Mystery of the Pantomime Cat (8 page)

"Now don't be silly, Frederick," said his mother.
"You know how swollen your face was this morning. I meant to ring up the
dentist but I forgot. I was just asking you how your tooth was—it must have
been bad because you had such a swollen face. I think I'd better ring up the
dentist, even though your face
has
gone down."

"Mother," said Fatty, desperately, "that wasn't
toothache—it was cheek-pads."

Now it was his mother's turn to look at him blankly.
"Cheek-pads! What
do
you mean, Frederick?”

"Things you put in your cheeks to alter your
appearance," explained Fatty, wishing heartily that he had not tried them
out on his mother. "A—a sort of disguise, Mother."

"How very disgusting," said his mother. "I do wish

you wouldn't do things like that, Frederick. No wonder you looked
so awful."

"Sorry, Mother," said Fatty, hoping she would talk about
something else. She did. She talked about the extraordinary behaviour of Mr.
Pippin who had snatched at Mr. Twit's hair, or hat, she didn't know which. And
she also told Fatty that the vicar had complained about it to Mr. Goon, now
that he was back again to take charge of this new robbery case at the Little
Theatre.

"And I do hope, Frederick," said his mother, "I
do
hope you won't try and meddle in
this
case. Apparently Mr. Goon is
well on the way to finding out everything, and has a most remarkable collection
of clues. I do
not
like that man, but he certainly seems to have been
very quick off the mark in this case—came straight back from his holiday, found
all these clues, and is on the track of the robber at once!"

"Don't you believe it," murmured Fatty, half under his
breath.

"What did you say, Frederick? I wish you wouldn't
mumble," said his mother. "Well, I don't suppose you know a thing
about this case, so just keep out of it and don't annoy Mr. Goon."

Fatty didn't answer. He knew a lot about the case, and he meant to
meddle in it for all he was worth, and it he could annoy Mr. Goon he was
certainly going to. But he couldn't possibly tell his mother all that! So he
sank into silence once more and began to think hard about all the Suspects.

He would have to find out their names and who they were and where
they lived. It was pretty obvious that only one of the theatre people could
have committed the crime. One of them had come back that night, let himself in
quietly, and done the deed. But which one?

Fatty decided he must go to Mr. Pippin and get the list of names
and addresses. He would do that immediately after his lunch. So, at a quarter
to two, when he left the table. Fatty rushed off to see if Mr. Pippin was
available. If Goon was at home, it was no good. He couldn't possibly ask Pippin
anything in front of Goon.

He walked by the sitting-room window of the little cottage
belonging to Goon. Pippin was there, facing the window. Goon was also there,
his back to it, writing at the table. Fatty tiptoed to the window and tried to
attract Pippin's attention. Pippin looked up, astonished to see Fatty winking
and beckoning outside. He turned round cautiously to see what Mr. Goon was
doing.

When he turned back again he saw, held up to the window, a piece
of paper on which Fatty had written.
"meet
me in high street ten minutes' time."

Pippin grinned and nodded. Fatty disappeared. Goon heard the click
of the gate and turned round.

"Who's that coming in?" said Goon.

"No one," said Pippin, truthfully.

"Well, who was it going out, then?" said Goon.

"Can't see any one," said Pippin.

"Gah! Call yourself a policeman and can't see who opens a
gate in front of your nose," said Goon, who had eaten too much lunch and
was feeling very bad-tempered. Pippin said nothing at all. He was getting used
to Goon's remarks.

He finished what he was doing and then got up. "Where are you
going?" asked Goon.

"Out to the post office," said Pippin. "I'm off
duty at the moment, Mr. Goon, as you very well know. If there's anything wants
doing, I'll do it when I come back."

And in spite of Goon's snort, Pippin walked out

of the house and up to the post office. He posted his letter and
then looked for Fatty. Ah, there he was, sitting on the wooden bench. Pippin
went up to him. They grinned at one another and Buster rubbed against Pippin's
trousers.

