James and the Bum Valley Rap

The Adventure of the Bum Valley

Tired, bedraggled and shaking with terrified exertion, James trembled at the sudden appearance of his old friend, staggered with stunned surprise. ‘Claude!’ he giggled gleefully. ‘Look Paws, it’s King Claude Cloth-Cap from our thrilling adventure with the Golden Netsuke, in which we were thrown back in time by a mysterious contraption and forced to find a rare-‘

‘I know who he is, it was only last week’ interrupted Miss AC Paws, yummy mummy and Boxley love kitten, looking radiant and beautiful and still wearing her skin tight latex disguise from the adventure of the Honkymen in Barrier Park.

‘Yes, I know, but for new readers they’ll have no idea who he is’ muttered James, stroking the side of his head just above the ear, a sure sign that sleepynaps were not very far away.

‘My dear fellow!’ bellowed King Claude, rushing to James in a flurry of wobbling flesh tightly constricted by an elaborately decorated tunic and a whoosh of big bushy beard. ‘And my dear… dear lady…’ he schmoozed edging closer to Paws.

Our delicious heroine Paws took a backward step and thrust out both hands sharply to prevent the King getting any closer. This did however, cause her taut flesh to shimmy shake quite delightfully in her tight disguise. ‘Hold it right there, mister. You stay where you are! I know what you want to get your hands on’.

‘Anton? I don’t even know an Anton, dear lady’ replied the King. ‘And I never did what he said I did anyway, but that’s beside the joint. I am in great haste, I need you desperately!’ he wailed melodramatically, wringing his hands, as well as his eyebrows.

‘I’ve heard that before’ muttered Paws and slipped indoors and upstairs to slowly peel of her hot, tight latex suit, slowly stripping away her skin-tight costume in a slow- [that’ll do with the undressing, thanks – Ed]

In the lounge, James sat spread-legged on the floor, staring at King Claude agape, with dribble running down his chin and a piece of Lego gripped in one hand. Claude slipped off his mighty tunic to reveal vast muscular arms, a chest as broad as a dreadnought and a mighty stomach that swelled like a woman fifteen months pregnant. He popped his jackbooted feet onto an elephant and began to explain to the fascinated James.

‘I have a confession to make to you, good sir James’ he guffed, glugging back Dutch Courage in the shaped of whiskey laced coffee. Paws appeared at the doorway in an ankle length sequined dressing gown with peek-a-boo velvet corset and fluffy mules.

‘If it’s about the jammie dodgers, we already know’ she cooed as she sprawled elegantly onto the sofa. James burped without any perceptible shift in his position of facial expression.
‘Damn his eyes!’ thundered Claude angrily. ‘You can never trust a Roger, whether he’s dressed as a woman or not’ he bellowed, jumping to his feet and gazing out of the window to cool his blushing cheeks.

‘Yeeeeeeesss… well, moving on, you were saying?’ asked Paws. James burped again, then crawled to the DVD player and began forcing an effigy of Igglepiggle into it.

‘We must transfer! At once!’ shrieked Claude, wobbling inelegantly to his feet.

‘Transfer? Transfer what?’ enquired Paws, warily. Anything could happen when Claude got excited and she didn’t want to beat him with a mop again.
‘Sing Razzle Dazzle Rose’ demanded Claude, pointing fiercely at James. Little General James was transfixed by the finger of power. He crawled to the table, hauled himself to his feet, legs wobbling alarmingly and stared.

‘What are you doing to him?’ squealed Paws, rushing to his side in panic.

‘Razzle dazzle roooooooo-ooose, sing razzle dazzzzllle roooooose…’ sang James sweetly and with a whizzbangflash thumping thud and a fwizzler of a temporal tornado, Paws, James and King Claude were hurled into the air and thumped to the dirty dirty ground and suddenly… they were in a different place, a different time.

