15. JANIE COBWEB

THE CASE OF THE DIAMOND DENTURES 15

“Did you catch a glimpse of them gnashers?” asked Inspector Gadgett in a shocked voice.

“I did indeed,” grated Royston, “and those are the very teeth we’ve been charged to find! And, Inspector, it’s a matter of great importance to the Government that they get found before their contents becomes public knowledge!”

“What do you mean by contents” demanded a surprised Inspector? “What are they? Filled with drugs by a skilled dentist? Or are those incisors real stolen diamonds being smuggled across continents by a gang of female desperadoes?”

“Neither,” replied Blinky, whose eyesight was switching between 20/20 and blindness in such a rapid series of changes that he was almost totally confused.

“Then what?” demanded Gadgett.

“Government secrets. If I tell you I’ll probably have to kill you,” replied Blinky, resorting to a veiled threat because, in all honesty, he had little real knowledge of what the wretched dentures contained other than the teeth looked like diamonds, but then, to him, so did the chips of glass in the cheap ring he bought an early girlfriend from Woolworth’s before those particular shops all shut for good.

He would have continued struggling with his disappointing lack of detailed information and trying to look knowledgeable when they were disturbed by a sound from the rear of the cottage.

“Now what?” sighed Royston, and he raced round a corner, past a cauldron (which was steaming and bubbling almost frenetically) and down a path that led to the back yard.

And that’s what it was. A yard, no more than that, fenced on three sides and with the cottage making the fourth.

Nicely enclosed and private, he thought, and then he saw Janie, the barmaid. She looked at him, and winked.

“Lovely day for it,” she laughed, “catch me if you can!”

And the wicked woman grabbed hold of one of half a dozen broomsticks that were parked conveniently close to the back door, and in a single movement ended up sitting on it.

“You’ll not get far like that!” he scoffed, “it hasn’t got an engine!”

“Not round the world in seventy-nine days?” she giggled, “with these teeth!”

And she opened her mouth wide so that every one of the scintillating diamond teeth mounted in gold-coloured metal was clear to view. To Royston it was a horrible yet fascinating sight and for one brief moment he rather hoped she’d get away with it. But then, on a broomstick? Never!

“My, my, what big teeth you have,” called Angelina who had joined Royston in his wild charge to the rear of the cottage. Blinky was coming up at the rear, but his eyesight was letting him down in little bursts of functionality.

It was then that two things happened at once.

“Goodbye, suckers!” called the barmaid, but her mouth was still opened obscenely wide in order to show off her prize and the dentures slipped out, banged against the broomstick and fell to the stone flagged ground with a resounding crash. The second thing was she took off like an eagle leaving its eyrie, a magnificent sight of flapping skirts, hair streaming behind her and a laugh that split the air in much the same way as a loud operatic soprano can split the air with a screeching aria.

It was as if she didn’t know that the teeth had fallen from her mouth, and there they were, lying on the ground, not three yards from where Royston stood with his mouth open, not believing what he had just seen because, in his mind, there are many forms of transport that crooks use to get away from a crime, but broomsticks had never been one of them. They’re for sweeping up debris, not soaring into the wide blue between puffy white clouds like Janie Cobweb was. And the way she swooped and rolled and did all the best aerobatic tricks the ancient pilots of a forgotten age were proud to be able to do showed that, for a moment at least, she had forgotten her dentures or where they should be: in her mouth.

“Ah!” shrieked Griselda Entwhistle, who had emerged through the back door just in time to see what was happening, “silly girl,” she added, and in one movement, remarkably lithe for one of her apparent age, she leapt into the back yard and snatched the dentures off the ground.

“Stop!” commanded Blinky, but Griselda had never favoured being an obedient servant to anyone of the male sex. If Angelina had shouted stop with the same authority in her voice she might have paused long enough for one of the valiant threesome to grab hold of the dentures, but she didn’t.

“She was right! You are suckers!” cackled the old woman, and she, too, grabbed hold of one of the neat rows of broomsticks and leapt to sit on it as though it was something she’d been doing all her long life, which it most likely was.

The sight was magnificent. She was wearing a long, black dress with voluminous skirts that streamed out behind her, as did her tresses of flowing grey-to-white hair as she cackled in a voice loud enough to be heard across the county, and followed the younger woman in a joyride across the skies.

“What now?” asked Blinky, “we’ll never follow them in your car, sergeant, and if we get anywhere near them the batteries are bound to go flat and we’ll be stuck in some desert somewhere or, maybe halfway up a mountain.”

“There’s only one thing,” snapped Angelina, taking charge of the three of them whilst Inspector Gadgett who, with a name like his should have produced something technical and useful, but didn’t, looked on.

“What’s that?” demanded Royston.

“Learn to fly one of these things,” replied the young woman, and she grabbed hold of a third broomstick from the row conveniently parked by the back door to the cottage.

“Ridiculous!” exploded Blinky, probably because it was but also because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“Give it a go!” snapped Royston, and somehow, as of it was something that they’d always done, the two, he and Angelina, leapt onto the broomstick she was holding.

“The cretins!” raged Blinky, “the absolute morons when there’s good work to be done!”

And maybe they were, but that didn’t really affect them.

“What do I do?” asked Royston from behind Angelina, “and this stick is a bit knobbly on my wedding tackle,” he added, squirming from side to side, trying to find a spot that was comfortable.

“Sit still!” hissed Angelina, and she examined the pointed end of the broomstick, which was just in front of her. It would, she thought, be good if there was a switch or button to press or some kind of control system that she might stand a chance of understanding, but there was nothing but the rough wooden end of the stick.

“What are we doing?” demanded Royston.

“The two of you, put that broomstick down and come here!” roared Blinky, seeking to regain authority.

“I think I’ll try this,” said Angelina, and she closed her eyes, opened her mind, and in a glorious, brain-boggling instant she and with Royston almost sitting behind her felt the broomstick twitch a little, then gaped and gasped as it rose majestically into the air It was at that point that she screeched “weeeee” and Royston wet himself.

“Come back!” howled Blinky, but it was too late. They were off, the two of them, on a course that would surely overtake the old Griselda Entwhistle before too long, for they were young, weren’t they, and she was old? Which shows just how little they knew about the human spirit when dentures are at stake.

“This is child’s play,” laughed Angelina, and to prove it she wiggled the broomstick until Royston emptied the contents of his stomach onto the green fields below them.

© Peter Rogerson

Reviews

[Paul]

Documentation
1/26/2020
3:58 PM U.S.A. MST
This review content authored by PB Jacobs (www.writerscafe.org)
My review content of "15. Janie Cobweb," by Peter Rogerson.

Hey, Peter!

Neato name for your chapter content. It reminds me of a blend of state fair, and cityville juvie. Awesome! The Dear Schmitty has to be a Dear Schmitty, I see. True, I can only type a muddled first impression of your content, but so far, so good, at my first glance. It's a happening content piece, if you ask me!

From what I see, you have an imagination that I can easily appreciate. No, I'm not much for nitpicking content and punctuation that much, lately, as I only have so much computer time, here at the library, but your content is right on, in ways!

PB Jacobs (www.writerscaffe.org)

[Peter Rogerson]

An interesting review and I am grateful for the lack of what you call nitpicking. Thanks very much for your input

[Paul]

I'm a live type. PB Jacobs