“I’ll purchase a copy as soon as I leave here,” said Eddie. “Do you suppose that will be sooner rather than later, as it were?”
“Well, we’ll have to see about that. There are most serious charges.”
“Charges?” said Eddie. “There is more than one charge?”
“You can never have too many charges.” Chief Inspector Bellis grinned from ear to ear, then back again. “It’s like having too many chickens. You can never have too many chickens, can you?”
“Chickens again?” said Jack.
“I like chicken again,” said Bellis. “Again and again. I can’t get enough of chicken.”
Jack shook his head. “I am assuming that you are talking about eating chicken?” he said.
“Obviously. But it’s such a dilemma, isn’t it?”
Eddie shook his head and wondered where all this was leading to.
“You see,” said the chief inspector, “my wife makes me sandwiches for my lunch.”
“Chicken sandwiches?” Jack asked, not out of politeness, but possibly more as a diversionary tactic, in the hope that perhaps Chief Inspector Bellis would just like to chat about sandwiches for a while, before sending him and Eddie on their way.
“That’s the thing,” said Bellis. “I like chicken sandwiches. But I also like egg sandwiches. But you’ll notice that although you mix and match the contents of sandwiches – cheese and onion, egg and cress, chicken and bacon – no one ever eats a chicken and egg sandwich.”
Eddie looked at Jack. And Jack looked at Eddie.
“He’s right,” said Jack.
“He is,” said Eddie. “So why is that, do you think?”
“Because of the eternal question,” said Bellis.
“Ah,” said Eddie.
“Ah,” said Jack.
“What eternal question?” said Eddie.
“Oh, come on,” said Bellis. “What came first, the chicken or the egg? I mean, how could you eat the sandwich? You wouldn’t know which bit to eat first. You’d go mad trying. And believe me, I have tried. And I have gone mad.”
“Most encouraging,” whispered Eddie to Jack. “I can see this being a long and difficult evening.”
“Is it evening already?” asked Jack.
“Let’s just assume that it is.”
“There’s no solution to it,” said Chief Inspector Bellis. “It’s one of those things that’s best left alone. Forgotten about, in fact. In fact, let us never mention the subject again.”
“I’m up for that,” said Eddie, offering the chief inspector an encouraging smile. “So, is it all right if Jack and I go now?”
Chief Inspector Bellis shook his head. “Not as such,” he said. “In fact, not at all. There are these charges to be considered. Things do not look altogether good for you.”
“But I am innocent,” said Eddie.
“That, I’m afraid, is what they all say.”
“But Eddie is innocent,” said Jack. “And I can prove it.”
“Can you?” Eddie asked.
“Of course I can,” said Jack. “The proprietor of the cigar store said that Eddie purchased those cigars yesterday evening, did he not?”
“I heard him say that,” said Eddie.
Chief Inspector Bellis perused notes upon his desk. “That is what he said,” he said. “Shortly before eight, last evening, just before he closed up.”
“That’s right,” said Jack. “He said something about the rain and Eddie leaving puddles on his floor.”
Chief Inspector Bellis did further perusings and nodded.
“Then it can’t have been Eddie,” said Jack.
“No, it can’t,” said Eddie. “I have an alibi. I was in Tinto’s Bar at that time, and that’s right across the city.”
Chief Inspector Bellis made a thoughtful face. It was a very good thoughtful face and both Jack and Eddie were tempted to ask him to make it once more. But only tempted. They showed laudable restraint. “Well, an alibi is an alibi,” said the chief inspector. “But I can see no reason why we should let that stand in the way of letting the law take its course and justice getting done.”
“Eh?” said Eddie.
“What?” said Jack.
“Well,” said Bellis, “as I won’t be following up on the alibi, it hardly matters, does it?”
“Eh?” said Eddie again.
And Jack did another “What?” Although louder than the first.
“Crime and punishment share a certain empathy,” Chief Inspector Bellis explained, “in that both are dispassionate. The criminal goes about his work in a dispassionate manner. He cares not whom he hurts or harms. He doesn’t care about the feelings of others. And so the law behaves towards the criminal in a similar manner. The law cares not for the criminal, it simply seeks to lock him away so that he may perform no further crime.”
“But I’m innocent,” said Eddie.
“And if I were not dispassionate, I would care for your woes,” said Bellis. “But that would be unprofessional. I must never get personally involved. There’s no telling what might happen if I did so, is there?”
“You might free the innocent and convict only the guilty,” was Eddie’s suggestion.
“The distinction between guilt and innocence is a subtle one.”
“No, it’s not,” said Eddie. “You’re either guilty or you’re not.”
“I’ll thank you not to confuse the issue. Charges have been made and you have been arrested. End of story, really.”
“This is outrageous,” said Jack. “I demand to speak to your superior.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“Oh yes it will,” said Jack. “I will see justice done. I really will.”
“You tell him, Jack,” said Eddie.
“You’ll tell me nothing,” said Chief Inspector Bellis, “because I am dropping all the charges.”
“You are?” said Eddie.
“I am,” said Bellis, “because I know you are innocent.”
“You do?” said Eddie.
“I do,” said Bellis. “And upon this occasion I am prepared to let the fact that you are innocent stand in the way of letting justice be done.”
“You are?” said Eddie. “Why?” said Eddie.
“Because in return for this, you are going to do something for me. Something that I surmise you are already doing and something I wish you to continue doing.”
“I am now very confused,” said Eddie.
“I believe I am correct in assuming that you have returned to your old profession,” said Bellis, “that of detective.”
Eddie nodded.
“You see, I know that it was not you who purchased those cigars with the mysterious combustible currency.”
“You do?” said Eddie once more.
“I do,” said Bellis once more. “You see, I have these.” And he drew from his desk a number of plasticised packets and flung them onto his desk.
Eddie took one up between his paws and examined it. “Cigar butt,” he said.
“Eleven cigar butts,” said Bellis, “one found at each of the cymbal-playing monkeys’ resting places. All over the city. Eleven cigar butts. The twelfth you showed to Smokey Joe. You went there to enquire whether he recalled who he sold it to, didn’t you?”
“I did,” said Eddie.
“And the twelfth monkey?”
“Dead in Bill’s office,” said Eddie.
“Intriguing, isn’t it?” said Bellis. “And they all died within minutes of each other. And I do not believe that you ran all over the city on your stumpy little legs wiping each and every one of them out – did you?”
Eddie shook his head.