A Conclusion to the Curious Case of the Corpses in the Cafe Across the Road from the Chris Hoy Velodrome (aka Cupid's Knife)

"So is it called a tweet or a twit?" I asked, as Robin attempted to teach me the mystic art of 'Twitter.'
"The posts are tweets. You are a twit." Robin replied. "Now click confirm and then reopen the Twitter app."
I exited my email's on the fancy smartphone and then reopened the Twitter app. My twitter page appeared, and revealed I had an egg on a red background. "Does your egg hatch and become a twitter bird if you get lots of stalkers?"
"They're called followers, Gabriel. And no, it doesn't. Now, you see the magnifying glass?"
"Finally, something I recognise!" I exclaimed and clicked on it. A keyboard rose from the bottom of the page. "What do I do now?"
"Type in Robin Greenhouse." Robin said.
I did so and her face came up. "Eurgh. Why would I want to have access to more than one of your faces?"
"For that, I'm not following you. But you still have to follow me."
I was too distracted by the first twit, sorry- tweet- on the menu. "Hashtag Indy Ref? Since when was Indiana Jones a referee? Or is it that the Black Keys style of music is being given the red card? I hope not, because- after Franz Ferdinand- they're one of my favourite bands."
"Indy Ref is the Independence Referendum. You know, the big thing where we get to thwart the English after 300 years of tyranny."
"I assume you'll be voting no, then."
She glared at me. "Did you see the Big Debate?"
"What, Salmond Versus Darling? Aye, I watched it. I almost considered voting Yes, due to the amount of self restraint Salmond showed. The temptation to end every sentence 'Darling' must have been overwhelming. Oh, hello darling."
"'Oh, hello darling'? Why would Salmond say that?"
"I think he might have been talking to me." Rachel said, coming in with her bag hanging at her side.
"Good conference?" I asked her.
"Yeah. The English scientists were a bit gloomy, saying it was the last chance they'd have to enter Scotland without a passport, but over all it was quite good."
"It'll be a no vote." I assured her. "I bet you ten pounds."
"If it's a Yes," she replied, "we may not be using pounds! I read the article, by the way."
"What, the Chris Hoy Corpses?" I asked back.
"Yeah, but they changed the name to not annoy Chris Hoy. It's now called, 'Cupid's Knife.'"
"That is awful!" I exclaimed.
"Hang on a second." Robin said. "I didn't think you'd worked that one out yet?"
"Oh yeah, I worked it out ages ago. I thought it was rather obvious to be truthful."
She scowled at me, and snatched the paper from Rachel's hand, flicking to page eight. If you were to do this, you would find the words Rathbone Investigates in arched writing, with my face by the R and Robin's face by the final S. Underneath were the words Cupid's Knife in big letters, then below was a block of text describing our adventure. Robin read it allowed. "It wasn't for the first time that I and Robin had found ourselves out in the early hours of the morning, accompanied by Inspector Lodsbury of Strathclyde Police, investigating a multiple murder. The crime had taken place opposite the Chris Hoy Velodrome, scene of the Commonwealth Games,  in a small family owned cafe. Ambulance services had shown up within five minutes, pretty good for the tourist stricken streets, but they'd been of no help to the daughter, the only person who'd survived the barbaric attack. I would advise you to stop reading now, should you want to be spared the image that haunted my dreams for the next few nights." Robin stopped reading and stared at me. "You are far too overly dramatic."
"You're telling me!" Cried Rachel.
Robin ignored her and continued reading. "The corpses numbered two, the father and stepmother. The father had a powerful stab through his neck, and the stepmother had a powerful stab to the liver. It was easy to fall into the mind set that the culprit was a big man, and the shatter of glass from the window was certainly suggestive of this theory. But this almost certainly wasn't the case.
"As usual, the Human Element of the case was the closing point. Inspector Lodsbury, of which my old readers will know I've nicknamed Lodders, read his notes from the distressed daughter, who'd rung the ambulance, after she'd unfortunately found the body. Inspector Lodsbury read, 'She came down when she heard her stepmother screaming. She found her father choking up blood- through the wound in his neck, and her stepmother with the knife still in her liver. The stepmother ripped the knife out of her liver, and that just encouraged the bleeding.' And that, 'She kept babbling about how her stepmother was so small she had to stand on the fathers feet to kiss him.' Now, I know we don't show Holby City till after the News nowadays, but it doesn't take much knowledge to know that taking the knife from the wound isn't a good idea, and why did she babble about the standing on the fathers feet? Well that was because, inside her catatonic shell, the daughter had worked out how it was done, and was intending to tell us.
"One of the things I noticed about the fathers corpse was that there were strange imprints on on the front of the ankles. These imprints were much like when you press your fingernails into your hand, and that's why it fitted beautifully with something Robin said. The toenails of the stepmother. They were long, but painted lovingly, like she was trying to distract from the length. And that was what gave it away to me. At some point during the night, the tourists outside had got so drunk they'd ended up smashing the front window of the cafe. Father and stepmother had come down to sort it out, and boarded up the window. Then. stepmother for whatever reason, stepped onto his feet as if to kiss him, then stabbed his neck and stepped away as the blood splurged out. He fell back, but her long toe nails had left an imprint in the front of his ankles. Not thumbnails on the palm, but toenails on the ankles. But then how did she end up being stabbed? She took the knife and stabbed herself. As a theme that seems to be developing a lot in murders recently, the murderer felt guilty and stabbed herself. Presumably she thought, having stabbed herself, she wouldn't have caused enough damage, so she drew the knife out, screaming as she went and causing the suspicion of the daughter. I didn't have a motive, but we soon found one- the cafe had spent far too much money on the Games, and then didn't have enough to replace the window. Also, it was an awful cafe, so they hadn't made much money from sales. In the end, I guess she blamed him and, begin the furious stereotype that Scottish women seem to conform to, she decided to kill him. I was invited back to the cafe, which has reopened due to the daughters efforts, and am pleased to report it is a reformed venue, but I doubt many who read this will be encouraged to go there, as a history of betrayal, lost love and the occurrence of Cupid's Knife hangs a terrible emptiness over a cafe's customers. The End." Robin finished, and then added, "I hope you didn't write that last bit. It was awful."
"I can successfully announce I didn't write it." I replied.
"Good." Robin said. "Because if an English man read it, he'd really hope it was a Yes Vote."

Rathbone and Robin will return at some point in the near distant further, although whether or not they're going to be Independent when they do is another matter altogether.

