3. THE SPYGLASS

“Fifty thousand pounds? That's a lot for a spyglass!” exclaimed the sergeant, beginning to doubt everything the so-called Inspector said. I mean, he reasoned to himself, how can a blind man know what this bit of tat's worth? And anyway, who valued it?

“Exactly,” pronounced Blink Curmudgeon. “I've gone into it. That spyglass is a unique artefact crafted many an age ago by an ancient Egyptian goldsmith! They were good with gold, really artistic and all that, but nobody realised that they understood lenses and the characteristics of shaped glass until this beauty was unearthed...”

Angelina Parr smiled at the Sergeant and saw the doubt shining in his eyes.

“I think we'd best get the good officer onto our books before we let him into any more secrets,” she murmured. She wiggled her bottom and took a couple of steps towards Inspector Curmudgeon. Sergeant Williams had to fight against an impulse to pat that wiggle, and consequently he took a precautionary step backwards.

“Before I sign anything, how did you know that this unlikely piece of metal and glass is ancient?” he asked. “After all, it doesn't look as if it were thousands of years old, and in my book old things look old!”

“It came from a tomb in the valley of the Kings,” murmured Curmudgeon. “It was found in the company of a minor haul of treasures, and all the bits and pieces were buried in an underground vault that hadn't been opened since it was sealed around three thousand years ago. The discovery was quite recent and there's no doubt about dating it to 1000-ish BC.”

“But … it really looks looks new,” muttered Williams. “If anyone asked me to say when this bit of gold was in a furnace I'd say something like yesterday.”

“Precisely,” beamed the blind Inspector. “Now, if you'll sign the bit of paper that Miss Parr has prepared for you to sign then you'll be on the payroll and we'll be able to discuss the affair properly.”

The sergeant nodded. “All right,” he said, “I'll sign as long as I can unsign in the future if things don't seem kosher to me.”

“Of course. A month’s notice is all I ask,” chuckled the Inspector. “Now, Miss Parr, you've done most of the research so you can tell all.”

He was still standing in the doorway, and he slowly shuffled across the room until he was behind her desk, where he sat down and heaved a sigh of relief.

“There's not much more to explain,” she said slowly, winking at the sergeant and exposing far too much exciting thigh as she sat on the arm of the armchair he was sitting in. “This was left here, as I explained, after the six visitors to our little soiree had gone home. We have no idea who left it, but we really ought to find whoever it was. After all, it's worth a small fortune and Mr Curmudgeon seems to think that whoever left it has no idea of its worth.”

“How do you know?” asked the sergeant, frowning. “I mean, what evidence do you have that associates this splendid looking eyeglass with ancient Egypt? What I mean to ask is, how do we know that this is the very same loupe that was found in the treasure dug up in the Valley of the Kings?”

Inspector Curmudgeon snorted. “I am satisfied,” he replied, heavily. “I'd bet a jar of pickled onions against a Rolls Royce that I'm right to be satisfied, too. And don't forget, Miss Parr used her many years of experience poking around until she was happy.”

Many years of experience, he thought, I wonder how much faith I can put in that ten minutes!

“It is,” put in Angelina Parr, dragging his mind back on course. “He gave me the job of making sure and I'm totally satisfied that it's what we say it is. A very stringent and secret investigation was launched and every expert under the sun agrees that this loupe is three thousand years old, give or take the odd decade.”

“Even though the manufacture of glass is a fairly modern thing?” ventured the sergeant.

“Glass was known long before this loupe was created,” put in Curmudgeon, “There was glass around, beads and stuff like that, hundreds of years earlier. And somebody might well have noted the magnifying ability of a clear glass bead when looked at under the right conditions, and developed the very first lens!”

“I didn't know that,” sighed the sergeant. “I'll have to read up on the subject if I'm to be much help.”

“We've done the research, have Miss Parr and I,” smiled the blind man. “So how do you think our investigation should proceed?”

To start with, the delectable and delicious Miss Parr can show me considerably less of her fragrant thighs, thought Sergeant Williams, but “I guess we should arrange to see all six visitors and invite comment from them,” he said.

“Good.”

“And a while ago you mentioned that you catered for fifty in case your open day was busy. What about the caterers? Were they around during the period when the loupe may have been placed on the desk? Who were they, and how many? And during the occasion, was the front door open in order to allow people to enter from the street? Might anyone else have sneaked in, left the gift and gone?”

“All good thinking!” boomed the Inspector. “I suggest you pop off and contemplate. And remember: if we find whoever owns the spyglass there's bound to be a reward involved!”

“Can I have a list of the six official visitors?” asked the Sergeant.

“I'll see to that,” promised Miss Parr.

“Jolly good!” beamed the unsighted Inspector. “I'm back to my office in case someone wants to present me with another case. We can't turn away work, you know! Get what you want, Sergeant what's your name, and be back sharp at ten tomorrow morning!”

“Williams,” murmured the sergeant.

It was quite a sight, watching the Inspector feeling his way back to his room. A new-looking dado rail had been fitted throughout the ground floor, and it apparently led up the stairs as well, and the blind man felt his way slowly along until he was out of sight in his own office.

“That's better,” beamed Miss Parr, closing her door. “He's not been blind for too long,” she explained. “He was a serving Inspector in the police force, and his pistol went wrong, back-fired or something, when he was practising target shooting like you boys like to do! Anyway, he lost his sight all right.”

“Very sad,” mumbled Royston Williams.

“He started this agency about a year ago,” continued the attractive and considerably under-dressed young secretary. “He appointed me right at the beginning because he couldn't do much in the correspondence line for himself back then. He interviewed me and got the idea I was born in 1959 when I made it quite clear I was really born in 1995. Anyway, he treats me as if I was a senior citizen...”

“He told me you were seventy!” put in Royston. “How about popping out for something to eat? I'll buy...”

“Where to?” asked Angelina.

“Is there a chip shop near here?”

“Is that you? Last of the big spenders? Fish and chips?”

“My favourite meal,” he confessed. “I love my fish and chips. Salt and vinegar and mushy peas. Yum yum!”

“You've talked me into it!” she giggled. “Hang on - I'll tell His Nibs!”

“I gather you get on all right with him?” asked Royston.

“I can't go wrong! He thinks that I'm a really old bird, so he trusts everything I do - which is just as well because I reckon I'm pretty good at my job -and as a bonus he doesn't try to pinch my bottom! He used to, when I was an ordinary constable, but I resigned to apply for this job, but he doesn't associate the woman he sees as old Miss Parr with Constable Parr of the squeezable bum!”

“That's disgusting,” he murmured, wondering if it was.

“Oh, I didn't mind, though some did! I've got a very sensitive bottom and it sends vibrations all through me when it gets touched! But I shouldn't be telling you, what with you being a younger bloke and not blind!”

“I won't take advantage of you,” he told her.

“Shame,” she whispered, and winked. “Come on! I fancy a nice piece of cod and some extraordinarily good chips!”

© Peter Rogerson 13.08.14, revised 29.12.19

Reviews

[Beccy]

Not that odd, actually quite fascinating. There are some lovely little asides buried betwixt the lines and the theme was really well kept to.

Got to the end and thought; I could read more of this.

Beccy.

[Peter Rogerson]

I've only just found this review, Beccy, and thanks very much for your input.