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The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Thirteen: In which the most extraordinary detectives provide the most extraordinary revelation Tuesday, 14-Sep-1999 18:00:36
The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Thirteen In which the most extraordinary detectives provide the most extraordinary revelation The sign on the door said “Banjoooo and spiffy’s Detective Agency.” This had been crossed out and replaced with “spiffy and Banjoooo’s Detective Agency”. A series of other crossings out in a similar vein followed until a sad little amendment near the bottom said “Banjoooo and spiffy (deceased)”. Then “deceased” had been scrubbed out too. Nor was this the only notice on the little landing atop the outside staircase in New Gothametropolis City’s Warehouse District. A piece of cardboard thumbtacked to the frame read “Sea Monkey Embassy”. A crayoned note below it announced, “I used to have a mansion, you know.” “This must be the place,” sighed Asil, my amanuensis, glaring at the letter for recommendation from that dazzling attorney Ms Waltz, who is, incidentally, young Asil’s “doody-head” or genetic clone material donor. I rapped on the door and was bade to enter. I held the door for Asil then curiously entered the cluttered and quite dark room. The evening sun sent horizontal shadows from the window-blinds. A young chap was sitting with his feet up on his desk and almost fell off his chair as he saw my companion. “Asil!” he spluttered. “Of all the detective agencies in all the towns in all the world and you had to walk into this one!” Noticed something odd about this young fellah. Felt compelled to mention it. Regarding the fern that appeared to sprout from the top of his head. Not too common in my experience. Turns out this young chap is spiffy, which is his name not a way of describing a smart spruce object, and the fern is an extradimensional symbiote which confers super-powers on its wielder. Explains a lot. Still puzzled over why no capital letter in spiffy’s name however. Said as much. Then this other remarkable chap wanders in from the kitchenette carrying two mugs of coffee. Nice enough fellow, but the crown-horns, the purple-pinkish scaly skin, and the prawn-like features are a bit of a shock at first. Asil explained that this was Banjoooo, King of the Sea Monkeys. Seems that they’re a genetically-modified undersea race of half-inch-long shrimp-things. Banjoooo was apparently big for his size. Anyway, introduced self and gave short resume of reason I needed detective agency. Explained about coming into possession of mysterious plans and patent registered twenty years ago by some chappie who clearly hadn’t the faintest idea of what they were. Expanded on the long list of people who had tried to scrobble the plans on behalf of that bounder Baron Zemo. Pointed out that we still hadn’t the faintest idea what the damn device was so young Bautista of Bautista International was assembling it even now. This seemed to worry Banjooooo and spiffy for some reason. Asked the two detectives to try and dig up a bit of background about Leonard Hopkins, the filer of the patent, a chap who dies a few years later in some kind of accident. spiffy looked rather uncomfortable. Asked if he was alright. He wasn’t. Turns out his unsuperhero name is Mark Hopkins. Father’s name was Leonard. Now my conclusion is that Banjoooo and spiffy are jolly nice chaps, but they’re hardly Sherlock Holmes. Didn’t take them too long to work out that spiffy’s dad might have died from foul play in that freak roller-skating accident, and that they needed to investigate that as well as how Leonard Hopkins might have come across the plans everyone’s so interested in. But they didn’t draw the other conclusion, and I thought it best to let things lie for now. I broached it at last with Banjoooo after we’d split into two teams. At my suggestion Asil accompanied spiffy to look through his late parents’ papers in hopes of discovering something relevant. Noticed spiffy blushed deep red when Asil joined his team. Suspect young fellah might have a soft spot my Miss Ashling – but is horribly tongue-tied. Faint heart never won fair lady. Must remember to tell him so. The Sea Monkey and I were going to “shake down the underworld”, which apparently means questioning felons regarding their complicity in criminal acts. Thought I’d better get my problem out in the open. Asked how old young spiffy was. “Sixteen,” Banjooooo answered me. “Why do you ask.” I pointed out the maths. Leonard Hopkins died twenty years ago, right after filing that patent. “Oh,” realised Banjooooo. Spent remainder of evening going round series of rather unsavoury bars accosting the lower classes and asking personal questions of them on the subject of assassinations. Seemed a little impertinent, but Banjoooo seemed to enjoy it, and when in Rome… However, in the end quietly asked one rather stunned barkeeper who was in change of the local criminal fraternity and was given address of a fellow known as the Lynchpin. Banjoooo not keen to pay this chap a visit, or “die slowly and horribly” as he called it. Stout chap that he is he did accompany me to see the cove in the end when he realised that I wasn’t going to be deterred.. Speaking of stout chaps, the Lynchpin must have been thirty stone if he was a pound. Could have stood to get a bit of exercise and cut out between meals snacking. Told him as much while Banjoooo was ducking below the desk. Of course, we’d only been allowed into the offices of this crimelord blaggard because like everyone else he wanted to collect some brownie points (and a large reward) with Zemo. Since he thought he’d got us trapped (he pointed out to my Sea Monkey companion that Banjoooo couldn’t grow to giant proportions inside a reinforced building) he was more than happy to gloat over us. I suggested he gloat by telling us who had done the Hopkins assassination way back when, and out of curiosity he got them to look it up. Even he was impressed when it turns out it was a “hit” from a rather nasty piece of work called the Bone, an admanantium-skeletoned mercenary-for-hire who is now semi-retired. Thanked the Lynchpin for the information and said we’d better be going now. Stopped him in mid-laugh by triggering temporal pocketwatch and stepping outside time. Bit of a struggle to drag the time-frozen Banjoooo down sixteen flights of stairs to street level but managed it in the end. Also sneaked a peek at Lynchpin’s rolodex to get contact number for the Bone as suspect young spiffy may want a word with him. When time-suspension finished young Banjoooo was rather confused as to how he had made us both appear in the street. He explained to me that sometimes his advanced genetic makeup enabled him to manifest unusual powers and that this must be one of them. I said that must be a very useful talent. Left before Lynchpin worked out where we’d gone. Some of these fat sweaty blighters can get into a terrible bate if things don’t go their way. Rendezvoused with Asil and spiffy at detective agency. Wandered in and asked them if they’d got any leads. Both nodded silently. Spiffy pointed to the shadows in the corner, where a chap in a grey mantle and cowl lurked in the shadows. “He found us,” Asil explained. Gal sounded intimidated, which isn’t like her at all. Asked this johnny who the devil he was. I swear the bounder’s eyes glowed as he spoke. “You may call me… the Hooded Hood.” Mumphrey |
| The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Thirteen: In which the most extraordinary detectives provide the most extraordinary revelation (Mumphrey) (14-Sep-1999 18:00:36) |
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