‘Ooohhh, I hate that’ mumbled Claude, rubbing his temple with his stick and frowning like an aged tree.

‘What have you done!’ screamed Paws Angrily, sweeping James protectively into her slender arms. She flashed her eyes left and right, taking in their new and completely unwelcoming surroundings. Somehow, Claude had transported them from the huggermugger of their homely fireside and onto a wet, brown, sodden hillside with low, heavy clouds whizzing across a sombre sky. Burnt, stripped trees brushed the brow of the hill beside them, a sprinkling of black against a backdrop of grey and tan. A chill flip bastard wind smacked against them, piercing Paws’ cosy interior wear easily and sending an unwanted blast breezing up her M11. ‘Why bring us here???’
‘Capital idea, my good lady’ beamed Claude. ‘We’ll discuss it over a pint!’ and smacking his lips in thirsty anticipation, he began trudging over the muddy brown, barren landscape in the direction of a church at the bottom of the hill, where a cluster of small buildings huddled around a mighty church like cubs around a mother bear.
‘Good grief’ muttered Paws, and dragged James after him, whilst James stuffed a dead leaf in his mouth and shouted ‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!’

Safely settled into the snug of the Tartan Rat public house, King Claude ordered a round of three pints of lager, three brandies, three plates of chips and a lemonade. Jo sipped at her lager, whilst Claude necked the three brandies. James stared at his lemonade whilst eating a green phone, then fell asleep.

‘This had better be good, Claude’ warned Paws through a mouthful of deliciously hot, steamy chips.

‘Undoubtedly’ he replied. ‘Oak, I should say. Good old English oak, sturdy as a rock’.

‘No. Good!’ repeated Paws.

‘What’s no good?’ asked Claude flatly. Paws sighed in resignation and rubbed her forehead for a moment. ‘Waiter! Replace this damned chips at once!’

‘Just… tell me why you’ve brought us here’ she muttered carefully. ‘And if you pretend to mishear me, this pint is going all over you, do I make myself clear?’

‘As crystal, my dear lady’ hollered Claude so loudly half the pub turned to stare at him. ‘This isn’t a punch and Judy show, you lowlife scum!’ he bellowed and all faces turned away.

‘That was a bit harsh’ whispered Paws, slyly.

