went on and on about how I was a trusted citizen of Peterswood and the so-called evidence the policeman held must have been forged. She asked what the actual crime was and I went on with a spiel about how the Trotteville chap had robbed such-and-such an address. That was the clue and she then pulled off my helmet and threw it across the room, emptied a glass of water over me, sat down, and laughed her head off!"

"The incorrigible Mr. T! What gave her the clue, Fatty?"

"The address I quoted was her own, and as she hadn't been burgled or anything she looked closely at my visage. Dot's a very intelligent and observant woman and I wasn't sure I'd be able to carry it off. When she inspected me minutely I was a goner."

"Yes, she knows you well of course. I don't think I could ever get away with disguising myself and confronting someone I knew – even slightly. Ern! How did you figure I was thinking of him?"

"Earlier on I mentioned two names – Pip and Ern and because of your association tendencies I thought it possible that you might pick them but the question was – which would be first? Well, we both know what Pip ended up doing so I felt that Ern might be the choice. You'll notice I said might and that's because I simply made another educated guess, Larry."

"You're just a clever Dick. O.K. – you're right. Mrs. Moon – I know she went to jail but then what?"

"Mrs. Moon never went to jail, Larry."

"Yes she did, because if you cast your mind back you'll remember Jenks – Inspector Jenks, and Goon taking her away with them after you'd explained all the aspects of the mystery."

"Of course, Larry. O.K., she spent a night in the clink but then she was taken out and assessed. She wasn't considered dangerous and a special court hearing delved into her past life and brought up all kinds of information concerning her mental state. Like a lot of those who condemn others anonymously, she felt inadequate and not as important as she felt she should be. Writing nasty letters to people and pointing out their faults gave her a warped sense of superiority which, unfortunately for her, didn't last very long so she kept on writing them. It was a crime that in her case drew a recommendation of mercy because one or two of her relatives actually came along and said some good words about her. Mrs. Moon was remanded to a hostel where she was kept under supervision for six months and then released on the understanding that she must be extremely careful never to offend again, and the feelings all round were that she wouldn't. Incarceration is not kind to a personality such as Mrs. Moon's and she came out a broken woman with nowhere to go – but then a little luck came her way."

Fatty had a good audience and Larry who was drinking in every word asked,

"How's that, Fatty."

"Winnie... Mrs. Moon, has a sister – Margaret Moggs, or Maggie as she is known, who became a widow around that time. She and Mrs. Moon had fallen out with each other some years before but Maggie approached her when she was freed and offered bed and board at her little cottage."

"Convenient for Mrs. Moon, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was but it was also convenient for Maggie."

"Why, Fatty?"

"Well, an arrangement was made – Mrs. Moon wasn't able to continue working in homes as she had before so the deal was that she'd do the general housework for her sister and also cook the meals. Maggie worked a few days per week and wanted a little help round the place but the bonus for her was the food angle – now think back..."

"I'm thinking and I know exactly what you're on about, Fatty. Cooking! Mrs. Moon was a brilliant cook."

"You hit the nail, Larry. Remember those delicious meals she prepared when we were around at Red House for lunch or for the odd evening meal. Makes me hungry just thinking about them."

"Scrumptious they were, Fatty. I remember having an early tea with Pip one evening before we went to a movie and it was – let me think... belly of pork. Now that's a comparatively cheap dish but in Mrs. Moon's hands it was almost fit for Royalty. Any normal cook would just roast it up and serve it with the usual spuds and cabbage and if you were lucky the meat wouldn't be tough but the stuff we had not only melted-in-the-mouth but all the trimmings accompanied it. Every plateful of Moon-cooking is tailored individually – the few drops of lemon juice, the sprig of parsley or rosemary... all placed neatly amongst the meat and veggies. Her cooking's a work of art."

"Larry, Mrs. Moon could have filled any position in a West-End hotel and worked her way up in a very short time to be senior cook if it wasn't for her personality and the other problems she endured. She wouldn't have been able to relate with other kitchen staff which is a pity because her talents were so wasted. She felt inadequate and inferior but, in the preparation of food she excelled, so you can understand how her sister received a decided advantage when Winnie came to stay. From that day on, Maggie would come home to a clean house and gourmet meals. I heard they are getting on quite well together so whatever feud they had must have evaporated over the years."

"Yeah! Fatty – are they in Peterswood?"

"Out Bovingdon way but Maggie works near here."

"I see. Fatty, do you go out for lunch or stop in?"

"Sometimes in, sometimes out, and sometimes I bring it. Are you very hungry?"

"Not all that much but perhaps we could nip out for a snack a little later."

"We'll go to The Rendezvous. Excellent food there for the likes of us – your Gazette gave it the best Restaurant and Takeaway award last year."

"Did it now? That's the place with the green tiles underneath the window isn't it?"

"That's right." Fatty spoke into the intercom. "Dot, when are you away?"

Larry heard her voice, "Twelve, if that's all right, Mr. T. I'm meeting a friend at The Rendezvous."

Fatty turned to Larry. "See, it's popular." He spoke to Dot again. "O.K., we'll wait for you to get back – we're going there too."

"I'll tell Eddie to start preparing a side of beef."

"Cheeky, cheeky. You're not insinuating anything are you?"

"Would I ever, Mr. T?"

"Yes!"

Fatty swivelled around to face Larry,

"Eddie runs the place – he's an old friend. Now you want to know about Ern, don't you? In his case it's a threesome, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, it has to be – Ern, plus Sidney and Percival. Saying their full names makes Ern's brothers seem a little more respectable doesn't it? Fatty, just one thing regarding Mrs. Moon – what about her husband? I imagine she had one."

"Indeed she did," answered Fatty. "Alistair Moon was an undertaker from Twyford and Winnie, who was terrified of being left on the shelf, was only too eager to become Mrs. Moon. They married after a short courtship which consisted mainly of visits to Alistair's parents' place and afterwards they quarreled almost continuously – then a few months later it was revealed that Moon was a bigamist. Big scandal of course and he abruptly disappeared, so Winnie who couldn't cope with an isolated existence, took jobs in peoples' homes because the family environment gave her a sense of belonging. At least that's what I've gathered from local knowledge."

"How come she still called herself Mrs. Moon?"

"Her original surname was Grubb!"

"Question answered!" Larry looked at his watch. "We've got time to investigate Ernie's whereabouts, haven't we? What's with our Ern, Sid and Perce, Fatty?"

"You must promise me, Larry, that when I tell you what Ern took up, you won't throw a cushion at me or storm out of the office in disgust at my telling you such a fib?"

Larry looked directly at him. "You're intriguing me, Fatty, but that's been the case all morning. Why wouldn't I believe you?"

"You might not. I'm just preparing you for a shock."

"Well... I promise I won't storm out of the room in disgust – provided you tell me the truth, Fatty."

"You'll swear? This is Finger on the Pad stuff."

"Fatty, you're getting me worried now, but I swear to the best of my ability that I'll believe you. Finger on the Pad."

"O.K." Fatty sat up, and prepared to relate the recent history of three characters the Find-Outers had met in their heyday.

To be continued...