The Needlehole Mysteries

Very accurate descriptions of Mr Tyrant, anyhow!

{-{-{-{**Super extra coded message to Dark Planet Homeworld.** Weekly report. Natives fighting among selves. Might need wedding presents, pretty dress and ruby silver slippers, make room in budget. Cautious reports of intelligent life, might just be the solar flares. Getting some insight in Forumshire law enforcement. Source of said info also thinks Orwell is made of candy, so may not be reliable. Forum software glitchy, may affect communications with Homeworld. Also find enclosed latest native Newspapers edited by DP rules, so just a pile of white paper as usual. Hugs and kisses, Amarië. **/end message** }-}-}-}

Odo R. Banks, Esq, HA! DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!

Hmmm, Amarie? did you just use a super minty hairy rasberrry encription????????? Those are NOT legal in Forumshire! {{{{{ What is she up to? Hopefully not blabbing about Mirabella and Petty! With great encription breaking power comes GREAT responsibility! Only a Queen and an Admin know how to use it!}}}}}}}}}}}}

Great Story by the way Eldo! Keep it coming! I must say that dear Petty being described as a dead goat was quite amusing
I'll lend you Huan if you're ever in need of a police hound!

Oh no Majesty, would I dare to try and sneak something like that past your most exquisite and magnificent nose? Surely it must simply be my rasberry fragrant shampoo and minty chewy pipeweed?

Very accurate descriptions of Mr Tyrant, anyhow!- Odo

Petty being described as a dead goat was quite amusing- Tin

From a Banks I expect it! Et tu Queen Tinuviel? (And me your dedicated and most loyal Guardian of Her Majesties Buckie too- well except from my Paw)

Thank you for your kind words, Your Maj! I'll be sure to remember what you said about Huan. It's always possible he (or you! ) could show up at some point.

When I get some time on my hands I'll sit down and enjoy this (and all the other tales that have showed up in the Wholesome Tales thread recently) with a cup of something tasty - can't wait

I look forward to hearing what you think of the story, Ringdrotten! But please keep in mind the disclaimer in the first post about this story not reflecting on the characters' namesakes in the slightest.

{-{-{-{}-}-}

Sniff! Sniff!

{{{}}}

Sniff?

Peppermint, that I know... But what's that other smell... very exotic... ... Yes, definitely at least one encryption spell... but the other smell.... 'nutmeg'? Didn't Dark Planet reek with all sorts of foreign spices? I smell a rat! Maybe two rats?

All I want to know is, where is the next chapter, Eldo? Not slacking off, I hope.

{{{Btw, never mind what Ringo thinks of your depiction of him, after all, he's Fjordianlandian, and so not of a Race anyone really needs to take seriously. I heard they were created by Eru so that the girl crazy Danes had a Race they could look down their noses at. }}}

The Mystery of the Coal Scuttle

Part 5


“We'll need to look for physical evidence! Petty mentioned drowning, so we can start with the nearest body of water: Banks Lake.”

The Banks Estate, it surmised, stretched over a considerable portion of the district of Needlehole. Unfortunately, most of the Estate was covered by the treacherous marshy terrain of Rushock Bog. Few dared to go into the Bog, but every year there were reports of travellers and adventurers who attempted to explore its secrets and never returned.

However, there was a small area of solid ground at the northern end of the Estate, which was where the ancestral Hole of the McBanks clan was located. Just over the way was a small lake called, appropriately enough, Banks Lake. The McBankses had wielded considerable power over Needlehole for generations and controlled the committee in charge of naming geographic features.

As the two policehobbits made their way down the muddy, winding footpath to the shore, Sgt. Herring paused. “Look here, sir. There have been an awful lot of footprints going up and down as well as large skid marks.”

DI Eldo knelt down next to the markings the Sergeant had indicated. “It appears you're right,” he conceded. “And if you look closely, it appears that something heavy was dragged down to the lake last night.”

Both officers looked at each other, then out at the lake. Sgt. Herring was the first to speak. “You think the Coal Scuttle was taken to the Lake?”

“It's a possibility we have to consider. Mr Tyrant did say he almost drowned. Perhaps he was trying to hide the Scuttle here and fell in with it.” The DI pulled out his notebook again and flipped through it. “He also implied Biffo had come with him, though. Curioser and curioser.”

Sgt. Herring paused to let the DI think. “Should we search the lake, then?”

“We'll need a boat to do that, along with nets and other equipment.” The DI put his notebook away. “First, let's get back to downtown Needlehole. There are a few females I need to have a word with.”


It didn't take much to figure out where in Needlehole Mirabella and Pretty had gone to. They were the scandal and talk of the town, and every Hobbit seemed eager to tell anyone who would listen about the rumors of their engagement. It was common knowledge the two were staying – scandalously – at Mrs Figg's House of Eels and Pleasure.

“It's a hotel, but it's not exactly a hotel, if you take my meaning,” said one old grandhobbit. “That is to say, it's not the sort of hotel that you go back to because it was so restful.”