‘Oh, all these layabouts have facial hair’ snapped Claude, grumpily, drained a pint and began on another. ‘We need to be quiet, my delicious lady, there are ears everywhere’. Paws leaned back and rubbed her ear.
‘I’m not surprised. Have you actually tried to whisper instead of bellow?’ King Claude looked about him surreptitiously and nodded.
‘No melon for me, but we need to be cautious’ he whispered urgently. ‘I am somewhat in the mire’.
‘Mire? Explain please. Oh and order me another guin-‘
‘Waiter! More Guinness and three more pints!’ bellowed Claude, as the two couples in the adjoining tables, got up and moved away from his cacophonous voice. ‘I am implicated in a… shall we say, une affaire de jambes…’
‘Affaire de jambes?’ replied the languid Miss Paws suspiciously. ‘That’s an affair of the legs’.
‘Is it? Damn! I was never very good at languages, I meant an affair of the heart, of course’.
‘Ahhh…. histoire d'amour avec une femme de vertu très facile’ murmured Paws with a knowing wink. King Claude shuffled on his leather seat in his leather breeches in embarassed discomfort. The mixture of hot leather, hot leather and embarrassment caused an unexpected sound that drove the last remaining customers from the snug. The waiter slammed the drinks onto the table in a show of disgust at Claude’s tactics.
‘Your drinks… SIR !’
‘Yes, yes I know, it’s these damn breeches’ spat Claude and the waiter hurried away, shaking his head.
‘Well, enough of this absurdity’ murmured Paws delectably. ‘Tell me why you’ve dragged us here so we can get it over with and get home’.
‘Why, how di-‘
‘And no pretending to mishear what I said or else, Buster’. King Claude took a mighty gulp of his ale and glanced at the window stroking his mighty chin, mightily.
‘There’s a beautiful light in the afternoons at this time of year’ he muttered.
‘Moon ?’ asked James.
‘Right, give me that bleeding netsuke, we’re off !’ Paws tried to wrestle the netsuke from King Claude’s pocket, then stopped and jumped back into her chair the moment she realised he was enjoying it.
‘Apologies, fair angel, please forgive an old man his foibles’ he guffawed, then elaborately spread his hands around him, indicating his surroundings. ‘This… is Turgid-On-Sea, home of my good friend and business partner, Lord Eden Luvaduck. Or at least it was…’
‘Was? Where’s he gone?’
‘He has been murdered!’ thundered Claude dramatically, then leaned forward with his best aghast look, wide-eyed and agape. He was clearly expecting a response from Miss Paws, but did not get it.
‘And?’
‘And he’s dead, of course’.
‘I meant ANNNNDD what do you expect us to do about it? Go to the police’.
‘You stu…..stu..pendous woman’ stammered Claude, saving himself at the last second. ‘This is Turgid! Home of the most corrupt officials in all my kingdom! I should know, Luvaduck was one of them!’
‘Oh’ murmured Paws, sadly shaking her beautiful head. ‘One of them, you mean? So sad… not a reason to kill anyone’.
‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no’ insisted Claude. ‘He wasn’t queer, not Luvaduck. He was voracious with the ladies’.
‘Oh. Ok’.
‘Never a gaybo, not Luvaduck’.
‘Alright, take it easy, duckie’ smiled Paws.
‘You think I am such an old man, eh? Such a showy fool’ mumbled Claude, suddenly calm and quiet. ‘When you have tussled with death as often as I have, you revel in life… but this death has touched me deeply’.
‘Tussled with death?’ guffawed Paws. ‘Honestly, you really are a little ray of sunshine’.
‘I prefer moonshine’ muttered Claude glumly, which caused James to wake up, grin and point.
‘Mmmooooonn’.
‘And a shameless liar’.
‘I was once on a moose hunting canoe trip, up the Umbumgo river. It was just the two of us, myself and my old bodyguard, a vicious ex-wrestler, Serenity Poopdeck. It was beautiful up the Umbumgo, the river… the wind in our hats… the sun on the water, shining green and wibbly on the bodies of the dead fish. Sure sign of a killer moose, a river of dead fish.
