The Mystery of the Stolen Secrets

©2017 Richard Humphreys

It's going to be a white Christmas and Fatty's Uncle Harold comes to stay. However, before long Fatty begins to notice that his uncle is acting suspiciously. Why did he go out secretly in the middle of the night? Did he steal some keys from a local house agents' office? Who is the man with a limp? The Find Outers get on the case and are soon embroiled in a mystery that involves spies, stolen secrets and a dangerous chase along the river in the dead of night...

Chapter 10: Fatty Gets Some Keys

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It was very warm inside the house agents office and the windows were steamed up. Sitting at a desk was the same pimply youth that Fatty had spoken to some time before when investigating another mystery. He looked up as Fatty entered.

'And what can I do for you?' he asked eyeing Fatty up and down.

Fatty sat down opposite him. 'Well, as you remember, I spoke to you yesterday about short let properties in the village and you were extremely helpful and gave me a number of addresses,' Fatty said, trying hard to sound like his uncle, 'and I've come back to see whether you have any more.'

'Yesterday, you say? Pimples asked.

'Quite so,' Fatty replied. 'Just before lunch.'

'But yesterday was my day off,' Pimples said. 'So you couldn't have spoken to me. '

This was awkward for Fatty. 'But the gentleman I spoke to was very like you,' he said cautiously.

Pimples gave a raucous snort. 'Like me?' he said laughing. 'You'd have seen Mr Timpkins and he's over sixty and weighs about eighteen stone.'

'Ah, you see,' Fatty said thinking quickly, 'yesterday I was wearing my glasses and I forgot to put them on this morning.'

'Well you must have bad eyesight if you think I look like old Timpkins,' Pimples said doubtfully. 'You must be almost blind!'

Fatty reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the bag of bullseyes. 'Well I am very short sighted, yes,' he said opening the bag and taking out a sweet, which he popped into his mouth. 'Oh, forgive me, I'm forgetting my manners,' he said holding the bag out to Pimples who helped himself. 'Now then, properties to let,' Fatty said.

Pimples stood and pulled open the drawer of a filing cabinet. 'Which addresses did Mr Timpkins give you yesterday?' he asked over his shoulder.

These were awkward questions that Fatty had not expected. He shrugged his shoulders. 'Can't remember off hand, three or four cottages. I didn't like the look of them.'

'Cottages,' said Pimples. 'So you're looking for cottages are you?'

'Could be,' Fatty said in a non-committal way. 'I hear there was a burglary here last night,' he said suddenly, hoping to change the subject.

Pimples continued to rummage through the filing cabinet. 'We do have some cottages,' he said pulling out a number of cardboard folders and returning to his seat. 'And there wasn't a burglary,' he said glancing through the folders. 'At least that's what the local Bobby reckons.' He opened a drawer in the desk and took out a pad. 'I'll jot down some addresses for you.'

'No burglary?' Fatty said. 'I'd heard that some things were stolen. Keys, I think it was.'

'You heard right,' Pimples said continuing to write on the pad. 'But our Mr Timpkins now thinks those keys were taken by a client who came into the office. They're normally kept with the folders, you see, but yesterday Mr Timpkins was labelling them all as we'd had a couple of mix ups lately, so they were on the desk.' He looked up. 'Until they were stolen, that is.'

'Oh,' Fatty said. 'And does your Mr Timpkins suspect anyone?'

'He can't say, as there were about three or four people in here at the same time.' Pimples tore the top sheet from the pad and handed it to Fatty. 'There's three addresses here, all empty properties,' he said. 'And here are the keys, each one has a label on it to identify which address it's for. I hope you can manage to read them, what with your bad eyesight and all. I'd come with you but as you can see I'm on my own and to shut the office is more than my jobs worth.'

Fatty took the keys. 'Thank you,' he said. 'When do I return them?'

'Weren't you told?' Pimples asked. 'I hope you returned the keys you took yesterday.'

'Naturally I did,' Fatty said, 'it's just that I can't remember what time it was, that's all.'

Pimples sighed. 'Before five please, that's when we shut.'

Fatty looked at the keys he had been handed. 'Funny isn't it, I mean someone stealing keys to empty properties. I wonder why?' he said.

Pimples leaned over the desk. 'Between you and me, I think old Timpkins has mislaid them, because like you say, it doesn't make sense otherwise.' He gave a short laugh. 'I mean you can hardly steal a house, can you? And we do have copies of all the keys we hold.' He pointed to the keys in Fatty's hand. 'The originals of a couple you've got there are missing, but as I say we keep copies and that's what you've got, so don't lose them, will you.' He suddenly sniffed the air. 'Can you smell Lily of the Valley?' he asked.

Fatty sniffed. 'No,' he said innocently, 'can't say I can.'

'Funny,' Pimples said sitting back in his chair. 'I could swear I smelt it just then. I know it's Lily of the Valley as my Mum uses it, you see. I must have imagined it.'

'Well, thank you,' Fatty said standing. 'I'll be very careful with the keys.'

