MICHAEL HOEYE

No Time Like Show Time

Hermux hurried after the hedgehog. At the top of the stairs was a small landing and a door with a large gold star painted on it.
  The hedgehog rapped sharply on the door.
  'What?' a deep voice replied.
  'Mr Tantamoq to see you,' the hedgehog announced. 'Per you request!' he added. He opened the door and pushed Hermux inside. 'Good luck!' he whispered as he closed the door.
  In the middle of a messy office Varmint was seated at a messy desk. He rose and greeted Hermux noisily.
  'Tantamoq! Come in! Come in! Let's not waste any more time. Sit down!'
  He indicated an uncomfortable-looking folding chair.
  'Make yourself comfortable,' he told Hermux.
  The walls of Varmint's office were papered with posters, photos and show bills. A particularly dramatic poster on the wall behind his desk caught Hermux's eye: The Varmint Follies, Featuring the Awesome Okey-Dokey Girls. On it a line of shapely mice in ballgowns curtsied gracefully. Behind them a row of gentlemen mice in tailcoats doffed their top hats smartly and smiled.
  'My first show,' said Varmint, noticing Hermux's interest.
'On the road for two years plus. A different town every night. Sold-out houses all the way! Now, that was entertainment! And what a cast! It was magic!'
  Varmint turned to the poster. He pointed proudly at the second dancer. 'I married this one! Beulith's mother. Smartest thing I ever did.' His smile faded. 'We had some good times together.'
  Hermux leaned forward to get a better look at her. Even from where he sat he could see the resemblance to Beulith. Large, elegant ears. Wide-set eyes.
  'She's very pretty,' said Hermux
  'She was,' corrected Varmint. 'Beulene was more than pretty. She was a real partner and a good soul.' He nodded his head solemnly. Then his mood brightened. 'And look at this one!' He emphatically tapped the mouse in the green gown. She also had beautifully big ears. 'Nurella Pinch herself! The one and only!'
  Hermux looked at the mouse in the green gown. Of course he knew the name Nurella Pinch. But he couldn't honestly say that he recognised her.
  'I discovered her. My first big star!' bragged Varmint. 'Of course Nurella wasn't a star then. She was just my wife's best friend! Look at the two of them! So young and beautiful and innocent!'
  And indeed they were.
  'Too bad things turned out the way they did.' Varmint sighed and turned away from the poster. 'Bad things can happen to good people, Mr Tantamoq. That's the sad truth. And that's why I wanted to see you.'
  He opened his drawer and from the jumble inside he withdrew a letter.
  'This came in the mail three days ago.' He looked at the letter with evident distaste. 'I'd like your professional opinion.' He handed it to Hermux.
  On the outside it looked like a pretty ordinary letter. Addressed to Mr Fluster Varmint c/o The Varmint Variety Theatre. There was no return address, however. And the stamp and postmark were foreign.
  Hermux opened it and removed a single sheet of thick, cream-coloured stationery, which he unfolded carefully.

Dear Fluster,

It has been such a long time. Much too long. We really must get together soon. And when we do, I intend to teach you a lesson that you will never forget.

I hope you've enjoyed the intermission because it will soon be curtains for you.

With malice aforethought,
a 'friend'

  Hermux read it twice.
  'Well?' asked Varmint.
  'Do you have any idea who sent it?'
  'Of course I don't know who sent it. If I knew that, I wouldn't be talking to you!'
  'Have you received threatening letters before this?' Hermux asked.
  'No. I may have gotten a few threatening reviews over the years. And I've got my share of complaints, about tickets and seats and service. But I've never got anything like this. Nope. Never.'
  Hermux recalled Varmint's behaviour at the rehearsal the day before. 'Do you have any enemies?' he asked.
  'Of course I've got enemies! Don't be stupid! This is the theatre! The question is: Is one of them actually planning to kill me? And if so, which one? That's why I'm hiring you. You find them and stop them! I don't have time for it. Particularly now. I've got a Silver Jubilee Spectacular to produce.'
  'Well,' Hermux began, 'it may not be as simple as that -'
'Of course it is!' Varmint interrupted. 'I've got it all figured out. You're coming to work here at the theatre. Tomorrow I'm going to announce to the cast and crew that you'll be installing a master alarm-clock system throughout the theatre. That'll give them something to think about. And it should give you an alibi for snooping around and talking to everybody. First, I want you to find out if this is an inside job. The postmark could be phony. And then I want to know if this is some sort of scare tactic to raise salaries around here. If that's it, there's going to be hell to pay! I can tell you that! You find out who the ringleaders are, and I'll take care of it from there.'
  'And if somebody really does want to kill you?'
  'Put them in jail, Tantamoq! That seems obvious to me!'
  'It may seem obvious,' commented Hermux. 'But it may not be easy.'
  'Not my problem,' said Varmint impatiently. 'You're the detective!'
  'Actually, I'm a watchmaker.'
  'That's not what I've read in the papers,' Varmint shot back. 'What about Dr Mennus? And Ka-Narsh-Pah? I think you may be underestimating yourself, Tantamoq. Listen! I've got an eye for talent. And an ear and nose for it too. And you're the genuine article. So stop kidding yourself. I feel better already. It's like having a detective-in-residence and a full-time security guard rolled into one. I should have done this years ago. Now, let's talk money. What do you charge for detecting?'
  'I don't know,' Hermux admitted. 'So far I haven't charged anything.'
  'You may not be quite as smart as I thought,' mused Varmint.
  There was a knock at the door. Varmint ignored it.
  'Well, don't worry about the money,' Varmint said reassuringly. 'I'll come up with a fair price for you.'
  There was another knock at the door.
  'What?' screamed Varmint.
  The door opened. It was the hedgehog. Behind him stood Rink Firsheen.

No Time Like Showtime © Michael Hoeye, 2004. Published by the Penguin Group.