DI Eldo was rather more enthusiastic about the prospect of visiting Mrs Figg's again than Sgt. Herring was. Fortunately (or unfortunately?) it didn't take much poking around to find erstwhile Sheriff and her companion. They were relaxing in a jacuzzi in the pool room. All the walls bore the warning: 'Touch the water at your own risk. No refunds for infectious diseases.'

“Officer Banks!” said DI Eldo. “So good to see you again. I need to borrow you for a moment, if Pretty can bear it, to ask you a few questions about the murder.” Sgt. Herring gave his superior a brief, odd look, but said nothing.

“I can't bear it,” purred Pretty. “Go ask someone else. Maybe the Gaffer saw something.”

“What a shame,” the DI said dispassionately. “Mirabella, where were you last night?”

“Here, of course,” said the Sheriff with a sultry look in her eyes. “Go look at Figgy's records, they'll prove it.”

“Of course,” repeated DI Eldo, unconvinced. “How did you find about the murder?”

“I read about it in The Archet Bugle, Forumshire's premier newspaper.”

“No, dear, the Daily Purist is Forumshire's premiere newspaper,” cut in Pretty. “It's award-winning, too.”

“Just because people buy that paper so they can see the Hobbit Lass of the Day – and I distinctly remember you stripping down for that once or twice – doesn't mean it's better,” said Mirabella.

“Excuse me?! You were a Hobbit Lass of the Day too, Ms Morality!”

“That was only for the Admin's Birthday Edition, it doesn't count,” Mirabella replied petulantly. “And I still think I should have sued over that unauthorized palantir picture.”

DI Eldo cleared his throat loudly. “Ladies! A hobbit has been murdered, you can have your little catfight about the newsrags later. Speaking of which, State News is the only paper worth reading, but that's neither here nor there.”

“What did you say?!?!” cried both Mirabella and Pretty.

“Perhaps my partner spoke a bit unwisely,” cut in Sgt. Herring diplomatically. “But please, Officer Banks, could you tell us what you know? It is an important matter of public safety.”

“Very well,” Mirabella said snootily. “I read about the murder in the paper and I immediately called up Uncle Odo on the palantir to see if he had heard about it. He hadn't, but that was because he was so distraught at the break-in and the loss of his Coal Scuttle. He told me Biffo had disappeared as well and he suspected him of helping that scoundrel Petty Tyrant!”

It took all of Sgt. Herring's professionalism to stop his eyebrows from shooting off his head, but he remained calm. “Thank you very much for your help, ladies. We'll leave you to whatever it was you were doing earlier.”

“Wouldn't you like to know what 'it' was, Sergeant?” said Pretty seductively.

“Nice try, but no dice,” said Sgt. Herring, as he pulled the protesting DI from the pool room with him.


Once DI Eldo had calmed down somewhat and regained his concentration, he and Sgt. Herring went over their evidence together.

“Mirabella claims that Odo said Biffo disappeared along with Petty Tyrant, but when we went to the Banks Estate Odo knew Biffo was around but had no idea about Petty,” said DI Eldo, summarizing his notes.

“She must have lied about talking to her uncle,” said Sgt. Herring. “Which casts suspicion on her, and probably Pretty as well. But what about Biffo? We know that he was actually with Petty last night.”

“It is odd that Biffo is present in both narratives,” said DI Eldo, “but there are too many inconsistencies between what Mirabella said and what we know happened. I smell a Red Herring. Not you, Sergeant,” he added quickly, being aware of the Fjordlandian's Leftist sympathies.

Sgt. Herring had the good grace to look ashamed. “Is Mirabella our primary suspect now?”

“Yes, I think so. But we need to find the actual Scuttle before anything else. Find the Scuttle, and we find the culprit behind all of this.”

Bad enough Pretty is shacked up with a Banks but I don't need the details on it!!
You are so lucky Paw can only read pools coupons, buckie stock prices and that little box with the Hobbit Lass of the Days thought for the day in it in the award winning Daily Purist.

{{{ This is a marvellous and well written jaunt, Eldo! I'm just dying to know what happened last night! }}}

I have a bad feeling about all this... and there's that 'peppermint' whiff again! Was that you, Orwell?

Orwell wrote:{{{ This is a marvellous and well written jaunt, Eldo! I'm just dying to know what happened last night! }}}

{{{ Cheers, Orwell! Hopefully the resolution of the mystery won't disappoint. }}}

I was a bit worried about the Skid Marks, they are difficult to remove without bleach you know?

Mrs Figg! Hardly respectable! You'll give the Feminine Race a bad name if you persist with this kind of thing..

just bein domesticatedly sayin Skid Marks are not nice on undercrackers. and as women normally have to wash forementioned skiddy troosers, its just a bit of friendly hadvice to young detectives.

Thats why I never wear any.

oooohhh Skiddy Kilt? I suppose when one bit is whiffy you can just give it a quick twirl widdershins?

Mrs Figg wrote:oooohhh Skiddy Kilt? I suppose when one bit is whiffy you can just give it a quick twirl widdershins?

Oh my.

Precisely Mrs Figg, and then when you know your going to meet someone you dont like- like a Banks, you turn it inside out and stand up wind of them.