The Evolving Robber (part 4)

"I'd kind of guessed that." Lodders moaned from the floor, and I realised he was what had been kicked about on the floor. McFarlan gave him a kick in the face for his troubles.
"I hadn't." Rachel said, as the EastEnders theme finished. "I can't believe Patrick had a stroke."
"I meant the fact he's my brother in law." Lodders replied, to another kick in the face from the brother in question.
I prepared myself to fight, but realised that I hadn't even been able to hit a low paid desk sergeant when we'd dealt with the Corpse Quartet so six tall, muscular men who'd already committed assault twice and broken into five flats probably weren't my ideal opponent. Instead, I backed off, as all six turned to me, and smiled at them. They were an ugly bunch, presumably all bailiffs like their leader, and all dressed in the appropriate clothes. They also all wore a days worth of stubble, beneath their black hoods. "This is normally the bit where I and Robin talk through how we worked out it was you, using a selection of keen banter and clever deductions." I explained. "And it would probably really help if you would stop approaching us threateningly."
They didn't, and so Robin continued from where I'd stopped. "We knew we were looking for six men, from the footprints on the doors of Mrs Fraisers flat, and we knew you were all tall and strong from the size of your feet and the ferocity with which you kicked the door."
"And we knew you were probably bailiffs from the expert way in which you opened the doors." I added. "Please will you stop walking towards us because it's kind of freaking me out."
"Gabriel!" Robin complained. "You should never tell the threatening people you're scared, cause now they'll just threaten you more."
"Please can you give me advice if we survive this, Robin, because it won't be very useful if we don't."
"Consider it done. Shall I continue?"
"If you wouldn't mind."
"We knew you had to be bailiffs, and we knew you had to be tall, but we didn't have a clue who exactly you were. But we had a theory. Lachlan McFarlan, brother in law of Inspector Lodsbury, but we needed confirmation."
"And, in an extremely not chronological order of events, we got some. From the CCTV in the lobby. You're use to being on the side of the law, so it didn't occur to you until later that the CCTV would have been incriminating." I continued.
"But after we'd worked that out, we needed a motive, and Gabriel worked that out almost straight away. It's quite obvious when you think about it." Robin said, leading us behind the bar, and stepping in front of the oven. "Would you like to talk us through your little timeline, Gabe?"
"Don't call me Gabe."
"Gabriel?"
"Better." I replied. "My reasoning starts at about six o clock this evening. Lodders dresses in the suit he's currently wearing and tell's Madeline, his wife, that he's going to an event at my flat this evening.   He and Sarrison wish her goodnight and then go to the taxi waiting outside for them. Robin get's out of the back of the taxi, and they hug or something like that. They drive off and come here, but more importantly, Madeline had seen them hug, or whatever. Now, being stereotypically feisty and Scottish, Madeline calls her big, tall, strong brother and his gang of bailiffs- who are approaching far to threateningly close, please back off a bit- and tell's them she thinks she's being cheated on."
"Can you get to the bit where you outsmart them, please." Lodders called from the floor, bordering on unconsciousness.
"I'm getting to that." I replied. "Where was I? Ah yes. Now, Madeline tells Lachlan that her husband is cheating on her with a a skinny redhead, half her age. Lachlan is outraged, decides to go beat both their brains out. Then he asks where they were going. She says my flat, but neither know where that is, so they have to have a think. Then it occurs to them. He took Sarrison with him."
"Sarrison, the good dog that he was, had had a chip out in his foot by Come_Here_Boy.com." Robin continued. "And using the website, they managed to track him down, to where he was chewing the table leg in this flat."
"And that was the beginning of it. McFarlan and his merry men know that Sarrison, and presumably Lodders and Robin, are somewhere in this building, but they don't know what floor, so they turn up and ask the receptionist they'd been invited to a party, hoping he'd direct them to my flat. But he didn't, just buzzed themselves through, so they had to work their way up. Floor one, Mrs Fraiser's flat. Floor two, the Hussein's flat. Then they rushed to the fire escape, and went up, to floor three. They entered three and found it abandoned. This was the turning point. They'd committed two crimes, crimes which would probably get them behind bars for one year, so they could back out or really break the law. They decide to go to a cafe a few blocks away and think things over, and disappear back down the fire exit, going to the cafe. Maybe two hours later, they come across a picture of Robin. They again feel the anger of earlier and return to this building, but for all they know, the lobby could be crawling with police, so they go up the fire exit and enter through the windows on the fourth floor. They walk through and enter the flat. Where they find a skinny redhead, half Madeline's age. Before they consult the picture, they knock her out and search for Lodders. But they don't find him, and when they go back to the girl, they discover she isn't Robin. Infuriated at their mistake, they go outside and beat the door up a bit, as you do, when they hear voices coming up the stairwell. They head up, into the room on floor five and they don't discover Robin or Lodders. So they hide in their, until they come in here, and beat the living daylights out of Lodders."
"That doesn't answer about the mess in the room though, does it?" The Hussein son shouted from the back of the room.
"My head is too busy falling apart for me to care about that." Lodders cried.
Robin answered this particular query. "They were searching for Lodders and Robin. The bits that had been looked through and ransacked were big enough to hold a human being, but with each floor, they worked out which were more likely to hold the person they were looking for, eliminating places from their list, and the places they did search, they did more carefully. They literally evolved, as they robbed." Robin answered.
Lachlan clapped several times, slowly and sarcastically, and said, "All well and good, pal, but what're are you going to do when I knock you unconscious?"
Robin had an answer. "You really shouldn't have tagged Sarrison with Come_Here_Boy.com."
"Why?" Asked Lachlan.
"Because, Sarrison! Attack!" She pointed at Lachlan, but the dog which had been slowly edging towards her every time she said 'Sarrison...Come Here Boy' refused to rush forwards at the big bad man, probably because it was scared of him all the same. Robin sighed and threw the piece of meat, that she'd taken from the oven after we'd got there, at Lachlan, but not even a nice bit of meat could convince the greyhound. "Ha!" Lachlan cried. "Your last resort was a stupid mutt that couldn't even win a one dog race."
"That's no way to talk about Rachel." I said.
You could see the question 'What?' forming on his lips as the large iron poker smashed into his head and he collapsed to the floor unconscious. Rachel, wielding the large weapon, smashed it into the face of two of his friends, and then let the other three surrender. Exactly as Jack Reacher does in the movie. Somehow I knew that was where she'd got it from.
I ran forwards and hugged her, and then turned to Lodders and said, "They fell on the poker, right."
"If you can stop this bleeding and call an ambulance, I'll do anything." He replied.

A few weeks later:

I and Rachel were lying in bed, reading and listening to Franz Ferdinand's Evil Eye, playing from my iPod. "Some people wanna see what I see, some people put an evil eye on me." I sung along, flicking through the pages of the Drawing of the Three, the Stephen King book I'd recently borrowed from Rachel's library. "Seriously, how can he be the Gunslinger if he's lost his fingers?" I asked.
"Spoilers!" Rachel cried, then put the Pavilion Paper down. She'd been reading my most recent article, the Evolving Robber, about the night I'd introduced her. I told her it wasn't that exciting, but she insisted anyway, because she liked the idea of me including her in my work. "That's great."
"You think so?"
"Yeah! It's really well written, and the conclusion is even better than in real life."
"Thank you."
"One thing, though."
"Yes?"
"Do you really not know why Robin was behaving how she was?"
"No, I don't."
"Do you really not know why she got Lodders to pretend to be her boyfriend, and refuses to come around when I'm here?"
"Not really." I replied, unsure where this was going.
She laughed. "And I thought you understood the human element."
A thought suddenly occurred to me, and it snowballed until I had a hypothesis. "I've got it!"
"How does that make you feel?"
"Great!" I replied.
"What!?" Rachel replied.
I looked at her. "I always feel great when I've solved a case. I've got a Conclusion to the Curious Case of the Corpses in the Cafe across the road from the Chris Hoy Velodrome!"
"And I thought it was because you'd realised Robin had a crush on you."
"What!?" I demanded.
"The great detective is stumped." She laughed, and swatted me with the newspaper.

