Chapter 11

 

    The Thompson twins were up and about at their usual early time, despite their strenuous exertions of the previous night, and were soon going about their business. However, they were finding that putting the past behind them was much easier said than done.
   Bright sunlight streamed in their kitchen window, but the cheery morning did little to dispel the brooding unease lingering around the house.
   'Do you want your eggs turned?' asked Jock, poking around in the frying pan with a plastic spatula.
   'Why do you always ask me how I like my eggs?' grumbled Jimmy, who was sitting at the table buttering bread.
   'Temper temper.'
   'You know how I like my eggs. You don't have to keep asking.'
   'I didn't sleep a wink last night,' said Jock, serving food from the frying pan onto warmed plates.
   'Well, you had it easy then,' retorted Jimmy, 'I dreamed Holmes drove into town with a coffin sticking out the boot of his car.'
   The twins ate in silence for a while, both of them picking at their food.
   'Why didn't you put the tomato sauce on the table?' asked Jock at length.
   While he waited for a reply, a drip of yellow egg yoke dribbled onto his chin and he tried to lick it with his tongue.
   'If our poor mother was still alive,' muttered Jimmy, 'she would be mortified by your table manners.'
   'Bless her soul,' said Jock quietly, putting his cutlery down and giving his groin a leisurely scratch.
   Jimmy clattered his knife and fork angrily onto his plate and then stalked to the cupboard to get the tomato sauce.
   'Taking it out on me isn't going to help,' said Jock, catching and holding his brother's eye.
   Jimmy stood by the cupboard, the tomato sauce in his hand.
   'I'm scared brother.'
   'Aye, and so am I'
   'What if the body is found?'
   'I think I'll call Mary later, you know, just to see if she will go out with me.'
   'Right now I would be as much use to a woman as a bar of soap to an octopus,' sighed Jimmy.'
   'I think we would both be as much use right now as bars of soap to two octopusses.'
   'It's octopii.'
   'What is?'
   'The plural of octopus.'
   'Is it? Well I like octopusses better.'
   'Well, it's wrong.'
   'Who says so?'
   'The dictionary.'
   'I couldn't care less about the dictionary.'
   'You wouldn't'
   'You were never any good with the girls, anyway. Not even at school.'
   'Ach,' sighed Jimmy, 'the thought of sharing body fluids with other people doesn't do very much for me at all.'
   'You've obviously never been in love.'
   Jimmy sat at the table again and they finished their breakfast in silence, each of them wrapped in his own glum thoughts.

   By mid morning, they had finished hosing and chamoising the hearse, which was parked round behind the house, and had begun polishing it, restoring it to its usual, gleaming splendour. Jock applied the wax while Jimmy followed him round with a soft cloth, rubbing vigorously. Suddenly Jock straightened up and stared across their driveway at the garage.
   'Did we leave the workshop door open last night?' he asked in astonishment.
   'I don't think so.'
   'Well, if you ask me,' said Jock, not believing what he was seeing. 'The door has been forced and it looks very much like we've been burgled.'
   Their workshop was equipped with expensive power tools essential for their business, and they both feared the worst. The two of them walked over to the door of the garage, which had quite clearly been forced open with a crowbar, and stared at each other for a few moments before going inside.
   'Nothing appears to have been stolen,' said Jock, his voice hushed as he switched on the light and looked about.
   Jimmy scanned the workshop thoroughly before replying.
   'They must have taken something! No one breaks into a property and steals nothing!'
   'All the tools are untouched,' said Jock. 'Look. Even our petty cash tin is still here.'
   'Oh shit!' whispered Jimmy, putting his hands to his mouth.
   'What is it?'
   'Look!'
   'I don't see anything.'
   'Exactly.'
   'What the f—!'
   Almost in a daze, the two of them wandered over to a metal rack where the faint outline of a missing coffin could clearly be seen in the dust. It was a long while before either of them could speak.
   'Why would someone steal a coffin?' asked Jock, his mouth agape.
   Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything to say so closed it again.
   Jock suddenly marched over to the phone.
   'I'm going to call the police!'
   'Are you mad?' asked Jimmy, with terror in his eyes.
   'Isn't that what you usually do when you've been burgled?' asked Jock, eyeing his brother solemnly.
   'Oh yes? And just where do we tell them we were last night when we were broken into?'
   Jock's shoulders slumped.
   'Jimmy, we can't afford to lose another coffin. We will be out of business before the end of the month at this rate.'
   The shrill ringing of the telephone cut them off. Jock answered, having a premonition that it wasn't going to be a call he would particularly welcome.
   'Hello, Thompson Undertaking,' he said quietly, assuming the gentle telephone manner so necessary when dealing with grieving customers. 'Jock speaking'
   Then his eyes widened.
   'It's Holmes!' he mouthed silently, putting his hand over the mouthpiece.
   Jimmy sidled over to listen in to the conversation.
   'Hello Bob . . . it's a lovely day, right enough . . . heard? Heard what? . . . the m-m-moors? . . . a bad business you say?'
   'We were seen!' hissed Jimmy through his teeth.
   Jock put his hand over the mouthpiece.
   'Will you shut up!'
   'Yes, yes, of course,' he continued, taking his hand from the mouthpiece. 'Everything is okay here, and why would it not be? The moors you say? . . . attempted murder!'
   Jimmy's legs almost buckled under him. 'Yes, we were both home last night . . . yes, all night . . . what do you mean, am I sure? Of course I'm sure . . . well, you must be mistaken, it . . . it . . . couldn't have been our car, we were home all night I tell you . . . someone has made a mistake then, don't you believe me? Of course, Bob, of course . . . goodbye for now.'
   Jock hung up before Holmes could say another word.
   'Someone saw us!' hissed Jimmy.
   Jock slumped down in one of the old chairs lying around the workshop and put his head in his hands.
   'What was he saying about attempted murder?' asked Jimmy, wringing his hands.