‘The swimming moose is the most dangerous beast of all on my world, even worse than the turbot. On and on we sailed, Eden and I in our flimsy canoe, beyond the sighing trees and into the castle of the moose King. The castle is impregnable, nestled in the crook of the Umbumgo known as the Bum Valley.
‘Ooohhh, my dear lady you have never seen such walls! Walls higher than a dumdum tree. And trees! Ooohhhh, trees almost as high as the walls, masking the sniper moose and warrior elk on those vast, diabolic walls. Trees that sink into the Umbumbo like death’s fingers, plunging into the mud, stirring in the breezes, dense, menacing branches, blending with the snuffwood roots, perfect hiding ground for aquamoose, deadly, killer-.
‘Yeh, yeh, I get it, killer moose, get on with it’ sighed Paws and ordered a Guinness and a pork pie. James pointed at the Christmas lights sitting darkly above the fire. ‘On-nn. On-nn. On-nn’.
‘Ominous. That’s the word. The castle of the moose king in Bum Valley was ominous. The walls seemed to sway in the wind and move of their own free will. Horrrrrrr… it was like falling into a fjord. Horrible’.
‘Is falling into a fjord horrible?’ asked Paws.
‘ON-NN. ON-NN. ON-NN’.
‘A short fall into a cool fjord could be quite nice on a hot day’ added Paws, thoughtfully sipping at her Guinness and wondering when that sodding pork pie would arrive.
‘We slowed the canoe, worried by the humming from the woods and the beguiling, bewitching song of the mountain moose. The further we ventured, the more invasive the song became. Gradually we began noticing familiar things in the waters; broken deck boards, a broken lifeboat of the SS Pikey, a ceremonial hat of the royal eunuch brigade and then, most horribly, the head of my old friend, Clement Forsk. I was near breaking point, I have to tell you’.
‘So why didn’t you just turn around and paddle for home?’ asked Paws, smiling at the approaching waiter.
‘ON-NN. ON-NN. ON-NN’.
‘Thank you, waiter. You couldn’t turn the Christmas lights on, could you?’ The waiter gave the delicious Paws his most nauseatingly smug grin.
‘I can turn anything on’ he smarmed.
‘The lights will do, thanks’. The waiter flicked a switch, lighting up one wall.
‘OOH! ON!’ gurgled James, pointing and smiling. Claude furrowed his might brow, slapped the table and insisted his story be finished. ‘Oh, go on then’ said Paws, tiring of his rather drawn out, melodramatic tale
‘How could I turn around knowing that somewhere in the realm of the moose king, lay the slayer of my friend Clement? Ohhhhh, violent desires gripped me, lady! Gripped me, I say!’
‘That’s all that’s gripping you today’.
‘My soul was filled with boulders of dismay. Suddenly a wave broke over us and a great tossing ensued’. Paws said nothing. ‘The humming induced a malaise that attacked my soul, my mind was slipping away from me’.
‘Just as my patience is now’.
‘A figure emerged, wading through the waves, warning us off. It was my old friend’s friend Joy Formidable, French you know, very good at knitting, she screamed “They have a flat-bottomed bottom!”, then threw herself into the torrent and disappeared.
‘My associate, Serenity, was mighty upset by this, had a thing for French girls with dainty fingers and he tried to follow her, but a swift, short right to the jaw put that plan to rights. I wasn’t ready to tackle the moose king alone. That night, there were strange rumblings and not just from Serenity. We heard tap tap tap against the wall of our tent, now explain that!’
‘Presumably a branch or a tent rope caught in the wind’. Claude looked deflated, but ploughed on.
‘Oh. Well. Possibly. Anyway, the following morning there was a corpse outside the tent’ he muttered flatly.
‘You mean a copse?’ asked Paws deliciously, flicking a stray frond of hair from her exquisite almond face.