The Evolving Robber (part 3)

I and Robin raced immediately out of the flat and to floor four, where we found the door ever so slightly open and the occupant on the floor inside. I took a couple of pictures of the door on my phone and then raced inside, across the room to the occupant. She was new to the building, but an artist from what I'd heard, and her hair was the same fiery red as Robin's. I checked her pulse and was pleased to discover she was still alive, just unconscious. "She's going to have a large bruise." I said.
"I'll get some witch-hazel." Robin replied, going back to the door. "They closed the door on their way out. But why not fully close it? It would have given them extra time from being discovered. And why isn't the lock broken?"
I looked up at her. "They're evolving robbers, Robin. Look at this room. It's been searched not ransacked like all the others. They've been learning to be more discreet all the way along."
"Then why don't the doors look like they've been picked? They kicked the door open, obviously, but the locks are stronger than that."
"Because they haven't been. The doors were left open, cause she's an artist and her spirit is free and so is her flat." She went to ask a question but I silenced her. "And I'm ashamed you didn't notice there wasn't a notch in the wall behind, because they didn't kick it in. They pulled it open and then made it look like they'd kicked it in."
"Firstly: why? And secondly: how did they actually get in, then?"
I looked up at her. "There are in surplus of five psychopathic evolving robbers searching through a building for something too big to steal, who have terrified a daily and beaten up a young woman. Do you really think they have a logic?"
"Good point. My second question?"
I smiled and led her to the window. "Elementary, my dear Greenhouse. As you should more than easily be able to see, those flowers down there look healthy, yes?"
"Yes." Robin replied, looking at the flowers on the outside windowsill. "They look lovely. Weirdly spaced, but you know, I'll go along with it."
"They aren't weirdly spaced." I said. "All though, I can see why you think they are." The flowers were planted at either end of the windowsill box. "They're positioned so you can see the city through the gap in between. I guess you could call it, 'Nature Reclaims the City.'"
"Where did you get all that from?"
I jerked my thumb towards the large canvas on a easel to my side. It showed the city through the gap in between the two flowers, with the flowers over hanging it. At the bottom were the words 'Nature Reclaims the City.'
"There was me thinking you were being arty."
"Conform to that delusion, Robin. It makes me more impressive."
"That's too impressive for me to handle."
I wasn't entirely sure what she was saying, so I continued being a detective. "Look at the painting though. The soil is light, flowing even! But look at it in real life, it's tightly pack, holding a tiny imprint of something. I'm no florist, that was my dad's job, but even I know that isn't good for a plant. And look at this lady, she loves plants. She must do, she paints loads of them. So, the question is: why is that they're like that?"
Robin didn't have an answer. But I did.
"Because they've been stepped on when the burglars entered. Which means they entered via the fire exit, which means they couldn't come in from the outside. Which means?"
"The doors are locked?"
"No, Rachel's friends got in."
"They would have been recognised."
She grinned and helped the artist up to the chair, and told her what had happened. Then we raced out of the room and down the steps all the way to the reception. It was large wooden room, with a circular desk behind which waited the night shift staff. Doors waited on either side of it. One led to the flat kitchens and the other to the garages. I ran to the desk. "There's been a series of break in's upstairs."
"I heard." The night shift guy said.
"That there'd been a break in or the break in taking place?" Robin asked.
"That's not important." I replied. "Did six men come in today?"
"Yeah, about three or four hours ago."
I nodded. "Have you got CCTV footage?"
"No, sir. Of course not!" He seemed generally insulted. "It's against our privacy policy."
"Then what's that glinting metal thing on the ridge up there?" I asked, pointing to a small metal thing, obscured by a plant upon the ridges beneath the house badge.
"Sir, please don't tell anyone! The terms and conditions state that the people of this building have complete and utter privacy. But we'd be massacred by the insurance if something like this happened, so we had to install it anyway."
"I won't tell anyone," I stared at his name badge, "Mr McLain, but I need to see the footage."
He manoeuvred the monitor so we could see it over the great desk, and he played back footage from three or four hours ago. Six men, all wearing black and all very tall, approached the desk and consulted McLain. They told him they had been invited to a party and that he had to let them in. He nodded. And then, as he fiddled for the buzzer for the door to the stairs, they looked directly into the camera. "Gotcha." I muttered.
McLain froze it and I stared at the picture. "I know him." I said.
Robin turned to me. "What?"
"I know him. He's- oh my god! Quickly, I know where they're going."
We raced back towards the door that led to the stairs and I opened it with my electronic fob. Then we thundered up the uneven staircase, round and round in odd step circles. We raced up, all the way to the fifth floor where there were two doors. One had been opened ever so slightly, and when we peered in, we saw the occupant catatonic but conscious. The other one led to my flat. And it, too, had been ripped open. We thundered up the spiral staircase and we came out to see everyone cowering behind my desk from the six armed and dangerous- and very tall- men who stood before them. The men seemed to be kicking and beating something, so I jumped up and cried, "Stop!"
They didn't stop, so I tried my other best idea. "Stop right now! I know who you are, Lochlan McFarlan."
Nobody gasped or looked shocked, and it was another minute till the EastEnders omnibus ended, so I gave it a couple of seconds and then added, "Lochlan McFarlan. Otherwise known as Madeline Lodsbury's brother."
Gasps.
Looks of shock.
Dun dun dun- dun dun dun. (That was the drumroll of the EastEnders theme tune, in case you were wondering.)

The Evolving Robber (part 2)