   They discussed this downturn in their fortunes for some time, put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and were just beginning to think that their predicament couldn't possibly get any worse, when a car turned in off the lane and scrunched up their driveway. Jock jumped up and ran to the cobwebbed window.
   'It's Bob!'
   'He's come to arrest us.'
   'Will you shut up!'
   Jock's knees trembled as he opened the workshop door, though his fears were dispelled somewhat by the somewhat puzzled expression on the sergeant's face.
   'Good morning,' greeted Holmes, ducking as he entered the workshop.
   'Ah, it's yourself Bob,' replied Jock lamely, wiping his damp palms on his trousers. 'We were so busy we didn't hear your size twelves coming.'
   'Now, now,' chided Holmes. 'Leave my feet out of this.'
   'And what can we do for you?' asked Jimmy, having great difficulty hiding the tremor in his voice.
   'It's a bad business,' said Holmes seriously, 'And you two are acting very strangely. Is something the matter?'
   'Nothing is the matter,' said Jock quickly. 'How can we help you?'
   'You say you were home all night?'
   Neither of the twins said anything.
   'Hmmm,' mused Holmes, wondering why on earth they would lie to him. Nothing was making sense. Illicit whisky or salmon poaching just didn't fit their profile. 'There was mischief out in the moors last night,' he continued, watching them closely for a reaction.
   Jimmy suddenly choked and fled from the workshop.
   'Heffins!' exclaimed Holmes, wincing as Jimmy slammed the door behind him and fled to the house.
   'Jimmy has terrible trouble with his stomach today,' lied Jock. 'Back and forth to the toilet all morning. Must have been a bad black pudding or something. You said something about a murder on the phone.'
   'Murder is too strong a word, we mustn't be over dramatic. I'm not sure quite yet what actually happened but I'll get to the bottom of it. Someone must know something. People don't just disappear.'
   Jock felt his knees go weak.
   'Is everything okay?' asked Holmes again, with deep concern in his voice.
   'Yes, of course.'
   'You're quite sure you didn't go out last night?'
   Jock didn't think he liked the curious glint in Holmes's eye.
   'Would you like a cup of tea?'
   Holmes checked his watch.
   'I've a few minutes, yes, why not.'
   'This mysterious parcel you received,' said Jock, changing the subject as he plugged their workshop kettle in. 'What was it then?'
   'Those damn red knickers—' hissed Holmes.
   'Knickers? Someone sent you knickers?'
   Holmes rolled his eyes, astounded by his own stupidity.
   Jock finished making the tea and the conversation moved on.
   'Who is missing?' asked Jock, handing Holmes a mug.
   'I'm thinking Roddy Morrison knows a thing or two about what happened last night.'
   'Roddy?'
   'Yes, I can't find him, he's missing, and no one has seen him.'
   'Out on the moors you say?'
   'Och Jock, haff you not heard the news? Dundas the water bailiff said there were two of them. It was dark, so he couldn't be sure. But I'll get to the bottom of it. Dundas has given us a good idea of who it was, so it is only a matter of time. What's the matter Jock? You don't look well at all man.'
   Jock made a valiant effort to appear normal, but his mug trembled in his grasp so he put it down and put his hands in his pockets. Sipping his tea, Holmes wandered over to an unfinished coffin to see how it was put together.
   'Will you be visiting the hotel tonight?' he asked, running his fingers over the wood.
   'Quite likely,' replied Jock, who was feeling the need for a stiff whisky or two. 'We have a lot to do today, but I'm sure we'll stop by later.'
   Holmes checked his watch.
   'I've just thought of something,' he said, putting his mug down. 'I need to make a phone call. I'll see you later at the hotel.'
   'You have a good day Bob.'
   After Holmes's departure, Jock pulled himself together and walked quickly to the house.
   'Has he gone?' asked Jimmy miserably, sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of whisky.
   'We are in deep trouble, Jimmy my boy, deep trouble. Dundas the water bailiff was out on the moors last night and he saw two men, but luckily he didn't recognise us.'
   'Then he must have seen the coffin as well.'
   'We have no choice now, brother, we will have to go back and get the coffin out of the grave before they find it.'
   Jimmy drained his glass and reached for the bottle again.

Back to Top