Kit Handsome and the busy day at the Big Hotel 5

The second cycle ride to the Big Hotel was harder than the first, by now Kit’s trousers had started to chafe his thighs rather seriously.

At the hotel, the murder scene was transformed. There was no trace of bunting on the doorframe, which was now officially sealed off with police tape.

“The cavalry has arrived Kit,” Harkaway said by way of greeting. “They’re going room to room talking to the guests. They should have this solved in no time. The manager says that we can help ourselves to the breakfast buffet.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” said Kit. “I’ve not eaten yet and now Anderson’s team are here there isn’t much for me to do.”

At the breakfast buffet stood a man wearing a bright yellow T-shirt which stated ‘Nothing beats a good sausage’. As if to prove his point he was piling sausages onto his plate.

“These sausages are great,” said the man. “They’re made locally and have won best sausage awards. That’s the equivalent of the sausage Olympics.”

Kit thanked him for the advice, though he knew for a fact that this was a lie. Boonhill didn’t even have its own butchers, let alone a sausage maker. The sausages were imported from the mainland on every second Tuesday, so were neither local nor freshly made, but hotels were there to lie to the tourists and the tourists were there to believe any rubbish they were told. Kit had heard it all in his day: ‘Queen Victoria used to sit on that rock’, Elton John got a 147 break on the snooker table in the working men’s club’, no end of nonsense. He knew for a fact that the latter was a lie, as the snooker table only had 13 red balls.

“What time is it?” said the man in the sausage T shirt.

“Fifteen minutes to ten,” said Kit.

“Better top up before they close the buffet. You never know when you’ll see your next sausage.”

As advised, Kit piled his plate high with sausages and toast and sat down to talk the case through with Harkaway. He’d barely taken his first mouthful, however, when he was interrupted.

“Taking it easy I see Kit. Well you deserve a break, just hours into a murder investigation and I hear you’ve already arrested a duck and a penguin.”

“Anderson, good to see you,” said Kit.

Anderson was Kit’s boss from the mainland, who had covered for him about the missing haddock case. A crate of haddock had just vanished into thin air a year ago, and he’d not be able to find even the faintest trace of a lead. The case was the biggest failure in Kit’s career, but Anderson had stood by him.

"So,” he said to Kit, “what’s this business with a duck and a penguin?”

“The duck is unconnected, he’s been stealing toilet duck. The penguin was hired to don fancy dress and follow Griffiths around.”

“A stalker?”

“No. It’s his job. All legal apparently. He hires himself out, you know embarrassing a business rival, jealous lover, that sort of thing.”

“Send the details to Manson and he’ll follow up the finances, trace who paid him. You think whoever hired the penguin killed him.”

Kit shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why send a penguin to follow someone around if you’re planning to kill them. No, we’re looking at a more complex case than we first thought. Somebody was sending him a warning with the man in the penguin costume.”

At this point the sausage man interrupted them.

You’ve not eaten your sausages, do you mind if I finish them?”

“Not at all,” said Kit, “I’m full.”

“I’m off for a nap,” said the man, after he’d scoffed the remaining sausage. “Sleep off the pork. They’ve got bradwurst for lunch, god knows how I’ll find room for them.”

When the sausage man had left, Anderson continued.

“You think the penguin man and the murder are connected?”

“We’ve got nothing else to go on,” said Kit. “Just a phone and a photo of a hedgehog.”

“The phone’s a pay as you go, no registered owner. Manson’s checking the call history but I’m not hopeful.  The hedgehog on the other hand is very a good lead.”

“The photo of the hedgehog we found in the victim’s wallet?”

“Exactly. Manson scanned it and searched the photo online. This isn’t just any old hedgehog we’re talking about.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. That hedgehog is Prickles, the Olympic 10m champion hedgehog.”

“A gold-medal hedgehog.”

“A gold medal hedgehog who was kidnapped last year.

The two men were interrupted by Wilson, one of the senior officers in Anderson’s team. “Sorry to interrupt guv, and other guv, but we’ve found four garden gnomes and a tortoise in one of the rooms. We believe them to be suspicious.”