"Lodders!" I cried, ducking back into the flat and grabbing my bag, "Call the yard, we've had a break in. Robin, with me. Rachel, you can come if you want, but don't feel like you have to. And someone stop that dog from biting my table leg."
I and Robin, Rachel and Sarrison in tow, chased down the steps, and Rachel assisted Mrs Fraiser, who hadn't been the same since her hip was replaced, down the gigantic stairwell. The architect, who I could only surmise was either drunk, on drugs, mad or all three, had designed the staircase to be as tiring walking down as walking up. The steps were randomly cut, some a entire legs steepness and others as shallow as the rock pools I used to search for crabs in when I was little.
"Ooh, please slow down." Mrs Fraiser begged. "I haven't been the same since my hip was replaced."
"Really?" Rachel asked. "I would never have known."
"Here it is." I said, as we approached her flat. Mrs Fraiser drew her key but I shook my head. The lock had been smashed in with a crowbar, quite obviously, so there was barely anywhere to place the key. I decided that taking Sarrison in wasn't such a great idea, so I asked Rachel to stay with him and get as many details as possible out of Mrs Fraiser. Then I knocked the door open and I and Robin strolled in. The flat was wrecked, chairs pulled out and the telly smashed. Robin looked around the main part of the flat. "What was Mrs Fraiser?"
"Housewife." I replied. "Like most women of her generation."
"Housewife?" Robin replied. "How'd she afford this place? It's certainly not as fancy as your place, but the price couldn't be much less, and I've heard you complaining about the rent."
"Her husband was an oil baron or something. When he died, not under suspicious circumstances- I checked, she got all his money and bought this place, as well as a load of fancy paintings. I helped her hide them once when the grand children visited. She doesn't like having them on the walls when the grandchildren are around."
Robin looked at the paintings which hung on the walls of the room we were in. "Lousy robbers if they can't even steal a couple of paintings."
I checked her bedroom and looked through the jewellery box. "No jewellery taken either."
I came back out and surveyed the room and said, "It looks like a bomb site, but it's not. It's like it's been searched, for something in particular. Question is, what were they looking for?"
"They?" Robin asked.
"The door had it's handle chiselled off, but after it had been taken off, it had been kicked open several times, then rebounded off the wall as many. You can tell that-"
"Because the wall behind the door has several marks in. I noticed it, but couldn't tell why."
"I was basing my deduction off the varying size of foot print on the door outside, but nice observation."
As I searched the areas that had been searched, Robin went to the doorway and observed the footprints. She pulled a tape measure from my bag, which I'd placed on the side cabinet, and measured each footprint. Then she pulled out her phone and googled something. "Varying feet sizes, mainly size nine to fifteen. Who has size fifteen feet?" She asked.
I turned back, "The number one customer of Jackamo."
"What's the height to shoe size ratio?"
"Shoe size is approximately fifteen percent of your full height." I replied.
"How do you know that?"
"If you're going to ask that, then why ask me in the first place?"
"I was just expecting you to say, 'Google it!' not 'approximately fifteen percent.'" She mocked my accent as she said the bits in quote marks.
I pulled a face at her and she made some calculations on her phone. "We've got some really big people as the culprits."
"Hopefully, Lodders will get us some backup."
"Hopefully." Robin replied, although she sounded no surer than an indecisive person.
We finished up in her flat and walked out, back to Rachel and Sarrison, along with Mrs Fraiser. Sarrison was chewing at the bottom of the curtains that hung over the window on the stairwell, and Mrs Fraiser was crying. Rachel was doing her best to comfort her, but when I came out she looked up at me and mouthed, "Help me!"
I was about to say something when we heard a loud crash above us. I looked at Robin and then at Rachel nodded and said, "I'll be fine here." She then handed me a notebook and said, "I made some notes."
I grinned and grabbed Sarrison pointing him towards the staircase. "Come on, boy!"
The greyhound rushed up the staircase and we chased after it, and we emerged on the next floor, the second, to find Lodders bursting into a room. We followed him in and saw the residents of this flat, Mr Hussein, his wife and two children cowering on the floor behind an arm chair. Robin raced directly towards them and made sure they were well, getting descriptions and interviewing them before the memories faded. I and Lodders raced to the open fire exit door and looked up and down, with no avail. The robbers were nowhere to be seen.
I came back in and surveyed the damage. It was wrecked pretty bad, every crevice was torn open and every hidey hole had been examined. All the corners were searched and all the bigger cupboards had their contents scattered over the floor. But it was tidier than the last one, or at least not nearly as chaotic, but the occupants were equally distressed. Robin was questioning them and I pulled Lodders out for a second. "We need even more back up, Lodders. We've got six different robbers, the majority taller than six foot. They're armed and dangerous, presumably armed with crowbars and hammers and all sorts. They haven't stolen anything major, as of yet, but they do seem to be searching for something of reasonable size."
Lodders nodded. "I've called in backup but it may be some time before they show up. As I said earlier this week, everyone's down patrolling the drunks and disorderly watching the commonwealth games. No time for a couple of break ins when nothings been stolen."
"Ok." I replied. "Go and help Robin and then bring them up to my flat, me and Rachel will heat everything up and we can calm everything down."
"Alright, Gabriel. I'm sorry about all of this."
I grinned. "Honestly Lodders! How could I expect to be able to hold a dinner part without some crime or atrocity being committed."
I rushed back down and helped Rachel take Mrs Fraiser up stairs, then we sat her down at the table and we went to heat up the chicken. Robin, Lodders and the Hussein's showed up not soon after. They all took a place around the table and thanked me for the free food and shelter before the police turned up. They also asked who Rachel was, and I introduced her as my girlfriend, much to the surprise of Mrs Fraiser, who delighted to tell everyone that she always thought I was one of his lot, tipping her head towards John Barrowman, who was on a highlights of the Commonwealth Games so far programme. I and Lodders both helped ourselves to beers, something I very rarely do, and talked as Robin and Rachel disappeared.
"She's a keeper, is Rachel." Lodders told me.
"No she isn't." I replied. "She hates football, and even when she was forced to play it as a child, she told me she played midfield, which I said was cool, because I was always in defence."
"I meant that she's a good girlfriend."
"Oh!" I replied. "Yeah, I get you now. Thought it was weird you were talking about football. Robin's a keeper too." I laughed.
Lodders laughed too. "God, don't I know it."
"What is it up with her lately?" I pondered.
Lodders just looked at me. "Blimey, you are slow. I thought you'd have worked that out in seconds."
I gave him a blank look.
He shook his head then sipped some more of his beer. "You're funny when you're clueless."
"Are you saying I'm very rarely funny?" I demanded.

The evening plundered on like an old train and then Rachel's friends turned up. They walked up the spiral stair case and one of them looked straight at Lodders, who carried the look of policemen even when out of uniform. "You've gotta help me, officer."
"What is it?"
"There's been a break in downstairs on the fourth floor, and I think the occupant might be hurt."
Lodders drew his radio from his pocket. "Calling backup, we've got six armed and dangerous men, mostly over six foot, on the run having committed three breaking and enetering and one assault, trapped inside a building. And they're making their way up."

The Evolving Robber

"I do not, and never will, see the point of book clubs." I said to Robin.
"It allows readers to come together and discuss their favourite books and why they're good." Robin replied. "Turn left here."
I nodded, flipping the indicator stick down. "But why? I enjoy Lee Child books, but I don't want to go and sit with a group of middle aged women and explain to them that it isn't the way it's written, the not very often supplied moments of sarcastic humour but in fact the gory violence that makes me enjoy them. Where now?"
"The next right. Then it's number 96. And anyway, we don't talk about Lee Child, or whatever book you're reading, we talk about the book our groups reading."
"Right." I muttered, indicating. Then I turned my attention away from driving as I pulled into the only available parking spot on the entire suburban street. I climbed out, and we began to walk down the street, looking for number 96. "Who chooses which book you read?"
"We take a vote." Robin explained. "There it is."
We quickstepped up the gravel drive, which held a Renault Espace, and I pressed my finger to the doorbell. "So, what have your group voted in to be discussed this week?"
"Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen." Robin said.
"As I said, why would I want to go and sit with a group of middle aged women and discuss Pride and Prejudice?" I asked, as the door swung open and we were bathed in the light of a normal, suburban hallway. A women, about my age, stood in the doorway and said, "Robin!"
"Rachel!" Robin replied, and jumped forwards, hugging her. When Robin moved back I saw her properly. If this was a poorly written children's sitcom, we'd cut to my POV and see her face surrounded by badly Computer Generated love hearts. But this is a slightly amusing recount of a series of intriguing break-ins, so instead I just saw her as she was. And that was more than beautiful enough.
Rachel smiled at me. "And who's your drooling friend?"
I attempted to act cool, trying to lean in the doorway but almost accidentally falling over, then I regained my posture, still looking slightly stupid, and scraped my hair back down my head. I grinned then completely forgot my name. "Er. Er."
"This is the great detective, himself." Robin said, gesturing to me. "Gabriel Rathbone."
"That's it!" I cried, punching the air. "Knew I'd remember at some point."
Rachel laughed and welcomed us in.