‘No, a corpse. A stiff. You know a cadaver, camper, a john doe-‘
‘Yes, I do understand what you mean by corpse, I thought it was a slip of the tongue. Who was it?’
‘His name was Temperance Fudge’.
‘How do you know what his name was?’ asked Paws incredulously. ‘Tattooed on the back of his neck?’
‘Do not mock the dead, my saucy beauty’ scolded Claude with his serious face. It was an Eastenders face, it meant something. If only Paws could work out what. ‘The essence of poor Temperance rose from his body like a cloud of angry wasps, pockmarked with boiling blisters, screaming something about two otters and wailing “PITY POOR TEMPERANCE FUDGE! WOE, WOE AND WOE AGAIN! SO DIES TEMPERANCE FUDGE” before he too, plunged into the wild river and was lost’.
‘Blimey’ gasped Paws.
‘Da-dee’ said James, pointing at the Christmas lights again. Claude stood suddenly and prowled the room, wailing his litany and dancing a macabre mix of Max in Where the Wild Things Are and Cuba libre boy.
‘Only then, did the great Moose King descend from his laughing walls, malevolent and threatening, lowing the ballad of the divine Moose-Angel. ONLY THEN, did the lesser moose-demons dance their dance of death, strutting and stamping and rutting with their devil’s antlers, shrieking their eternal frustrations! Then the Angel herself descended and slay the moose King with a glance of mystical power and beguiling beauty. The Moose king died with a grin on his broad, brown chops, the moose-demons dissolved into brown dust and I was transported back to my canoe and allowed to paddle home in safety on staggeringly calm waters’.
‘The significance of which is???’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Luvaduck is the moose-king, I am me and my canoe, you are the angel, James is the river and Ivor is the castle walls, and the real culprit behind Luvaduck’s death!’
‘God, who’s Ivor?’ sighed Paws, wishing she were back in her cosy little home, slowly polishing the dining table in her heels. Claude opened his mouth to speak, then quickly pursed it into a cat’s bum and shushed, slipping back into his seat as the waiter returned with a snack menu and a tray of tealights. He lit two and placed them on the table, leaving the menus.
‘Can-dle! Can-dle!’ exclaimed James excitedly. Behind the bar, a barman dropped a heavy wooden chopping board onto his foot with a mighty thud and wailed a short, short bellow of pain. ‘Come in’ muttered James, turning in the direction of the shout.
‘Eden’s son, of course. Vile oaf of a boy, sly, snidey and sinusy, heir to the Luvaduck fortune. Horrible boy’. Claude turned to look all around him before leaning towards Paws with a furtive whisper. ‘Wears cologne, you know. Likes skating, say no more’. Paws sighed and shook her head.
‘So what do you want us to do about it? If you already know who killed your friend?’
‘What! I need you to reveal him, of course! If I were to do so, it would appear that regal influence was being brought to bear to unfairly decide the outcome of this case! Are you crazy?’
‘Oh’
‘Daisy’ said James, smiling and reaching for the candles with the softest of blows.
‘My position would be weakened, this foul boy would have just cause to escape justice and his collaborators would be emboldened to strike at me further’.
‘What collaborators?’ demanded Paws, anxiously.
‘Raa-Raa?’ asked James.
‘No idea, my dear boy, but I need YOU to find out’. There was a pause. There was also a Paws, but you knew that already.
‘Well James, time for your thankfully short lasting, grown up and brilliantly deductive pill’ she murmured and slipped James a pill mixed in with three raisins. James wailed momentarily and threw himself on the floor. A second later, he jumped to his feet and smiled broadly.
‘Thank you, mummy, let’s get busy shall we?’
‘That’s your daddy’s line’.
‘I meant solve the puzzle and whizzbang home in time for tea’.
‘Oh. Yes, then’.