"Come into that shop over there and have a lemonade,"
said Fatty. "I don't want Goon to see us hobnobbing together."

They went into the little shop, sat down, and Fatty ordered
lemonades. Then, in a low voice, Fatty told Pippin what he wanted.

"Do you know the names and addresses of the actors and
actresses at the Little Theatre?" he asked.

"Yes," said Pippin, at once. "I got them all last
night. Wait a bit—I think they're in my note-book. I don't believe I gave them
to Mr. Goon. He's been out interviewing the whole lot, and I expect he got the
names from the manager—same as I did."

"Oh—he's interviewed them already, has he?" said Fatty.
"He can get going when he likes, can't he?"

"Yes," said Pippin. "He's found one of them has a
name beginning with Z too—you know one of the clues was an old handkerchief
with Z on it. Well, see here," and he pointed to one of the names in the
list he was now showing to Fatty, "the name of Dick Whittington, the principal
boy—who's acted by a girl—is Zoe Markham. Looks as if Zoe was out on that
verandah for some reason or other—at a meeting of the crooks, perhaps."

Fatty was horror-stricken. To think that there was actually
somebody with a name beginning with Z! Who would have thought it? He didn't
know what to say. At all costs he would have to clear Zoe somehow. Fatty wished
very heartily for the hundredth time that he and the others hadn't started
Pippin on a false mystery complete with false clues.

"Has Zoe got an alibi—some one to swear that she was
somewhere else between half-past five and eight o'clock?" asked Fatty,
looking worried.

"Oh yes. They've all got alibis," said Pippin.
"Every one of them. I interviewed them myself last night, the whole
lot—and Mr. Goon gave them the once-over again this morning. Alibis all
correct."

"Queer, isn't it," said Fatty, after a silence. "I
mean—it
must
be one of those theatre people, mustn't it? Nobody else had
so much inside knowledge as to be able to give the manager a cup of tea, and
then take down the mirror, find the key, work out the combination, and open the
safe."

"Don't forget it was the Pantomime Cat who took in the cup of
tea," said Pippin.

"Yes. That's queerer still," said Fatty. "Any one
would think he'd done the job."

"Goon thinks so," said Pippin. "He thinks all that
business of the Cat saying he doesn't understand, and he doesn't remember, and
bursting into tears is put on—good acting, you know."

"What do
you
think?" asked Fatty. Pippin
considered. "I told you before. I think Boysie's a bit queer in the
head—never grown up, poor fellow. You know, I've got a cousin like that—and he
wouldn't hurt a fly. It's a fact, he wouldn't. I don't see how he could
possibly have done all that. I'm sorry Mr. Goon's got it into his head that
Boysie's done the job—he'll scare the poor chap into fits."

"Well—it's quite possible that somebody hid in the kitchen
somewhere when Boysie was making the tea, and popped something into the cup
when Boysie wasn't looking," said Fatty.

"Yes. There's something in that." said Pippin. "But
we still come back to the fact that it can only have been done by one of the
theatre folk—no one else

knows enough to have done it—and they all have alibis—so there you
are!"

"Can I have their names and addresses?" asked Fatty.
"I'll copy them down." Pippin handed him over his note-book. Fatty
looked through the pages with interest. "I say—are these your notes about
where they said they were between half-past five and eight o'clock last
night?"

"That's right," said Pippin. "Take them along with
you, if you like. Save you a lot of trouble! They've all been interviewed
twice, so you can take my word for it they won't say anything different the
third time—that's if you were thinking of interviewing them. Master
Frederick."

"We're making out a Plan," said Fatty, stuffing the
notes into his pocket. "I don't quite know what it will be yet. I'll tell
you when we know details. Thanks most awfully, Mr. Pippin."

"If you ever see a villainous-looking tramp with red hair,
let me know, will you?" said Pippin. "I mean—you get about a lot on
that bike of yours—and you might happen on the fellow—and his mate with him.
The ones I saw under the bush that night in Willow Road, I mean."