Two months later:

"Ah!" Cried Robin. The noise of her sudden fright awoke me and then suddenly I remembered she'd fallen asleep when we were going over the notes. "Ah." I moaned, then jumped out of bed.
"What're you doing here?" I heard Robin asking. I rushed out in my dressing gown, throwing my hands around and saw Rachel staring at Robin and Robin staring at Rachel. Both stared at me and asked, "What is she doing here?"
I smiled, then began to explain. "Rachel, Robin is here because we were going over some notes last night and she fell asleep. Robin, Rachel is here because she's my girlfriend."
"That's the first time you've said that." Rachel pointed out.
"I know. It feels all kinds of weird." I replied.
"You've got a girlfriend?" Robin asked me.
"Aye." I replied. "Anyway, I should probably get dressed. Lodders texted me. Multiple homicide at a cafe across the road from the Velodrome."
Robin jumped up and pulled on her jacket, which lay slumped over my chair. I returned a few moments later to an awkward silence between Robin and Rachel. "Come along Robin." I said, pointing her to the door, then placed a kiss on Rachel's cheek. "See you tonight."
I joined Robin at the bottom of the spiral stairwell that led from my flat and then we walked into the lift and it began to lower us down. We came to a stop in the garages beneath the large building and I took my keys from the guy behind the desk. This caused Robin to exclaim, "How will Rachel lock up when she goes home?"
As I searched the garage for where I left my car, I said "She has her own keys."
Robin looked at me. "What do you mean she has her own? She can't have her own keys to your flat!"
"Why not?" I asked, as I unlocked the Series One Land Rover.
"Cause I don't have keys to your flat."
"Why would you have keys to my flat? You're not my girlfriend."
She didn't have a reply to this.
The drive to the cafe across the road from the Velodrome was long and silent, but to call it silence would be like calling humidity warmth. The silence was filled with a language of it's own, the language of displeased crossness, something I've recently discovered girls seem to be experts in. I felt as if Robin was extremely angry with me, but I hadn't the foggiest why.
The anger filled silence ended- thank goodness- as we came to a stop in a small parking space between consecutive police cars. As we climbed out, I looked over at the Velodrome, and then at Celtic Park. Many years ago, I had joined a queue of devoted fans going to watch a match. It was quite possibly the most boring ninety minutes of my life, but somebody obviously disagreed at the time, as a collection of tents had been set up, in which devoted fans waited for the first seats.
"Whole different kind of camper there a few days ago." I muttered, remembering the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games, merely a few days ago.
"Gabriel! Robin!" Lodders cried, striding over from the door. "You made it!"
"Yes, good to see you." I said. "Sorry we were late, I had to sort out a thing."
"No problem, not like the corpses are going anywhere."
"How beautifully put."
The corpses certainly weren't going anywhere. There were two of them, a man and a woman. The woman was shorter than the man, significantly so, and they lay amongst a shatter of glass from the from window, which had been boarded up. The man had a stab wound to the neck and the woman to the liver. A shaking girl sat outside, bombarded by paramedics and orange towels, and Lodders read me the notes from her.
"She came down when she heard the woman, her stepmother, screaming. She found the man, her father, choking up blood- through the wound in his neck, and her stepmother with the knife still in her liver. The stepmother ripped the knife out of her liver, and that just encouraged the bleeding. By the time the paramedics got here, about five minutes as a load of them are hanging around the pubs because of the amount of tourists from the Commonwealth Games, they were both dead. I know how you love the human element, Gabe,"
"Don't call me Gabe."
"Sorry. Anyway, she kept babbling about how her stepmother was so small she had to stand on the fathers feet to kiss him."
"She won't be kissing him anymore."
I dropped to my knees, having changed into a white body suit, and examined the wounds.
Robin joined me, and asked, "How long have you and Rachel been dating?"
"Two months." I replied, as I delved my gloved fingers into the gaping hole in the centre of the man's neck. Blood oozed out over my fingers. "The murderer impaled the larynx. Would have taken some thrusting."
"You've been going out since we went to the book club?"
"No. The day after." I said, standing up. "I was in the sci-fi section of Waterstones and found her browsing Ben Aaronovitch. I asked her if she wanted a coffee and things went from there. Turn's out she's a bit of a fan. Why's he wearing shorts?" I asked, pointing to the body.
"Optimistic that the weather may be nice." Robin suggested, sounding almost upset.
"Mustn't be local." I replied. I noticed some marks around his ankles, and I knelt down to look. They looked like curved imprints, like when you press your finger nail into your palm.
We moved onto the next body and had a look. The stab to the liver had also been done with quite a lot of thrust. "Same killer." I pointed out.
"I didn't think Rachel was your type." Robin blurted.
"Robin, in my entire life, I've had two girlfriends, one of which was Rachel. Besides the obvious point of them being female, I don't think there's enough variables to analyse for a type."
She scowled at me, then said, "She's got nice toenails."
"Really?" I asked. "I've never really noticed Rachel's feet."
"No!" Robin cried. "I mean the corpse."
I looked down and saw that the corpse had painted toenails, maybe painted to take the attention away from how long they were, but painted nonetheless. "Yes." I muttered. "Very nice."
Robin said, "Who else knows about you and Rachel?"
"Just you. We've been waiting for the right moment to announce it."
"Announce it?"
"Yeah. That we're going out."
"Oh."
I looked up at her. "Are you feeling all right today? You're slower than usual, and you seem distracted."
"I'd ask the same of you." She said. "You're obviously slower than usual."
"You're meant to be investigating the corpses, Gabriel, not chinwagging. And who's Rachel?" Lodders butted in.
I sighed. "She's my girlfriend. I tell you what, seeing as every policeman and his greyhound is going to find out, why don't you and Robin come around to my house tomorrow, and me and Rachel can invite some of our other friends and we can introduce each other to you all. Ok?"
"Firstly," Lodders started, "how did you get a girlfriend? And secondly, what other friends?"
I shook my head and turned back to the corpses, as Robin asked Lodders if she could borrow him and I said to the corpse, "I'm sure you're having a normal day." Then I looked down at the wound in her liver, where the blood had turned black. "Well, normalish."

