Pub Brawls and Fete Stalls

Case 2: On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail - Part 3

The Next Day

After the meeting in the shed I was ordered to go home and start prepping. Wasn't exactly sure for what but still it was a chance to grab some extra sleep. The next morning I was rudely awoken by the alarm and after a sluggish walk down the stairs discovered Mr Kiln once again drinking a cup of tea in our kitchen. Without a moments hesitation he spoke, authoritatively.

"There is a meeting being held in the pub at 11am. All the village is invited. Make sure you are there and ready to start investigating. Some new evidence has come to light but I now feel the rest of the village should know. It's far worse than we first feared". And with that he was gone. I looked at Mother, who just shrugged her shoulders and went about her business. Must be serious I thought, and with that attacked my scrambled eggs with renewed velour. 

At The Swan

I arrived at the pub to find everyone already there; and in rather good spirits. Having it seemed, all been given free beer! A table was positioned in the centre which behind stood PC Bob Pig, Mr Kiln and the tramp Mr Partridge, clearly Mr Kilns new henchman. Whatever he was he still stank. A hush suddenly befell the room and Mr Kiln spoke, after clearing his throat and blowing his nose, rather loudly for many in the room.

"Ladies, Gents and others (looking at Mr Partridge, who had taken to eating some pork scratchings). Early this morning I found a note in my office". I could hear people mumbling, saying they thought his office was a shed. "All it states is that they have all the fetes stalls and its signed by someone called The Yellow Fingernail". Gasps filled the room, people took a swig of their beer. Mrs Bentley fainted, hitting a table as she did, spilling Mr Johnsons beer, who then accused Mr Kiln for the spillage. Others disagreed and a scuffle ensued. Meanwhile Mrs Bentley awoke to a battle royal between a number of key figures. Fearing she would be blamed she felt it better to pretend being unconscious, that way avoiding any further accusation. After what seemed an age the fighting stopped, probably because Mr Partridge had decided to join in. He really did stink. Mr Kiln continued "Mr Wilson over there", pointing to me, "is going to investigate this most heinous of crimes and shall try to retrieve our stalls and capture this criminal. The fete will go ahead".

Cheers rang around the pub and with that there was a further rush for the bar. Meanwhile Mr Kiln handed me an envelope and shoved me out of the pub. 
 "Go and restore honour to our village Wilson." 
And with that he went back in to have another beer. I opened the scruffy envelope and read the message. 

So Leyhill had finally given me the chance to prove myself. With a little skip of delight I headed for home, pulled out my dusty detecting blue coat and went out to my 50cc scooter. So they were headed for Hemel. I'd never been there (which wasn't necessarily a bad thing). It was one of those new towns, all modern buildings and no heart. I kick started my scooter and headed off towards this new town, which wasn't very quickly as the 50cc engine wasn't the most powerful. I'd probably get there quicker by walking. I passed the pub again, as it was on route. A small crowd had gathered and were waving me on my journey. It almost felt like they couldn't wait for me to leave! Putting this thought to the back of my mind I crawled away from the pub and so started my pursuit of the Yellow Fingernail. 

Coming soon: Part 4 - Lost in Translation. 

"Where's me coconuts?"

Part 2: On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail

The sun was shining into my room the next morning and as I opened my eyes this horrendous vision greeted me. Beady eyes and strange curly things dangling from greying hair, bright red lips and bad breath. It was Mother shaking me rather violently for some reason.

"Get up, get up" I heard her saying. I rose quickly bashing my head into her chin. Get up, get up turned into words best not described in these pages. After she had recovered and given me a wrap around my head, she ask authoritatively for me to go down stairs as someone had come to see me. "Now." She finished and stormed out the room. 

Deciding to dress later I threw on my dressing gown and walked into the kitchen and was greeted by a smug looking Mr Kiln (head parish councillor) drinking a cup of tea. Without talking he threw the mornings edition of the Leyhill Echo at me. I looked down at the headline and then looked across at Mr Kiln.

"Shock, Horror - Coconut Stall Goes Missing

Messieurs Kiln and Pickles are said to be disgusted at the latest crime to hit the streets of Leyhill." More to follow...

I stood contemplating the implications of the headline. He stood up, thanked Mother and just as he was leaving turned to me and said. "Get yourself dressed properly and come to the my office."

"What the shed at the bottom of your garden?" I replied. 

"Just be there", and with that he stormed out of the kitchen. I headed upstairs, slightly confused by what had just happened. 