Forty-nine minutes and a rib-shaking, knee-breaking, heart-stopping race in Claude’s regal jalopy later, James, Paws and Claude were at the home of Detective-Inspector Perceval ‘Percy’ Patience, newly promoted and eager to solve a big case to settle early nerves and prove himself to the lads.
‘A fine upstanding chap is Percy’ roared Claude. ‘The only honourable man amongst the corrupt Turgid rabble!’
‘Thank you, your majesty’ mumbled Percy with a slight blush. Paws didn’t think much of the new DI; he seemed a rather obsequious, weedy little man for her liking, no authority or spark of deductive genius in him at all.
‘You didn’t kill him, did you?’ asked Claude, suddenly stormy in appearance.
‘No sir!’
‘Just checking, just checking’ haw-hawed Claude. ‘See, told you he was honest’. Claude chuckled to himself and poured 4 large brandies as James raced through the details of the case, that cannot be printed here for legal reasons.
‘Nice nightie’ murmured Percy nasally to Paws.
‘It’s a negligee and what’s in it is not available’.
‘Righto’ muttered Percy with a blush and turned to his bureau to stifle a cry and grab a cigar. James quickly determined that a mysterious third man may have been responsible for the murder.
‘Do you know…’ he whispered enigmatically. ‘I think that a mysterious third man may have been responsible for this murder’.
‘Good heavens to Betsy!’ shrieked Claude and almost dropped a brandy. ‘A mysterious mischief-maker muddying the murky waters for his own malevolent means?’
‘Are you sure, Chops?’ asked Paws. James nodded so hard it looked as if he might injure his neck.
‘The location your man was found dead is a densely wooded area, is it not?’
‘It waaaaaassssssssss’ said Percy suspiciously. James pulled an unfeasibly large magnifying glass from his jacket pocket and spread the murder scene photographs across the table.
‘If you peer closely at the footprints surrounding the body, you will notice that there were three sets of footprints leading to the murder scene, yet only two leaving it’.
‘Rubbish’ spat Percy. ‘There are two sets going into the clearing and one leaving’.
‘There are three’ insisted James beautifully. ‘See here… and here… one person was treading in exactly one of the others footsteps leading into the clearing, then again here… and here… leaving it, only when this mysterious other person leaves, he has taken something from the body’.
‘Poppycock! There is no way you can tell that from those photographs’.
‘Au contraire, my dear fellow’ grinned James, sucking a finger. One of his own, thankfully. ‘Careful study of the prints shows clear underprint of the victim’s shoes, you can see which are his from the sole of his shoes still on his dead body as he lies prone and poleaxed at the top of the photograph, but the other prints are smudged. Your murderers went to great lengths to hide the fact, wearing precisely the same size and brand of shoe, but the heavy imprint on the left footprint indicates the third man has part of his right leg missing’.
‘Brilliant, Holm- I mean, James’ gasped Claude. ‘That should narrow the field in a sleepy little village like Turgid!’
‘That fails to explain why you think this peg-leg Jake took something from the murder scene’ coughed Percy, beginning to suspect that James was correct and he was being made to look a fool.
‘The night of the murder was cloudless and cold. A near full moon would have made the need for torches unnecessary and the deep cold preserved the footprints perfectly, as the ground hardened overnight. Look closely at the left footprints leaving the scene… the tread is deeper, therefore heavier, as the cold ground would not have softened between arrival and departure and they way some of the heavier departing steps cross the arriving ones, we can see that three men entered the clearing, Luvaduck was murdered there, a one-legged man removed something from the body, then two men left the clearing walking in each others footsteps to hide the fact’.
‘Well done, Chops’ smiled Paws, with an in-your-face-so-called-copper-Percy look to the DI.
‘Possible, I suppose, if a little far-fetched’ muttered Percy.
‘Possible, yes, but there is one other fact I need to deduce at the site’ cawcawed James.
‘Which is what, dear boy?’ bellowed Claude.
‘We need to get to Bum Valley immediately and bottom out this diabolical series of crime, peril, blackmail and murder and unless I am very much mistaken, this one-legged man is the cause of it all and it’s all because of a woman’.
‘Oh, here he goes’ muttered Paws.
‘Purity!’ yelled Claude, so loudly the pictures on the walls wobbled.
‘What about it?’ demanded Paws, suddenly suspicious that Claude was trying a new seduction route.
‘Purity Elbow! The only one-legged man in Bum Valley, dear lady!’
‘To the station!’ Shouted James, getting excited.
‘NO! we can take my car’ shrieked Claude.
‘oh, must we?’ sighed Paws, but in a flash, they were heading for Bum Valley. En route, Claude filled them in on the back story, as two blokes rushed the fake background behind the rocking car.