The next night:

"Gabriel, are you in there?" Cried Lodders through the intercom and on my door. I pressed my ear to the phone at the top and said, "Yes, I'll be along in a second."
"Well hurry up."
I ducked behind the bar/kitchenette at the back of my flat and set the cockadoodle, just as Rachel emerged from the bedroom. She was wearing a beautiful green dress, unfortunately the same shade as the corpses nail paint. It fell around her knees, probably around the lower legs on most ordinary height people, but she was as tall as me, which was quite tall. Her hair, the same coal black as mine, sat around her shoulders, falling ever so slightly further, and obscuring the view of the necklace that hung around her neck on a golden chain. I straightened my shirt, feeling rather scruffy compared to her, and smiled, almost whispering, "You look beautiful."
She smiled back at me, her lips curling up in a great symbol of happiness. "Thank you! You don't scrub up bad yourself."
"Shall we go greet the dinner guests?" I asked, offering her my arm.
"Aye, I think we should."
Because the area at the bottom of the staircase was quite small, Rachel waited at the top as I went to the bottom and opened the door. Lodders and Robin waited at the bottom holding hands, with Sarrison the greyhound licking their ankles. "Well." I said. "Wasn't entirely expecting that. Come up, come up."
I led them up the spiral staircase, Lodders carrying Sarrison, and we came up at the top where Rachel said hello and shook their hands. I then set about making introductions. "This is Inspector Lodsbury of Scotland, and the house behind his, Yard and his prized greyhound, Sarrison."
"No, can't be." Rachel said, looking at Lodders. "Greyhounds aren't the humanoid."
I and Lodders laughed, but Robin simply giggled unamused, and I felt a pang of gladness rush over me that at least half of my guests approved.
"And this is Miss Rachel Lynda Kendrick of being my girlfriend fame. Of course, you both know Robin, obviously Lodders more so than I previously thought."
"Yes." Robin explained. "We're going out. Have been for a while."
"Really?" I asked, slightly confused. I looked at Lodders, who simply shrugged.
Rachel sensed the awkwardness and gestured towards the table we'd set up in the middle of the room, laid with a mixture of the best cutlery from both my and Rachel's houses. "My friends are probably going to be late, so we may as well sit down."
"Aye, good thinking." I said, and we all went and sat down. I sat opposite Robin, and- if the table was set out like a compass, at South, whilst Robin sat at North and Lodders and Rachel sat opposite each other, with Rachel at East and Lodders at West.
"So, what's the vivers this evening?" Lodders asked, using a word I hadn't heard for an extremely long time. Vivers, that is. Not evening.
"We've got soup for starters, then roasted pork for mains and, bearing in mind that the budget ran out, for deserts we've got tinned fruit."
"Ooh." Robin said. "I love a bit of tinned fruit."
The conversation continued for a bit, and I kept my eye on the cockadoodle, waiting for the perfect time to put the soup on. We eventually ended up talking about family, and after asking after Robin's grandfather, Lodders asked me how my family was. I told him my parents were as happy as ever, but that I hadn't heard from them since they'd moved to Norway and that my brother was still living in Edinburgh and that my sister was still comatose, however the Doctors did think she was showing promising signs of waking up. As I talked about her, I felt Rachel slipping her hand over mine. I smiled then changed the subject to Lodders himself, as I didn't want to talk any more about my sister, in case I got upset. "How's Madeline?"
"Good, thanks. Still driving me around the bend, but good." He replied.
"Who's Madeline?" Asked Rachel.
"My wife." Lodders explained
"You're married?" Asked Robin.
"You didn't know?" I asked.
"Well no." Robin said. She turned to Lodders, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't really give me a chance. I thought you wanted to talk to me the other day about the case, but actually it was all, let's pretend to go out to make Gabriel jealous, and you didn't stop talking till i said yes."
"Now sounds like the perfect time to put the soup on." I quickly interrupted.
"Good idea. I'll help you." Rachel said quickly, and then Lodders offered to help, too, leaving Robin and the greyhound alone.
We ate the soup, which was vegetable- which happened to be my and Rachel's shared favourite, funnily enough- and were just finishing the last droplets from our bowls when we heard a loud banging on the door. "That'll be my friends." Rachel said, beginning to climb up.
"No need." I said. "I'll get it."
"Thanks, sweetie." She said, and I couldn't help thinking of Doctor Who, which was another of our shared likes.
I quickstepped down the staircase and got to the door swinging it open, to reveal Mrs Ishabel Fraiser from downstairs, looking out of breath and distressed.
"Mrs Fraiser?" I said. "Whatever's the matter?"
"What was that, dear?" She asked, tapping her hearing aid which she turned to me.
I bent down and repeated my question quite loudly directly into her ear.
"Oh it's terrible! You've got to help me, Mr Rathbone. Somebody broke into my flat."

The Quest for Verdisc (part 6)

"First jobs first, me hearties!" Cried Davelron, tightening his jackets. "We rake the guns in."
"Yes, Sir." The two children chirped.
Davleron eyed them, angrily. "No. You say 'Aye, Aye Captain.' Understand?"
"Aye, Aye Captain!" Marcus and Emilia grinned. They raced off the raised deck, around the shed like shack to the front of the vessel. There were wheels with handles protruding from them beneath each cannon, which when turned caused the cannons to shrink down into the sides of the boat. They draped some cloths over them and then raced back to Davelron who was wrestling with the large ship wheel. "Right then, Marcus, raise the swings."
"Aye, Aye Captain!"
"And Emilia, grab a bundle from the cart and toss it in the burner."
Before Emilia could even question what any of that meant, a gigantic explosion tore through the air. Large balls of fire blasted into the sea, and smoke began to cloud the growing moon. The Castle of Vincent was a burning wreck of flames, but nobody had told the Spectres.
"Uncle Thaddeus!!!" Emilia screamed.
"Calm yourself child." Davelron said. "Get below deck now."
Marcus, who was taking it surprisingly well seeing he was the weaker of the two children, grabbed his sister and dragged her towards the door and down the steps to the hull. Davelron followed them, pulled the tarpaulin over the shed and then ducked down into the 'Gallery.' "Marcus, your sister is obviously useless at this moment, so batton down the hatches."
"How?"
"The lever in the corner, lad!" Davelron roared, ripping his coat from his shoulders and throwing it onto the rack. Then he took his Trident and hung it on the wall, making his way towards the chair opposite where Emilia was sat. "Look at me, girl. Your uncle is an extremely clever man. And when I say extremely clever, I mean the cleverest man you'll ever have the good fortune to stumble across. And you know why I'm telling you that? Because it means he escaped. Blazing hell torrent! It was probably him that blew the place up. And that means he isn't dead! Do you understand that, Emilia?"
She nodded, not too convincingly.
"Good. Now I'll tell you what you need. Some lovely grub. Aye. You'll love some grub, so you will."
He raced to the cooking unit, grabbing a scrubbed pan and placing it under the tap. He spun a tap wheel which caused a test-tube to fill with water from the sea outside. Then he turned that tab back and turned another with let the water out into the brass pan. He slumped the pan onto one of two hobs and flicked on the gas smashing a flint down on another, which caused the gas to ignite. The water began to bubble slightly. Davelron rooted through the shelves and pulled a cloth bag out. He opened it and poured pasta into the boiling water, leaving it to boil whilst he went to another cupboard and took another bag and a vial of spices. He pulled the bag open and took the seaweed from it, dropping it into the pans along with the pasta. It began to simmer. Davelron took three non matching plates from beneath the worktop and threw them onto it, dishing up the pasta and seaweed unevenly. He took the vial of spice and shook it onto the plates, then throwing two of the three plates onto the round table. "Marcus, take a pew. Everyone dig in." Davelron took the third plate and jumped onto the sofa, using a pen knife to eat the crudely made dish.
"Excuse me, First Mate Davelron." Emilia asked.
"Aye? And call me Davelron. We're off duty."
"What are we meant to eat it with?"
"Oh!" Davelron exclaimed. "I forgot about that. Me and the crew always used to eat with our pen knives, rather than cutlery."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"You'll have to use your fingers. We'll get you some cutlery at the next port we stop at." He laughed a second then threw his empty plate, wolfed down in a couple of bites, and walked over to them. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take this opportunity to go through a crew meeting. It's what my old Captain would have done."
"Excuse me, Davelron." Marcus said. "But where have your old Captain and crew gone?"
"I wish I knew."  Davelron replied.
There was tickering of letters against paper and then a ding and everyone jumped in fright, having forgotten that the Mechanical Wizard had come down before them. Emilia went to the corner and took the sheet of paper, reading from it. "It says, 'I have slight psychic powers. Would you like me to find out?'"
"Yes." Davelron demanded, immediately.
Emilia nodded and flicked the Yes switch. There was a humming and then a portal of light appeared above the table. The light showed an image. The deck above, with four men on it. There was a collection of men, four in total. One was behind the wheel, barking orders. He was tall, valiant, with a coat similar to Davelron's, but his was decorated with medals. He held a trident, and looked out across the seas like he was the master of them. To his left was a man, crouched over a table, studying charts and maps, crying out 'correct the course!' or other genetical terms. In front of the shed were two more men, manning the guns and washing the decks. One, the one to the left fiddling with ropes, was small, with strong arms, laughing at something the other man had said. The other man was taller, and the spitting image of Davelron.
"Gaius!" Octavius Davelron cried. "He's my brother." It showed the four crew members again and Davelron identified them all. "My brother, Gunner Gaius Davelron." He said the other man at the front was, "Boatswain Zachary Forsooth." The man with the charts was, "Master George Izalathio."
And the man behind the wheel, "Captain Gregory Defaut. The Crew of the Black Addison." Davelron looked at Emilia and Marcus, adding, "The old crew of the Black Addison. Dogs the lot of them. But friends nonetheless."
The portal continued it's message when suddenly Master Izalathio pointed out something in the far distance. Marcus gasped. It was the first of the Fleet of Spectre Warships. They could see Defaut barking orders and the Black Addison began to make it's way towards the warships at full pace. Gunner Davleron was instructing Forsooth how to use the front spinning cannon, when suddenly something the portal didn't show caused the boat to violently rock to one side. Defaut spun the wheel, pulling the boat back under control, and Gunner Davelron began firing harder. A Spectre must have noticed them, however, as a smaller ship was making it's way. The cannons fired hard, but it was having no effect, the hooded theatrical mask wearing spectres kept charging towards them, and soon were onboard. Defaut whipped out his trident and began fighting but it had no effect. They had lost the battle. The spectres took the crew and jumped back into their small boat.
As the spectre ship disappeared towards Vincent, the Black Addison floated away, yet another, if not large, piece of sea debris. Until a hook grabbed the mast head and dragged it into port. And then Marcus and Emilia appeared, looking for escape.
The Mechanical Wizard took this moment to get rid of the portal. Davelron slumped back against the sofa. "My crew." He whispered. "My crew."
There were a few moments of silence, and then Davelron stood up, stamping his foot. "Mechanical Wizard, set course for the Permaline Recesses. We're going to need Demetrius Mist if we're going to slay the spectres and rescue Gaius."
Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick Ding! "'Aye Aye Captain'" Emilia read.

