Chapter 31
Morrie
It takes three bobbies to restrain Heathcliff while they drag Mina away. As soon as the shop door closes behind them, Heathcliff slumps to the floor in front of his desk in defeat, while Quoth flaps into my face, feathers flying, all aflutter with panic.
They’ve taken Mina! What do we do?
“Interesting that you turn to me, the criminal mastermind, during our hour of need.” I lean back in my velvet chair, considering the possibilities. “Give me a moment, and I will come up with a plan that’s as cunning as ten foxes in a trenchcoat—”
The shop door bursts open. Heathcliff shoots to his feet, hands balled into fists, face reddening. “What bloody now—”
His words cut off as hooves clop over the rug. Lancelot appears in the doorway, atop his noble steed Peaches, who immediately starts chewing on a book of Robert Burns poems.
At the sight of him, my shoulder muscles seize in memory of all those push-ups.
Lancelot flattens himself across the horse’s back so he can fit beneath the doorframe. As the horse trots into the room, it kicks a chunk of plaster from the wall. Heathcliff’s features turn thunderous, but what’s he going to do? Send the handyman bill to the stable?
“At last, my good and noble knights, I have returned,” Lancelot proclaims. “I have quested and I have won many battles of valour and bravery. Not only have I found the holy grail as a metaphor, but I have a job, a paycheck, and I even found a lovely flat in the village. Now I am worthy of the virtuous Mina’s love. ”
There was nothing virtuous about what Mina and Moriarty got up to on the stairs the other day, Quoth says inside our heads.
“You’re too late,” I say, an idea forming in my head. “Mina’s gone.”
“Why are you telling him that?” Heathcliff hisses. “We don’t want him making things worse.”
“Gone?” Lancelot gasps.
“Yes. The er, evil Knights of the Blue Uniform have taken her away and thrown her in their dungeon. They believe she killed someone. She’s innocent, of course, but they’ve been bewitched by dark magic to think she’s guilty.” I’m quite proud of my story.
“Those fiends. Why, I shall save her!” Lancelot unsheaths his sword and thrusts it into the air, forgetting that we’re indoors in a low-ceilinged room. The steel punches through the roof, sending a shower of plaster dust down on all our heads.
Quoth shakes dust out of his feathers.
“Yes, we’re all in agreement that Mina must be saved,” I say. “But you must hold off on the head-severing for a bit. We have a most cunning plan.”
What are we going to do? Quoth asks.
“Why, birdie, I thought the answer was obvious.” I look up from my phone. “The four of us are going to bust Mina out of the dungeon.”
“The evil Knights of the Blue Uniform have Mina inside?” Lancelot frowns at the police station from our hiding place in the hedge across the street. “It certainly doesn’t look like an impenetrable castle. Why, I’ve conquered walls much higher and stronger just by kicking them.”
“To be fair, you are a towering unit of medieval perfection,” Heathcliff grumbles, picking leaves off his trousers. “And you’re wearing steel boots with spikes on the toes. Can I go in now? There’s a stick in my butt.”
I’m resisting the urge to comment, Quoth says. On the grounds that I have a tiny neck.
“Wise move, birdie. And fear not, brave Lancelot. Although it may appear humble, you can’t be deceived by the, er, sorcery of the Knights of the Blue Uniform,” I say. “Their castle is protected by magical weapons, including sticks that shoot fire.”
“This could be a problem.” Lancelot clanks his visor shut. “But we are knights brave and true. We shall win the day!”
“Yes, we shall.” I look at everyone. “Do we all remember the plan?”
“This plan is terrible.”
“To battle!”
“Croak!”
I give the word. First, Heathcliff stands, checks the microphone hidden in his pocket is turned on, brushes the last of the leaves and twigs from his rumpled suit, and storms across the road to enter the police station.
A couple of years back, I helped him choose that suit, after he had this brilliant idea to head to London and make his fortune the way he did in his novel, before returning all in a dither, muttering about poxy skateboarders and infernal buses.
I have excellent taste. He looks positively scrumptious.
And he makes a good pretend lawyer. I hold my phone up to listen to his conversation. My chest swells with pride as he lies and bullies his way into the interrogation room.
“Don’t say another word, Mina,” he booms. “These officers shouldn’t be questioning you without a lawyer present.”
“You’re not a lawyer,” Inspector Hayes points out, his voice quiet from the other side of the room.
Heathcliff slaps something down on the metal table. “There’s a copy of my law transcript. Your secretary has already confirmed my name on the register. This interview is terminated while I have a meeting with my client. In private,” he adds with the kind of malice that could freeze the ocean.
There’s more shuffling as the officers leave the room. “Twenty minutes,” Inspector Hayes hisses at Heathcliff.
“I’ll take all the time I please.” Heathcliff slams the door so hard behind him that my ears ring. When I put my phone back to my ear, I hear the sweetest voice in the world say,
“Am I glad to see you.”
Good. Heathcliff has got to Mina. Now, for phase two of the plan.
I tap Lancelot’s greave. “You’re up, shiny boy.”
“For Valour! For Justice! For Fair Mina!” Lancelot swings himself upon Peaches and gallops away towards the village green.
Quoth flaps after him to keep an eye on things.
A few moments later, I hear screaming from the post office, and a deep voice booming, “I am upholding this unholy establishment of letters and colourful sticky seals. You are all my hospitallers.”
I told him it was ‘holding up’ and ‘hostages.’ Quoth settles back on my shoulder, letting out what can only be described as a corvid sigh.
“Close enough,” I whisper. “It should keep the cops busy for a while.”
As if on queue, bells ring in the station, and officers pile out the door into their cars. Hayes huffs as he lowers himself into the passenger seat. They speed around the corner to the village green, where Lancelot is holed up with his ‘hospitallers.’
Quoth and I listen for a while, watching the building until we’re certain that there’s only a skeleton staff inside and no one is coming back. Then I pat Quoth’s head. “You’re next, birdie.”