Pimples gestured to him to sit down again, which Fatty duly did. 'I need to take your name and address,' he said.

Fatty was not expecting this. He did not want to give his uncle's name and address, so he said: 'I left it with your Mr Timpkins yesterday.'

Pimples frowned. 'Well you very well might have done, but as I don't know where Mr Timpkins wrote it, I'll have to have it again. You haven't forgotten it have you?'

Fatty gave a rather hollow laugh. 'No it's just that it seems unnecessary to leave it twice, that's all.'

Pimples lifted his pen and sat poised to write on his pad. 'Mr...?' he said.

Fatty had to think quickly. 'Fortesque,' he replied. 'I'll spell that for you. F-O-R-T-E-S-Q-U-E. 53, Hollyhock Mansions, Beaconsfield.'

Pimples wrote down the address and then taking a paper clip attached it to one of the files. He then looked across the desk at Fatty. 'Do you have a driver's licence so as to confirm your name and address?' he asked.

Fatty made a show of rummaging through his pockets. In the process he took out the bag of bullseyes and placed them on the desk. 'Do please help yourself,' he said as he stood and felt around in his trouser pockets. Finally he sat down again. 'I appear to have left it at home,' he said. 'I came by train, you see. I don't like driving in the snow. I've been abroad, I'm not used to it.'

Pimples put down his pen. 'All right,' he said. 'I'll trust you, but make sure you return the keys by five, or I'll be in deep trouble.'

'Oh I will,' Fatty said standing. 'And do please keep the bullseyes, you've been very helpful.'

'Thanks,' said Pimples as Fatty went to the door. 'I hope you like the look of the houses, Mr Fortesque.'

Fatty turned. 'Mr Who? Oh yes, I will, thank you, thank you very much.'

Having closed the door behind him, he went directly across the road to the dairy, where he found the others enjoying hot chocolate and mince pies.

'Well, what happened?' Pip asked as Fatty took his seat at the table. 'Did you find out if they'd been burgled?'

Fatty shook his head. 'I don't think they were burgled at all. Pimples, the spotty lad who works there, thinks that the man on duty yesterday, a Mr Timpkins, has either mislaid the keys or they were taken during the day by a client.' He ordered a mug of hot chocolate and some more mince pies from the lady at the counter.

'So we're no further on, then,' Daisy said. 'That's a bit disappointing.'

'But I do have keys to some cottages that Uncle Harold may have looked at yesterday,' Fatty said holding them up

The shop lady, who knew the children well, placed the mug and pies on the table. 'Back again, Sir, are we?' she said, clearly thinking that Fatty was Uncle Harold. 'You must certainly have enjoyed the mince pies yesterday. And where's your friend today, the other gentleman?'

'Um, he's busy today,' Fatty said, not knowing to whom she was referring. 'So I'm being entertained by some young friends of my nephew.'

'I don't know where these put it all,' she said gesturing to the children and laughing. 'What with mince pies at Christmas, hot cross buns at Easter, ice cream in the Summer and macaroons and éclairs all year round. They ought to be as fat as barrels.' She looked at Larry. 'Now your friend, Fatty I think you call him, he's a big lad, where's he today?'

They all wished she would go away. 'He's not himself at the moment,' Larry said and gave Fatty a sly wink.

Fatty looked up at her. 'Off on some little adventure, I expect, you know what kids are like,' he said knowingly.

'I do indeed,' replied the lady. 'I've got four of my own, though they're all grown up now, of course. They're all big lads. Too much home cooking, I expect. Anyway I have to get on, so I'll leave you in peace.' She bustled across the room to an old lady sitting in the opposite corner and engaged her in conversation.

Fatty looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. 'So, it seems unlikely that my uncle actually burgled the house agent,' he said lowering his voice. 'However, he may have taken the keys.'

'But why?' Pip said. 'It doesn't make any sense.'

'It does if he didn't want anyone to know which properties he was going to look at,' Fatty said.

They were all quiet for a while. Fatty helped himself to a mince pie and ate it slowly and thoughtfully. 'This is all very puzzling,' he said suddenly. 'I can't believe that Uncle Harold is involved in anything criminal and if he did take those keys from the house agent it must have been for a very good reason.'

The others looked at him.

'He doesn't look like a criminal to me,' Daisy said.

'Nor me,' said Bets. 'He seems like such a nice friendly man. Who do you think he was in here with yesterday?'

'I've no idea,' Fatty said enjoying his mince pie. 'It was probably Mr Digby. I don't think he knows anyone else hereabouts.'

'Why don't we go and have a look at these cottages,' said Larry. 'After all, you have the keys and we wouldn't be doing anything illegal.'

'Apart from the fact that I'm an impostor and gave Pimples a completely made up name and address,' Fatty said finishing his mince pie and washing it down with the dregs of his hot chocolate.

'Yes, but no one's to know that,' Pip said. 'Are these cottages occupied?' he asked.

Fatty shook his head. 'No, Pimples specifically said they were empty.'