To be continued...

The Quest for Verdisc (part 5)

"It's a gigantic snake thing!" Cried Marcus.
A small clap was made several times and then there was a loud ding. A piece of paper fell from the slot in the Mechanical Wizards chest, and quickly became damp and mushy, the fresh ink running. Had anybody got there in time, they would have noticed it read, "That is a bad description, Master Marcus. I would suggest that you choose another adjective, and improve the term 'snake thing'."
Davelron was a Master of the Seas, he knew what he was doing. His legs stretched, and his mind on the task, he leapt onto the raised platform, rushing behind the wheel, and threw several lumps of coal into the fire. He grabbed the rip cord and ripped it forwards. The fans spun faster, the turbines increased, and the twin exhausts spouted flames, which flared in the falling rain. "On three!" He cried in English, before following it with, "Nye! Mbini! Ntathu!" He cried in Xhosa, the adopted language of the Nautia's. It was a strange language to hear, with a mixture of clicks and different sounds, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he'd then shouted, "Battlestations!" the two children wouldn't have known when three was called.
They spun handles on side of the cannons, that spun the barrels, and that fired the lead balls at the serpent. It was like a Pin Backed Toad being let loose in a Breath Sack shop. Pop pop pop pop pop.
Great splatters of green reptile blood splashed them, but it didn't stop the gigantic snake thing. It surged forwards, but Davelron anticipated this, and pulled the boat back. He pressed down on the pedal before the wheel and then spun the wheel, the new tracks clicking into place and the sails beneath the boat twisting. The boat spun with a rotation of the wheel and the two children no longer were facing the serpent, but instead the open sea. That didn't stop them from spinning around and running towards Davleron, who cried, "Brace yourselves!"
He pulled the rip cord and the boat raced forwards, leaving a froth in it's wake. He released his pedal and tugged the wheel, the boat bracing itself for an oncoming wave. He braced the engine again, and increased the speed, racing the vessel faster. It surged across the ocean, and Davelron screamed, "To the side cannons!" In Xhosa.
Marcus and Emilia stared at him, bemused.
"The side cannons!" He demanded.
They raced to the cannons, loading larger lead balls and then aiming it. Emilia took a flaming baton from the side of the shed like entrance to the lower decks and lit the fuse protruding from the cannon. The fuse began to raced down, and Emilia braced herself. The cannonball exploded out, just as the Serpent blasted out of the water, smashing it in the middle of it's chest. The Serpent howled, and another ball hit the chest from Marcus' cannon. "Mechanical Wizard! With me now! You two, to the wheel."
Marcus and Emilia began to run towards the raised platform, whilst Davelron turned to the Serpent, which was retreating. "I am First Mate Octavius Davelron!" He cried, in English, "You are a gigantic snake thing!" He grabbed the end of his Trident, still in the wheel, then cried something terrible in Xhosa, followed by, "I am a Trident Holder! Avast!!!!" He leapt over the fans, followed by the Mechanical Wizard, with his Trident outstretched. The Serpent, as Davelron suspected, wasn't retreating. It was taking a run up.
It surged towards the ship, all 20 foot of it, with it's body outstretched. Davelron landed on it's back, rolling to a halt about halfway down.  The Mechanical Wizard followed his lead. Waves hit them, but the upturned collars of Davelron's coat protected him. Davelron raced forward, across the scaly back, not slimy, merely wet. He slammed his trident down, and three large holes appeared in the Serpents back, blood oozing out. The Mechanical Wizard followed him, firing blasts of bottled magic into the wounds. They raced forwards across the 20 foot of Serpent, until they got to the head.
The Serpent ignored their pattering feet, or Davelron's feet and the MW's walking utensils, spending all it's intention on the boat ahead. Either Marcus or Emilia had found the the rip cord, because flames exploded out of the exhaust and the boat accelerated. "Spin her around!" Davelron cried.
Someone must have heard, because the familiar click of the sail track clicking into place sounded, and the boat soon spun around. Davelron grinned, then shouted, "Pull the lever at the front!"
Emilia raced around the shed and towards the front of the boat, grabbing a lever and yanking it. Behind her, the sound of the fans reversing could be heard. The lever caused a plank to extend over the masthead, and a roll of carpet extended over the edge. Davelron raced forwards and stabbed the three points of the Trident into the head of the Serpent, leaping forwards onto the extended plank, rolling onto the deck. The Mechanical Wizard followed, jumping and spinning in midair, extending it's operating utensils and blasting energy into the dying head of the Serpent. As the Mechanical Wizard bounced onto the deck and the gigantic snake thing slumped beneath the waves, Davelron led Emilia to join her brother. "Who are you?"
"I'm Marcus, and this is my sister Emilia." Marcus explained. "We're currently under the care of Thaddeus Mist."
"Thaddeus Mist!" Davelron exclaimed. "Whyever didn't you say?"
"You didn't really give us a chance."
"Good point. I've got to say, Thaddeus has always been a great man. He helped to design this boat."
"That'd explain why he sent us here."
"Yes it would. But why are you coming here at all?"
They explained to him how they'd been sent to convey a message to their Uncle Demetrius, after the spectres invaded Vincent. Octavius Davelron listened to the store and smiled. "Thaddeus Mist is a great man. I would be honoured to assist you in anyway I can." He offered his hands to both. "Welcome to the crew of the Black Addison."