"Er—yes—I know the ones you mean," said Fatty, feeling
extremely guilty, at this mention of the red-haired villain. "I'll
certainly let you know if I see him again. But I don't think he had anything to
do with this robbery job, you know."

"Ah, you can't tell," said Pippin, finishing his glass
of lemonade and standing up. "If ever I saw wickedness in any one's face
it was in that red-haired fellow's. I wouldn't care to be seen in
his
company.
I'll walk a little way with you, Master Frederick—it's a nice day. Your dog all
right now?"

"Quite, thanks," said Fatty. "Takes a lot to bruise

a Scottie with as thick a coat as Buster!"

"That properly turned me against Mr. Goon, that did,"
said Pippin, as they walked down the High Street—and round the corner they
bumped straight into Mr. Goon! He glared at them both, and Buster flew round
him delightedly.

"Buster, come here," ordered Fatty, in such a stern
voice that Buster felt he had to obey. He put his tail down and crept behind
Fatty, keeping up a continuous growl.

"You be careful of the company you keep. Pippin,"
ordered Mr. Goon. "I warned you against that boy, didn't I? Always
interfering and meddling, he is! Anyway, he can't interfere in
this
Case
much! Cast-iron, that's what it is! I'll be making an arrest any time
now!"

Mr. Goon walked on, and Pippin and Fatty looked at one another
with raised eyebrows.

"It's that Pantomime Cat he's going to arrest," said
Pippin. "I saw it in his eyes! And before he's finished with that poor Cat
he'll make him confess to things he didn't do. He will!"

"Then I'll have to see that he doesn't," said Fatty.
"I must set the old brains to work
immediately!
"

The Suspects and their Alibis.

At just half-past two Fatty walked into Pip's drive for

the second time that day, and was hailed by Bets from

the open window.

"Hurry up, Fatty! We want to make our Plan!" Fatty
hurried, grinning at Bets' impatience. He went

up the stairs two at a time, and found the other four

waiting for him round the table.

"Ha! A Conference!" said Fatty. "Well—I've got some
information here which we'll study together. Then we'll really get going."

He told the children quickly what Pippin had told him, and then
got out the note-book with names, addresses and particulars of alibis in. The
word "alibi" was new to Bets, and had to be explained to her.

"Is it anything to do with lullaby?" she asked, and the
others roared.

"No, Bets," said Fatty. "I'll tell you what an
alibi is. Suppose somebody smashed this window, and your mother thought it was
Pip—and Pip told her he was with me at the time, and I said yes, he certainly
was—then I am Pip's alibi
—
he's got his alibi, because I can vouch for
his being with me when the window was smashed."

"I see," said Bets. "And if somebody said that at
just this moment you had hit Goon on the head, and we said no, you couldn't
have, because you were with us—we'd
all
be alibis for you."

"Quite right. Bets—you've got the idea," grinned Fatty.
"Well—I've got a list of the alibis of all the Suspects here—which will be
very, very useful. Listen, and I'll read out the names of the Suspects first,
and then I'll tell you their alibis and what we know about them."

He read from Pippin's notes.

suspects.

No.
1.
Pantomime
Cat,
otherwise Boysie Summers. Was in theatre at the time in question. Took
Manager in a cup of tea before eight o'clock. Says he didn't, but admits he had
a cup of tea himself. Says he went to sleep most of evening.

No. 2. Zoe Markham,
who takes part of Dick Whittington. Says she left theatre with
other members of the cast, and went to her sister's, where she played with the
children and helped to put them to bed. Her sister is Mrs. Thomas, and lives at
Green House, Hemel Road.

"I know her!" said Daisy. "She's awfully nice.
She's got two dear little children. One's having a birthday soon, I know."

"I say," said Larry, suddenly.
"Zoe
Markham!
I hope Goon doesn't connect up the Z for Zoe with the Z on that old hanky of
Daisy's—the one we used for a false clue."