I got changed and headed out, as I walked down the road towards Mr Kilns shed (office) I dumped into the local tramp Mr Partridge, who was also one of Mr Kilns henchmen. 
"You smell" he stated. Charming I thought.

"So do you" I replied, regretting the comment as he brought a smelly fist up to my throat. 

"Listen, if I say you smell, you smell. Got it?" 

"Ok, look I'm just off to see Mr Kiln as someone has stolen the coconut stalls".

"Yeah I've heard that, strange business if you ask me, something not right about that", he said lessening his grip.

"Why" I asked, thinking he was not telling me everything, what with him being one of Mr Kilns henchmen.

"Not telling you because you smell!" And with that he was away, dragging me for a moment until he realised he still had hold of me. He let go and I fell to the ground. He turned, shook his head and walked towards the pub. 

Strange I thought and with that I continued down the road. My only thought regarding the disappearance of the stalls was that the next village Latimer had stolen it as they didn't have a coconut stall, but why would they? Their Fete was in August, (it was June) so a bit early to go around stealing fete stalls. As I arrived at Mr Kilns shed, PC Bob Pig was standing outside, picking his nose. He opened the door and I was greeted by Mr Kiln sitting behind a makeshift desk of a plank of wood balanced on a lawnmower and a chair. He again threw a newspaper at me with a new headline (they print them quickly I thought). I looked at the latest headline and then looked back at him.

FETE TO BE CANCELLED - now reports suggest all the stalls have been taken. Messieurs Kiln and Pickles said to be utterly disgusted. More to follow....

This was shocking, truly shocking, but what did they want from me?

"Sit down Wilson. What we are about to tell you is confidential between me, you and Mr Pig out there. Pig stop picking your nose." he shouted. And with that he explained everything....

Find out what happens in the next installment ...On a Road to Nowhere 

On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail - (Bored, Bored, Bored)

Case 2: On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail - Part 1

Day 1

The Case of the Missing Turnips and the episode with the parrot had taken the stuffing out of me and since then life had somewhat slowed. I was a little older, none the wiser and had started to lose my hair, which wasn't helping with my already desperate appearance. Since those cases Leyhill had become a place of tranquility and I continued to be a jobs worth, mainly mucking out the pigs on the local farm. I had achieved some notoriety by winning the local "Muck spreader of the year" award, strangely there was only the judge in attendance and no other contestants, something to do with the smell? Mrs Wilcox still lived next door and there were rumours of her being behind a bung deal between Leyhill cricket club and Ashley Green cricket club to throw the final game of the season to allow Ashley Green to at least win a match. Muck spreading had prevented me from investigating. My mother had married Jock the Block, who had opened up a chain of underwear stores called Jocks Strap. And the only other excitement to have hit Leyhill was the proposed motorway extension that would have cut through the middle of the village, but when the contractors came to canvas the area they had mysteriously disappeared. Mrs Wilcox was spotted digging holes near the local chapel that very day but once again muck spreading had intervened and I was unable to substantiate those reports. I was bored. 

Today was the day before the day before Leyhill's annual summer fete. A big event in the annual calendar of the village which ran alongside the annual Flower Show. In fact the two committees rather despised each other and had wanted to move the shows apart, but both events attracted large volumes of villages and townsfolk, who came with pots of cash, so the committees decided to bite their tongues and keep things as they were. For now at least. Mr Perth (the village councillor) had announced the fetes and flower shows events a week before, so the hype was building. Various stalls and sideshows would take centre stage and the Leyhill dog club were going to do a obedience demonstration, something they did every year. Last time out they lost two dogs because they saw a cat and gave chase. Their owners still attached. They were all last seen heading over the nearby hill. None returned apart from a very sly cat. Everyone was assured that this wouldn't happen this year. Fat chance most people replied. The flower shows centre piece was to be Mrs Hardwicks cake demonstration. Last year she blew up the village hall having left the gas on after she had forgot to take out her scones! Let's just say the scones were burnt. 

As I sat at the dining table eating my porridge I had the realisation that all was rather to good. The weeks preparation for the fete had gone very smoothly. I hoped that something would happen at the fete to release the boredom. Perhaps an accident at the coconut shy or one of the dogs would disobey their owner and bite Mr Perth or PC Bob Pig? Or at least something that would allow me to put my muck spreading spade down and get back to investigating. And do you know what? Something unexpected did happen and it would take me on my greatest adventures yet and introduce me to a new master criminal, The Yellow Fingernail.

Find out what happens next time in Part 2 of On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail - "Where's me coconuts!"