The Quest for Verdisc (part 4)

Davelron tugged them through the doors of the shed like entrance to the lower deck and pushed them to the hull, dragging them back up again once he'd followed them. "Mechanical Wizard, we need your help!" Emilia screamed, but the Mechanical Wizard had to accept the Trident Holder as a higher authority, and so didn't do anything.
Davelron pushed them into a back room and locked their ankles with chains. Then he stared at them, his eyebrows raised, and said, "I'll go and undo whatever terror you've caused to my ship, and then I'm going to deal with you. You better have an excuse planned for me." He stormed out, smashing the door into the frame, which made the entire ship quiver.
In the darkness, only illuminated by a seeping of light beneath the door, Emilia said, "And I thought it was going swimmingly."
"We need to escape." Marcus said, to the darkness.
"Yeah, I don't like the idea of him dealing with us."
"No!" Marcus exclaimed. "We need to escape so we can take this letter to Uncle Demetrius."
Emilia nodded in the darkness, a completely unnecessary gesture, and began thinking. "Have you still got those pips from earlier?"
Earlier that day, they'd found some strange peaches- or apples or something- with the largest, and hardest, pips Marcus had ever seen in them. They'd hastily eaten them and kept the pips, in the hope of finding a market where they could buy some more. "Yeah. They're in my bag."
"Get them out." Emilia said.
"Ok." Marcus replied, routing through the satchel and pulling out a handful of pips.
"That door was wooden, and those pips are really hard. No doubt that a couple of them will break down the door."
"No." Marcus said. "We wouldn't be able to get out of these chains, and it would cause to much noise. I've got a better idea." Without further ado, he took the pip and stuffed it onto the lock of the chain. With his other foot, he stamped down on it twice, smashing the lock with the hard pip. The chain broke away and Marcus got up, giving another pip to Emilia so she could do the same. A couple of seconds passed and then she broke away form the lock, using only one stamp. She went to join Marcus, who was attempting to open the door. "It locked shut!"
"We could just barge through it." Emilia replied, preparing to do so.
"It'd make too much noise." Marcus replied. "We'd be giving ourselves away!"
Emilia thought. "If we both leant on the door when we got the next wave, it may collapse."
"But you saw the seas today. It could be hours till the next wave."
"Ok, ok." Emilia said. She quickly went back to the source of her chain and, with a kick, broke it from the wall. It was rusty from years of damp wooden, and came off surprisingly well. She took it and threaded it through the broken chain on the other. Then she pulled the extended chain over to the cell door and tightened the lock around the door handle. "Now we can kick it down, and it won't make to much noise."
"Good thinking." Marcus replied.
She smiled, another pointless gesture, and kicked the door down. It hung backwards on the chain and Marcus pulled the door back slowly, lying it down. Then, without having made hardly any noise, they walked into the main hull. The stairs they'd just come down were waiting wearily on the other side of the central hull. There was an abandoned doorway, inside which were four bunk beds, with a fifth hammock hanging in the centre. Five beds for the five crew members. But besides Davelron there was no-one aboard. Where had the others gone?
The room between the cell and the bedroom housed a small library, a drink stained table, some kitchen furniture, a sofa and a gramophone. There was another door to the side of the cell door, which Marcus, tentatively, crept to investigate. It led into an armoury, stacked with harpoons, tridents, nets, swords and spears. Anybody would expected it to have been the armoury of a colosseum.
"Emilia." Marcus whispered. "Come have a look at this!"

"Blazing Hell Torrent!" First Mate Octavius Davelron exclaimed, pulling on a long blue jacket. He picked up his trident and pushed it into the centre of the large wheel, crying, "Mechanical Wizard, all hands at deck."
There was a ticketing of paper and a ding, but Davelron didn't read the paper, which actually read, "I don't have 'hands'. In the original blue prints, these are labelled as operating utensils."
Davelron twisted the trident, which now acted as part of the wheel and spun the ship around. Then he pressed down on the pedal, pulled back a large lever and then pulled the lock down on the wheel. He grabbed a large sack from the floor and then pulled a couple of lumps of coal from it, throwing it into the stove connected to the large fans. Davelron leapt from the raised deck, the vessel thundering towards slightly east of where it'd been docked, and headed behind the shed, stopping at the collection of cannons. He loaded three balls into the strongest, three barrelled cannon, and aimed it, taking a match to light the fuse. In a repetitive firing, three cannon balls exploded through the air towards the burning ruins of Port Vincent.

Emilia, now wearing a harness with the spears and sword strapped to it, rushed towards the doorway with a sword in hand. Marcus followed her, but noticed a porthole. He ran over to it and stared through at the sea outside. It was beginning to turn violent, with lapping waves and bouncing rain drops. Something slithered past the window, angry and fast. Marcus recoiled in horror, just as the boat shook with the explosion of cannons above. "Marcus, are you alright?" Emilia asked, running over.
"There's something out there in the sea." Marcus replied, his spear outstretched.
"Probably our possessions. I imagine he threw them overboard soon after he caught us."
"No, like a creature. Like a gigantic snake thing."
"I thought you were meant to be good at describing things."
"Emilia, there is a gigantic monster out there."
"Maybe a different adjective may be a good idea."
"Emilia!" Marcus screamed.
"Keep it down." She replied. "You'll alert Davelron. Now come on, we need to get aboard and escape, on a life boat or something."
"What about the snake thing?"
"Back to your old habits."
"Emilia! What do we do about the snake thing?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now come on!" She cried. They raced up the steps, their weapons at arms length, and rushed onto the deck. Davelron was firing cannon balls at Port Vincent, which was an explosion of flames, despite the pouring rain. "Stop firing at our home!" They cried.
Davelron spun around. "I'm not firing at your home! I'm firing at the Spectre warships. What are you doing out of your cell?"
"We're here to warn you about the gigantic snake thing circling the ship!" Marcus cried.
"That is an awful description." Davelron replied. But his words were drowned away by the roaring of a gigantic serpent, as it rose from the depths of the ocean and howled over the ship.