'Fine, so let's do it, then,' Larry said eagerly. 'What are the addresses?'

Fatty took the sheet of paper from his pocket. 'The first on the list is somewhere called 'The Snug' in Bridle Lane, then there's 'Gabriel Cottage' in Moor Thatch Way down by the river and the last is 2, Artisan Passage, which is just off the High Street.'

'Well, we could start with 'The Snug' in Bridle Lane and then go on to the one in Moor Thatch Way, by the river, what did you call it 'Gabriel Cottage?' Larry said and Fatty nodded his head. 'And we could finish up at the one in Artisan Passage.'

'Do, let's,' said Bets. 'I'm dying to start investigating something again and I bet you are as well, Fatty.' The others nodded their heads in agreement.

Fatty suddenly cracked a smile. 'You're right, Bets,' he said. 'I am itching to start doing something, it's just that it doesn't seem quite right to be investigating my own uncle, that's all.'

'Would you rather Goon did the investigating, then?' asked Pip.

Fatty pulled a horrified face. 'Good heavens, that really would be a disaster.' He stood up. 'Come along Find Outers, let's make our way to 'The Snug' and see if it's as snug as its name suggests.'

They left the dairy and made their way out of the High Street and past the church, all the while keeping an eye out for Mr. Goon, whom Fatty definitely did not want to bump into.

They eventually found the cottage they were looking for. It was a rather sad looking run-down single storey building set within a very overgrown walled garden. Bridle Lane was a narrow track with few dwellings in it, which suited the Find Outers. The nearest house was some distance away behind a row of conifers.

They opened the gate and had to push it hard as snow had built up behind it. In spite of pushing very hard, they could only manage to open it a quarter of the way and had to squeeze through.

As they walked up the garden path, Fatty suddenly stopped. 'Uncle Harold can't have visited this place,' he said. 'Otherwise we'd see his footprints and the snow at the gate would have been pushed aside.'

'Of course,' Larry said. 'We should have realised that straight away.'

'Come on,' Fatty said, 'lets go to the next one, we're not far from the river.'

Leaving 'The Snug' behind them, they trudged back up the lane and through the churchyard to the river path. There were quite a number of boats moored along the river and the water was frozen along the edge of the bank.

'Apparently the lock up by Maidenhead is frozen solid and the boats are stuck upstream of it till it thaws out,' Fatty said.

'I'd like to live on a boat,' Bets said. 'They look so lovely in the Summer.'

'I've seen you get seasick just looking at a boat,' Pip said with a laugh.

'I didn't say I'd want to go anywhere in it,' Bets retorted. 'Just live on it, that's all.'

They left the river path and walked across a field, crunching their way through the thick snow until they reached the little lane that Gabriel's Cottage stood in.

'There it is, look,' Fatty said as they rounded a corner and saw a pretty little thatched cottage standing back amongst a group of trees.

'It's beautiful,' Bets said as the approached its gate. 'And look, there are footprints in the snow.'

'Yes, but are they Uncle Harold's?' Daisy said.

Fatty approached the gate looking down at the footprints. He placed his foot into one of them. 'They're about the same size as mine,' he said.

'And how big are Uncle Harold's feet?' asked Larry.

Fatty turned and looked at him. 'About the same as mine, I think,' he said. 'So, he may have been here. Let's look inside.'

They walked up the path to the front door. Fatty placed the key in the lock and they went inside. The front door opened into the sitting room, which was completely furnished with dark wooden furniture and flowery upholstery and curtains. A large Grandfather clock stood against the wall, though it had long since ceased to tick.

'Oh, isn't it old fashioned,' Bets declared. 'It looks a little bit like Granny's house in the Fairy Story of Red Riding Hood.'

'Well, I hope the Big Bad Wolf doesn't arrive, then,' Pip said.

'It says in the notes that Pimples gave me that it's to be let furnished,' Fatty said, 'which accounts for all the furniture.'

'It's almost as though it's hibernating for the Winter,' Daisy said running her fingers along the dusty sideboard.

They walked through the cottage, looking in one room after another, each of which was furnished in the same style as the sitting room.

'What are we looking for?' Pip asked as they climbed the narrow staircase to the upper floor.

'I don't know till we find it,' Fatty said walking into one of the bedrooms and opening a wardrobe. 'Anything that's out of the ordinary, I suppose.'

They continued to search the house for anything 'out of the ordinary', but found nothing. It all seemed very ordinary indeed.

'There's nothing here to link it with Uncle Harold,' Larry said. 'And whether he came here or not is impossible to say short of fingerprinting everything.'

Bets went to the bedroom window. 'Look,' she said, 'there are footprints around the garden.'

They all looked out of the window. 'Whoever came to view the cottage, whether it was Uncle Harold or not, looked around the garden as well, it seems,' Larry said.

'You're right,' Fatty said as they went back down the stairs. 'Come on, There's nothing here to link it with Uncle Harold, let's go on to the next place on the list. You never know, we may find something there.'

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