Purity Elbow, a widower, farmer, inventor and bantamweight carpenter, lived alone in Bum Valley, with his daughter, Alice, two idiot sons, a donkey called Colin and on the estate, a small hut which he loaned free of charge to a fellow expatriate from Australia, Mr. Billy Bob Snout, another widower, a farmer, hunchback, hare-lipped, bow-legged, three thumbed, ex-wrestler and Mr Australia finalist. Billy-Bob and Purity were very close friends with Ivor and all had long-running feuds with Lord Luvaduck, whom they all believed was manoeuvring to purchase their lands and drive them from the only homes they had ever known. Well, apart from Purity and Billy-Bob who were born in Australia, but loved Ivor and hated Luvaduck.
Billy-Bob was the one who discovered Luvaduck’s body, whilst hiding from the amorous attentions of lust-mad village girls. Billy-Bob claimed he was in the forest to meet someone about a lumberjacking job.
Two witnesses testify that they saw Billy Bob walking into the woods followed by Ivor, who was carrying what looked like a gun, although the other ‘witness’ said it was a shovel.
‘In all honesty with his hunchback, funny fingers and monkey arms he could have been carrying a horse and disguised it’ said Claude, before continuing. Mercy Mung, daughter of the Stay-A-Wee lodge keeper, says she saw Billy Bob and Ivor arguing with Lord Luvaduck and, when Ivor raised his hand as if to hit his father, she ran to her mother. While telling her mother what she saw, Ivor rushed to their house seeking help. The Mungs followed him back to the forest, where they found no sign of Billy-Bob, but Luvaduck dead. Ivor was arrested and charged with murder.
Alice Elbow, daughter of the house, believed Ivor to be innocent and has contacted King Claude, who in turn has asked James’ help. ‘Haha, unaware the poor simpleton that Luvaduck and I were in cahoots to drive those revolting colonials off land that was never theirs in the first place!’
‘Hang on, this is getting a bit confusing’ said Paws, flicking a frond of gorgeous brunette locks from her face. ‘Are you saying that your mate Luvaduck was murdered because he was trying to kick these Aussies off their land, which he thinks is his land?’
‘Quite!’
‘And you were helping him?’
‘Behind the scenes naturally. I can’t allow my regal influence-‘
‘Yes, yes, we know that bit. Soooooo… why would Ivor help them? Apart from just hating his dad?’
‘I told you’ sighed Claude. ‘He’s a cologne wearing, come dancing nancy boy, of course. He wants Luvaducks land and title so he can live in his little gaybo kingdom with the fairies from down under’.
‘So why did the witnesses see Ivor and this Billy-Bob in the forest, but not the one-legged man? And why was Luvaduck there at all?’ asked James, brilliantly.
‘And that is where you come in, dear boy’ he thundered, as the regal vehicle screeched to a halt.
That evening, with Billy Bob still missing, Ivor confirmed to Percy, Paws and James the testimonies of the witnesses, but explained that he went to the woods to hunt, not to follow his mad, half-animal lover or his despised dad. He later heard Billy-Bob calling "Cooee", and he found his father standing by the clearing, surprised to see him. They argued heatedly over a private matter, and Ivor decided to return to the Farm. Shortly thereafter, he heard his father cry out, and returned to find Luvaduck lying on the ground.
‘Did you see anyone else?’ asked Paws. Ivor shook his head.
‘What about Purity?’ demanded Percy.
‘Please Detective Inspector, no leading the witness’. Ivor steadfastly refused to reveal the cause of their argument, despite being warned that it could be damaging to his defence. James, Paws, Percy and Claude leave in uncertain mood.
At their hotel, James was approached by Alice. ‘Oh please Sir James, please put us out of my misery’.
‘Eh?’
‘Prove my Ivor innocent!’
‘Your Ivor? Asked Paws.
‘Yes!’ said Alice defiantly, standing tall and pushing our her proud young bosom. ‘I, yes I, was the subject of their disagreement. Ivor wanted to marry me and Luvduck didn’t think I was good enough for him, being so young and beautiful and easily lead’.
‘Beard’ whispered Claude into Paw’s ear. Paws threw back her left hand and landed a light punch to the King’s nose.
‘Is this true, miss Elbow? Or are you hiding something?’
‘I’m not hiding anything!’ she declared, then leaned in and whispered into James’ ear. ‘Come up and search me, room 211’.
‘I’ll need to see your father first’ said James.
‘Men! You’re all alike!’ she shrieked and ran upstairs giggling and flashing her underskirts. James, Paws, Percy and Claude move to the snug of the hotel bar.
‘Ivor knows something, but he is protecting someone’.
‘Nonsense, dear boy, he’s as guilty as sin and is keeping quiet to avoid the gallows’ chuckled Claude.
‘I’ll have to talk to Ivor again, something smells fishy’ said James.
‘Probably the kipper curry’ murmured Claude into his ale. ‘Speciality of the house’.
‘Something about Alice’s claim rings true to me. But if she’s telling the truth, is Ivor really in love with her or with this Billy-Bob character? And if the former, why is he so keen to help Billy-Bob save his farm?’
‘Hmmm, well I know the farm produces the best bacon in the district’ muttered Claude. ‘Get it delivered to the palace myself’.
‘I doubt a nice bacon sandwich is the motive for patricide’ whispered Paws.
‘What’s pastry got to do with anything?’ asked Claude. Paws ignored him.
That evening, under a cloudless dark sky, James, Paws and Percy followed the death track from the pig farm, via a stop to check Billy-Bob, Purity and Ivor’s boots to the clearing. After examining the ground, James confirms the evidence of the presence of the one-legged man, whom he believes to be the murderer. ‘I’d also say this one-legged chap is a tall, left-handed man who smokes cigars’.
‘Why?’ James holds up a cigar butt and Percy sighs in defeat, too miserable to even ask and be shown up again.
Back at the hotel, James explains to Paws that "Cooee" is an Australian cry and "a rat", overheard by Ivor, were the last syllables of "Ballarat", a dungheap in Australia. So the person Billy-Bob was meeting is someone he knew from Australia. Purity clomp-clomp-clomps into their room and, realizing that James has deduced the crime, confesses on the spot.
In his confession, Purity explains that he was a member of the Ballarat Gang in Australia. They robbed a gold convoy in which Billy-Bob was the driver and Purity spared his life despite knowing that Billy-Bob could identify him. The loot made the gang rich and they moved to England to live a life of culture, refinement, nice lager and better women.
Resolved to change, Purity parted ways with his friends. He bought land, married, and then Alice was born. Purity met Billy-Bob again by chance and Billy-Bob threatened to blackmail him. In response Purity gave Billy-Bob Winsome Pig Farm against the wishes and agreements he had in place with Lord Luvaduck. Eventually this was not enough, and Billy-Bob demanded money and the sexual pleasures of Alice. This was too much and being an old coward, Purity believed he could set up Billy-Bob for the murder of Luvaduck, retrieve his farm and his money, get Billy-Bob off his back and set up the lovely Ivor for life.
Taking Billy-Bob along with the pretence of meeting Alice, they found Luvaduck and Ivor there arguing, Purity waited till Ivor had stormed off in a huff when Luvaduck accused him of being a poof. Then he provoked Billy-Bob into striking him in front of Luvaduck, then as Billy-Bob fled to preserve his freedom, Purity reluctantly murdered Luvaduck to spare his daughter. Ivor heard his father's death cry and returned, but Purity was able to hide in the woods. He had to return later to retrieve a cloak that he dropped in his haste, hence the double footsteps with the heavier tread.
Purity signed the confession and was lead away by a grateful Percy.
‘Well, bless my soul’ muttered Claude. ‘So Purity was the murderer all along, Billy-Bob is a golddigging thief, rustler and blackmailer, Ivor is not a fairy and is in love with Alice and is innocent of everything!’
‘And you have accused an innocent man and tried to rob him of his inheritance for a few bacon sandwiches!’ accused Paws. Claude looked shamefaced and guiltily handed over the magic, golden netsuke to allow James and Paws to whizzbangskedaddle home.
‘It is remarkably good bacon’ he muttered. Paws shook her head sadly and the James intelligent pill wore off and he leaned into a massive pillow to sleep. Paws scooped up her angelic little boy into her arms.
‘We won’t meet again’ she said to Claude and rubbed the netsuke. Claude fell to his knees in tears and James and Paws were transported to the palace of Boxley for tea, fireside and a hot hubby.